Senkha & Oliver: April 9

Sènkha inhales and exhales deeply, already looking -far- more relaxed than she has in a very long time. "It smells good here. Like Theramore did."
Sènkha says: Only with less soot.
Sènkha says: Want to see the house?

Macglynn says: ... 's quiet. Sure, show me.

Sènkha nods, holding out her free hand for Oliver to take.

Macglynn takes her hand. Loosely, like he's reluctant to.

Sènkha gestures towards the chicken coops. "See, chickens."

Macglynn smiles at the ground. "Yeah, Ah see 'em."

Sènkha pauses, letting go of Oliver's hand to fumble with the keys and unlock the new house, pushing the door open and hobbling inside.
Sènkha says: Well, what do you think?

Macglynn 's brows rise and he looks up at the high ceiling and up the stairs. "Classy."

Sènkha says: There's a pretty small second bedroom up there, too. For holidays.

Macglynn says: Not's big as th' other place, but... wow. 's a helluva house.
Macglynn says: A sheep.

Sènkha smiles slightly and nods. "Waterfalls, too. Look like the ones above Elwynn. It's really nicely decorated...perfect for farming."
Sènkha says: I mean. If you wanted to do that, still.

Macglynn turns back to Senkha- and looks right past her. "Hey, 's got th' whore paintin's here, too!" He then looks down at her properly. "Let's sort things out one at a tahm 'fore makin' any other plans."

Sènkha says: ...did you want to, um. You know.

Macglynn says: ... Whut.

Sènkha glances behind Oliver to look at the hilt of his blade, then meets his eyes.

Macglynn gives a nod and a silent grunt of assent. "Guess Ah'll be out, uh- gettin' that over with." He turns to leave.

Sènkha follows, pressing her lips together as she does. "Mind if I come with? Just...to be there, not...I mean. Well. To be there."

Macglynn just trudges out the door. He doesn't answer one way or another, just keeps walking. He's not saying no, though.

Sènkha follows quietly.
Sènkha silently removes her comm ring and slips it in her pocket, smiling as she does so.

Macglynn stops at the shore of the first pool in the marshland. He looks out into the mist. "Dunno m'way around 'ere," he mutters to himself, the water crystallizing before him. He steps out onto it and crosses.

Sènkha follows slowly and carefully, feet slipping under her several times. She has more traction on her right leg than on her left, it seems. GG Shep.

Macglynn comes to a slow halt about midway through. He turns around, walks back to her, lifts her into his arms, and carries her across withotu a word. He sets her down on the other side and keeps walking.

Sènkha doesn't respond to being carried across one way or the other; she simply continues to follow carefully and slowly, eyes lighting up some when she sees the bridge ahead.

Macglynn keeps a somewhat brisk pace as he walks, seeming to care little if she's left behind.

Sènkha 's expression grows pained the further they walk, sweat breaking out on her brow, but she keeps up relatively well despite this.

Macglynn 's brisk steps carry him to a clearing in the murk. As he was told, there is in fact a demon- a large, hairy, vile-smelling beast with tattered wings and bloodied hooves.
Macglynn says: ... Ah was expectin' imps.

Sènkha 's lips curl into a sneer when she sees the demon. She grips her cane more tightly, her free hand going instinctually to her hip--of course, there are no daggers there. "I'm glad this is what they are. I was expecting those big rock ones."

Macglynn draws his blade. "Ain't no matter. Jus' have ta work a little harder 'round 'ere, 'uh?" He swings it once, allowing his arms to recognize the weight, and then charges. The demon is not caught off-guard in the least, and catches his blade. There's a thick hum as the swarm finds the demon's sword arm. The blade is happy, and so is Oliver.

Sènkha chews her lower lip as this happens, frowning deeply. She doesn't disguise her desire to at least come along for the ride, but she doesn't push it, either--if Oliver would rather she wait this out, she'll wait.

Macglynn barks a loud laugh as he thrusts his blade against the demon's- the swarm has eaten to the bone, and the arm snaps away. The demon roars a curse in its own tongue and lifts from the ground, beating its wings furiously. Its remaining arm glows with fel, but before a cast can be made, it's gripped right back down to the ground- straight onto the hungry blade. It isn't quite dead as the silvery whisps of its soul begin to seep into the blade, and its shriek is terrible. And it makes the kill better.

Sènkha watches the entire process about the way a starving man watches a buffet. She steps back carefully to hide herself against a tree, biting down on her lower lip so hard that it's started to bleed. The shriek, especially, causes her to groan softly, but she still doesn't try to breach the bond or open it any further.

Macglynn steps back a few, looking to the left. One soul. The blade doesn't pick and choose, one is one no matter how difficult the process. He doesn't run after it, though, despite the growing pain throughout his mind and body telling him that he -needs to go-.
Macglynn drives his blade into the mud and turns to Senkha. His hand doesn't leave the hilt, and grips it tightly. "Senkha."

Sènkha looks up at Oliver, still biting her lip hard. She looks somewhat guilty, as if she's just been caught doing something bad, though she hasn't really been -doing- anything.
Sènkha says: Yeah.

Macglynn stares at her for a moment, brow furrowed as he fights back the pain. "Whut're y'doin' here."

Sènkha says: --do you want me here.

Macglynn says: Ah- asked y'a question first.

Sènkha says: Watching. I'm watching. Do you want me here?

Macglynn 's voice raises. Not quite a yell, but demanding. "Is that why you came."

Sènkha cringes slightly, but nods. "Yes. If that is what you want."

Macglynn does yell this time, "That is -NOT- why y'came!"

Sènkha says: Then why did I come, since you know so much.
Sènkha is so mature.

Macglynn tears his blade out of the dirt and thrusts it out at length, so its muddy point presses into her neck. "Don't treat this lahk a game!"

Sènkha jerks in surprise as he presses the blade into her neck, though her expression is far from frightened. If anything, it's annoyed. "I'm -not-. I want that bond to be something that -you- choose. I -won't- force it on you, not again."

Macglynn gives a loud cry of agony suddenly and lifts his blade. No further warnings, apparently- he moves to bring it straight down on his wife.

Sènkha snarls; barely thinking about it, she opens the bond between them entirely, taking control whether he wants it or not. And she's not happy about it. The blade doesn't fall, but Oliver does, now kneeling before her. "Stop -trying- to -frighten- me into DOING THIS!" she yells in a voice that belongs to neither of them. "If you wanted me to stay behind, then you should've told me to stay behind! If you wanted this, you should've asked!"

Macglynn is brought to his knees with no effort on her part, though as the bond opens fully it'd become pretty apparent that he wasn't actually using scare tactics at that point, and had indeed intended to kill. His bones are on fire and his mind dark.

Sènkha is a bit beyond the nuances of this; scare tactics, attempted murder, whatever. She keeps him there a moment longer, prolonging the agony for both of them, and muttering, "If you even -think- I'd be better off without you, there will be hell to pay." With that, and without Oliver having much of a say in it, he'd charge, sword swinging in an elegant arc towards the nearest demon, just behind a tree. Its back is turned. It's not paying attention. And it's caught in the back of the skull, dead.

The demon's blood sprays out in an arc as it collapses to the ground. The blade accepts this gift, granting more power to the two souls under its sway.

Two more nearby beasts receive similar treatment, though without thinking about it, Senkha's ensuring that the demons' deaths are far more agonizing than they need to be. Muscles flayed. Diseases boiling through their bones. Experimentally, she turns Oliver!Gundam on one of the corrupted treants nearby. Do treants have souls?

Apparently they do, because the blade accepts this death as gladly as any other. Its metal glistens silver as the corrupted treant splinters and rots around it. There are many souls nearby. Many demons lurk beyond in these woods, and the blade demands them. Oliver shudders, the pain lessening as the blade is sated, and charges off deeper into the marsh by his own command.

Sènkha is left safely behind by her tree, at least physically, but mentally, she is along for the ride and only feeding that hunger--and, similarly, feeding the pleasure each kill brings with her own pleasure. Deep down, there's also the sense that it just feels so damn good to be -running- again, but under all the hunger and the orgasmic soul eating, it's hard to pick out.

Hours pass, though it certainly feels like less. It's the longest they've ever danced, and it ends as Oliver falls to the ground, lichfire pouring almost like liquid flame from his eyes, disappearing before it falls to the ground. The blade is sated.

Sènkha doesn't close the bond at all, her poor body still alone by the tree, muscles stiff as if she's been sleeping all this time. From farther away--wherever she and Oliver are--she tries to make her body move, but she's too--well, sated.

Macglynn rises to his feet and rests his blade over his shoulder, demon blood smearing across his hood. He carries himself with ease back to her resting spot by the tree.

As he comes closer, Senkha's more able to control her own body. Her eyes open and she stands, slowly, stretching as she goes. She raises an eyebrow at Oliver, saying nothing still.

Macglynn is covered in black stuff, crawling with beetles of varying sizes, and has what are most definitely entrails hanging from one of his shoulder spikes. Senkha is a messy fighter. He looks down at her, also saying nothing.

Sènkha looks like she can't decide if she wants to kiss him or slap him. She settles for something in between, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly despite the gore, while his right cheek might start to sting like it's just been slapped.

She'd probably feel a burn on her arms or cheek; not all of that black belonged to the demons. Oliver looks like he doesn't really know how to react to this, so he simply says, "... That hurt."

Sènkha doesn't completely respond to the burn on her arms or cheek, just cringing a little bit. She also doesn't apologize. "That felt good," is her only response.

Macglynn 's blade is put back into place, and he fastens the belt. His arms then drop to his side and he looks at her for a long moment. "Did y'at least... blow off some steam."

Sènkha frowns, considering. She eventually nods slowly. "Yes, but I'm still mad at you," she answers.

Macglynn says: Oh, good. 'S about tahm y'got mad at me fer somethin'.

Sènkha raises an eyebrow at Oliver. "I'm mad because whatever you wanted just now, you didn't tell me. And I don't know why."

Macglynn picks a glob of guts off his pauldron and tosses it to the ground. "Whut Ah want an' whut Ah should do is intahrly diff'rent things." A pause, but before she can respond, "Ah'm sorry fer tryin' t'kill yah. It's... it's good y'think quick."

Sènkha says: Just as long as you aren't going to spend the next three days moping about it...
Sènkha sighs, resting her head against his shoulder, despite any gore that may be there. "If you were going to go with what you -should've- done, I wish you'd just told me to stay home."

Macglynn looks a little struck for a moment before saying, "... Ah don't know why Ah didn'."

Sènkha sighs softly; not that he can see it with her head against his shoulder, but for a moment, her eyes take on his lichfire. "Because you -want- this. No matter how wrong it is."

Macglynn has definite contempt in his voice. "Sure do, Senkha."

Sènkha says: I just want you to make a decision. Are you going to do the right thing and tell me to stay home from now on? Or are you going to ask me to come with you so we can dance together?
Sènkha just sounds tired, no longer as relaxed as she was when they first arrived.

Macglynn 's arms curl around her, covering her in scum. "Can't dance no other way, really."

Sènkha relaxes in his arms; their bond still open, the sensation of holding her is as real as it's ever been. "I love you," Senkha murmurs after a few minutes of just standing there.

Macglynn 's arms tighten and his eyes lower. He's far from happy with himself, his guilt gnawing at him like his swarm. But he doesn't want her to come, the blade does.

Sènkha cringes with this knowledge and sighs. It couldn't be helped this time; they'll take it on a case-by-case basis. "I'm sorry," she says eventually.

Macglynn keeps holding her. "Don't be."

Sènkha moves a hand to brush some of the gore away from his neck and kiss there gently. "Don't you be either. It's happened. Being sorry won't make it unhappen."

Macglynn smiles glumly. "Ah know it won't. But it always feels worse if y'act lahk yer a'rite with it."

Sènkha smiles wryly. "I know. Why do you think I confess to Miles? By the way, he wanted to know if I'd like to talk to him this weekend."

Macglynn says: Yeah, hope 'e don't turn y'in.
Macglynn lets her go.

Sènkha frowns at Oliver. "Why would he? One of his dearest friends performs necromancy...besides, confessors aren't allowed to turn people in. That's what they used to tell us when we were younger."

Macglynn doesn't answer, but the bond lets her know he's just paranoid. This is their foul, damnable secret, and he really doesn't want to deal with witch hunts.

Sènkha reaches out and links her fingers with his, looking up at him tenderly. "I trust him. But if you don't want me to confess to him, I won't."

Macglynn says: If y'got this much trust, Ah'll trust 'im too.

Sènkha says: Alright. I haven't heard back from him yet, but hopefully, I will soon.

Macglynn says: Mm. Y'didn' mention it in th' post, did yah?

Sènkha shakes her head. "I didn't. I was mostly talking about how we haven't seen each other since before the world ended. Apparently, he's got a family now."

Macglynn says: Ah- good, Ah s'pose.
Macglynn tries to care about the personal life of people he's never met before.

Sènkha smiles weakly again and tilts her head, considering Oliver. "You ready to head back or did you want to stay out longer?"

Macglynn says: Ah need ta clean up.

Sènkha nods and steps back slightly. "I should, too. If you like...I mean, we can find some gloves and you can give me a bath..."

Macglynn raises his eyebrow at her. Another glob of demon falls off him into the mud with a hearty splat. "Maybe that ain't such a good ahdea this tahm."

Sènkha says: I meant more when you're cleaned up.