twenty six
"how long until death
finally tells the truth? -NEVER !"

Another long day ticked by and Casia still hadn't moved from her bed. Though she had started eating, it was nothing beyond plain bread. Anything else didn't settle and came rushing back up for an encore only moments later.

Though she no longer rested on the edge of death, movement made her head spin and all she wanted to do was sleep. That dwelling darkness drew her into deep slumber fast and often.

And she let it because what else was there to do when event he thought of standing made her retch.

On the third day, Thor finally came to visit after being away to battle for peace in the Nine Realms.

He had that same pity lined across his mouth and sprawled amongst his eyes when he creaked the door open to see Casia bundled up in her bed as if it were a cocoon with one arm protruding from within the covers to hold the book up to her face.

She slammed the book closed when she caught sight of him and let it drop onto her front, barely craning her neck up to greet him with a simple hello.

"You haven't moved since the last time I saw you," Thor concluded. There was no need to ask questions when the answer was plain obvious. He pulled the armchair back to her bedside as she groaned and rolled over, drawing her arm back into the covers.

"I have," She protested and gazed at him lazily through her thick eyelashes, "Just an extremely limited distance."

"Not good enough," Thor said, standing up once more. He extended a hand to her, but she just stared at it, unmoved. "Come on, we're getting you outside."

"I really don't want to," Casia grumbled, but there was such hope in his eyes as he let his hand there, reaching out to her, that she crumbled beneath the weight. With a sigh, Casia drew back the covers and placed her hand in his. "I can't move too quick or my stomach throws its toys out of the pram."

"We can take it slow," Thor replied, smiling down at her softly as her arm linked through his. She was more frail than he'd imagined she would be as she clung to his side.

Casia laughed loudly, a laugh to rival the devil in his prime as she hid her pain like a professional. "Is that what you tell all your women?" She joked, nudging him with her bony elbow.

At least she hadn't lost her sense of humour.

"Only the ones who spend everyday in bed," Thor said, bumping her back, but forgetting his own strength and having to catch her as she stumbled.

Casia rolled her eyes, but reconnected their arms as they strolled through the corridors and down to the gardens beginning to be frosted by the incoming winter. The cold was brisk. Nipped at her ears as they walked down the steps and along the path, the gravel crunched and shifted beneath their boots.

Beneath the barren fruit trees, the direwolves slumbered. Peaceful and yet the fury in those bones would never sleep. Worked even when the mind rested. A pick-axe to the cave wall as it constantly chipped away.

In that moment, Casia knew she had the same ferocious potential as they did. Only she knew she did not have their control.

"They are beautiful creatures, aren't they?" Thor questioned as he followed where her vision lay, appreciating the sheer strength in the animals, even as they lay harmlessly.

"I'm not much of a dog person," Casia said as they walked past the wolves, "but they're incredible."

"Not yet fully grown either," He told her, shaking his head in marvel. "Who needs an army when you've got two direwolves prepared to die for you?"

"So why didn't she take them with her?" Casia asked, glancing over her shoulder to where one of the wolves had rolled onto its back, tongue rolled out of its mouth.

Thor shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, maybe she thought they'd be safer here," He said.

"Is it safer here?" Casia's question came as a mumble as her head dipped, eyes locked on her feet as she put one in front of the other. "I mean, you've got your own ticking time bomb right on your arm, Thor."

"You assume the worst," Thor said. His words were like summer fruits. Glorious in the sunshine and just as delicious at night when the darkness pulled in close, tucked beneath the chin. To gaze up at the stars. Revel in their beauty and admire their sheer wrath just hung above their heads, gazing down with just as much awe for the life they stained.

Casia smiled, but her footing stumbled a little as a dizzy spell washed over her, colour fading fast from her deep complexion. When she gripped Thor for support, he was there without hesitation, holding her up as her limbs threatened to give out.

"We should sit." Thor guided her off the path to the beautifully carved bench beneath the willow tree, its branches tumbling to the floor in waterfalls of dying leaves, browned by the changing seasons.

As she sat down on the wooden seat, Casia leaned her head back against the thick trunk of the tree and closed her eyes tight, forcing the heat to flush from her cheeks and allowing the cold winds in. As she opened the door to them, they came bustling in and sent the warmth packing.

Thor, as he'd witnessed The Captain do to Lusine when she was on the brink of a battle with the dark, placed a hand over Casia's in an act of kindness.

Just the simple movement of her turning her hand in his and winding their fingers let him know that she was still there.

That it was the ever-brave and cheeky Casia Radcliffe, not the phoenix who lingered.

"You're a good guy for sticking with me when I feel like I'm going insane," Casia said quietly, but the wind carried the words to him diligently, pulling on the strings tied between them with such vigour it was impossible to ignore as she opened her eyes once more to reveal the brown flecked with burning gold. And, if there were ever a pair of eyes to adore, it was hers. Without a hint of hesitation.

An artist would find them invaluable; sell them for all the gold in his home. A soul would fall in love with them; treat them as his home.

"It's what anyone would do," Thor responded, searching her face as she sat up with a breathy groan. As if every single one of her muscles burned with wildfire.

Casia laughed under her breath and turned to meet his eyes. "No, they wouldn't," She said, the corner of her mouth turned up in subtlety. "I think I was delirious the last time I tried to thank you, but I really do mean it."

"You don't need to thank me, Cas," He said with a smoothness slicked over his words.

"I do," She replied. When she sat forward, a flicker of dizziness came with her, but she pushed it away to look him right in the eyes as she thanked and assured him with complete genuineness. "I do have to because, right now, you're the only person here who actually gives a damn if I live or die. There haven't been people like that in my life for a long time," she leaned ever so slightly towards him with a smirk at her mouth, "so, yes, I do need to thank you."

Thor's expression rose into a smile, his gaze locked right on the wonderful woman sat with him beneath the weeping willow. The moment was beautiful and ripe to get caught up in as he found himself leaning towards her, unable to refrain.

And she was more than happy to oblige as she met him halfway, kissing him softly, tasting him, and forever wanting more.

While one hand remained twined in hers, the other lifted to her jaw, holding her close, his thumb grazing across the corner of her mouth as they melted together. Her heat beneath his mouth was magical; the swell of her tongue almost godly.

It was him who drew back, his eyes darting across the features of her face as he retracted his hand and said, "Maybe we should get you back now."

"At least take me out to dinner first," Casia joked, rolling her eyes at him.

"No," Thor said, "I think we've been out too long already. You probably need to rest." He stood up and offered her a hand.

Casia frowned, but took the hand and stood too.

"Okay," She finally agreed.

The wind was colder on the walk back. No longer inviting, but harsh as it blew around them. A ghost willing them to leave with its haunting presence and warnings written with dripping blood. 

Thor left Casia at her door. Told her he'd see her that evening if she made it to dinner or in the morning. Casia forced a smile and bid him goodbye, disappearing into her room with overflowing handfuls of confusion.

The sudden shift in mood had been unexpected after a first kiss. Wasn't that supposed to be the sweetest of them all? The one to be remembered through life and through death.

His electricity still rocketed through her veins even as she crawled back beneath the covers and lay her head down. But sleep would not come for her, and perhaps she had Thor to thank for that as the memory of his kiss replayed over and over and over in her head, keeping her awake all evening.

-

-

A lone patrolling guard walked the halls. A sword at his side, locked into his belt, but readily available should there be a threat to confront. And he would do so with honour and die to protect his home, if necessary.

All he was until that moment was an insignificant soldier, armed to the teeth, but would always be just another pawn of war.

He had a wife, he had kids. Loved them all with his heart and more, but on that day he became more than a warrior when he saw the flash of white pulse from around the corner.

It was bright. It should have been pure as it washed over the skin in a foaming wave. And yet its darkness was undeniable as it pulsed again, the power of it sending a rush of hair over him, through his thick hair and bitter against his cheeks.

With a glance over his shoulder, he realised he was completely alone with whatever lay in waiting, pulsing and shuddering with raw magic. Like the sound of a ship running on nothing but fumes, the magic spluttered and spat as it finally stabilised with a final burst of light that washed over him as he rounded the corner and forced him to cover his eyes with an armoured arm raised for fear of blindness.

Then, all at once, the light was gone. Blinked out of existence as quickly as it had come into itself. A flicker of a star.

When he lowered his arm, his stomach lurched for the devil stood before him. Now he saw and now he knew that the devil was, in fact, a woman and she was a beautiful disaster, bloodied and swaying upon her feet.

She stumbled to the side, smearing crimson down the pristine marble wall as she slid to the floor, gasping for air, wild eyes locked on him, wordlessly shouting for his aid.

When her lips parted, blood emerged in the place of words. Dribbled down her chin, down her neck. But it was a fruitless stain where garments were already drenched with bitter ichor.

The guard took two steps forward to get a closer look at the barely breathing corpse slumped against the wall. He hurried backwards when she managed to choke out the plea for help, not expecting her to speak and fearing the wrath of a woman brutalised.

Realising that this was no threat to him and that she was far from the devil in this state, he was at her side in an instant, pulling the water from his belt and lifting it to her lips.

But she shook her head and repeated, "Help me." Her entire body lurched and shuddered as her body vomited a sticky mass of blood down her front, combining with the pool already forming beneath her.

"Stay here," He said stupidly, and cursed himself for it immediately, "I'll be right back with help."

As her eyes began to close, he shook her firmly and they shot open once more, their wildness dimmed to flat defeat which floated amongst the blue.

"You have to keep your eyes open, okay?" The guard told her, hoping she could hear him through the haze of impending death. The scythe was at her throat, sawing at her tie to life hair by hair. There weren't many left, he assumed, because he'd never seen that much blood in his entire life. The sight of it made his dinner curdle.

After she nodded weakly in response, he hurried away, sprinted through the halls to fetch anyone who could help.

On the way, he stopped two maids and told them not to go any further unless they wanted nightmares for the rest of their lives. They looked to one another and turned to walk back the way they'd come from, deciding peaceful sleep was too precious to give up.

The clatter of armour, the storming of boots, the howl of wolves. The closing of an hour drawing in fast, ticking and ticking by with every door he passed.

He'd sent a number of guards to keep the woman awake. To make sure no others stumbled across the haunting scene, felt the blood sticking their feet to the floor, holding them captive to have every detail of the crime embedded into their skull like a brand to cattle.

Red raw. Like a rose, but deadly. A killer from tooth to claw. Venom injected. Unforgettable. Incurable. Destined. Sawed away at flesh, torn rough and ragged and unhealed. A scar pale against the olive. Oh, isn't she beautiful? Not like that. Never like that. Scarred, damaged, broken. Broken. Broken.

When they hauled her body onto the stretcher, the guard found himself needing a name to put to the face.

"Can you tell us your name?" He asked. Then, he added, "We may need to contact family just... uh, just in case." He rubbed his sweating brow.

The woman replied, "Lusine Volkov."

-

2490 words
30.6.18
I'm back from holiday so I'm ready to get back into updates at last