Sverre's Story

She was trembling. Eilin only registered this as she began to sink down into the bedding around her, the pressure on her wound as Sverre worked to clean it almost soothing after the handling of the arrow itself. Right at that moment she couldn't tell if her muscles were reacting to the high stress, if she was getting cold again, or if it was simply the exhaustion that made it difficult to stay completely still. Perhaps it was a mixture of multiple reasons.

Her breath hitched from time to time as she worked to stabilize it. Eventually, the pain resolved itself into a dull ache, the area around the injury feeling almost numb after the handling of the day.

If she registered the soft brush of his hand over her hair, freeing it from her forehead, she didn't show it. A day ago she would have likely tried to stab him, but she was in no position to attempt a fight, let alone hope to win one. And his words were met with a simple huff of annoyance.

"Sverre..." she spoke. "Always the hero." It was unclear whether the words were an insult, a friendly jab, or her remembering the old days. She was not conscious long enough to explain herself as the weariness of the day finally fell over her like a soft blanket, carrying her away from reality.

Sverre's brow furrowed in worry as he did his best to clean the arrow wound, noticing how the young woman trembled. It couldn't be infected yet, surely? So perhaps the poison wasn't as weak as she thought. Cleaning the hole itself now in an effort to flush it out, Sverre mumbled in apology if she flinched or seemed to be at all in pain. The wash was concluded with pressing a third cloth to the wound, leaving this one in place but not yet bandaging her.

Despite his instructions to shush, Eilin seemed to need to get one last thing out, almost a scoff if he tried to place the tone. Hero? That was a new one.

"Eh. I try..." he answered almost sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "Now pipe down. I'm gonna get the healer, so you stay put." He continued unnecessarily, noting his companion drifting off in less than a minute.

Checking to ensure Eilin was breathing ok and seemed safe, Sverre wiped down her spear before he forgot. Checking once more to be certain she was still ok, he finally gathered the bowl, two dirty wash cloths, and his sword before heading out, closing the door softly behind him.

He returned the borrowed items to the barmaid, thanking her and apologizing for the mess and inconvenience. Slipping her two small coins as thanks, he got directions for the village healer, wasting no time in bringing them back.

To his immense relief, the healer assured him that while she had been poisoned, the amount wasn't lethal and it was incorrectly concocted, further lowering its efficacy. The medic cleaned the wound again for good measure, then put plain honey over the hole before wrapping the huntresses shoulder in a bandage. Leaving a pot of honey, some poppy, and bandages, the healer gave Sverre full care instructions, took his payment, and departed back home, eager for sleep.
*******

For the next thirty (or was it fourty?) hours, Sverre kept a near constant vigil of the dark haired huntress. He had water and food brought up, placed cool rags on her warm brow, and changed the bandage once, having been instructed to do so if it became damp and dirty or every other day (whichever came first).

At some point during the evening, Sverre nodded off at Eilin's bedside, head eventually resting several inches from her blanket covered knees.

How long had she been asleep? Eilin could only remember very vague moments of wakefulness. Hearing Sverre talking with someone near-by. Then a moment of the sun rising beyond the windows. Something cold being applied to her forehead. Yet the moments were short and fleeting.

Over a 24 hour period her tremors gradually disappeared, her breathing evening out as the poison worked its way out of her system. Even for a weak batch such as this, she had gotten lucky. Had the coated arrow tip embedded in her shoulder, she would have likely been much worse off in the aftermath of the attack.

It was night, a crescent moon hanging in the sky and casting a soft glow through the windows, that Eilin finally woke up to. It was the first time she regained proper consciousness and it took her a good few minutes to orient herself.

She was still in the same room Sverre had brought her to after the attack. Gingerly, Eilin shifted only to be met with an ache in her shoulder, causing her to wince slightly and reach over to find it bandaged up. The arrow... Right... Slowly the memory of her trek through the forest, the scout, and the fight all returned to her and she felt dread setting in at the consequences of her actions.

Sverre now knew who she was and as she looked around she found him, head on the covers, fast asleep next to her. What in the hell was he still doing here? Why had he come? Why did he insist on helping her? Was it some sort of a cruel joke? Guilt for burning her village to the ground? No... demons had no guilt nor shame, at least none she had ever come across. So what was his play in all of this?

Blinking away the haze, Eilin slowly propped herself up on her good arm, easing herself into a seated position. She had no idea if the movement would wake Sverre or not but the closeness of him was making her uneasy and so she shifted herself further away, eyes locked on that shaggy black hair she loved to play with as a child. Her mind was beginning to race as it woke up slowly. What could she do? Tell him to leave? Run away? Fight? Pretend she never woke up? Every options seemed more ridiculous than the last.

Eventually she settled on picking up a cup that had been left on the bedside, inspecting it to find it was simple water. That she did need so she drank and attempted to try and figure a way out of this bizarre situation.

The demon thankfully had a dreamless sleep thusfar, only an occasional snore coming from him as he rested. It wasn't until his brain and body registered movement mere inches from him that he began to stir.

Glancing up, Sverre groggily took in his surroundings, vaguely wondering why his neck and back felt unusually stiff. His thoughts began to clear as he shook his head lightly, stretching slightly from what he realized was the source of his discomfort- halfway lying down on a bed slightly too low for an ideal upright sleeping position.

Movement towards the headboard caught his attention, the sight of his friend banishing any lingering fatigue. He was glad, relieved even, to see she had awoken. "Hey you. How you feelin? Had me worried there for a while." He said, giving her an almost boyish grin. "Should I get some food? Bet you're famished."

Eilin had ruled out running and trying to fight him - or rather her current condition did - when she felt the man beside her stirring out of his own sleep. Truth be told, it likely didn't take him a lot to awaken and no sooner had she lowered the cup of water than he was looking around and speaking. It was that grin that took her off-guard. She was sure that finding out she was alive would be cause for him to treat her like an unfortunate survivor. Whether he would toy with her or threaten her life had yet to be determined but as genuine as his eager facade appeared she knew that she could not trust it.

"Why?" she heard herself say quietly before her mind could stop her tongue. At first it sounded as if she was questioning his offer of food but as her gaze fell on him it betrayed that distrust she held so deeply within herself. The same one he likely saw from her before the revelation of who she really was. Her eyebrows knit together as she watched him.

Why are you here? Why did you save me? What do you want with me?

All of these questions flew threw her mind, unable to be spoken before the next would take its place. Yet after a moment of silence it wasn't a question that escaped her lips but a simple statement that she was almost afraid to voice. A statement that was at the heart of the betrayal she had felt ever since she first learned the truth.

"We were family."

At first, Sverre continued to smile, content to wait if Eilin needed a moment after waking up. He was glad to see her drink her water without incident, prompting him to pour her some more from a pitcher the barmaid had been kind enough to bring up at his request. "Have some more. Don't worry, I got plenty." He encouraged, returning the glass to the nightstand.

He wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting from his old friend. Some tired banter? A false insult telling him to shut up? A delighted greeting? A puzzled question was not high on his list of what he imagined a miraculous reunion would start with, but he supposed it wasn't too odd.

What was odd was the particular question she asked.

She didn't ask what happened, how he'd found her, where he'd been all these years, or even what made him realize. Instead, she asked him why. Why?

Smile faltering, he frowned slightly in confusion. "Why? What are you talkin' about Eilin?" He prodded, a slow sinking of his gut as he met her eyes. She looked wary and suspicious. Like an old warrior who was a veteran on the fields of battle and haunted by its ghosts. What on earth had happened to her during these years apart? If someone had hurt her to the point where she had to close herself off...well, he'd kill anyone who had dared.

Before Sverre could suggest such an idea in some attempt to bring back some of the light in her eyes, she followed up with a seemingly ordinary statement. But it struck him as particularly cold, and it made no sense. Why the past tense?

"Are. We are family Eirin. You know that..." he corrected with a concerned frown.

Only for the past few days to flood back in from his memory banks and hit him like a splash of ice water.

She was angry at him. And had been hostile towards him. And hiding who she was. But he couldn't fathom why.

"Why didn't you tell me? I mean, I'll admit I should've figured it out sooner, but I had no idea you'd survived."

His consistent use of her name was about as grating on her mind as she was sure her use of his name had been just a day or two prior. However long ago that was. It felt like ages since she had sat across from him downstairs as he attempted to get answers out of her. The annoyance must have shown.

"Demons have no family. You have packs," she bit back before she could stop herself. How dare he insinuate that he was family to her after he had lead his pack to slaughter her entire village?

The outburst was brief yet the moment the words were out of her mouth she almost regretted them. Not because she felt he didn't deserve to hear them, he very much did, but she was losing control of herself. She had to steel herself away. She refused to get emotional in front of him, no matter how much it killed her to put that wall up.

It was his question about her lack of disclosure and not knowing of her survival that caused her to shake her head. Yet she didn't elect to answer. Her mind seemed to be on a one-track streak. It didn't matter what was occurring in the present. What mattered was the past and her decade-old hunt for those who had burned her childhood to the ground. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that Sverre would be at the center of it all.

"They trusted you. We all did. And you lead them to their slaughter," her words held less bitterness yet somehow the calm tone she had taken on was more chilling and concerning than open hostility she had shown him prior. She stopped just short of vowing to him that she would get the revenge she sought, the words catching in her throat. She had faced him, had the opportunity to kill, and had not taken it. But why?

Sverre's frown deepened, her voice venomous when she began with a biting retort. What in the hell was she saying? He had never had a pack. Why did the woman who used to follow him around, the one who called him family in the first place, suddenly decide they weren't? Swallowing a painful lump of increasingly hurt feelings, he shook his head.

"First off, I'm not a full blood. Second, I've never had a pack...and I highly doubt I ever will." He countered matter-of-factly. He had thought she understood this? Why was she suddenly against him? Surely he was dreaming...this was his best friend of all things! Sure, they squabbled like siblings, but she had never before spoken to him with such hatred.

When she finally decided to continue, her level and cold tone was almost worse than the harsh bite she had just used. Eilin's words were as unexpected as a punch to the gut, and likewise made him feel almost ill. She thought HE was responsible for the annihilation of their home village?!

The idea that Eilin thought this was equal parts depressing and insulting. Sverre stood behind the chair he'd been keeping watch from, lips pressed into a tight line as he fought to keep his voice from rising.

"Y-you think I was the one who attacked our home?! Me?" Sverre began in a choked sputter of righteous indignation. His eyes bored into hers, even as sorrow began to fill his grey-blue gaze. "Eilin...how could you possibly think that? Why would.." he stopped, barely even able to fathom having to ever say such a sentence. "Why would I destroy the only home...the only family I've ever known or had?!" His voice raised slightly at the end, exuding utter disbelief and astonishment.

Her dark gaze locked on his, Eilin felt her freshly rebuilt calm shattering as Sverre's voice rose in retort. She had to fight with herself. On the one hand she was attempting to keep her own calm. On the other, the sorrow that she could see just behind his eyes was sending her mind into a spiral.

That was it, the reason why she couldn't kill him when she had the chance. It was the familiarity, the care she had held for this man for such a long time. The countless nights waking up in a cold sweat after witnessing his death in her nightmares. A mere day of knowing the truth of what he turned out to be could not undo the years of how she felt deep down. And she now hated it. Hated herself for ever growing attached to him all those years ago. Hated him for all he had done and continued to do with his indignation.

"You tell me, Sverre," she snapped. Who was she kidding, she could not hold her walls up around him. That much had been apparent the day she found him in the burned down village. The morning after. He had a way of tearing through her mental defenses and getting straight down to the core of her feelings. Gingerly, she shuffled her way up to sit fully upright, perhaps as some flimsy attempt at reestablishing her authority. The only thing it really did was cause her to have to suppress a wince as her shoulder complained for the movement.

"You tell me why you would burn down our village after we took you in." Her own tone of voice was rising in a match to his. She refused to buy the idea that he had no connection to the pack responsible for the destruction. In fact, the actual thought hadn't fully embedded itself in her mind as she watched him. It didn't seem like it was even a possibility that could exist. For a demon to run without a pack was unnatural, that was what she had been taught.

Instead of his friend stopping to consider the absurdity of her claims, she questioned him back. She didn't seem to trust any of his words, and she truly believed he was somehow responsible. That HE was the reason they both lost everything. As Sverre looked into the woman's eyes, he saw no doubt or uncertainty. Only a whirlwind of negative feelings, of pain.

Pain she thought was all from him.

The demon's fists clenched and unclenched, her words and conviction nothing short of an arrow to his heart. He felt almost nauseous, physically ill in his chest and gut at this revelation. The realization that she didn't believe him hurt far more than he cared to admit.

For a moment, he had wanted to go to her when she winced, but had stopped when she replied. Now however, Sverre stood in heavy silence before finding his voice.

"Do you know...why after I was accepted into your home as not just a guest, but as family...I didn't tell you what I was?" He said, voice almost hollow, and eyes cast down at the foot of her bed, partially obstructed by his ink- black hair. Every thought, every word, it all hurt now, but also felt unreal. How could any of this be? He was so happy to see Eilin. He had finally found her! But the unexpected animosity was crushing him.
"Because I was scared Eilin...I was scared." He continued, fighting the warring emotions in him and somehow keeping his voice steady. "Scared of the possibility that I'd be thrown away...like garbage. Scared of being tossed aside by the only people who ever gave a damn."

Gaining traction, Sverre looked up at last, leveling her with his now cool eyes. "Is it my fault to be born as I am? Am I guilty simply because of my blood? Is that it?" His voice rose slightly, but he managed to keep it from becoming a noticeable and alarming volume. His voice became more strained, bitterness in his tone.

"Do you accuse me and hate me because of what I am? After all those years together, after everything that we've been through...it's suddenly meaningless because of such a thing? All that time, and you want to throw it away based on some pre concieved notion and baseless assuptions...simply because I wasn't born a mortal man?! Fine!"

Sverre turned on his heel, heading for the door before stopping just shy of opening it.

"You're right. I spoke to them. They could tell what I was. I told them I had no quarrel with them, nor would I keep them from their devices. I DID, however, clearly make sure they knew they were not tolerated under any circumstances to approach our home or our neighbors. Only that would cause my interference. They seemed to heed that warning. Perhaps I am guilty for not killing them in hopes of not starting a conflict that could affect humans."

Turning to face her once more, Sverre couldn't keep his voice from shaking this time.

"If I am guilty of anything...it is failing to be there to protect my family."

With this, Sverre stepped out the door, all but slamming it behind him.

Just inside the door where he had stood seconds prior, three bead- like stones lay on the floor. They were reminiscent of an opal, but they had an almost unearthly blue shimmer in them.






Outside the door, Sverre slunk to the floor, hanging his head and hurriedly wiping away his tears- and pocketing the small gems lest a mortal see them. He let out deep breaths, trying to calm himself as he leaned his head back against the wall outside his room.

If Sverre was giving a performance to try and throw her off the scent, he was doing a damn good job of it. Eilin was taken-a-back by the genuine sadness and hurt she saw in him and heard in his voice. Even when he was not looking at her, her gaze remained trained on him, watching for any break in character but finding none.

As strong as her conviction in her first instinct had been, she found herself faltering. Sure, she had met demons in human form that would smooth-talk their way from meal to meal. From kill to kill. But what she saw in Sverre was not a simple act to gain sympathy and closeness. This was... different.

Yet his own assumptions about her conclusions made her take stock of what he was actually implying. As he turned away to head toward the door, her unanswered question remained at the forefront of her mind.

"Do not try to tell me that you did not know the demon pack responsible for it," she shot at him. The words came out more harsh than she actually intended and she realized a moment too late that it was because she couldn't stand to see him leave without a proper explanation. Not since she was so close to her family's killers after all of this time.

His answer to her, before he left, made her frown deepen.

None of it made sense and Sverre's impassioned speech only made her more confused about the identity of the pack she had been after all of this time. Sinking back against one of the pillows, Eilin allowed her form to relax a little as she drew her knees up and buried her face in her hands. Had she gotten this all wrong? No, she couldn't have. She had learned enough about demons in her time to know that if Sverre was a lone one, he would be the only such one she had ever met. He was also the only one she had ever seen cry real tears.

Then there was his claim that he was not a full blooded demon to begin with. She could only recall learning two things about half demons when she was much younger. 1) They existed. 2) They were all vastly different and difficult to track as many were able to seamlessly blend into society. Perhaps that second one was right on the mark. Sverre was nothing if not seamlessly integrated as a visitor to these parts.

But then what would he be getting from getting close to her again? Did he think that she would help him look better to the rest of this village? Unlikely. Not many actually liked her to begin with. Was he worried she would disclose his secret to the others? Then why not just let her die in the forest with arrows in her? It wasn't like he would be blamed for it once her corpse was found by an unfortunate wanderer.

None of it made sense and every question she asked herself seemed to only lead to one answer. He was not dangerous to her or this village. Perhaps not even her home all those years ago. There were only two options she was eventually left with. Either her initial reaction to him was a mistake or he was playing a longer con than she could feasibly untangle in the half hour that had passed since he took his leave.

It was only an uneasy growling of her stomach that eventually detached her from her thoughts. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious but by the way her body felt it seemed to have been more than a day. A hunger was setting in even as her tension dissipated. She needed food.

Steeling herself against facing the people downstairs - no doubt at least some of them must have know what condition she was brought back in - Eilin climbed out from under the covers, being careful to not move her arm. A cursory search of her surroundings found a ripped length of cloth that she was able to tie into a make-shift sling for her bad arm, keeping it from moving about too much. She couldn't secure her belt of throwing knives by herself so she settled on slipping a couple of them into her boots instead alongside her daggers.

It was only at the doorway that she paused where Sverre had stood as a glimmer caught her eye. Carefully, she knelt down to pick up one of the gems that lay on the floor. She turned it over in her fingers, her eyebrows knitting together slightly.

It had taken Sverre at least five to seven long minutes to calm himself completely. He heard her last question clearly, but did not answer, even through the door. Instead, he grit his teeth and frowned, barely restraining a low growl.

She was right in that he knew the pack that attacked. They were the very same ones he had spoken to. The ones who he negotiated with in exchange for Eilin and her family's safety. He hated how he foolishly believed the promises of the lesser demon pack. Thinking of them made him angry, and he balled his hands into fists. His grip only slackened at the bite of his nails, short as they were, digging into the skin of his palm.

Sverre likewise did not speak up to inform Eilin that while half of the pack was still free, he had managed to kill the other half. Ten months was all it took for the cretins to go back on their word. So yes, he felt a gnawing guilt every day for not just killing them outright. But did that really make him guilty of the village's entire demise? Was he ultimately responsible for all of them?

His self brooding was interrupted by a muffled growling sound, prompting the mix breed to stand and prepare to assault an enemy. After a moment of confusion, he heard it again, but this time realized where it had come from.

Despite his sorrow, the man had to crack a small smile at the mental image as realization struck him. Eilin's stomach was protesting her lack of proper sustenance. He almost decided to sit back down and ignore his old friend, but he found himself unable to follow through on the action.

She still was in no condition to be exerting herself, and he had no doubt it would take a few minutes for the huntress to put herself together. That was time enough. Sverre took the opportunity to descend the stairs and find the friendly barmaid, smiling as he found her. She certainly was reliable!

"Would you mind bringing up some soup or stew, whichever is available today? The lady is rather famished now." Sverre explained, handing over a bronze coin and one of his tear gems. Thankfully, this one looked close enough to pass as an opal. "For your troubles, and something extra to personally thank you."

"Did you and your friend have a good reunion? Well, you know, as good as could be what with that terrible fight. But she must've been ecstatic to find that you were her saviour!"

Sverre maintained composure, only faltering slightly with a pained smile. "Well...she doesn't seem too happy to see me yet..." he murmured, earning a sympathetic gaze.

"W-well I'm sure she'll come around once she's feeling better! You go on up, I'll bring the soup when it's ready."

"Thanks love." Sverre said, trudging up the stairs to let Eilin know. Upon reaching his room, he opened the door, only to find Eilin looking down in confusion at something she was holding in her hand.

Eilin had only seen a gem like this once before in her life. It was a few years ago in a larger town that she remembered distinctly due to the mountainous region it was built in and the views that stretched out for miles. She had come across a woman in a tavern there that had used these as some form of payment and wondered if they had been mined in the region, for she had never come across something like this before or since.

Her thoughts were interrupted rather suddenly as the door opened, causing the woman to instinctively reach for her boot - or rather a knife concealed in it. She looked up, half expecting trouble, but the only face that presented itself to her was Sverre's.

The sight of him was more confusing than ever. She had been certain he had left the inn after everything that had been said, and wasn't expecting him back so soon. But then again, it was his room, not hers. Perhaps he had been expecting that she would be gone when he returned.

Even worse, she was now absolutely clueless as to how approach him. If there was one thing the last decade of seclusion did it was to turn her from a bubbly child to a vastly anti-social fighter. It was no wonder she had never found someone in all of this time to befriend or settle down with. And now that she found herself confused as to whether or not she should be angry with Sverre, she had no idea what to say. That had been a topic to mull over as she ate.

The result of this confusion barely showed in her expression as her lips parted slightly and she looked somewhat lost for a moment as she rose to stand, careful of her arm movement as her shoulder ached from tensing of muscles. Ultimately, though, she did manage to pull herself out of her surprise of seeing Sverre standing in the doorway and closed her mouth.

"You'll want your room back," was all that she said, fairly certain that that was all he needed at the moment anyway. Her voice was somewhat curt, but the anger wasn't there. Simply weariness.

With that, she headed around him, in the awkward moment even forgetting her anxiety at seeing the people downstairs. She had to face the world sometime, after all.

The demon couldn't help but feel a bubble of amusement at the almost imperceptible look of surprise in Eilin's face. It had been far too long since he'd gotten to witness her expressions. Unfortunately, he was reminded too soon that this woman no longer felt a kinship with him. She didn't regard him as her friend anymore. The brief amusement vanished.

Sverre wasn't entirely sure what to expect when Eilin stood back up, but he hadn't considered the fact that she might try to retreat to her own room in the inn. Stupid, stubborn woman! She needed to heal. Such trivial matters were on no consequence. Before she got even two steps around him, he moved in front of her to block her path to the stairs.

"The hell you talking about you daft woman? You still need to heal, so stop traipsing about as if nothing's wrong. Food is coming up in a few minutes so relax." Sverre nodded towards the room, nudging her back towards it with a single gentle push on her uninjured shoulder.

A slight shine in her hand finally caught his attention, his eyes catching sight of three tears. Bloody hell.

"Well shit..." he muttered, suddenly awkward.

Eilin had only made it a step before she came face to shoulder with the man as he blocked her exit. The action sent a spark through her mind, instinct almost kicking in to retaliate. Unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately - she physically couldn't. Not without causing massive pain for herself in turn and it simply was not worth the altercation. Instead, she was about to snap at him to get out of the way but even as she tilted her chin up to look at him he all but ordered her back to bed to wait for her food.

How the hell did he know she needed food? He asked about it when he first woke up, she reminded herself. Still, it didn't ease the sudden irritation that flared at being spoken to like she was 8 years old again.

"Don't..." he pushed her back inside the room and she took the step backwards despite a desire to stand her ground, "... talk to me like I'm a child, Sverre," her warning was simple. Perhaps there was a chance he didn't deserve her open hostility but a lot had changed since they last saw one another. The world was different. She was different.

It was his murmur that dragged her gaze from him down to the gems she was still holding, her eyebrows knitting together slightly. "What?" she asked, momentarily forgetting her irritation in her confusion. The gems, she forgot she still had them in her hand... Almost without thinking, she turned and paced over to the small writing table that was provided in his room, depositing the jewels there. Of course they were his, she should have known it when she first found them.

With that, she turned, extending her good hand out to the side. "They were on the floor," she told him as if feeling the need to explain that she was, in fact, not attempting to steal from his room. She hardly spared them a second thought. To her they were just little pretty things other girls went soft over.

Giving a sigh, Eilin let her hand drop to her side. He had her path blocked and she was still too weak and tired to put up much of a fight. Something that she hated. Yet his insistence that she remain under his care brought about an awkwardness in her that even she could not fully disguise under her normally severe expression. The only thing she could think to do to keep herself from standing there gracelessly was to take a seat on the bed and give herself a chance to relax, which is what she did in silence.

Sverre rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the young woman before him. Such a stubborn thing. Of course, she always had been. And once more, she was accusing and assuming. It was vexing to say the least. Though being treated like a child could be relative he supposed.

"I never meant to imply you're a child, Eilin. You are, however, recovering from being shot by a poisoned arrow. Stop trying to suddenly go about as usual before you're properly healed. You can't even safely use your arm yet." He insisted, trying to avoid the awkwardness of her having discovered his tears.

But it was evident she had no idea what she was holding, and it simultaneously caused relief yet further embarrassment. Quite a contradiction, but it was the most accurate way to try an describe how he was handling the situation. What an absolute mess. He wouldn't have said anything about them, but seeing Eilin put them down and act almost guilty caused him to quirk a brow at her. She acted as if he'd caught her stealing.

Well that was an amusing thought.

Sverre looked between the gems and the now sitting Eilin. She explained how she found them on the floor, and try as he might, he could not banish the mental image of her pointing blame away from herself in an attempt to justify what happened. It certainly helped ease his embarrassment a bit.

"It's fine...you can keep them if you want, it's nothing..." he began simply. Picking one up, he ended up opening the proverbial pandoras box before he could help himself.

"Can you recall ever seeing me cry? Ever, in front of you?" He wondered.

Eilin wasn't sure what to say. Sverre seemed about as much at a loss as her, which ultimately seemed to lead to his offer for her to keep the gems. She wouldn't accept, of course. She had no need for little trinkets such as that unless she was going to trade them for something. Having never had any keepsakes to carry, she preferred to travel with only necessities as it helped her stay on the move and able to leave at a moment's notice.

Instead she watched as he wandered over to pick one of the gems up, wondering what the significance of them even was. He had seemed perfectly content to push her around until he noticed that she was holding them. Gingerly, she shifted around until she was able to prop herself up against the headboard, resting one of her knees on the bed to try and get a little more comfortable. If she was to be stuck here, she may as well recline a little.

It was Sverre's question that eventually brought her attention back to him, her dark gaze lifting to where he stood. If the question was an odd one, she didn't seem to acknowledge that fact.

"Vaguely," she replied as if uncertain of where he was going with this. "I had an arrow in my shoulder."

Of course she was referring to the moment he realized who she was, though the memory was anything but vague. It stuck out in her mind as sharp as the tip of the arrow that pierced her despite the fact that she wanted nothing more than to forget it.

"Why?" she asked after a moment. It seemed that curiosity beat out her attempt to keep the cold air about her.

Instead of the expected 'no', Eilin commented carefully about the initial treatment of her wound. The demon arched a brow, trying to recall if he had, in fact, cried then. He was certain he hadn't. He was too worried over her injury and too dumbfoundedly ecstatic at finding his friend again...

However, his eyes widened upon realizing she was right. Dammit! He had been so blissfully happy over the reunion that he hadn't even hidden his tears or tried to restrain himself.

Well, crap. The secret was out.

And yet, she seemed to have no idea what she had been holding. She knew they were his, but that seemed to be the extent of it. But if she had seen him cry, then how could she not know?! Was she trying to confuse him on purpose?

"Bloody hell..." breaking away from their conversation, Sverre knelt beside the bed and looked underneath to search for what he was now certain was on the floorboards beneath. Sure enough, about a dozen tiny gems had fallen and rolled various lengths under the bed. Thank goodness none had landed on the sheets that day, or she would have noticed immediately. They must've dropped straight off his cheeks and chin, or his lap. The demon collected the evidence, blew the dust off of them, and nervously put them by the gems Eilin had been inspecting.

"Well...um..." he began, unsure if he could tell her why. The cat was basically out of the bag now. And even if he didn't tell her, she'd figure it out soon enough.

"Demons don't generally cry. It's rare for any to do so. But...should one cry..." he took a deep breath, staring in fascination at the floor. "It's one of the only giveaways that we're not human. Even if we can take the form of one..."

Finally gathering the courage to meet Eilin's eyes, Sverre mumbled as he finished his explanation. "Those are tear gems. So yes, they're mine, I guess, but you're not stealing, so please don't feel the need to explain where you found them. I was careless enough to not hide them."

Eilin wasn't quite sure what Sverre was looking for but her answer seemed to have triggered something in him. Before she knew it, he was digging under the bed. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion, watching him until he had emerged back into the open, depositing more of the gems onto the desk beside the ones she had been holding. What in the world was he up to?

The question was on the tip of her tongue when she bit it back as her mind registered the familiarity again. She couldn't simply fall into her old quips and patters with him. The shield at the forefront of her mind stopped her. Instead, she listened as he explained the odd origin of the gems she had been holding.

Those were tears? Of a demon? Eilin only realized that her lips were parted in disbelief a moment too late, unspoken questions hanging between them as she tried to piece together what he was telling her. In what world was it possible for a demon to shed something that looked as expensive as precious gemstones?

It almost seemed like the rest of his words fell by the wayside as her mind whirred with questions, most of which she was certain she couldn't ask. But then another part of her, the curious part, wondered if perhaps she could. All this time she had been tracking, studying, learning about the non-human world around her, and Sverre was... a demon...

The thought still seemed sour, yet she could see a glimmer of light in this news for the first time. Perhaps... if he really meant well... she could use this opportunity to learn more.

"Do you..." she started before the words cut off, unsure of how to phrase the question that beat at the front of her mind. She cleared her throat quietly. "Do you have a demon form?"

Watching the human with uncertainty, Sverre felt a mounting anxiety as Eilin looked at him, surprise and disbelief in her features. He shifted one foot nervously, wondering if he shouldn't have given the information out after all. It seemed as though she was just now realizing what he really was.

But she had already figured it out...so why the surprise? She had been showing him animosity and accusing him of being responsible for killing her family ever since she recognized him. She wouldn't have been hiding her identity, nor would she have been showing such disgust if she had still thought him human. Maybe it was only now becoming real? He found that hard to imagine though...

Eilin's question wasn't what he had anticipated her first thought to be, though he supposed it wasn't too odd a question considering the topic. He shifted slightly on his feet, feeling rather exposed for some reason. She was the only human he had ever truly felt a genuine kinship with, and he was loathe to ruin it anymore that it already had been.

But even so, she deserved an answer.

Releasing a sigh of resignation, the demon made up his mind to answer just as a knock sounded at the door.

"I've brought your food." Chimed the barmaid, who was revealed to have two servings on a tray once Sverre opened the door.

"Two portions? How much do I o-"
"Oh it's fine! You should eat too, so I brought you a serving. Don't worry about it, it's on the house."
"You're too kind my lady. You've been so helpful and accommodating to a drifter like me." Svere praised with a smile, earning one in return.

"It's no trouble at all! Besides, you helped me first." She said with a delighted flush, only turning her gaze to Eilin as Sverre relieved her of the tray. "I hope you feel better soon! It's wonderful that you have such a nice friend helping out." She greeted merrily. "I'll be downstairs if you need me sir." With this, the barmaid waved goodbye as she retreated out of the room, closing the door behind her.

After making sure her footsteps had fully retreated to the floor below, Sverre returned his attention to Eilin. "Told you the food was coming." He remarked, bringing over one of the bowls of stew.

Arranging her dishes on the nightstand, the demon lowered his voice as he dared return to her inquiry. "As for me...yes, I do. Though I've only used it once since meeting you all those years ago..."