Samurai and Berzerk

Slowly, I walk forward and stop behind her. "Stay still." I tell her as I raise my hands behind her and hold my dagger to her neck. "I have two choices here. I can kill you. Or I can let you live." Slowly, I pull my other hand up and before her, driving the dagger into my flesh. "I spill blood for you now as I would in battle. My sister, walk with me. Take my hand." I say, offering her the bloodied flesh.

Kiou watched intently as the blood from Kaija's hand dripped freely onto the floor of the training room. A blood pact was a deep promise indeed. For a hesitating moment, she wondered if the girl before her even understood the depth of such a pact. What it could entail for the both of them in the future. If she went through with this pact, Kaija would be the first person outside of her family that she held allegiances with; not a small feat by anyone's standards.

After a long moment's pause, Kiou reached out and took the knife before cutting her hand as well. "I make no guarantees that I will be able to walk properly alongside you; though I will try. Know though, that I will consider this bond you provide as my first and only test of this home. If you break it, I will burn this home to the ground and leave no survivors. Of this, you have my word." Her eyes looked from her own cut hand to Kaija's eyes; locking gazes.

After our locked gazes break, I pull her into a hug, "And mine with you, if it is broken, I will destroy your clan." And then I leave a small kiss on her cheek, "I love you, my sister."

The utter flurry of emotion within Kiou leaves her standing stiff in the hug a bit unsure of just what to do or say in this instance. Her own mother had rarely hugged her and her grandfather had made a point of not hugging her. Needless to say, those memories only served to make this hug all the more awkward.

Fumbling with her hands and arms a moment, she finally got enough control to make them hug the girl before her. It was a weak and tentative hug, but it was a hug nonetheless. "Sister...." It left her lips like a ghost or shadow. It was soft and slipped between them as she tested the word out. She had never had a sister before.

"So..." I ask Kiou, "Hungry?"

"I..." Kiou stopped a moment as she realized her mind was still locked in a shock loop. "Yes... I am hungry."

I shake my head at the antics of the two women. this day is getting weirder and weirder. Removing the locket I place it in the remains of the shirt I was wearing before shrugging on my coat. Best to let new ties form of their own accord. I still need to clear my mind, with that though Out the window and down the fire escape I go. a simple meal and a quiet booth are what I need now. when I return the others and I can face what comes.

The bar-if you can call it that-is a long board laid on barrels to keep it off the hard-packed dirt of the ground. The air smells of smoke: fire smoke, cigarette smoke, and psychoactive substances of several types. It was thick enough to watch curling in sinuous blue curves around the hanging lanterns, leaving the figures in the room as blank silhouettes.
The barkeeper took a look at the man who walked through the door. Eyes came up, studied a moment, and lowered once more.
When the drink was ordered, there was a grunt, and a thunk of the drink on the board. The point had been made: you drink quietly, you drink alone, or you get out. Possibly in one piece. All without a word spoken.
It was the tradition at this particular bar. Everyone who drank there liked it that way, and would make you regret it if you didn't agree.
A few eyes watch without seeming to as the man takes a seat.

I smirk, the ambiance in this place hadn't changed in centuries, one of the few constants I have seen in this place, the Beer, if you can call it that, is terrible, and price reflects it. But it is good for quieting the mind. Though some people here lose their minds either to the substances they take, or the demons they are trying to drink away, regardless it stays quiet. I had briefly entertained the idea of visiting Heti, but the idea was quickly quashed, too loud on the eyes and ears. No this was the place I needed to be for right now, Quiet and unassuming.

For an hour, the man is left in peace. Then a voice cuts the silence. Slow, langerous, like bitter chocolate on the ears. "Well hello..."
The man glances up slowly. His eyes meet the lazy brandy-colored eyes. The Puck left his eyes unmasked. He intended for that to be recognized, at least. "Mind if I take a seat?" The question wasn't really meant to be a question, and the Puck takes a seat, laying a flask on the table. "The beer here is foul. Even by human standards."

I make a gesture that the chair is open "It has been a while Mr. Goodfellow" I say by greeting "And true but bad beer is a small price to piece and quiet some times." I can't seem to find myself stirred to the proper wariness that he normally instills in people. Maybe it is just that we are both so old a pair of relics from a bygone era but I can't seem to hate him the way so many do.

There was a very slight smile on the glamour-laden face. "You don't show fear, do you, Northman?" the Puck purrs. "No fear and no anger. Rare in a human, that. The singing girl must be an influence on you indeed. Though of course, her breed is less...unnerving. Or so they say." The flask is uncorked, and the Puck takes a generous swig. The smell of apples lingers for a long moment as he sets it down.

I shrug "We have met before, you and I though I had still been a draugr then." the smell from his liquor is a tempting bouquet, but I remember not to eat or drink of faerie, and I am a little to fond of the foods of man to run that risk. "and somehow I doubt this is a social visit. Though if it is I intend no offense and your company is welcome." I take another pull from the piss water they call beer here.

The feline smile widens. "Has she been teaching her pets the laws of hospitality then? Or..." He cocks his head, slightly. "Or no...I am mistaken. You're not a pet...odd...." he takes another pull. "She treats humans as equals...her choice, I suppose...and I suppose there are a few of your breed that are of some worth. A few..."
Lesser men would have been enraged simply by the way the Puck was smiling. Men had attacked him, in the past, for such a smile, and for such a tone of voice. He was rather interested to see what this one would do.

I chuckle " the river queen is my friend, Goodfellow, and I know the laws because I lived when both of our kinds abided by them." I take another pull "that is why when she and I met I offered a meal instead of a coin. But that is in the past, I'll not presume to understand what you have been up to you, nor do I really want to know. Though what ever it has been has obviously been good for you since we both sit here speaking so plainly"

"Ahhh." The Puck breathes, "The old ways. The sensible ways. Been too long since I sat with someone who knows them.Or with one who doesn't rise to every bait I cast into the water." He tips his flask in Liam's direction, a tacit compliment on his passing of the test. He swallows, and stretches languorously. "As for speaking plain. The world is changing. Or should I say, the worlds. I suppose you might have noticed."

"They change frequently but yes things have been moving much faster then they did before and on much grander scales." I raise my glass returning his salute "Burdens placed on some that they never asked for, and power stolen by some who should never be allowed near it. but isn't that the story of every generation. the greedy and mad seek to change everything to there way and hell with the resdt of us, and the 'noble' few end up standing and trying to fix there mess. though which is which will be decided after." What can i say I am a bit of a pessimist "still I would rather not see the kindred and man split forever, I have seen good come when we work together and it would be a wound on the world to see it end."

The Puck raises a brow. "You call us by our proper name. You have learned from her."

I shrug "you sidestepped the comment" taking another pull "Go through half the things that we and out motley band of misfits, and don't try to say we are anything but because we are, have gone through and you are bound to pick up a few things." besides that I would like to visit the holt again someday reminded me of home "doesn't due to call a squirrel a mongoose, better to call it what it is."

"But shapes are so very easy to change." the Puck chuckles, his voice a throaty purr. "And of course I sidestep, dear boy. I am an elf....for the most part."
He leans forward with the loose grace of a dancer. "But yes, I did have a night's work in mind having a word with you. I come with a message. The Rifting is showing signs of strain, tell her that. And the Weaving is coming apart. Battle lines are being drawn. Beltane is nine days hence by my reckoning; if she is wise, she will be about her business. That will be the best time, if anything is to be done."

"I will bring your message to her Puck." I quirk my brow "or is there more to the message I should know first?" I know he speaks in riddles and half truths but this is striking to close to the silent worry we have all been sharing "as much as I enjoy a good battle, this is not a situation that one would help."

The Puck lounges back again, what little urgency he had displayed dissipating as if it had never been. "Oh, nothing of consequence. Do remind her of the pretty golden bough, and the poison it bears. And now, there is more interest to be had than in this cowshed. A good evening to you, northman." He stands, supple and lithe. "And one more thing..."

"Yes Puck?" I keep my gaze on him as he stands "and should we meet again call me Lazarus. it is better then going by breed" not my name but a name none the less.

The Puck smirks, enjoying the joke. "Of course...Lazarus. Fitting. Well then, do me this boon. The river's daughter mayhap do great things. I have high expectation of her, and hope to see her soon being of great...use, to the Kindred. I place no wagers, but I have hope. And yet you can do very little when dead...present company accepted. Watch over her, Lazarus Northman. Keep the daggers from the back, the snares from her legs. And do keep her from clasping vipers to her breast, as she seems so wont to do."
With a mocking salute, the Puck turns, and is out the door in a few steps. The scent of apples and wet leaves lingers in the smoky air.

I lever myself up from the table "figures, more cryptic then the hellhound." I mutter taking the last of the beer and making my way back, seems like this is going to be a long day no matter what.