Loss

Archemides Fontaine: Oi!
Cilia Frostwyght stays silent.
Archemides Fontaine walks up, front dripping in blood and daggers still clenched in his hands.
Archemides Fontaine: This where ya ran off to?
Cilia Frostwyght applies an ounce of tension to her bowstring, pacing back. The nocked arrow trembles in its place, poised for action.
Cilia Frostwyght: I'm not running.
Archemides Fontaine raises an eyebrow.
Archemides Fontaine: Then what are you doing?
Cilia Frostwyght: What are you doing?
Archemides Fontaine nods his head over to the corpses still strewn about the campground. "Clearing my head, and getting some coin along with it," he states simply, as if he were merely talking about the weather.
Archemides Fontaine: Adders pay good for the bounty.
Cilia Frostwyght titls her head at his casual air, his ease of reaping life. "You're horrible," she speaks with plain vitriol to her tone. Still, she gradually eases tension from her bowstring and crosses her feet, leaning into the tree.
Archemides Fontaine casually wipes his blades along the side of his pants, blood smearing across the black fabric like a macabre stroke of a paintbrush. "Never said I was a saint. Wh are you out here? Hunting?"
Cilia Frostwyght: Poaching.
Cilia Frostwyght smirks confidently at you.
Archemides Fontaine: "Ah. Then I suppose you're  my next target."
Archemides Fontaine steps forward.
Cilia Frostwyght rolls her eyes. "I come out here for the air."
Cilia Frostwyght: I've yet to fire an arrow.
Archemides Fontaine: "With how much it trembled, I'd be surprised if you ever hit anything with it."
Cilia Frostwyght: You strike for killer blows. I'm not sure my fragile psyche can safely endure much more.
Archemides Fontaine: Have you never killed someone before?
Cilia Frostwyght: No.
Cilia Frostwyght: I haven't.
Cilia Frostwyght turns her gaze to his blades.
Cilia Frostwyght: When did you start?
Cilia Frostwyght speaks in between long, pensive pauses.
Archemides Fontaine raises one of his daggers to eye level. There is no reflection in its obsidian edge, just a void of black steel that quenches everything around it. "With the daggers or in general?"
Cilia Frostwyght: What was the name of your first?
Cilia Frostwyght sets the stave of the bow at her feet, resting her chin on the flexed edge. The arrow droops.
Archemides Fontaine: Dunno. Was just a kid at the time....like me.
Archemides Fontaine: Was....a bit after the Calamity.
Cilia Frostwyght: Why?
Archemides Fontaine: Hunger. And hate.
Cilia Frostwyght: Hunger.
Archemides Fontaine: The earthquakes took out our main road.
Archemides Fontaine: Nothing could get through. No travelers, no merchants, no coin,
Cilia Frostwyght looks to her bow, peeling away splinters.
Cilia Frostwyght: Bread.
Archemides Fontaine: That lasted about a moon.
Archemides Fontaine: Then the hunger kicked in.
Archemides Fontaine leans against the tree and crosses his arms.
Cilia Frostwyght studied his features, calm and doleful eyes flitting over his.
Archemides Fontaine: You don't think or feel when you're starving.
Cilia Frostwyght: Stomach does that for you.
Archemides Fontaine: Aye. Only that empty stomach, grumbling. Always grumbling. Like a torture that never ends....you starve all day, watch yourself and others waste into nothing, then you go to sleep and pray to Thal you don't wake up again.
Archemides Fontaine: But you do.
Archemides Fontaine: And the hunger comes back.
Archemides Fontaine: ....Our town had no money, had no road, and had no hunters. So we starved.
Cilia Frostwyght: I had a servant, once.
Cilia Frostwyght: Poor upbringing.
Cilia Frostwyght: Said she once made soup out of some flower petals.
Cilia Frostwyght: Tasted like water and grass.
Archemides Fontaine: Sounds delicious.
Archemides Fontaine: I....
Cilia Frostwyght watched on with kindly features.
Archemides Fontaine: After a few moons, me n' the old man managed to find a new town. Was prosperous even. Guess with our home out of commission, everyone went there instead. So they got the food. The gil.
Archemides Fontaine: Begged them to help us fix the road, but two towns competing is just bad business, yeah? So they charged us a price we couldn't affoard.
Archemides Fontaine: Went stumbling out into the woods myself after that...and found this crowd of people all jeering down into this pit.
Cilia Frostwyght: Duelling.
Archemides Fontaine waves his hand in a circle. "Aye. Managed to wrangle up some of the other urchins and had 'em fightin' to the death...Watched this sweet thing get dragged out by her hair when she stopped breathing.
Archemides Fontaine: Wanted to turn away....but then I saw them toss the coin down to the other kid....Signed up right after that.
Archemides Fontaine sighs.
Archemides Fontaine: Kid was probably no older than me - twelve cycles or so. Looked like me too. Jus'...skin n' bones and desperation and fear.Tossed me into the pit with him. Had the crowd roaring for blood. So we gave it to them.
Cilia Frostwyght: You liked it, then. Didn't you?
Cilia Frostwyght: That's why you're doing it now.
Archemides Fontaine: "...When I got dragged out of there, coin in hand? It was the first time my old man ever smiled at me....First time I ever contributed to family. First time I was ever -good- at something....So I went in again. And again. And again. Did it for six cycles."
Archemides Fontaine: But yeah.
Cilia Frostwyght: You reaped the rewards.
Archemides Fontaine: I got rewards, but after a while it wasn't just about that.
Archemides Fontaine: It was the thrill. The hate. I didn't need to think or feel or nothing.
Archemides Fontaine: Just fight. Always fight.
Cilia Frostwyght: Man of action.
Archemides Fontaine: A man of failures.
Archemides Fontaine: I'm better at bleeding than I am at talking.
Cilia Frostwyght: But you made it, no?
Archemides Fontaine: What's there to make it to? Here I am, still fightin'. And stil losing everyone and everything I care about. But I don't stop. I never stop. I don't know how to.
Cilia Frostwyght: You're here.
Archemides Fontaine: Because it's all I know.
Cilia Frostwyght sets her bow aside, padding across the ground. She sets her hand on his shoulder, canting her head forward.
Cilia Frostwyght: You're the victim.
Archemides Fontaine: There are a lot of victims.
Cilia Frostwyght: But you're told to act like the victor.
Cilia Frostwyght: They're dead, but you're still hurting.
Archemides Fontaine: I'm used to hurt.
Archemides Fontaine: Guess I'm a masochist that way.
Cilia Frostwyght digs in her thumb, pressure to his collarbone.
Cilia Frostwyght runs it back and forth in small little circles.
Cilia Frostwyght opens her lips with a slight, telling sigh. "Not a lot of people let on to that, do they?"
Cilia Frostwyght: They lean on you, but don't question how stable you are yourself.
Cilia Frostwyght: They don't hear the groans of strain you feel to your very timbers.
Cilia Frostwyght: It's hard, isn't it?
Archemides Fontaine lets her continue to press into his collarbone. "They offer....but I don't take them up on it."
Archemides Fontaine: I'm a hypocrite that way.
Archemides Fontaine: Telling people to 'let it out; when I'm too afraid to do it myself.
Cilia Frostwyght: Because it exposes you.
Cilia Frostwyght: And if you get exposed, you die.
Archemides Fontaine: That's what it means to fight.
Archemides Fontaine: There's one person...who I would let kill me that way.
Archemides Fontaine: And I'd be fine with it.
Cilia Frostwyght slips her hand along his shoulder, travelling to his neck. Her thumb caresses the delicately taut flesh and musculature found there, detecting immediate tension.
Cilia Frostwyght: I won't ask who.
Cilia Frostwyght: But I'll ask why.
Archemides Fontaine welcomes the motion.
Archemides Fontaine: Because I love her.
Cilia Frostwyght: You already feel exposed.
Archemides Fontaine: I'm willing to be exposed to her. Should she let me.
Cilia Frostwyght: She won't love you back.
Archemides Fontaine: It doesn't matter.
Archemides Fontaine: She' s got all of me.
Archemides Fontaine: Retard, remember?
Cilia Frostwyght runs the ball of her thumb up and down his neck, tracing and defining the lines of his nervous system.
Archemides Fontaine swallows, his breath hitching lightly as her thumb moves across his throat.
Archemides Fontaine: It's the path I have chosen.
Archemides Fontaine: And like I said to her before....I'll follow it to the end.
Cilia Frostwyght leans her head to the side. Plain and inquisitive features look out, over him. Angled and firmly interested, she eventually opens her mouth with a slight sigh, "Now," she pauses - not out of hesistance, rather, certainty. "I'll ask how. How has she earned this?" She draws out her remaining fingers, stretching out over the breadth of his neck. They chase and wind their way up, cupping his head by the base in her fascinated fingers.
Archemides Fontaine closes his eyes against her touch. Callous hands covered in scars and still caked in blood reach upwards until they clasp around her fingers, drawing them down away from his face. His eyes reopen and bore into hers, intense but not angry. "She's the one who woke me up. Simple as that."
Archemides Fontaine: "Made me feel again."
Archemides Fontaine: "And for all the agony it brings? I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world."
Cilia Frostwyght tenses her fingers under his, readily collapsed by his reach. For a fainting second, a glimmer of fear dashed across her face.
Archemides Fontaine catches it and he grins.
Archemides Fontaine: You're afraid of me.
Archemides Fontaine: That's good.
Archemides Fontaine: I'm horrible.
Cilia Frostwyght looks up, matching his gaze.
Cilia Frostwyght: I'm horrible.
Archemides Fontaine: Then I guess we finally found something in common.
Cilia Frostwyght pulls herself in, tethered by the wrist. "Maybe," she muses in a low, creamy murmur, "Maybe we can hurt eachother." After sliding her opposing hand along his shoulder, she slips away, as if in a fluid dance movement. She remains held at the hand.
Archemides Fontaine lets her move back before he lets go. He cranes his head to the side, not unlike how she had done. "Sorry," he mutters, "But I want someone else to hurt me." His hands slip back into his robes, drawing forth the familiar blades. Golden orbs wander from her to the campsite beyond.
Archemides Fontaine: "I'll find Corinne for you."
Cilia Frostwyght: I wanted Corinne to be separate, from all this.
Archemides Fontaine: Aye.
Archemides Fontaine: We're all full of wants.
Cilia Frostwyght: She was so good. So lovely.
Cilia Frostwyght: How ... how close are ... her and the cat?
Archemides Fontaine takes a deep breath. "I first met Corinne after she had healed Naga from that beating."
Archemides Fontaine: '
Archemides Fontaine: "She...."
Cilia Frostwyght takes up her bow, clutching it close. Straining the wood.
Archemides Fontaine: "I knew she fell for Naga when she came to my room while she rested."
Cilia Frostwyght: Fell?
Archemides Fontaine: Fell. Had feelings for. Cared.
Archemides Fontaine: Then I got her drunk one day and she told me. Whether it was love or not, she didn't know. But she wanted to see.
Cilia Frostwyght broke at those words, expression falling from her face. A wracking shudder shot up her spine and filled her being. Ice.
Archemides Fontaine: It hurts.
Archemides Fontaine: Doesn't it?
Cilia Frostwyght couldn't feel the first tear to well in the corner of one of those doleful eyes, trickling down her face. A salty rivulet formed, guiding down others. Her bones clattered and shook. The arrow fell free altogether. "She said she loved me," she whimpered. Barely a breath.
Cilia Frostwyght: My best friend.
Archemides Fontaine: And do you love her?
Cilia Frostwyght: I hate her.
Archemides Fontaine: Liar.
Archemides Fontaine: Convince yourself of those words before you try to convince others.
Cilia Frostwyght pressed her forehead into her bowstave. She clutched it like an anchor, dragging her to the ground.
Archemides Fontaine: If you love her...then show her.
Archemides Fontaine: Fight for her. And let it be known that if at the end of the day she still says no?
Cilia Frostwyght let it fall from her grasp, awkwardly dangling by her forearm. Her open palms pressed into her face, quickly dampening. Her sobs were muffled; silent. But no less bodily for that. Her spine shook and her ribs convulsed.
Archemides Fontaine: Then you've done all you can.
Archemides Fontaine: Because that's what I'm going to do too.
Cilia Frostwyght: H-hate.
Cilia Frostwyght stifled a moan.
Archemides Fontaine thunks his daggers into the tree and sits down beside her. His movements are slow as he raises a hand toward her, An open palm.
Archemides Fontaine: Fight.
Archemides Fontaine: And you know what I mean.
Cilia Frostwyght snivels and sighs listlessly, without emotion. Freely drifting back into the bark, she pulls her face from her hands, bared face to the heavens. Makeup already ran in streams, hideous slits down her face.
Cilia Frostwyght: No, A-Arch.
Cilia Frostwyght: Fight's over.
Cilia Frostwyght: I lo-o-ost.
Archemides Fontaine: ...Don't know that until you see her.
Archemides Fontaine: Great thing about ring fights?
Archemides Fontaine: There's usually a round two.
Cilia Frostwyght: ... You killed the fuckin' kid.
Archemides Fontaine: I said ring fights.
Archemides Fontaine: Not blood pits.
Cilia Frostwyght: Ju-ust ... stop talking.
Cilia Frostwyght: Please.
Cilia Frostwyght: I hate her.
Cilia Frostwyght lets her head fall forward again, knees knocking together as they failed to support her quaking arms.
Archemides Fontaine stands up, hands yanking his daggers free of the bark.
Archemides Fontaine: You only lose when you give up.
Cilia Frostwyght: Shut up.
Cilia Frostwyght snivels, wiping her streaming eyes along her sleeve, "Just shut up."
Archemides Fontaine: If I shut up, I'm just gonna keep killing.
Cilia Frostwyght: I don't care, I don't care at al-a-all.
Cilia Frostwyght: Just go, go away, shut up and go away.
Archemides Fontaine: I'll be right back.
Archemides Fontaine walks over to the empty campsite, stepping over the carcasses of his targets as he rummages through their belongings. It's not long before he returns with a blanket and two pillows.
Archemides Fontaine tosses the blanket and one of the pillows to her, letting it drape over her. He plops back onto the ground and sets his own pillow behind him, propping himself up against the tree.
Archemides Fontaine: I'm tired.
Archemides Fontaine: Think I'll rest here for tonight....they can die another day.
Cilia Frostwyght simply falls into it. She curls like a pillbug and shifts in the dirt until the blanket covers all her exposed ends. Bleary and unfocused eyes are fixed ahead, continuing their damp outpour.
Cilia Frostwyght breathes through her mouth, nose already stuffed and overfull.