Standing Guard

[Vilmah]

Vilmah walked beside Edmund. On his back, Niethan rode in silence. He'd gone off the deepe end, once again. Kumara claimed he'd been poisoned, earlier that evening. They discovered that for once, the loud-mouthed troll was telling the truth. They gave Niethan the antidote, but it brought him to a fit of convulsions and madness. Vilmah, Verash, Tubruk, and even Nazshakul tried to keep him down. In the end, it was one of Sulajin's summoned earth elementals that managed to keep him from hurting both himself, and others. But he was afraid. For his safetey, and the safetey of those who might be on the recieving end of his feral rage. Vilmah offered him Sanctuary.

"I'll keep you safe," she said. "And I'll keep people safe from you. I promise."

He reluctantly agreed.

Walking through the streets of Orgrimmar in the middle of the night, they probably looked rather odd. A fully armored orc walking beside a riding wolf, which bore an irate and ill looking mutated troll. Vilmah stopped abruptly, as soon as they reached a blacksmith.

Niethan gave her a curious and somewhat worried face, to which she replied with a calming smile. "I'll only be a moment. I won't leave you."

She beckoned the blacksmith over, which he found to be irritating. The orc left his anvil to speak in whispers, and only then did he get a look of understanding, and returned to his workplace. A few seconds later, he came to Vilmah with a heavy looking leather bag. She thanked him with a handfull of gold and praise, then continued to walk with Edmund and Niethan.

When finally they arrived in Sanctuary's guildhall, the place looked oddly sterile. After Niethan dismounted, Vilmah tied Edmund to his post and allowed him rest outside. It was no surprise to find that there was nobody inside, and a thin layer of dust collecting on just about everything except their storage room and the kitchen. A pang of grief went through Vilmah's heart as she passed Daala's room, a note still pinned to the door.

I guess she's getting what she wants, now, Vilmah thought. I can't possibly train with Sulajin while Niethan needs our help.

"Downstairs, Nieth," Vilmah said, hoping that he wouldn't recognize the ammount of sadness in her voice. She didn't want to keep him here, but it was his decision. It might have even been the best, considering how dangerous he could be when he was out of control. Leading him down into the cellar, she locked the door behind them, and scrutinized the room.

A large heavy wooden table lie in one corner, but the rest of the room seemed bare. There were a few empty kegs, and a crate full of unused leather, but that was it. With a heavy heart, Vilmah motioned for Niethan to lie on the table.

"Just get comfortable, alright?" She said as sweetly as she could. It pained her to see him reduced to this, but she didn't trust anyone else to do the job.

She helped remove his weapons and the bulk of his armor, before he lay down on his back. The troll's chest heaved uncomfortably, and his eyes darted to and fro. Vilmah know he must have been exersizing an increadible ammount of control, even now. When he was settled, she reached into the bag from the blacksmith, and pulled out five metal shackles with four chaines.

Niethan looked at them without surprise. His hands twitched in agitation, so Vilmah tried to speak with soothing words. "It'll be alright. We'll just have to keep you here for a little, right? Then you'll be fine."

She opened her own bag, and pulled out several long strips of unused cloth. She used this cloth to wrap around Niethan's wrists, ankles, and neck.

"To keep it from hurting your skin," she said, choking back tears. He might have been able to tell that her voice was cracking, but in his state, it couldn't be told.

Finally primed and ready to be bound, Vilmah shackled both of his ankles and wrists to the underside of the table. She used her mace to drill the spikes through the thick wood, and then bent them in a circle. Once the metal was bent enough, she rubbed her hands together to create as much heat as possible, and put her palms against the rungs. They welded shut, and on the shakles themselves, she secured them tight with a heavy lock.

On his neck, she fastened down a heavy metal arc. This, she pounded nails into on either side, which would keep his head from moving.

Vilmah looked over her work. He couldn't move, but his bindings didn't make him look helpless in the least. Niethan looked like a caged animal, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"I'll stay with you," Vilmah said quietly, using her hand to move stray hair from his forehead. "But if you want to be alone, I'll understand. I'll stay outside of the door, until you're ready. If there's anything you need, tell me."

[Sulajin]

((well someone's going to have to change the bedpan... which I see you forgot to place. That's not going to be fun...))

[Vilmah]

((*cries* I knew someone would comment on that part..))

[Upae]

(( Depends FTW! ))

[Niethan]

When the door was shut Niethan tested the strength of the restraints, and once he felt they were strong enough, he let down the tight fist of control he'd been keeping on his movement. Immediately he thrashed at the chains, not so much wanting out as simply resisting imprisonment.

He tired out, eventually, after hissing and spitting and clawing at the table for well over an hour. There were deep grooves in the wood where his nails had scored it, forcing shards of wood through the skin and making the clawmarks slick with his blood. Niethan lay back silently, idly tracing his fingers through the grooves.

The aftertaste from whatever horrid mixture Kumara had given him was finally fading, but his throat felt dry as sand and twice as rough. With all the water Niethan drank in the course of a day there shouldn't have been any thirst, but there was. He chewed on his tongue to force some saliva, hoping it would help and knowing that it wouldn't.

What in the Nether had he been thinking, to even give possibility to Kumara being right? He sighed. He knew what. He wanted to believe that even the worst could be salvaged. He needed to believe it. And whether that was true or not always had mixed results.

The scarring on his chest burned. It did that non-stop, now. If he quieted down his thoughts he could feel the threads of energy being moved around, bound into this-sigil that-sigil, then moved around more. It made him think of one of those gnomish things, all gears and wheels and moving pieces. Since the Water runes had been warded and shut down, a piece of the machinery was stilled, and it was throwing everything off.

He rubbed his claws through the grooves, the blood finally sticking and cooling. It had taken that long just to heal the splinters. Earth was doing best it could to help regenerate damaged tissues, but it was by nature a slow process. And since the water sigils that usually helped heal and purify his tainted fluids were shut down, there was just the red in his viens doing as it pleased.

Niethan snorted. He could almost hear Sulajin bitching to him now, always complaining that he went to water for help. He'd mention purification through fire, but Niethan wasn't sure he'd survive the process. The rune's attempts had been giving him fevers as it tried to burn out the taint, making him tired and thinning his dreams with heat. His muscles ached from it.

There was a sharp prickle in his mouth, then a flood of coppery slick across his bruised, chewed-upon tongue. Niethan had enough time to realize he'd bitten it before the taste produced a sharp stab in his gut. He whimpered, trying to curl in on himself and being stopped by the shackles. His stomach felt to be twisting into knots, thinking it was being starved.

Niethan carefully pinned his tongue between his front teeth so he wouldn't swallow, and waited for it to heal.

[Vilmah]

It hurt to listen.

She could hear Niethan struggling, even through the thick door that she closed behind her. She'd brought a chair from the common room, to place next to the door while she kept a silent vigil over Niethan's progress. She tried knitting, to take her mind off of his animalistic sounds, but it wasn't helping. All she could do was wait it out, and hope that he would soon exhaust himself enough that he could allow her to feed him something.

She knew he at least needed water. That always made things better.

Finally, he was quiet. Vilmah let out a sigh of relief, and hastened to the kitchen for water. "Probably going to need more than that," she murmured, looking at one of their glasses. She searched for a bucket, and filled it to the brim from the water pump Jobolg had invented. Or at least, he claimed to have invented it. When it was full, she put a glass in it, carried it downstairs, and opened the door slowly.

"..Niethan? It's just me. I've brought you some water."

Taking care to approach him cautiously, she set the bucket down. The table was red with dried blood, and there were deep grooves in the wood from where his hands struggled. Wiping tears from her eyes Vilmah put on the best smile she could, and went to work. She poured water into his mouth, were she saw blood seeping from his bitten tongue. Then, she poured it into his gills. She worked quietly, gently, and without end. The whole time, she waited to see if he had the will, or even the need, to speak.

[Niethan]

Being able to breathe certainly made thinking easier, and the water in his throat felt wonderful, even if it wasn't what his stomach wanted. He was glad she'd brought a bucket instead of a glass. He imagined he could feel his thirsty tissues soaking the liquid up, like a towel or a sponge. The image served to lighten his mood a bit, and he turned his neck slightly to better put the orc in his view.

His ears flicked a bit. He could hear her heart beating, listen to the minute sound of her pulse like it was a drum beating against his ribcage. But the rythym was so like his own, that the hunger passed her by. Niethan smiled.

"T-t'anks, Vil..."

[Vilmah]

"You're welcome," she said with a shaky voice, her hand strembling as she continued to pour water into his gills. She could see he was recovering, but there was something so ferocious about his face. The lines that had built up over years made cracks that detailed his expressions. There were lines from where he laughed, and dark circles under his tired eyes. Even the few patches of moss that managed to streak through his fur were out of the ordinary. There was nothing normal about this troll. She didn't pretend not to like it. "Are you hungry?"

[Niethan]

"Are you hungry?"

He could feel the blood drain from his face, and absently wondered if it would even be visible under the fur and sneaking threads of moss. He shook his head quickly. His stomach twisted on itself.

"I am, but I wouldn' keep it. I probably won' eat until I'm better again, I'm sorry."

[Vilmah]

"Nothing to be sorry about," she said quietly. "Sort of the way I am, isn't it? I'm sorry you have to feel that way, too."

She would have kissed him, caressed him, even simply touch him to help calm the nerves that made him so agitated and restless. Unfortunately, she knew that might not have worked. It might have made him feel uncomfortable.

"I'd give anything to hold you right now, Niethan.. I'm just afraid it wouldn't help things. If there's anything you need from me, please tell me. I'm not sure what else to do."

[Sulajin]

Sulajin leaned against the door looking in on the seen. So much wasted energy. If she'd put half as much effort into her... no matter. It was their decision. But she'd asked him to teach her, and he'd agreed. A good master made damn sure his apprentice came to lessons.

"Excuse me, Vilmah. But were choo planin ta come ta ya lesson taday? If choo want we could have it hea."

He glances at Niethan's bound form. So similar to the way he'd been held in the mages care not too long ago. She had learned more from him then he had tought, it would seem.

[Niethan]

Niethan shuffled against the chains, hearing the sadness in her voice. "I-- I wouldn' mind being held... I think the chains shoul' stay for a while, but I like you being here."

[Vilmah]

Vilmah's lip twitched at the sound of Sulajin's voice. She shut her eyes tightly, as if she could force him away with her will. No.. he was still there. The troll had no decensy. She turned to face him, anger etched on her face.

"I told you I'd be late, today," she said darkly. "And you have no place here. Sanctuary is a safe haven."

[Niethan]

Niethan glanced up at the second voice, for a moment wondering angrily how he could have missed the troll's arrival. It then occured to him that Sulajin had no heartbeat, and certainly didn't smell like a person.

A dim memory of Sulajin's chastisement and T'lhn's mocking taunts floated against his thoughts, and in response Niethan flattened his ears and turned his head away as best the irons allowed him to.

[Sulajin]

Tch. Had she forgotten that she was the one to invite him to her hall?

Sulajin pushes himself off of the wall to go over and inspect Niethan's bindings, idly strolling through the room. She had welded them together their... a little slipshod, but who could do welding well with their bare hands? Hmm...

"Dese bindins look pretty good mon... Although choo should be able ta fuse dem straight inta de tabletop soon enough..."

[Vilmah]

She shuddered as he came close to Niethan, inspecting the work she'd done on his shackles. Staying close to him, her chest rose and fell in frustrating breaths. Vilmah put a reassuring hand on Niethans forearm, and he might have been able to feel her quickening pulse, or the surge of heat that increased throughout her skin.

"I hope I won't have to. This is only temporary, and we're not accustomed to keeping people chained up here. Now, if it's alright with you, could we meet once Niethan's well enough to not be chained down like this?"

[Sulajin]

Sulajin scowls. Pushy pushy... his apprentice had much to learn, patience should have been handled long ago.

Sulajin scowls at Vilmah.

"Fine. Choo betta be ready fo' ya trainin soon. I don' like ta be kept waitin."

In a crack he vanishes.

((Because I just remembered I have class...))

[Vilmah]

Vilmah sighed with relief once Sulajin was gone. She exhaled in one long breath, and tried to calm her heartbeat. Seeing him there, beside Niethan just like when he'd carved the water wards into his chest, brought forth a burning surge of emotions that she wished she could release. How good it would feel to snap Sulajin's neck.

Instead, she took some time to calm herself, and pat Niethan's arm affectionately. Vilmah went outside, and brought in the chair that she'd put next to the door. Sitting it beside the table, she sat down and leaned in beside Niethan. She lay her head beside his shoulder, and put an arm around one of his. Making sure to keep her voice down, she murmured in his ear. "I'll stay until you need me to leave."

[Niethan]

Niethan settled against the table as best he could, unconciously leaning to the side to be closer to Vilmah. He puzzled at her words; he'd never need for her to leave...

He felt the Rune pulse in sympathy at her closeness. It still burned, but he didn't mind the heat so much. After a moment he started a rumbling puur, jagged from the dryness in his throat but still meant affectionately. Niethan closed his eyes, trying to rest in the heat and hoping to forget the thirst.

[Vilmah]

His purring always struck her as odd. Wasn't everything odd about him? She smiled inwardly. Yes, it was all strange, and so was everything else that was going on. Vilmah found herself remembering what the strange new girl in the tavern had told her.

Not normal, like me.

"I am normal!" She said, far more angrilly than she'd ever expected.

Why did it upset her so? What was wrong with being different? It didn't matter. Vilmah Bloodborne was as much a mutant on the inside as Niethan was on the outside. She reluctantly left the touch of his velvetty fur to fill another glass of water, and stroked his face gently.

"Thirsty?"

[Niethan]

Niethan opened his eyes a slit, moving his head in a nod against her hand. He was already half asleep, basking in the heat and security.

[Vilmah]

She put the glass against his lips, and poured the water in slowly, careful not to let him choke. When he finished, Vilmah put the glass back into the quarter full bucket, and resumed her place at his side. Her hands weren't hot from anger, anymore. They were warm as the rest of her, calm and at peace by Niethan's side as she nestled her head beside his, and curled her arm around his bicep.

[Niethan]

Niethan wasn't sure how much time passed- there weren't any windows in the room to tell- but eventually he swam up out of his dreams, stirring on the table. The fever had broken, for the moment, and he couldn't feel anything black in his viens. The thirst was still there, but... he'd lived with that before.

Niethan stretched against the chains, biting down on a yawn and sparking his ears a bit to help him wake.

[Vilmah]

Something snapped against her ear.

"Ouch!"

Vilmah's hazel eyes opened suddently. It took a few moments for her to realized she'd fallen asleep, and that Niethan's ears had woken her up. She still didn't know why they sparked like that. Smiling sleepily at him, she sat up and looked him over.

"How are you feeling?"

[Niethan]

He blinked at the outcry, turning his head stiffly to look. "Did my ears get you? I'm sorry." He paused for a moment to rotate them back, flattening them against his skull. That wasn't a mutation, at least; he'd been moving his ears since he was a child. The few children at the village had said they looked like a dog's, but Niethan had still liked them.

"M'feeling a bit better, I think. Won't be really okay for a while, but I don't think I'll be screaming and clawing anymore..."

[Vilmah]

Vilmah pat his head and smiled.

"Well that's a relief, at least. Shall I take these off of you, then?" She said while tapping the shackle on one of his wrists.

[Niethan]

Niethan hesistated, weighing his thirst against his will. Finally he nodded.

[Vilmah]

Vilmah didn't hesitate to reach beneath her plate mail chest piece, and pull out a set of keys from where they'd been pressed between her armor and her stomach. With a jingle of the keys and a happy skip to her step, she made her way to each of the five shackles and unlocked them. Eyeing the metal bindings with contempt, she tossed them in a pile into a corner of the room and shook her head.

"I hope I never have to do that again," she said sadly.

[Niethan]

Niethan sat up, rubbing his bruised wrists in silence.

"...you might want to keep those, Vil." He glanced up at her, trying to erase the worry from his face. "I don't have the best track record, and in all honesty, this probably won't be the last time. I'm sorry, Vil."

He looked away, staring at nothing in particular. "But thank you for doing it. Not many would have, even when I need it."

[Vilmah]

Vilmah shrugged off the bad vibes that creeped over her, when he mentioned having to do it again. "They'll always be here when you need them, and so will I. Don't worry about it."

She put a hand on his shoulder and tried to look cheerful.

"Sanctuary is always here to help, after all."

She felt like a liar. Vilmah would have done this for anyone, sure, but perhaps not as thoroughly. She felt selfish for thinking about it, and tried to keep a safe distance between the two. He looked sore, and she didn't want to press him. She tried not to think about how easily she had fallen asleep beside him. It would be a nice memory for later, when she needed something peaceful to think about. For now, it just made her want more.

[Niethan]

Niethan nodded, then slid off the table. Glancing at it for a moment, he reflected that even with the shackles and the blood, it still wasn't as cold or hurtful as the basement in the Asylum. Niethan had to pause to swallow the tight knot in his throat.

Taking one quick step away from the teble, Niethan pulled Vilmah into a hug, being careful not to hurt her. From his vantage near her ears, he murmurred, "Thanks Vil, for staying with me. Even while I slept. I'm never as scared when ya around."

[Vilmah]

She could feel her body break out in goosebumps. He was still slightly damp from sweat, and she could feel dried blood that had been caked into different parts of his fur, but still she leaned in close to him. Breathing in his scent, Vilmah trembled.

"Neither am I," she said quietly.