Snippet #2560406

Lifting her head slightly, Eilin watched as Sverre made his way around the table and deposited himself into a chair. His comment only earned him a frown from her, eyes narrowing slightly. What game was he trying to play? A demon helping people. Perhaps as some twisted prelude to burning down another village. She saw no sense in it and, quite honestly, didn't understand the implications. Leaning forward in her chair, she returned his gaze steadily and held it.

“Coming from a demon, that means nothing,” she told him icily. As he continued to talk, she let herself lean back again, resting against the back of the chair. As he questioned her on her knowledge of him, however, she couldn't help but break eye contact. Her attention turned to the hearth even as he signaled the bar keep for a drink. Idly, she fingered her own mug, uncertain if she felt like drinking anymore. A part of her wanted to get up and walk away. The other, bigger, part wanted answers. The truth of what happened. Yet she wasn't going to give up her own identity so easily, stubbornness prevailing over her past even now.

Eventually, she did move to lift the mug, taking a drink from it before setting it back down on the table. “People talk,” she finally said, her gaze fixed on the mug. Her voice softened a notch into the most conversational tone she had used with him thus far. “A man, noble enough to stand up for a woman's honor even when it means risking his life.” The corners of her lips turned upward into a mocking smile and she sneered slightly as her gaze flickered up to him again.

“If only they knew the truth of it. The man is a demon. There is no help for them. What do you suppose the people here would do if they were to find out what you are?” she asked him, tilting her head slightly. Bits of free strands of hair fell forward and over her shoulder. She gave him only a momentary look of question before continuing.

“Your tracks are the only ones that arrived in this village. Imagine... No pack in sight. I wonder how far ahead of them you really are. A scout perhaps, staking out territory for your kind to raise to the ground at a later time? Yet you were not looking for survivors three days ago. So perhaps you are an exile of your own race. Wouldn't that be a story to tell?”

Eilin paused just when the waitress made her way over with a generous mug of ale for Sverre. “It is on the house,” she told him with a smile, setting it down on the table. She gave him no chance to protest before she walked off. Eilin's eyes narrowed slightly at this. The girl was a fool. The same sort of fool that Eilin had been at one point in time.

“You may know how to lie and cheat your way into the hearts and beds of women, Sverre, but I know the truth of it. Lie to me and you will wish I had killed you back in that village. What are you really here for?” she asked, effectively setting his own questions aside. As far as she was concerned, he had no need to know who she was. At least, not yet.