Sverre's Story

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..."

It wasn't lost on her that she was asking a literal demon if he could look like one. Eilin had to ask, however. She knew a lot about full-fledged demons, having learned about and hunted them for years. Half-breeds? Those were a lot more tricky and truth be told, she had never known one before.

Well... She had known one, it turned out.

As Eilin watched Sverre, he almost seemed hesitant in answering her. She couldn't help but think of a stray dog that used to scavenge around the butcher shop near her childhood home. He would always retreat, whining pitifully when caught with a bit of meat in his maw, at least until the butcher all but adopted the hound and began to feed him well.

Just as Sverre seemed to resign to the inevitable answer, however, a distraction arrived in the form of a barmaid. From her perch on the bed, Eilin simply watched the exchange between the two. Sverre had always had an impact on the people he met. It happened in her childhood village and lead to her parents taking him in as their own, and it was happening here. Something about the exchange roused suspicion and unease in her heart, causing her to frown slightly even as the woman addressed her about having such a good friend.

Yeah, friend...

Eilin knew, however, how the situation looked to an outsider. Sverre did save her and bring her back, but what if it was all for some grand show?

And that was when it clicked. Had he known the demon that attacked her? Was it a trap and a set-up?

Eilin had to control herself as the older woman bustled out of the room, leaving them alone, and when Sverre brought over a serving of stew she took it without offering up any additional snark or opposition. Yet she was on alert all the same. She simply ate, for that is what her body demanded, listening as he offered up a response to her question at last.

"What is the demon form?" she pressed him. She had to admit, a part of her was pure curiosity. Yet another part was throwing warning signals up, gathering information, and trying to decipher this narrative that she could not logically piece together in her mind no matter how much she tried.

As the bar maid he had 'saved' and befriended over the past week finally made it downstairs (judging, of course, by his hearing her footsteps), Sverre let out a weary sigh after confirming that he had another form. It wasn't a sigh because he missed the maiden's company, but more the loss of such kindly expressions upon her face. Specifically, he missed having Eilin look at him as the maid did. Sure, she never regarded him with near reverence or obvious admiration, but Eilin had always given him a smile. She once upon a time would always seem pleased to see him and have his company, even when they bickered.

Now though, she thought he was her enemy. Worse, she believed him responsible for the tragedy that struck their village years ago. In a sense, he did feel guilty- -immensely so. But he knew he hadn't betrayed her trust. His loyaly had never faltered. His biggest sin was not being there to save them, and he would regret that to his dying days.

For a moment, the mixed breed didn't touch his stew despite the grumble in his stomach, staring into the bowl as if seeking some divine wisdom or strength. At length, Eilin questioned him on his 'true' form once again. After a moment's hesitation, he raised his cool grey eyes to meet hers.

He thought at length about his demon form trying to picture it from an outside source well enough to describe it. At last, he answered his old friend.

"Well, it's not very pleasing to the eyes...no where near as monstrous and horrifying as quite a good number of demon kind, but definitely not pleasant. It's...it's not humanoid. I suppose you could say it has features of a hellhound, a wolf, and a skeleton as best as I can describe it. Lean..." he trailed off, unsure what else to say. He regarded Eilin in silence in anticipation of her reaction. He only hoped she didn't want to see that shape.

Eilin wasn't sure what to expect as an answer out of Sverre. Even knowing that he was not human, she couldn't imagine what else he could look like aside from... well... simply himself. But it was that familiarity, that form she had come to know and expect. Underneath, logically, she knew he was different. It was a little surprising to her, still, to hear him talk about it and as he described his natural form she tried to picture it knowing full well that the real thing could possibly not live up to her own imagination. She had seen many forms of these demons, yet none that matched his aside from the so-called pets of the packs that sometimes accompanied their raiding parties.

Were those half demons too, then?

Eilin found herself looking away from him in thought as she took another spoonful of the stew. She was holding the bowl gingerly in her strapped-up hand, using her good arm for feeding herself. It seemed to work as well as anything, yet she could hardly taste the food that was surely prepared well by the cook. Her thoughts were too distant and the deep ache in her shoulder constant, leaving little room for her mind to process what it was that she was eating. She simply knew she needed the sustenance and was never one to question a meal when she could get it.

"I see," she finally replied. No, she had no desire to see this form. There was a child within her, scrambling to pick up the pieces of the shattered memories of her days spent with Sverre, and that part wanted to simply see him as an innocent human. No matter how much her logical reasoning screamed at her that it was foolish to pretend at this point. Suspicion still gnawed at her, brought on by the easy manner in which he flitted through the society, all sweet-talk and questionable intentions.

"I went back the next morning," she heard herself speak before she realized she had done so. Her gaze only momentarily flitted back to Sverre before dropping to her bowl of stew. A few spoon fulls already settling into her stomach, she managed to pause herself just long enough to not be speaking with her mouth full.

Having started on the past thoughts, though, she now found she wasn't even sure why she had brought it up. It wasn't like he was there for the aftermath, not that she knew of.

"There was nothing left. Just the foundation of where our house stood. I couldn't even find them in the ash and rubble," she stirred the stew idly, perhaps a little too fiercely than it warranted. "I found tracks, leading away into the forest, and followed them. Didn't know if they were others survivors or the demon pack. It didn't matter, probably. I lost tracks soon enough anyway. That's when I knew there was nothing left for me there."

Perhaps she needed him to hear it, the devastation that the pack had caused. She had never really spoken of that day to anyone since she was first taken in by travelers that she had run into several days later. At first she didn't want to face the realities of what had happened. Later, she didn't see the point of rehashing the past. And finally, she came to terms with the fact that the story was simply not meant for most to hear about.

Sverre sat in silence after his explanation, eyes returning to his stew as he waited uncertainly for a reaction from Eilin. To his relief (and, admittedly, surprise), she chose not to question him further on his non-human form. She acknowledged his words, but that seemed to be as far as her inquiry would go. He didn't question it, but simply nodded to indicate he had heard.

After an awkward silence between the two that he interpreted as her being done with any further communication, he suddenly heard Eilin's voice begin anew. Glancing up to his old friend, the demon felt his stomach drop at the direction her comment was going. That wretched night...

He kept silent, swallowing a lump that was forming in the back of his throat as she continued to speak. A pain he had been trying to suppress for years was being coaxed out with each word she spoke, and Sverre's gaze was locked on where her eyes had briefly met his. The scene was as vivid as when it was first seared into his memory. In addition to the resurfacing memories, her words managed to stir up even more feelings of guilt if possible.

He could have seen her, found her and been there for his one truest friend. If only he had stuck around longer. If only he hadn't fled like a damn coward! Tears didn't flow this time, but his stormy eyes were glassy with unshed moisture as he fought the urge to cry. Dammit all! Maybe they could've had a slightly less painful outcome if only he had waited and searched for her some more.
But even worse, he hadn't thought about any negatives to burying them. Even when he still had that minuscule ounce of hope that Eilin was still alive, he'd gone and laid her family to rest without waiting and finding her.

Slowly, Sverre placed his hand gingerly over the one she was currently using to support the bowl. Managing to meet her eyes with a pained, apologetic expression across his features, the male spoke carefully. He had to fight the urge to hug her, as well as will his voice to remain steady.

"Th-That was my fault. I buried them...under that redberry juniper tree we used to sit under, you know? I couldn't..." he paused, taking a breath to steady his voice and his emotions. "I couldn't leave them there like that. I just couldn't. But the worst part of everything...was not being able to find you." He admitted, recalling vividly how much that hurt. He mourned her family, but he had only truly broken when he couldn't find Eilin.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head as self-loathing and guilt plagued him. He should have been there to protect them! And he hadn't been. All because he went out of his way to stray far into the woods to make a spear for Eilin.

He had thought it'd be the greatest birthday gift, a spear made out of strong, solid wood. One just for her, with traditional carvings, and a sharp carved bone for the spearhead. Instead, it ended up being the only reason he wasn't there to defend his human family!

And it was the only thing he had been able to bury in Eilin's place...

It was strange. Eilin had always thought that voicing the past would bring on tears. Yet it seemed to do the opposite. It was as if each word was laying bricks, surrounding herself behind a wall, and detaching her from her own life. From the demon that now sat beside her. The dark haired woman sat, lost in thought of that heart-wrenching day.

It wasn't until she felt Sverre's hand on her own that she was brought back to the present, almost instinctively flinching at the connection. Her gaze locked onto his, dark green eyes widening as if she just realized how close he had gotten. It was his voice - or perhaps the words he spoke - that seemed to settle her for the moment, stopping her from fleeing his presence.

She had never once even thought of going back to where the village had once stood. A part of her didn't want to revisit those memories and grieve for her family. Another part was afraid of what she might find there. Yet she remembered the tree that Sverre spoke of. She had dragged him out there to spend their days enough times. To know that her parents were buried under it brought about a strange calm that she couldn't quite place. Perhaps knowing that they were buried at all was a comforting thought. It was this that seemed to relax her a little, her fingers easing their grip on the bowl and spoon.

"I assumed they were buried under the ash," she admitted to him after a moment of taking in this new information he offered her. Her voice sounded distant, detached almost, as she attempted to process everything.

Sverre was a demon. A half demon by his claims. He had nothing to do with the attack, once more by his claims, yet he definitely knew the pack that attacked the village that night. She ran through these facts in her head, trying to straighten them, lay them out for inspection.

Her gaze had dropped to her stew at some point, not quite pulling away from his touch yet remaining still within it. She lifted her gaze finally to him, seeming to come to a conclusion. "The scout," she pivoted the topic completely just as quickly as she landed on it. "If he's dead, the pack can't be far behind. His death may have bought a few days before they come looking."

Sverre found himself more than just slightly mollified when Eilin didn't react violently to his slight touch on her hand. Having half- expected her to jerk away in disgust or anger, he only noticed a slight tremor of her muscles. She flinched, but the fact that she didn't recoil was strangely comforting.

Waiting with more uncertainty and concern than he'd ever admit to, the half breed watched her expression as he talked. He wasn't entirely sure how Eilin would take his news, but he was grateful that she wasn't instantly angry. He sat perfectly still, stew all but forgotten as she relaxed ever so slightly. That was a promising sign, surely? Was she alright with his chosen burial plot?

The man said nothing as Eilin admitted where she assumed they rested. He didn't repeat himself, seeing no point in reiterating any of the facts. He doubted it would offer any more in the way of comfort to bring it up again. He didn't think any words would be particularly welcome or consoling at the moment. Her voice sounded almost distant, hollow. Perhaps a tad melancholy. He simply sat with his hand on hers, hoping his giving them a burial provided at least some modicum of comfort for her deep seated pain.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden shift in topic, causing the man to puzzle over whether that was a good sign or not. The scout who had tried to kill her. What made her suddenly think of that? Finally releasing Eilin's hand, Sverre spooned some stew into his mouth as she spoke. Finally, he gave a slight shrug, not overly concerned or interested one way or the other. "Yes...very likely." He agreed with a nod, wondering vaguely what was running through his old friend's mind.

As Sverre's fingers left hers, Eilin could feel tension melt away. It would have been a nice change had her shoulder not given a painful throb just then, causing her to have to grit her teeth in favor of not visibly wincing in front of him. His short reply to her assessment made her eyebrows draw together slightly. It was far too nonchalant and dismissive to the dangers demons brought about with them.

Her gaze lifted up to him before her head turned to follow, lips pressed into a line. It had already been 2 days since the fight, surely he didn't expect that this village had all the time in the world to remain blissfully unaware of the dangers beyond their gates. Eilin had to catch herself, however, in that thought. Of course he wouldn't care much, protecting humanity was her burden to carry, not his.

It was a show of restraint that she finished the last couple of spoon fulls of stew before doing or saying anything else. Or perhaps it was simply her body asking for the nutrients that it needed to keep living. Whatever the case, she was glad to be able to put down the bowl before swinging leg off the bed and getting up as quickly as she was able to, as if to avoid being stopped again by Sverre.

"I need to warn the guards," she made her intent known. It was useless to hide it, he would likely know what she wanted to do either way. Remarkably, she seemed to be shaking off all matters of personal history that had just been voiced mere minutes ago as if nothing had ever happened. It was a coping mechanism she had picked up years ago. Keep your mind clear. Stay on task. Stay on track. Survive. Her minor slip-up on this had cost her dearly already.

Sverre had to give the human credit, noting her resistance to the pain undoubtedly radiating from her healing shoulder. The only tell he could pick up on was a clench of her jaw as she grit her teeth. No vocalizations, no complaints, not even a flinch (though the male wondered why on earth she'd force herself to appear impervious to pain. She had been pierced all the way through for heavens sake!) He chose not to comment lest he wound her pride.

Eilin's frown earned an arch of his brow, the demon wondering what on earth was going through his friends stubborn head this time. He had barely said a word; he merely acknowledged her prediction as the most likely outcome. So why on earth had she gone from quiet and hardly readable to the frown? She finished her food just a few bites after he had placed his bowl aside, and seemed to suddenly be in a hurry. What was she up to now?

Sverre somehow resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Eilin's intentions, tempted to say she would be hard pressed to impart the significance and danger of her knowledge to the guards. They had grown far too complacent. Even as she moved to gather her spear and be ready to venture outside, the half breed stood to accompany her. He cocked his head aside to crack his neck before donning his now shabby looking cloak and picking up his greatsword. Resting it over his shoulder, he made sure to keep close to Eilin, debating on whether or not he should insist she rest.

He doubted the huntress would agree to such a suggestion, her bull-headed nature rivaling his own. Fine, he'd wait until her body told her to kindly calm the crap down.

"Alright then, wait up." He said as he approached, shaking his head softly. "But don't get yourself in a tizzy, they'll be there whether you walk or run. Don't overdo it by trying to rush." Sverre admonished, but made no move to stop the woman. He settled for watching her movements, ready to follow the determined woman on her impromptu mission.

It was only through a shift in her gaze that Eilin acknowledged the fact that Sverre had moved off the bed and toward his own weapon. The skin at the back of her neck prickled uneasily. She didn’t like him with a weapon in hand, she found. Even if the last time he held it, it ended up saving her life. She was suddenly on alert.

Busying herself with making sure that she didn’t have to move her bad arm at all, lest the movement cause further pain, she grabbed her spear in her other hand. A part of her was strangely aware that it was Sverre who, when she was a child, first taught her how to hold a weapon properly in both hands. This despite her insistence that she was not ambidextrous and would never have a use for such a skill.

Let’s dig this hole deeper she thought with a ping of bitterness to herself. It was only when Sverre spoke up that she paused, turning her head to look at him properly. His lack of care for timing only earned him a glare in response.

“The demons don’t wait,” she replied shortly.

Yet despite her apparent distaste for her current company, she did nothing to stop him from following. Truth be told, she could do nothing to prevent him from following her. Even if she could somehow lock the door on him, she was sure he would find his way out the window before she even made it downstairs and she was in no condition to try and fight him off. Not that she would voice that in any way. She was, in effect, forced to allow his company.

“Just….” she sized him up, as if figuring out the best way to utilize him for her own means. “Don’t draw any attention.”

She waited just long enough to let her point sink in before turning and heading out of the room, steeled for what needed to be done.

There was something to say for the guards in this village. They truly had become complacent in the lack of danger that came through here. In truth, this village likely had never seen a demon attack. It was tucked well out of the way, beyond the borders of the western forests and not anywhere near the main roads. It only made sense that people here felt as safe as can be.

And there was the hard part. Convincing a guard of such a village that there really was danger beyond the borders.

Eilin was annoyed with herself that she had to move slower than usual. Her trek down the stairs and to the outside was enough to cause her to feel somewhat overheated from the exertion. To her relief, downstairs was not overly crowded as the evening crowds were now almost dispersed, either stumbling away drunk somewhere or passed out in their rooms.

Eilin took in the site around her. The snow had stopped. About a day ago, she guessed based on the trampled paths that wound their way through the village. Any ventures off these beaten paths would have to be covered up somehow. The moon hung bright in the sky, almost at its full peak with only a sliver hidden in the otherwise black void.

The dark-haired woman cast a furtive glance back at Sverre before trekking out into the cold in silence. Though instead of heading straight for the gates, and the guards that were no doubt camped out there, she skirted to the east side of the village, ducking behind a row of small houses there and making her way slowly and silently toward the edge of the village there.

It must have been a good 15 minutes before they reached what she seemed to be looking for. A weakness spot in the wall that provided a way to slip underneath it. It was the same spot she had used to sneak in and out of the village on previous occasions, undiscovered. Now, she carefully slid her spear underneath before ducking down after it, her movement somewhat stiff and her breath hitching as the pain in her shoulder protested the action of fitting through such a narrow space. Still, she managed to wedge through as quickly as she dared, knowing it was better than prolonging the inevitable.

On the other side, she had to take a moment to gather herself again, readjusting the make-shift sling around her arm and biting back quite a few colorful swears in the process. It was only sheer determination that kept her going.

Sverre nearly rolled his eyes in retort at Eilin's glare, her assumption that demons wouldn't wait accurate but no less relevant in his mind. "True, but you rushing into the thick of it won't help you any. Your success is not secured in speed, but in strategy." He retorted, otherwise offering no more advice for the time being. Likewise, her insistence that he not draw attention was simply met with a arched brow and a shrug. Couldn't be helped that his main weapon was large.

The care taken to avoid agitating her wound and the extra effort her body required to push through did not go unnoticed by the halfling. His only indication of realizing it lay in his gaze, frowning slightly in concern. Such a stubborn wench!

Of course, he wasn't exactly one to talk...

The cold night wind was unpleasant, but not unbearable for the demon, an inconvenience he could deal with if need be. Free hand tucked into a pocket, the other held the greatsword steady against his shoulder, the fabric of his gloves just enough to ward off a chill. Had he really worn them that much in the past year and a half? He made a mental note to get new gloves as well when he finally got the chance to replace his cloak he'd cut to make the temporary bandage for Eilin.

If he thought their current path was odd, he didn't show it, though he did secretly wonder what in the seven hells she was up to. Having no insight into her plans, the male let his questions and misgivings be for now. Maybe the town watch's headquarters was away from the gate? Odd, but not unheard of.

By the time Sverre finally realized what Eilin was up to, they arrived at the wall and a minor opening someone her size could fit through. She had better be here to simply patch it up or provide a temporary barrier...

No, the daft woman was crawling through to the other side! Sverre let out a soft growl of frustrated disbelief, shaking his head at her disappearing form. Eilin must have lost her damn mind!

With another frustrated sigh, the half demon took several steps back before running at the wall. At the last moment, his feet moved him into a run up the side, vaulting up the wall in three rapid strides before grabbing the top before he could lose momentum. Thank goodness for physical advantages.

Hoisting himself up with a muttered curse, Sverre was on top of the wall for only a moment before dropping to the other side below just as Eilin emerged. His scowl was directed at her once more, and he placed a hand on her good shoulder.

"Are you daft?" He began incredulously. "What about your plan to warn the guards? Surely you aren't foolish enough to try and take them on yourself? You may be strong and brave, but even at your best this would be suicidal. And you're injured. What in the hell could you possibly have to do out here?"

Letting out a breath as his frustration eased up, Sverre shook his head, voice no longer scolding. " Look, just ask for help once in a while. And don't worry about a hole in the wall, that will not do much to hinder or help the creatures of the night."