She woke with a gasp and a frantic heart. Constance popped up quickly, hands searching for her knives. Her fingers never found the cool metal of her blades and she forced her eyes open wider to look for them, a heavier panic settling into her chest. However, instead of bloody grass and piles of corpses, the warm and familiar medical tent met her sleep-blurred vision. She recoiled, confused. Why? Why was that such a surprise? She had fallen asleep in the tent, right? She shouldn't expect to wake on a battlefield, yes?

Her hands planted themselves at her sides, clenching the white material in her fists until her knuckles turned white. Wait, were those bed sheets? Constance looked down, her eyes almost popping out they were so wide. She blinked at the scratchy medical sheets in her twitching grasp, the information her eyes were exaspetatedly relaying to her shocked brain not quite registering. Just accept it, her silver eyes rolled metaphorically. Would I lie to you?

Yes! her brain shot back. Remember that time you said it was sugar when it was salt! I wasted a perfectly good strawberry because of you!

Tch, they grunted. How was I supposed to know?

You just are!

Constance hunched forward, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes hard enough that blossoms of color erupted behind her eyelids. "I'm going insane."

:-:-:-:-:

"Well, boys," one sneered, stepping forward. "Looks like we just caught a lover's rendezvous. Ain't that nice?"

Constance couldn't shake the weird slimy feeling that oozed down her shoulders, intensifying as the three soldiers emerged from the treeline. It was strange and uncomfortable and it caused her hackles to raise, bristling and popping with hostile energy not entirely credited to the enemy soldiers' presence. She felt a lurking sense of doom in the frigid air between the two parties and an anxiety that pierced her heart.

Rylkin stiffened underneath her touch at the suggestive words, the motion magnified by her position at his feet, and she turned her face into his artificial leg, grinning. His body heat rose degrees and Constance lamented the missed opportunity to laugh at his surely red face. She mentally shrugged, writing it off as a task for another day.

If there is another day, her brain unhelpful supplied.

She coughed daintily and slowly rose to her feet, rolling up her shoulders with feline grace. Constance wasn't surprised to catch one young soldier's eyes tracing the outline of her figure (the other two didn't react. Some scandalous happenings, perhaps? She grinned wickedly), and draped herself across Rylkin, stretching out her fingers, mimicking the curling of a cat's claws, and leaned heavily on her friend, forcing him to support her weight. He grunted, but nonetheless wrapped his strong arms around her to rest just barely above her hip.

Ah, now, she scolded in her mind, trying to force her thoughts through his head with willpower alone. I know you're uncomfortable touching me like a couple, especially with that possible girlfriend you've been pining hardcore for in your letters, but a knife up your behind'll hurt you a lot more if you can't pull this off.

She nudged him with her hip, covering it up as she spoke. "Aye, ya caugh' us. Beggin' yeh not t' tell our 'arents. They'd die o' shock. Ain't tha' right, Ryl?"

Rylkin nodded mutely, moving his hand down subtly lower (like a proper jealous boyfriend should. Constance was so proud) to curl over her hip bone that had been pushed out out to draw attention. Constance slipped her hands from over his shoulders to between her chest and his ribs as she tilted her head and gave a daring smile in the soldiers' direction, her dirty silver eyes flashing. She looked away from them and up towards Rylkin, stretching out her long neck nicely and running her nails gently down the thick muscle there.

All three soldiers seemed hesitant now. They awkwardly floated, opening and closing their mouths like fish. That one was still staring at Constance with eyes that just screamed—

Rylkin's chest rumbled underneath Constance's fingertips and she shivered to play the part, watching the formerly arrogant Adrigolians quiver in their boots as her friend levelled a glare at the ogling young'un, feeling his hand quite dramatically shift over her waist. The soldier's terrified eyes snapped from Rylkin's red face (to him, it looked like anger; to her, it looked like embarrassment) to his hand, quickly deciding she wasn't worth a fight with this guy.

Honestly, Constance felt a little put out. She'd fight Rylkin for her hand. Constance was a fine lass, and she knew it. By Wavewalker, have a backbone if you're gonna stare, damn it!

"Well, if'n yeh ni' gen'lemen don' mind it, I'm t'inkin' we'll be a'leavin' now. C'mon, Ryl."

Constance prodded at Rylkin with her fingertips, urging him to turn away and head back towards Galiesia. With any luck, they'll make it back to the port in enough time to round up forces from the pirates.

Perhaps it was the lingering, smoldering look she had thrown the young soldier that saved him. Maybe it was her impeccable instincts. Either way, the knife whistling as it pinwheeled in the air towards Rylkin's head never found its intended destination.

Constance snatched the blade from the air and held it in her open palm, admiring the craftsmanship. The sad excuse of a knife caused her lip to curl in disgust. The very thought of Rylkin's life taken by one of these hideous things was enough yo make her see red.

Constance turned back to the Adrigolians, ignoring the questioning grunt Rylkin aimed at her when she stood unyielding to his tug. She hadn't seen who had thrown the knife, but the shock and disappointment (and not a small amount of something else) displayed clearly on the admittedly handsome young soldier's face provided her with a good amount of information to presume safely.

"Oh, so now you make your move," she sneered in her Elusian to show she was seething. "How admirable. I'm just swooning."

He stuttered, his face blooming with one color. Constance held up a hand, tired of hearing him trying to salvage the mess. "Don' wanna 'ear it. Save it fer whatever god yew worship."

The knife struck him square between his eyes with a sticky squelch. His eyes crossed as he stared at the quivering hilt, then they glazed over and he toppled. And all hell broke loose.

:-:-:-:-:

She's a menace, Rylkin couldn't help thinking as he took just a moment to breath.

And she was. Constance was a blurry flash of dark clothes and flashing blades, felling soldiers by the minutes. They crumbled by her blade like a disturbed house of precariously stacked cards. Blood flew around her and time seemed to stop as a ray of sunshine struck her blades and reflected into a circle of light around her. Constance looked like a goddess in that moment, with a wreath of sunlight decorating her face and lighting up her body and fat of drops scarlet freezing to appear as rain. A goddess of war.

Rylkin gulped.

:-:-:-:-:

She felt elated. The smooth texture of her blades underneath her fingers had never been so good.

Her blades crossed as a a sword came careening down on top her head, sparks flying as they met. She grinned wickedly at the grimacing Adrigolian from behind her blades. She knew blood ran down her face like tears, could taste it's metallic tang on her teeth, and her hair felt matted and heavy. It was funny to watch the soldiers realise the blood wasn't her own. Even funnier to widen her eyes and giggle with that blood frothing in her mouth, waiting for them to recoil in disgust before striking a swift kick to their stomach.

This soldier was no different. His nose crinkled at her as she stared right back, fighting his strength down with hers going up. They were evenly matched and Constance's grin widened.

How long she had waited for another opponent worth her while. Her last chance had been years ago, with that pretty boy captain aboard The Green Siren. His voice had been silky as they conversed and fought, just the tiniest bit breathless as Constance fought back the sweat prickling at the back of her neck. His shaggy black hair and shining green eyes had captivated her, his graceful motions holding her there in his orbit. They talked about everything and nothing at all, slowly chipping away at the other's composure. Small, playful jibes thrown across opposing sides of two sword blades. His twenty year old muscles had rippled as he battled her seventeen year old ones and his musky scent floated deliciously above the stench of sweat, blood, and tears Constance had come to love. His rumbling voice purred just below the rising screams and clangs, only meant for her as the vibrations reached her before the sweet sounds, muddling her brain just slightly like a drop of alcohol would.

And just when Constance could feel her body collapse, could feel herself bending beneath his strength, his voice rose to give a regroup call. His sword retracted from hers and he grabbed hold of a length of rope, her rope, and swung across the short distance between their ships. His crew disengaged soon after him, retreating back across the sea.

Constance had watched as a blonde landed lightly next to the captain. He pulled the blonde to his side, fond hand running through a blood soaked strand, nuzzling into the pale head of hair, a complete opposite of herself. His green eyes flashed at Constance, challenging her to react with anything less than what was expected. She simply smiled, raising a hand to give a salute, acknowledging both opponents with a nod, her own silver eyes frothing brightly.

One day, she thought fiercely. One day we'll meet again on equal terms.

Constance heard his laugh long after The Green Siren had sailed lazily into the fog, disappearing from her view.

The Adrigolian soldier snarled, saliva spraying from his maw and landing on her dazed face. His eyes burned, angry that this Elusian pirate girl felt she get could daydream and still remain unyielding against him.

Constance smiled sweetly, her eyes regaining some of their deadly glow. "Ah, 'm sorry, mate. Did yeh wan' some attention, too?"

The soldier growled at her arrogance, surging forward on their crossed blades. He whipped it from the tussle, drawing back to prepare for a quick and hard strike. His arm wavered, however, when his chest prickled and warmth seeped out across his skin. He glanced down.

Constance retraced her knife from his body, wiping it across the fabric on her thighs as she watched the soldier stutter uncomprehendingly. "Mm, maybe I o'eres'imated ya. My mistake, ol' frien',"

The soldier crumpled in a heap, his fuming expression frozen on his features.

Constance turned away from him. Her foot caught on something and she crashed into the damp earth, hissing in surprise. She glanced over her shoulder, fully expecting a lump of dirt to smugly grin right back at her. No, only Rylkin's dead stare.

No.

Rylkin.

Black closed around her vision and she gasped in air through her suddenly tight lungs, her eyes zeroing in on him. She grimaced through the pain needling at her heart, crawling to her friend. She sat with her shoulders curled forwards, reaching out a hand to smooth his eyelids closed. She didn't know what else to do. She could recall newly widowed spouses doing the same, but it made it feel too real, too permanent. Unchangeable. Irreversible.

Constance bent forward, resting her forehead against his still, still chest.

"Damn it, Rylkin," she whispered, tears choking her words. "If ya were gonna t' die..."

Her voice stopped, her body shaking. Choked sobs dripped from her throat, and her tears mixed with the blood, rolling off her and splashing in him.

She was dimly aware she had lost something, could feel the emptiness in her heart that pushed her tears out, but her mind had shut down, had glazed over. Her chest had constricted and she shivered, gripping Rylkin's cold hand in her own.

"'M sorry, Ryl. This wasn' suppose t' 'appen."

He didn't reply. Constance cried harder.