Chapter 272: 272
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After her initial answer comes in the form as nothing else but pure unadulterated silence (perhaps her mind is still reeling from the shock), I pose the question once more. Skimming my hands lightly across her forehand, I can practically feel the cold that leeches off her body- a cold that I had formerly dismissed as little more than a product of the weather. But knowing what I know now, it is starting to feel a little more than that.
"Come on," I chide, scanning her face for any signs of recognition that my words have reached her. "You are an assassin are you not? Surely you have been trained in the ways of halflings? They became quite the problem some while back."
Squeaking a little, the girl shifts on her haunches. With quivering fingers, she runs her hands through her hair.
"I know that they are only half turned, and that they can become very vicious. They seem to have a lowered mental capacity too, though I didn't know why. Only that it is a defining trait of theirs," she trails of shakily, looping her arms around herself as though to stave off these thoughts. But by the pallid look on her face, I would say it is to no avail.
"That is good," I hum, standing now as I allow myself to put a few inches of distance between us. Although this girl is certainly not dying to remain loyal to Azrael, that does not mean that I have to fully trust her yet. Such a move would be dreadfully foolish on my part.
"But there is a reason to that," I add, allowing her to infer the rest. Raising her eyebrow she shoots me a questioning look, her body coming more alert for the first time this night.
"Like what?"
A wan smile. Pacing, I lean myself back against the wall, shutting my eyes momentarily to take a breath of the icy air, letting it spark through my lungs. It would seem assassins these days are not trained in the knowledge and dangers of the world as they used to be. So formidable was their knowledge that they could just about take on any creature without fail- granted that creature wasn't me, of course. But their ways have been lost over time and in their place they have put little girls who cannot carry out their missions correctly.
I don't know whether to be upset or relieved.
"Because they have received such a low dose of vampire venom, they can wander for days without a single change taking place. Before their mind starts too…" I trail off momentarily, creating a revolving motion between my fingers. Little wisps of black smoke pool from my palms. "...Degrade. They might not even realise they are a halfling. Which makes things rather tricky for us. But," I add, raising a finger pointedly. "There is always a way you can tell a halfling from a normal creature. A trick, if you like, to tell which ones have been infected by the vampire's venom before any physical changes can take place. We used it to identify our own halflings after we had an illegal making of them several hundred years ago. Do you know what it is?" I ask her, becoming very, very still.
For a moment there is simply silence and a series of ponderous looks as her eyebrows knit so close together I almost think they might become one. Tearing at the hood of her cloak she attempts to procure the answers I know she does not have, and naturally finds herself coming up empty handed. But nevertheless, she answers:
"What?"
I lower my eyes, a bitter taste swimming in my mouth.
Please let me be wrong about this.
"They always without fail forget one crucial thing about themselves," I murmur, tapping my fingers against my sides now, slightly anxious for when I might find. Then, praying once more that I am mistaken, I walk back over to her, raising her head with the tips of my fingers.
I can feel her heart pounding through her skin- so fast that it appears almost like a single droning hum. So fast, that if I don't think too hard about it, it appears to be hardly there at all.
"What is your name, little girl?"
For a horrible moment of silence, she stares blankly at me. Utterly unmoving, her eyes glaze for a moment, grey and unseeing as she fumbles to withdraw the words from her lips. But none come out.
Letting go of her now, I step back, a weight falling on my chest. So this is Azrael's plan.
"My name," she mutters with a feverous whisper, her fingers brushing over her trembling lips. "I know my name, my name is..." But strain as she might, she does not finish the sentence.
And then, just like that, the realisation hits. Her eyes dull, her face sinks. Everything about her then seems to become little more than a crumbling mess as she slumps against the marbled floor.
Bitterly, I circle around her, keen to keep my distance for now. There is no telling what might trigger her, what might elect the final step in her transformation.
"Truly, I am sorry," I murmur, bowing my head respectfully. "It is a fate I would not wish upon anyone."
But she doesn't seem to hear me. Instead, she continues to ramble to herself, chanting incessantly:
"What is my name?" she whispers like a ghost, straightening her fingers out before her, inspecting them, as if she hopes to grasp the answers out of thin air. Then as quick as a flash she rises to her feet, brandishing her hands out in front of her like a sword. With icy skin and blue veins she wards me back.
Not that I had much intention of coming nearer in the first place.
"Am I going to die?" she chokes fearfully as that dull light in her eyes is replaced by a heart wrenching fear. I can smell it on her, the remnants of that mortal emotion, but her worries have little use to her now.
"You already are dead. Or at the very least," I add, listening to the panicked throb of her heart beneath her skin. It is so fragile.
Sighing, I wipe a strand of hair from my eyes. "You will be soon."
Naturally, the truth of the matter only seems to escalate things.
"Please, sir. God, whoever you are, you must help me," she begs, sliding towards me, her hands grasping for my robes, latching on to them like a child to a mother. Although what she is to become is not something I wish to stick around for, I haven't the heart to shake her off. A trickle of a tear manages to escape its way down her cheek. Shaking me, she starts once more:
"I didn't ask for this! I don't even remember being bitten. Please, I don't want to die," she sobs, her voice cracking with the effort of trying to remain somewhat composed. But her efforts are futile. Before her knees can buckle beneath her, I manage to scoop her up into my arms.
"Of course you wouldn't remember," I chide a little sternly- for my trust in her has not completely materialised yet. "If Azrael was to bite you, he would have done so when he glamoured you. You wouldn't remember a thing."
Summoning a bout of darkness from the ground, I conjured together a temporary bench of darkness for her to rest on, placing her cautiously down. She sits unsteadily at first, her body learnt entirely against me, as though fearful she might collapse entirely on me, but with the distant look of despair that swims along her face, it is an offer I am more than happy to indulge her in. That look in her eyes, that despair, the hopelessness, it is not too far distance from the look Serena had given me as she lay dying on my bed. Right before I had to put her under stasis. Ordinarily, I would have killed a turned or turning halfling on sight, but there is something about this girl, something so incredibly familiar in her that I can't quite seem to make myself do so. It feels like something is tugging me back, like there are two hands over my own that are binding me in place.
I cannot kill this girl.
Perhaps, just perhaps, Serena has gifted me with a conscience after all.
"Hush now, little girl. Cease you laments, I do not plan to let you die. That is, if you prove yourself not to be a traitor," I say, giving her a firm look as I slip down in front of her. Bringing my hands to brace around her sides, I hold her in place, letting her wide, grey eyes train on me. Her lip quivers.
"Now," I say, rolling up my sleeves one by one. "If you have not lied to me, and are true to your word, I promise this will not hurt you.. Though it might be a bit of a shock."
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After her initial answer comes in the form as nothing else but pure unadulterated silence (perhaps her mind is still reeling from the shock), I pose the question once more. Skimming my hands lightly across her forehand, I can practically feel the cold that leeches off her body- a cold that I had formerly dismissed as little more than a product of the weather. But knowing what I know now, it is starting to feel a little more than that.
"Come on," I chide, scanning her face for any signs of recognition that my words have reached her. "You are an assassin are you not? Surely you have been trained in the ways of halflings? They became quite the problem some while back."
Squeaking a little, the girl shifts on her haunches. With quivering fingers, she runs her hands through her hair.
"I know that they are only half turned, and that they can become very vicious. They seem to have a lowered mental capacity too, though I didn't know why. Only that it is a defining trait of theirs," she trails of shakily, looping her arms around herself as though to stave off these thoughts. But by the pallid look on her face, I would say it is to no avail.
"That is good," I hum, standing now as I allow myself to put a few inches of distance between us. Although this girl is certainly not dying to remain loyal to Azrael, that does not mean that I have to fully trust her yet. Such a move would be dreadfully foolish on my part.
"But there is a reason to that," I add, allowing her to infer the rest. Raising her eyebrow she shoots me a questioning look, her body coming more alert for the first time this night.
"Like what?"
A wan smile. Pacing, I lean myself back against the wall, shutting my eyes momentarily to take a breath of the icy air, letting it spark through my lungs. It would seem assassins these days are not trained in the knowledge and dangers of the world as they used to be. So formidable was their knowledge that they could just about take on any creature without fail- granted that creature wasn't me, of course. But their ways have been lost over time and in their place they have put little girls who cannot carry out their missions correctly.
I don't know whether to be upset or relieved.
"Because they have received such a low dose of vampire venom, they can wander for days without a single change taking place. Before their mind starts too…" I trail off momentarily, creating a revolving motion between my fingers. Little wisps of black smoke pool from my palms. "...Degrade. They might not even realise they are a halfling. Which makes things rather tricky for us. But," I add, raising a finger pointedly. "There is always a way you can tell a halfling from a normal creature. A trick, if you like, to tell which ones have been infected by the vampire's venom before any physical changes can take place. We used it to identify our own halflings after we had an illegal making of them several hundred years ago. Do you know what it is?" I ask her, becoming very, very still.
For a moment there is simply silence and a series of ponderous looks as her eyebrows knit so close together I almost think they might become one. Tearing at the hood of her cloak she attempts to procure the answers I know she does not have, and naturally finds herself coming up empty handed. But nevertheless, she answers:
"What?"
I lower my eyes, a bitter taste swimming in my mouth.
Please let me be wrong about this.
"They always without fail forget one crucial thing about themselves," I murmur, tapping my fingers against my sides now, slightly anxious for when I might find. Then, praying once more that I am mistaken, I walk back over to her, raising her head with the tips of my fingers.
I can feel her heart pounding through her skin- so fast that it appears almost like a single droning hum. So fast, that if I don't think too hard about it, it appears to be hardly there at all.
"What is your name, little girl?"
For a horrible moment of silence, she stares blankly at me. Utterly unmoving, her eyes glaze for a moment, grey and unseeing as she fumbles to withdraw the words from her lips. But none come out.
Letting go of her now, I step back, a weight falling on my chest. So this is Azrael's plan.
"My name," she mutters with a feverous whisper, her fingers brushing over her trembling lips. "I know my name, my name is..." But strain as she might, she does not finish the sentence.
And then, just like that, the realisation hits. Her eyes dull, her face sinks. Everything about her then seems to become little more than a crumbling mess as she slumps against the marbled floor.
Bitterly, I circle around her, keen to keep my distance for now. There is no telling what might trigger her, what might elect the final step in her transformation.
"Truly, I am sorry," I murmur, bowing my head respectfully. "It is a fate I would not wish upon anyone."
But she doesn't seem to hear me. Instead, she continues to ramble to herself, chanting incessantly:
"What is my name?" she whispers like a ghost, straightening her fingers out before her, inspecting them, as if she hopes to grasp the answers out of thin air. Then as quick as a flash she rises to her feet, brandishing her hands out in front of her like a sword. With icy skin and blue veins she wards me back.
Not that I had much intention of coming nearer in the first place.
"Am I going to die?" she chokes fearfully as that dull light in her eyes is replaced by a heart wrenching fear. I can smell it on her, the remnants of that mortal emotion, but her worries have little use to her now.
"You already are dead. Or at the very least," I add, listening to the panicked throb of her heart beneath her skin. It is so fragile.
Sighing, I wipe a strand of hair from my eyes. "You will be soon."
Naturally, the truth of the matter only seems to escalate things.
"Please, sir. God, whoever you are, you must help me," she begs, sliding towards me, her hands grasping for my robes, latching on to them like a child to a mother. Although what she is to become is not something I wish to stick around for, I haven't the heart to shake her off. A trickle of a tear manages to escape its way down her cheek. Shaking me, she starts once more:
"I didn't ask for this! I don't even remember being bitten. Please, I don't want to die," she sobs, her voice cracking with the effort of trying to remain somewhat composed. But her efforts are futile. Before her knees can buckle beneath her, I manage to scoop her up into my arms.
"Of course you wouldn't remember," I chide a little sternly- for my trust in her has not completely materialised yet. "If Azrael was to bite you, he would have done so when he glamoured you. You wouldn't remember a thing."
Summoning a bout of darkness from the ground, I conjured together a temporary bench of darkness for her to rest on, placing her cautiously down. She sits unsteadily at first, her body learnt entirely against me, as though fearful she might collapse entirely on me, but with the distant look of despair that swims along her face, it is an offer I am more than happy to indulge her in. That look in her eyes, that despair, the hopelessness, it is not too far distance from the look Serena had given me as she lay dying on my bed. Right before I had to put her under stasis. Ordinarily, I would have killed a turned or turning halfling on sight, but there is something about this girl, something so incredibly familiar in her that I can't quite seem to make myself do so. It feels like something is tugging me back, like there are two hands over my own that are binding me in place.
I cannot kill this girl.
Perhaps, just perhaps, Serena has gifted me with a conscience after all.
"Hush now, little girl. Cease you laments, I do not plan to let you die. That is, if you prove yourself not to be a traitor," I say, giving her a firm look as I slip down in front of her. Bringing my hands to brace around her sides, I hold her in place, letting her wide, grey eyes train on me. Her lip quivers.
"Now," I say, rolling up my sleeves one by one. "If you have not lied to me, and are true to your word, I promise this will not hurt you.. Though it might be a bit of a shock."
After her initial answer comes in the form as nothing else but pure unadulterated silence perhaps her mind is still reeling from the shock, I pose the question once more. Skimming my hands lightly across her forehand, I can practically feel the cold that leeches off her body- a cold that I had formerly dismissed as little more than a product of the weather. But knowing what I know now, it is starting to feel a little more than that."Come on," I chide, scanning her face for any signs of recognition that my words have reached her. "You are an assassin are you not? Surely you have been trained in the ways of halflings? They became quite the problem some while back."Squeaking a little, the girl shifts on her haunches. With quivering fingers, she runs her hands through her hair."I know that they are only half turned, and that they can become very vicious. They seem to have a lowered mental capacity too, though I didn't know why. Only that it is a defining trait of theirs," she trails of shakily, looping her arms around herself as though to stave off these thoughts. But by the pallid look on her face, I would say it is to no avail."That is good," I hum, standing now as I allow myself to put a few inches of distance between us. Although this girl is certainly not dying to remain loyal to Azrael, that does not mean that I have to fully trust her yet. Such a move would be dreadfully foolish on my part."But there is a reason to that," I add, allowing her to infer the rest. Raising her eyebrow she shoots me a questioning look, her body coming more alert for the first time this night."Like what?"A wan smile. Pacing, I lean myself back against the wall, shutting my eyes momentarily to take a breath of the icy air, letting it spark through my lungs. It would seem assassins these days are not trained in the knowledge and dangers of the world as they used to be. So formidable was their knowledge that they could just about take on any creature without fail- granted that creature wasn't me, of course. But their ways have been lost over time and in their place they have put little girls who cannot carry out their missions correctly. I don't know whether to be upset or relieved."Because they have received such a low dose of vampire venom, they can wander for days without a single change taking place. Before their mind starts too" I trail off momentarily, creating a revolving motion between my fingers. Little wisps of black smoke pool from my palms. "...Degrade. They might not even realise they are a halfling. Which makes things rather tricky for us. But," I add, raising a finger pointedly. "There is always a way you can tell a halfling from a normal creature. A trick, if you like, to tell which ones have been infected by the vampire's venom before any physical changes can take place. We used it to identify our own halflings after we had an illegal making of them several hundred years ago. Do you know what it is?" I ask her, becoming very, very still. For a moment there is simply silence and a series of ponderous looks as her eyebrows knit so close together I almost think they might become one. Tearing at the hood of her cloak she attempts to procure the answers I know she does not have, and naturally finds herself coming up empty handed. But nevertheless, she answers:"What?"I lower my eyes, a bitter taste swimming in my mouth.Please let me be wrong about this."They always without fail forget one crucial thing about themselves," I murmur, tapping my fingers against my sides now, slightly anxious for when I might find. Then, praying once more that I am mistaken, I walk back over to her, raising her head with the tips of my fingers. I can feel her heart pounding through her skin- so fast that it appears almost like a single droning hum. So fast, that if I don't think too hard about it, it appears to be hardly there at all. "What is your name, little girl?"For a horrible moment of silence, she stares blankly at me. Utterly unmoving, her eyes glaze for a moment, grey and unseeing as she fumbles to withdraw the words from her lips. But none come out.Letting go of her now, I step back, a weight falling on my chest. So this is Azrael's plan."My name," she mutters with a feverous whisper, her fingers brushing over her trembling lips. "I know my name, my name is..." But strain as she might, she does not finish the sentence.And then, just like that, the realisation hits. Her eyes dull, her face sinks. Everything about her then seems to become little more than a crumbling mess as she slumps against the marbled floor.Bitterly, I circle around her, keen to keep my distance for now. There is no telling what might trigger her, what might elect the final step in her transformation."Truly, I am sorry," I murmur, bowing my head respectfully. "It is a fate I would not wish upon anyone."But she doesn't seem to hear me. Instead, she continues to ramble to herself, chanting incessantly:"What is my name?" she whispers like a ghost, straightening her fingers out before her, inspecting them, as if she hopes to grasp the answers out of thin air. Then as quick as a flash she rises to her feet, brandishing her hands out in front of her like a sword. With icy skin and blue veins she wards me back.Not that I had much intention of coming nearer in the first place."Am I going to die?" she chokes fearfully as that dull light in her eyes is replaced by a heart wrenching fear. I can smell it on her, the remnants of that mortal emotion, but her worries have little use to her now."You already are dead. Or at the very least," I add, listening to the panicked throb of her heart beneath her skin. It is so fragile.Sighing, I wipe a strand of hair from my eyes. "You will be soon."Naturally, the truth of the matter only seems to escalate things."Please, sir. God, whoever you are, you must help me," she begs, sliding towards me, her hands grasping for my robes, latching on to them like a child to a mother. Although what she is to become is not something I wish to stick around for, I haven't the heart to shake her off. A trickle of a tear manages to escape its way down her cheek. Shaking me, she starts once more:"I didn't ask for this! I don't even remember being bitten. Please, I don't want to die," she sobs, her voice cracking with the effort of trying to remain somewhat composed. But her efforts are futile. Before her knees can buckle beneath her, I manage to scoop her up into my arms."Of course you wouldn't remember," I chide a little sternly- for my trust in her has not completely materialised yet. "If Azrael was to bite you, he would have done so when he glamoured you. You wouldn't remember a thing."Summoning a bout of darkness from the ground, I conjured together a temporary bench of darkness for her to rest on, placing her cautiously down. She sits unsteadily at first, her body learnt entirely against me, as though fearful she might collapse entirely on me, but with the distant look of despair that swims along her face, it is an offer I am more than happy to indulge her in. That look in her eyes, that despair, the hopelessness, it is not too far distance from the look Serena had given me as she lay dying on my bed. Right before I had to put her under stasis. Ordinarily, I would have killed a turned or turning halfling on sight, but there is something about this girl, something so incredibly familiar in her that I can't quite seem to make myself do so. It feels like something is tugging me back, like there are two hands over my own that are binding me in place.I cannot kill this girl. Perhaps, just perhaps, Serena has gifted me with a conscience after all."Hush now, little girl. Cease you laments, I do not plan to let you die. That is, if you prove yourself not to be a traitor," I say, giving her a firm look as I slip down in front of her. Bringing my hands to brace around her sides, I hold her in place, letting her wide, grey eyes train on me. Her lip quivers."Now," I say, rolling up my sleeves one by one. "If you have not lied to me, and are true to your word, I promise this will not hurt you.. Though it might be a bit of a shock."
