Mended Wounds (Tiz/Charlotte, A)

[Tiz]

It felt to him much like hours had passed, alone in this dark room. When he looked up and saw that the barrier had finally disappeared, he almost didn't have the emotional or mental energy to see what was going on outside. He sighed heavily, unrolling his arms from around him, standing, and brushed himself off. Get it together, damn it, he told himself, in an effort to stay as positive as he could, considering the situation. He easily hopped up from below the hole, using the edges of it to hoist himself up and take a peek outside. Total, complete silence. Not a peep could be heard-- it seemed even the owls and insects had decided that what had just transpired was too much for them. Tiz sighed, picking himself up out of the hole completely to look around.

Putting his hands on his hips, Tiz surveyed the area and weighed his options. At the moment, he didn't hear or see any of the three beasts... And if Myscha's plan was what Tiz thought it was, then they were likely far from here by this point. His home, Laus, was potentially safe from more monsters. Perhaps it deserved that break, Tiz thought with a smile. Maybe the two of them had done some good tonight. But at what cost? Tiz continued looking around in the dark silence. No body could be seen, monster or human. Even the animals were gone, so what else was there to see? Trees, with leaves gently blowing in the nighttime wind? Only an hour ago had Tiz been sitting beneath the tree reflecting in his journal about his time spent with Aidrich in the village. Then Myscha had come, and his heart only had a few brief moments of joy before it was shattered by entombed. He supposed the monster problem perhaps demanded immediate attention... Perhaps he could make arrangements to meet with someone about conducting a monster hunt that might do some real good to all of Lycia.

Then again, perhaps he never wanted to see monsters anymore. Tiz sighed again, scratching the back of his head. Certainly no sign of Myscha... But what was he to do? If he headed home, he would have no way to get in-- in fact, he had no way to prove he was even a citizen, since he'd left most of his things in his appartment when he'd left for the north. Since anything that might help him gain entry was already in town, with the tightened security, he supposed there was no sleeping in his own bed tonight. Biting his lip, Tiz wondered what to do. It might've been in his best interests to go searching for Myscha, but he could also try to work on the two doors down below to see where they might lead. If there was any hope of finding this missing woman, either direction might suffice. But outside, there was still the threat of monsters, and therefore all the danger that would've come with dealing with three of them. Tiz didn't think he was up for that. Sighing, and deciding to give into his more rational side, jumped back down into the hole and onto the bail of hay.

The Sacaen surveyed the room again. A hay bale, some boxes, two doors, wooden walls, all relatively unassuming. What was this place, anyway? As he looked around, he was shocked that something so clearly intentioned to be something was hidden below the forest floor. It was clear also that the woman had known about it... This couldn't be where she lived, could it?

Tiz took off his poncho, deciding the stains and the heat warranted something lighter. Left with his sleeveless blue top, he felt much more at ease and much cooler. The night air helped relieve the heat as well, and Tiz took a moment to lie back down on the hay bale to weigh his options and deal with his thoughts.

If he got through one of the doors, he could follow it wherever it went. But he had no weapon-- he'd dropped the dagger somewhere along the way. That meant danger. He could sleep on the bale, wait until morning, and venture off somewhere, but he wasn't sure he had anywhere to go or anyone to see. He could go see his parents, but the more he thought about it, the less enticing that option seemed. He covered his eyes with his forearm and rested, trying to make a decision. If he went home, it might mean never seeing Myscha again, especially if he left tonight. On the other hand, if she never showed back up, or if he didn't find her, he really didn't have anywhere else to go or anything else to do. He was, he now realized, a wanderer, a man without purpose or intention. He sighed at this thought, wondering how an ex-military swordsman could have become what he was now. Whose fault was it? Dak's, his parents', his own? He couldn't decide.

Tiz shook his head to alleviate himself of the thoughts. He groaned, rolling over. His body still ached, but it was starting to recover a little. Eventually he picked himself up and walked over to the door he'd hit earlier to assess it. There had to be a way through it.

[Charlotte]

As soon as Charlotte’s feet hit the ground, the operative stumbled into the small opening in the side of the hill, not pausing to see if the monsters had been smart enough to follow her. The sounds of the flowing river echoed through the small tunnel, but Charlotte didn’t focus on the calming sounds, not when the faint groans of the undead were still floating around as well. But they were consistently growing further away; the blonde didn’t slow her pace any, but it sounded like she was in the clear. Only stopping for a moment, Charlotte knelt down and ripped a large shred of fabric from her dress, wadding it up and holding it at her neck. She needed to use a vulnerary, but for now she didn’t have the time.

Picking up her pace again, Charlotte wondered if she would find Tiz waiting where she’d left him. Never had she felt so obliged to risk her life for someone like that before, but it had felt like second nature in the moment. It was frustrating to her, something that made her furrow her brow and want to contemplate what all this meant for her strange relationship with the man. Clearly she cared for him, but in what respect? Was it simply because he, like Saturos or Rogus, knew more about her than most, and she wanted to protect that? She wasn’t sure, and until she could rest she wouldn’t have time to consider.

The path forked suddenly, just as Charlotte remembered, and she took the left path while checking the piece of cloth she was holding to her neck. It had already stained bright red, but it wasn’t so soaked that she was in terrible danger of passing out from the blood-loss. She did feel light-headed, but as long as she paced herself, she would make it. She had to, frankly; she didn’t have the option of dying now, not when she had so much left to do.

The sounds of the forest were all but gone now, the only noises in the long tunnel being Charlotte’s staggering steps, a drip of water trying to give her a tempo to move at, and the occasional scurrying rodent. Taking the right path at another fork, Charlotte made out a familiar wooden door a ways down the path, marked by a lit torch that only burned when there was a shipment to be picked up. Thankfully it was burning, or the path would have been too dark to see the end of. Stumbling quickly to the door, Charlotte groaned as she lifted the heavy bar that kept the door shut, letting it thud down to the ground before bursting through the door. Dashing into the room, her lightheaded-ness finally got the best of her, causing her to trip and fall forward.

“Bar the door from the inside,” Charlotte gasped, her eyes shut as she lay on the ground clutching her shoulder. She only assumed Tiz was still here, but if he wasn’t she would quickly know and have to come up with a plan C this time.

[Tiz]

Tiz frowned, throughly beaten by this door. The only way he could imagine that it was this difficult to open would be if it were barred from the other side, but if that were the case, what did that make this room? A prison? No, that didn't make sense, Tiz thought, because he could easily leave out the top stump if he wanted. But he could also close it and hide himself in here... Perhaps that's what it was. Tiz stepped away from the door, accepting defeat as he thought simply about where he could have been. It was, first of all, strange that he was in such a place to begin with-- for who would have thought that there was a finished room somewhere under the forest floor? And by the looks of the two doors, a connected network, perhaps connected to other rooms similar to this... He wondered if they stretched all the way across the Lycian territory, from city to city, perhaps for smugglers. He'd remembered the encounter at the Santaruz border when he'd been banished from the city for a month. Those smugglers didn't use these passages, if that's what they even were... Perhaps he was thinking too much about it. But Myscha knew about that. That's what unsettled him. How had she known? If he only knew what she did, what her profession was.... He had so many questions, and for some reason, despite this closeness he felt with her, he still felt wrong asking. For was it really any of his business, anyhow? What she did with her time, her profession... What place did Tiz have to say anything? He hardly had work. He'd taken some freelance work, but the only reason he was still alive was because it was easy for him to live on simple means, and he already owned an apartment that cost him incredibly little. He sighed, leaned against the adjacent wall, and slumped down, deciding to sit until he could make up his mind.

He started humming a tune his mother used to sing him when he was little. A quaint, almost sad little tune that she'd hummed him when laying him to sleep most nights, even into his toddler years. As he hummed, he did long for an easier time, when he didn't have to worry about being burdensome to someone for whom he cared so deeply, when the only thing that mattered was sword training with his father and playing outside with his friends. All of that was before Laus became such a hot spot, and before Ostia. Things were simpler back then, and while Tiz was content and even happy to be in his current station, especially now that he'd found Myscha, he wondered what it would have been like to have grown up playing with her in his back yard. He laughed at the thought-- he was such an energetic kid. She might not have liked it. Maybe it was for the best... And then, at once, he found himself wondering what her childhood was like. Had she grown up in a household like his, small and unassuming, living their part and doing what they could for the people around them? Was it easy? What had she been like as a child?

The brown-headed man laughed quietly to himself, unable to keep a smile off of his lips even as he sat there alone looking through the hole in the ceiling. Perhaps she didn't always have so many secrets. Maybe she was more open years ago, when the only thing she had to worry about were the same things he did. If that's what she had to worry about. Maybe, someday, he could ask her.

But he sighed. Tiz realized he still didn't know where she was. And would he ever? If he went looking back in the forest, he risked his own death, and there was no guarantee she was even still out there. So what could he do?

As if the gods heard his question and wanted a divine response, all at once Myscha came charging through the door to his right, beaten and blooded. A cold, hard, terrible shiver went down Tiz's spine. "Myscha!" He called, racing over to the door to slam it shut. He immediately looked at her, clearly quite wounded, on the ground. Instinctively Tiz grabbed one of the wooden crates off to the side and gave it a firm heel kick, smashing it to pieces. He quickly reached down and grabbed the longest wooden beam he could see and quickly laid it across the door frame, resting on the handle and the end of the wall.

He knelt down and placed a hand on Myscha's forehead, and another near her wound, though not quite on it. It was still bleeding, and the location made it difficult to do anything about it. He had virtually no tools on him, including no vulnerary, so what was he to do? He quickly scanned the room. He had wood... And hay. This wouldn't be pretty.

He spoke gently, stroking her hair as softly as he could, and knelt down to whisper just above her ear. "Myscha, stay with me. You're not going to like this at all, but I have to stop the bleeding before we can treat the wound."

Tiz was up in an instant, returning to the wooden crate to grab two small splinters. He ran over and grabbed and handful of hay and laid it on the ground in front of him. Quickly he stuck the two wooden sticks into the hay and joined them, rubbing them back and forth as fast as he could. A spark. The hay lit successfully, and he tossed one of the wooden sticks aside in favor of the one that was on fire. The tip was warm and still bore a small flame. He bit his lip and began to sweat. He quickly returned to Myscha's side and grabbed her good arm, sitting her up. Tiz placed himself behind her and gently held her good arm to keep her in place. In a flat voice, he said solemnly, "Try not to move too much. If you don't I can only do this once and we should be good."

He moved to cauterize the wound by jamming the fire-lit stick into the claw marks. If he could stop the bleeding this way, maybe they could get lucky and find a vulnerary, or close off the wound with some cloth-- something, anything. But this came first. Tiz's uncannily steady hand guided the lit stick.

[Charlotte]

As soon as she’d hit the ground, Charlotte succumbed to silent tears as her wound persisted the burning sensation that had started the moment the beast’s talons cut through her skin. She’d gone through plenty of painful things, sure, but this was pain like she’d never experienced before, and it seemed to be slowly creeping to the rest of her body. What disease had those things carried, and would she be plagued with it now? Or could they heal this with little more than a bag of herbs and stopping the flow of blood? She had a vulnerary on her belt, after all, but it would be useless unless they could stop her bleeding.

The woman’s skin was hot as Tiz touched it, and her skin was drenched with sweat from her sprint. The familiar man’s touch was comforting, but Charlotte could barely process that he was helping her, too focused on heaving breaths and how tired yet relived she felt. She almost called out for him not to leave her as he scurried away for a moment to do whatever it was he was doing, but he returned almost as quickly as he’d left, pulling her up so she was sitting and instructing her not to move. She allowed him to move her almost limp form, as a ragdoll would have responded, but she rested the back of her head on the man’s shoulder.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ve gone through worse,” the operative quipped weakly, though she didn’t quite believe herself. Oh how she wished Loretta were here to heal her wounds and scold her for being so foolish. She trusted that woman with her life, but right now, she had to trust Tiz with it. If she were the praying type, she’d be praying that he knew what he was doing. But she wasn’t, so preparing herself for whatever he was doing, she gathered a fistful of cloth from her skirts and brought it to her mouth, biting down on the wad of fabric.

As soon as the burning stick touched her wound, Charlotte’s face twisted while she fought back a scream, but she did not move her arm away from him, understanding what he was doing. Even understanding that, though, the pain was absolute agony. Still biting down on the cloth as hard as she could to muffle her wailing, she devolved into sobs for just a moment before her vision blacked out and her body went limp, fainting from the pain. She would only stay out for a few moments, likely just a few moments longer than it took for him to cauterize her wounds.

[Tiz]

He'd never felt his heart drop any faster than it did the moment the fiery stick touched the woman's wound. The way she reacted was grueling, and he knew that despite the fact that he felt like he was only hurting her at the moment, it would help in the long run. She was almost in danger of bleeding out, or at least she could be if Tiz didn't do something. Fortunately for the both of them, his time in the military and the many wounds he'd suffered had prepared him well, he thought, for occasions like this, when he had to absolutely think on the fly. To be fair, he hadn't performed any medical procedure of any kind on anyone recently, so he was surprised in himself at his ability to have done this with as much ease as he had. He felt the woman go limp in his arms as he finished up his job, being sure to cauterize every part of her that was bleeding. He pulled her collar back to double check for any more spots, and down a little to see if her arm was okay. Deciding that he had covered every part of her that was bleeding, he figured it was good enough. He tossed the stick aside, and its red embers began to fade until it was just warm wood.

Sighing, he moved his now-free arm around her waist and left his other around her back, gently picking her unconscious body up and cradling it in his arms. He looked at her unconscious face and felt the pressure behind his nose and eyes build up as he fought back the tears. Of course she wouldn't die-- they could treat the wound and she would live. But he could no longer help absolutely beating himself up, looking at her this way, knowing if he hadn't been such a burden, she would not have ended up like she. If he'd been prepared, if he'd acted smarter instead of being rash... If he'd hid as soon as she suggested doing so, if he hadn't stalled in the road... None of this would have happened. They wouldn't be trapped down here. She wouldn't be hurt, she wouldn't be suffering like this. He wouldn't have had to stick a fiery stick on her shoulder and neck. He slammed his eyes shut, refusing to cry. Now was not the time.

Gently, with great care, he walked over to the hay bale and placed her limp body down in the center. He very carefully pulled the top of her dress down again to triple-check his work, being careful not to look at more than would have been appropriate, given the fact that she was out cold. Everything seemed to be as in order as it could be. He let go, thinking about his next move. It would be far too difficult, and at this point unnecessary, to fashion a tourniquet to relieve the woman of pain-- her wound was placed in an inconvenient location for that. He could, however, fashion a weak bandage from the poncho he'd discarded, which might be a good thing to do after he treated the wound, but with what?

He smiled weakly as he saw the vulnerary attached at the woman's belt. Godsend. Nothing could have made him happier in that moment. He quickly unfastened it, taking a liberal amount from the cloth bag and applying it directly to every inch of the wound around the woman. Once it was done and coated well, he reached for his poncho of great colors beside her, ripped off three pieces, and tended to her. He used the first to cover the largest part of the wound, the second to cover the remainder, and with the third he tied it around her neck gently and around her shoulder, under her arm, for added support. Tiz tied it off tightly, in a knot, using his teeth to be sure it was as tight as it could go. He saw the salve leak onto the bandage, which was good. The bandage was binding to her wound, and with this, he could at least rest easily knowing she wasn't going to die.

She wasn't going to die. She'd be okay.

He sighed again, closing his eyes. He decided to allow a few tears to fall, which stained her dirty cheek, but he quickly wiped them, then hopped beside her and took a seat next to her limp body on the hay bale. He took a moment to admire her... Even in her weak, beaten state, she was arguably the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid his vivid green eyes on. He smiled goofily, wondering if she had any idea. He stroked some locks of hair out of her face, then turned to face the opening in the ceiling again. The night had began, and it would take a long time for morning to come. He knew he should sleep, but as long as she was out, he refused to do so.

[Charlotte]

Pain flooded her body as Charlotte began coming to. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been before she passed out, but if she moved her wounded shoulder or turned her neck before the vulnerary had time to do its work, she’d be in a world of hurt. Eyes still closed, the blonde breathed steadily as she coped with the pain, similarly to when she’d left the Isles broken and bruised. That time, she hadn’t been slashed by some hellspawn, but at least having gone through that prepared her for the pain she was experiencing.

Charlotte would have shaken her head if she wasn’t worried about opening the wound on her neck again. How dangerous had her work gotten that she was thankful to have been prepared for this sort of pain? Charlotte had known that working with the Etrurians would be dangerous, but never did she think the danger would come from last-minute demands for travel, regardless of the state of the region. How did she even know the bishop’s men even cared where she was now? The only thing that kept her working with the II, frankly, was the steady flow of coin and the fact that she owed Saturos her life, though she wasn’t sure if she could ever fully repay that debt.

And now, it seemed, she very well might owe that same debt to Tiz. Granted, Charlotte had no idea if the wound had actually been infected or if the bleeding would have been too much – but it had certainly felt like it when she’d burst into the room. If anything, for a few moments she’d hoped she could have died instead of endured that sort of pain – those moments were fleeting, of course, as Charlotte had too much to finish to die in the middle of nowhere like this. Whatever the case was, she owed something to the man, whether it be her life or her short-term well-being.

Opening her eyes slowly, Charlotte’s gaze drifted to Tiz sitting next to her on the hay that he’d fallen down on when she’d pushed him into the old cache. Maybe with all that had gone on, he’d forget to be mad with her about that – from what she could tell, the move had been the right one, as Tiz only looked a little beaten up. Shifting her gaze without moving her head, she could see that her shoulder had been bandaged with the colorful jacket Tiz had been wearing. Charlotte frowned, wishing he hadn’t wasted such a beautiful garment wrapping up her bloody shoulder. Of course, though, it was too little, too late for that.

Shifting her gaze up again, Charlotte looked up through the same small hole in the ground above them that Tiz seemed fixated on, which streamed moonlight down on the two of them. She’d been through this small room many-a-time, but never had it seemed quite as beautiful or safe as it did right now. A sigh escaped her as she thought about how simple things had been when she had simply moved goods around.

“Well, this will hurt for a while,” Charlotte sighed, finally speaking as she tried to push herself up with her unharmed side, clearly struggling with the movements. Her head began aching but she ignored it, simply content she was alive.

[Tiz]

"Easy now, killer."

Tiz looked over his shoulder and smiled at the woman who, thank the gods, had finally come to. He was glad that this was the case-- he was beginning to get worried that she'd be out for a while, but fortunately it seemed she was okay. Though it was crude, it seemed likely now that their jerry-rigged treatment had worked. Whatever was to come, at least she wasn't going to die in this hole in the ground, and at least it wouldn't be Tiz's fault that she died. More than anything, the young man was happy was she was alive. And, of course, that she was with him again. He bit his lip, though, looking away from a split second as he wondered if it would end in the same way that all of their other encounters did: confusing and depressing. He hoped against that, but was truly ready to let the winds guide where they may. He sighed, looking back to her.

"You'll undo all that hard work I just did if you go moving around too much. Here--" Tiz leaned over and helped stabilize her so she could be comfortable and face the way she wanted to without struggling with all of her might to get that way on her own. He leaned back over, resting his arm over his pulled-up knee, half facing her, half facing the hole to the sky. It was like their own personal little window, and he was glad to have it. It felt less stuffy. He could even hear some of the owls come back. Perhaps the monsters really had finally gone away. "Don't make me put an on-fire piece of wood on your neck again." He smiled at her, cocking his head to the side, unable to hide the joy that was filling his body at the prospect of being able to talk to Myscha again, regardless of the poor circumstances.

It was then that he really studied her, began to watch as she breathed, as she existed, in front of him. Here was this woman who, despite his strong feelings, he knew relatively little about. In all honestly, he knew the name she'd given him, though much like when they first met, wasn't sure it was her given name-- after all, he'd never heard it. He still didn't know what she did, where she went, or who she kept ties with, and yet... There was something here, something he felt that ran so much deeper than all of that, which now that he was with her, seemed so superficial. He wondered what it would be like in a world where only the two of them existed-- how different would she be? Would she be open? Would she be like this? He couldn't help but wonder. Perhaps he'd kept his fair share of secrets, too-- after all, she knew very little of his past as well, and she knew nothing of his encounter with Dak, or that his family was no longer speaking to him. She probably also didn't know that he was effectively homeless now, without a goal or a home to return to, since Laus was a danger zone.

He continued to study her. Her labored, but capable, breathing, her beautiful blue eyes, her dirty face, bloodied body, and short blonde hair that had a strange charm to it despite being unkempt from the battle she'd just escaped. He watched her chest rise and fall. She was alive. She, like him, was alive. She had a family, friends, a goal, values, all the things that made Tiz feel like he had some purpose in the world, she also had. He just didn't know them.

And yet, he smiled at her again, starting to laugh, breaking the tension he had created within himself. "I am so glad you're alive." Strangely, his words were serious, but his tone was light as a feather. Perhaps it was the joy mixed with the genuineness of his feelings.

[Charlotte]

“Believe me, one time’s enough for today,” Charlotte smiled, grateful the man had helped her sit up. Even though it hurt more to sit up, she’d always hated lying down flat on her back; it always made her feel so vulnerable, now even more so, since it was easier for someone to overcome her, not to mention harder for her to get moving quickly. Not that she was planning on cutting and running for any reason right now, but it was just the way she thought after having to be ready to run at any minute, any second of any day. It was an anxiety she’d forced on herself to stay safe.

Eyes still lazily focused on the bit of the night sky they could see above them, Charlotte realized how strange the thought she’d just had would be to the man sitting next to her, or anyone who lived a relatively normal life for that matter. So many of her habits and peculiarities had sprung out of necessity over the years, so much so that she’d even become something of an enigma to herself. She wore so many different masks and took on so many different roles that she’d started to lose herself in the process. Part of her was glad to lose some of her past, but could she truly say that everything she’d gone through to become who she was now, had been all bad?

It was a peculiar line of thinking, and not one that crossed her mind very often. Charlotte liked who she was, but she also had come to know that she didn’t always like how alone it left her. ‘Out of necessity,’ she’d always told herself. ‘That’s why you don’t make friends, Charlotte, that’s why you don’t take lovers. All that does is complicate things, distract you from your goals. They’ll only slow you down, they’ll only get you hurt.’ Her mentor had said those same things to her, too, and she’d listened for the longest time. And certainly sitting here, shoulder gashed to sh*t after putting someone else before herself, she could see why she’d always taken those warnings to heart.

But was it actually right? Charlotte couldn’t deny that having other close to her was more dangerous in the long run, but it meant there was no one to rely on when things got rough. And even as much as she wanted to say she functioned completely independent of others, there were people she’d depended on in the past - Loretta, Rogus, Saturos, Simon, and a slew of others from the various smugglers and underground rings she’d worked with. So why was it so hard for her to allow herself to rely on one of the only men who actually seemed to genuinely have her best interests at heart? Was she determined not to be hurt? Was she simply taking the easy way out?

A small smile curled her lips as Tiz expressed how happy he was that she had made it. Charlotte was happy to be alive too, but instead of agreeing she gave another sentiment. “I’m glad you are too,” she said simply, her eyes flitting over to focus on the man for a moment before looking back up towards the sky. “I wasn’t even sure this hideout was still here, to be honest; could have sworn this place was caved in a while ago, but seems it’s still in commission.” Charlotte shrugged her good shoulder. “I figure if we hole up here for the night, we can slip out in the morning and head back to Laus. I have a way in, past the guard checkpoint.”

[Tiz]

Tiz sheepishly scratched the back of his head, looking at her only briefly before looking back up to the sky to avoid getting too embarrassed. "Yeah," he admitted, "I'm sorry about that. It's all I had, really. But hey-- don't blame me too much, I mean if I hadn't done that, you could be in a lot worse shape." But as he looked at her again, studied her wound that he'd helped repair, and looked at the rest of her, she looked tired and broken. Maybe he had helped, sure, but if it weren't for him in the first place, she wouldn't look like this at all. She wouldn't be suffering. Like before, Tiz tried to shove the thought out of his head. He sighed, folded his arms, and leaned back against the wall that the hay bale was pushed against. What an eventful night, and to be fair, it had really only just begun. Though the stars were out now, Tiz guessed it couldn't have been anything terribly late.

He breathed out, though, a great sigh of relief as Myscha mentioned that she had a way back into Laus. It was perhaps unlike him to break the law, seeing as he once upheld it to the best of his ability, but things were changing. His life over the past two years had been drastically different than it had since ever before that. Since meeting Myscha, since coming into contact with Dak, since traveling the globe... Things were just different now. And he'd be a fool not to ask least go back one last time to retrieve his things. And he certainly didn't want to stay in Laus if it was becoming monster infested. But what was a man without purpose or path to do? His contacts in the military were always there, and he knew that, but he hadn't spoken with many of them in quite some time-- would they even still be around for him, should he need them? He wanted to say yes, but in circumstances like these, in which there was a real, constant threat, he knew they would have more important things to do than maintain contact with an old war buddy... No matter what that buddy wanted from them. He discarded these thoughts for the moment, massaging his temples to get it away for good.

"Do you? That would be great... My, uh, sword is still in my apartment, and my coat, and... Well, everything else I have to my name. Not a lot, actually..." He chuckled nervously. He realized he was a man of simple means. He needed very little to enjoy the world, to get on like he had, whatever that meant. But regardless of all of that, he definitely needed his blade. The one thing that might have saved Myscha infinite amounts of pain tonight. As he looked back over to her, he thought about the hideout. What did she need a hideout for? From who was she hiding? Out of commission... If that had been a thought, she had in all likelihood been using this place for much longer than Tiz realized. And she knew exactly where it was. Was she an assassin, or a trader, of some kind? A smuggler herself, perhaps? He studied her, admiring both her beauty and her mystery. In this moment, Tiz focused his eyes on her, deciding that before she disappeared again like she was prone to do, he would have answers.

But then the longer he looked at her, the longer he felt himself become depressed by the state of things as they were. He started to speak, then closed his mouth and looked away from her, back at the so-comfortable skyline that he could see from the hole in the earth that hid the two of them on this hay bale. He gave another brief moment of silence, then decided he was too ashamed to look at her as she spoke. His mirthful tone was completely gone, replaced with one much more somber, more afraid. "Myscha.... I'm sorry. I..." He shook his head, clearly becoming incredibly angry with himself. He clenched his teeth but didn't open his lips to show it. "You wouldn't be in this state if I hadn't..." The grip his fingers had around his biceps as he kept his arms folded tightened considerably. His voice cracked and wavered a bit under his stress. "If I had made better decisions in the moment, if I'd been prepared, if I'd.... There is so much I could have done different to have..." He finally looked over at her, his eyes angry, though clearly not at her. "...saved you from this. I was a burden to you." He looked away and shook his head again, then let it fall back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"I was a burden. I slowed you down and I got you hurt, and I swore to myself I would never let that happen to you while I was around. And I did. I don't know what to say."

[Charlotte]

Charlotte nodded with a grin. “I remember… and it’s the least I can do.” As she made the comment, she couldn’t help but think back to that night they’d first met, that felt as if it had been a millenia ago. So many things were different now, and she knew so much more than she had back then - but really, what had changed? Despite all that had happened, little had changed about how she looked at the world - at least, so she thought.

All of the sudden, though, his joyful tone shifted, his words becoming apologetic as he considered the implications of his actions from the night. Charlotte remained silent as she let him speak, considering every word he spoke, every twitch of his lips and move of his body. She could tell he was truly regretful about the situation he’d placed them in, and Charlotte didn’t blame him; in fact, she outright agreed with what he said.

“You’re right,” Charlotte said matter-of-factly. She was not one to skirt around delicate subjects unless she was working or hiding information about herself. “There were plenty of things you could have done differently, but you didn’t - well, we didn’t.”

While her words seemed harsh at first, the woman had a follow-up. “But it is what it is, and there's no changing the past. I’m not dead, so it’s just a temporary set back. I’ll recover; I always do.”

The operative grew silent for a moment, shifting in her spot as she frowned. Something had been irking her since she’d first reunited with Tiz. It had started out as mildly irksome but had grown to feel so strange, so uncomfortable that she needed to say something. It was nothing the man had done, of course, but considering how much he’d done for her and how little she’d done for him, she had no reason to address the annoyance that she herself had set up. “And you don’t have to call me Myscha, you know. I’m sure you’ve already figured out that’s not my real name.” She paused; while she’d been looking Tiz straight in the eyes before, she broke their gaze now, looking down at her dangling feet.

“Charlotte, not Myscha. Some people call me Charlie, but it’s all the same really.” Rubbing her forearm with the opposite hand, Charlotte felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, even if the tone she'd used to reveal her name was as if she was giving a random fact in passing. She hid behind ‘Myscha’ for so long for reason long past, but sometimes it was hard to remember who she really was behind the mysterious moniker. She didn’t think she’d regret the decision; in fact, maybe it was time to give that whole defense up altogether. Maybe that was the change Charlotte was looking for, or maybe it was something else.

[Tiz]

"Hmm." Tiz pondered aloud, resting a hand over his chin and mouth as the woman spoke. It was true-- there wasn't a need for her to beat around the bush about what had happened. He'd screwed up, potentially made the wrong decision, and had thusly put them both in harm's way, more her than himself, as was made clear by her injuries. He would very likely always feel guilty about it, though he was at this point simply happy to have her back, especially to have her where she was. She was, once again, beside him. Sober, unlike in the church, and in happier spirits, unlike the first few encounters they'd had. He wondered what this meant for him, or for them, in the moment. Perhaps now would be his chance to learn more about what made Myscha who she was; what made her tick interested him, and what she thought and what she believed intrigued him more than anything. Here was this woman he'd been falling for since their meeting a year ago, and yet he admitted once again that he didn't really know all that much about her. Strange, then, that fate kept shoving them together.

He nodded. "The past, huh?" He mused, unsure that what she said was right. The past was the past, sure, and people did recover, but what about when they didn't? Could he be trusted to protect the people he cared about? What power did he have to do so if the people he wanted to save kept getting hurt-- especially at his own device? If he'd thought ahead, if he'd been more cool in the moment, perhaps she'd have more reason to trust him. He sighed. "You'll recover." He said, reassuring himself as best he could. He knew it was the truth, but looking at her so injured, it didn't seem like the right pill to swallow. "I... know you aren't helpless, Myscha, but I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. Next time--" he swallowed: would there be a next time? Their meetings always ended in uncertainty. "--Next time, I won't fail." He leaned forward and let his legs roll over the bale and onto the floor, clasping his hands between his legs as they hung over and touched the ground.

And then his solemnness broke, his green eyes opening wide with surprise and fascination. He slowly turned his head to face the injured woman, who had herself decided to look away. But Tiz couldn't. Was this really happening? His mouth hung open for a few moments, as he declined to speak at first. He let the room sit in silence, unable to process. He had been right? It was a pseudonym? "...Charlotte." It sounded more right as he breathed it. Much more fitting, and more honest, more real, more vulnerable. After he'd failed to protect her, she was divulging some of her secrets? It seemed strange, but the man felt a smile curl upon his lips nonetheless. He looked away, down towards the floor in the same direction she looked at it. "...Charlotte. Much more beautiful, I think. And more fitting." The joy had returned to his voice.

Then, Tiz nodded, offering a chuckle. He looked back at her, through inquisitive, bright green eyes. "I had my suspicions, sure. But it wasn't my place to ask if you were lying to me. Of course, I do still have suspicions, as you might guess." His smile turned a bit coy, playful even, as he cocked his head a bit to the side and watched her. "I've always wondered, Charlotte, who you are."

[Charlotte]

"I've always wondered, Charlotte, who you are."

Charlotte frowned, her gaze still averted from Tiz’s. His question was certainly a loaded one, and it was one she herself wouldn’t have known how to answer, even if she’d asked it to herself. Who was she, honestly? There were, of course, undeniable facts she could relay, but information was power. Every bit of information she gave about herself was valuable, and in turn each of them could be used against her, as blackmail, leverage, and the like. Her name had once been that valuable - in ways, it still was.

But the operative had revealed it, knowing soon she would have to use that name and that name alone, regardless of the consequences. Still, that fact didn't lessen her revealing it to Tiz - in fact, Charlotte for a while considered not telling him at all - it would have made it much easier for her to disappear when needed, and harder for the man to track her down. Anyone who did know her false name also knew not to tell someone who was looking for her where she was. At the moment, so few actually knew her real name that him knowing it could do her little harm, unless he somehow found a way to connect her with the Inquisitional Intelligence.

But none of those musings answered his question. “Does it really matter?,” her vexed reply came as she connected her gaze with Tiz’s again. But just as soon as she spoke, Charlotte sighed and looked away, closing her eyes for a moment. “Look, it’s just… for as long as I can remember I’ve been on my own, running from one thing or another and just trying to keep myself alive. Anytime someone gets close or I let someone in... either I’ve been hurt or they have.”

As she grew silent, Charlotte knew what she was telling Tiz was almost the same types of answers she’d given to him in the past. Even when she tried to open up, she couldn’t do it. She’d grown so used to living life behind the series of walls she’d built up, it was nigh impossible for even her to get past the walls herself. How could she clarify further? What else could she truly say to make him understand?

Another sigh erupted from the blonde, though this time laced with sober pragmatism. “The fact is, the people close to me end up hurt or dead; I’m bad news, Tiz.” Charlotte finally looked over to Tiz with a melancholic smirk. “At this point, it’s better for everyone if I’m alone.”

[Tiz]

Tiz sighed, letting a slight laugh out. "To me, it all matters." He said honestly, scratching the back of his head and he considered her words. It seemed appropriate that even after all this time she wanted to stay sheltered; after all, it was becoming more and more clear to him that she had many secrets that, for her benefit, needed to stay secrets. Perhaps it wasn't his job to pick and pry and know every detail, but then perhaps he didn't have to. If there were thirty details, maybe fifteen would suffice. If there were a hundred, maybe fifty-- whatever it took to get to know this woman in the kinds of ways that he wanted to. And to him, it was nothing but the truth-- he really did want to know, and it did indeed matter to him. Every word, no matter how flippant, no matter how distant, mattered to him.

The man leaned back again and folded his arms, listening intently, keeping his gaze focused softly on her mouth as she spoke. He did his best not to interject, to fully accept that which she was saying with every intention of taking it seriously, because he could tell from how she talked that this was the most brutally honest she had been since they'd met, and with that honesty came, more or less, a warning. And Tiz knew it would be stupid to ignore it outright; what she was saying had some merit, and even though he knew what he had to say with regard to what she was conveying herself, he did of course allow her the space she needed to get it out, to warn him, to say before moving forward any more that whatever was happening, whatever distance was being kept, was only for the best... Because, as she had outlined, she was dangerous, and dangerous people typically keep dangerous company, at the expense of themselves or others. Tiz understood. Though he wasn't expecting her to see him, he nodded slowly, responding silently to her words as he let them hang in the air a few moments before finally addressing her, making sure his eyes didn't move away from her as he spoke.

I've been on my own. Maybe his previous conceptions of her upbringing were wrong. Maybe she was in whatever line of work she was in because it was comfortable for her. It was exactly what she was used to, and perhaps it was for that reason that she'd done so well at keeping him on the edge for the past year or so. He grinned weakly at the thought; he was indeed familiar with these types. They were noble people, trying to keep the safety and health of their loved ones in mind. He studied her again, working through her important words in his head and in his heart. Tiz sighed audibly, moving a little closer to her to bridge the gap in distance he had unintentionally created. He spoke softly. "I know you know this," he began, his voice sweet and light like a feather, "but I'm a big boy now. I can watch out for myself, you know." His chuckle that followed was somewhat unintentional, but befitting of his personality, and surely not a surprise. "...But as for you, Charlotte--" that felt so much better, he thought-- "Maybe you're too focused on being the agent there. Maybe other people can protect you. Maybe you don't always have to be the one doing the protecting. I don't... want to let anything happen to you." Tiz coughed a little awkwardly, then looked away for a moment, only to snap himself back into it and fixate his gaze back on her.

"I want to protect you, Charlotte. As best I can. As best I know how. With every force in my being, I want to keep you safe. It's just..." He scratched his head again, searching for the right words to convey his feelings. "I've lived my whole life since leaving the military without much purpose. I sought fun, I sought adventure, I sought bounties, I sought monster hunting, and I sought new friends. I didn't seek you, though... You found me. And now I have my family, and I have you, and I want to protect those things with the strength I've been given. Do you... understand?"

He stopped a moment, looking down at his folded arms. "Maybe you are bad news." he continued with a slight smile, the wryness in his voice very apparent, "but you can't say it's better for everyone if you're alone. Maybe you think it's better for you if you're alone. Maybe you're right to think that way. But it isn't better for everyone. It isn't better for me."