HSO Round 2: even in death
Jul. 6th, 2012 01:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
space_reindeerfishEridan woke up covered in sweat and grime and feeling as if he had been sucker-punched by an entire fleet of space ships. His head was pounding and just sitting up made everything ache all over and his right horn throbbed in a dull but steady rhythm, an echo of the pain beating in his head.
What had happened? He'd been on a trip, a mission given to him by his superior, his mentor and it should have been easy but then--
Everything screeches around him as they descend, the ship spiraling down and down and Eridan is shouting curses at the flashing screens and speakers and he is so very furious because he can actually hear the Helmsman laughing like a lunatic. He's thrown back and something sinks into his arm and Eridan starts cursing more loudly.
With a wince, the seadweller reached up to cradle his head and gritted his teeth against the painful onslaught if memories. His brain was finally catching up with the fact that he was awake and decided that now was a good moment to remember everything.
There's blood in his eyes and it takes him a couple of seconds to realize that it is his own. Eridan blinks it away, smearing it over his cheekbones and down the sides of his face. Next to him lies something orange but his vision is too blurred to focus on it and he's pretty sure he has a concussion. With a noise that sounds very muffled in his own ears, Eridan gets up, stumbles left and right, tethering on the edge of a vision going black before his determination kicks in and pulls him through.
--he's walking now, down to the Helmsman block to get him up and running again so they can get off whatever planet or moon or some other bullshit they landed on but yellow blood is pouring out of the Helmsman's every orifice and judging by how the yellow is darker than usual, the ship's core is probably dead. Has been dead for a couple of hours and shit, what is Eridan supposed to do now? He frantically tries to remember if distress signals work without Helmsman powering the entire thing. When he gets back into space, he'll be petitioning to crack down hard on Helmsmen who are not as durable as they are supposed to be. If they--
There's grass beneath him and it's night, thankfully, but his limbs are not listening to him anymore and his rings dig into his swollen fingers and—
Eridan's eyes flew open again as he quickly pulled his hands away from his face and stared at them. No rings. Who had dared to take his medals of valor and honor and skill from him?! Snarling, Eridan reached up to check his fins but the accessories usually making his fins glint were also gone and his face twisted into sluggish fury as he ran his bare, naked fingers through his hair. He was being disrespected by someone faceless, they hadn't even had the guts to take his belongings from him when he'd been...
The fingers froze in the dark hair, trembling as he felt up his left horn. It was a little scratched, yes. Scratched horns were worn by some like badges of the victorious but Eridan had always wrinkled his nose at them. Sleek, nice horns were part of his charm and now the right one appeared to be missing.
His fingers danced over the stump of his right horn once more, just to make sure that his brain wasn't trying to fool him. It had broken off a little above the base. Someone had put a slimy mass on the sad remains and angrily, Eridan wiped it off.
They would regret leaving him unbound, he was going to raze everything to the-
No, Eridan, he told himself. It would not help you. For a miserable moment, he really longed for his Moirail to pat his face and make soothing noises at him until the rage died.
Then he squared his shoulders and looked around. Enough wallowing in misery and bemoaning his situation. He needed to get out of here, fast, collect his most important belongings and gadgets before making his way back to his ship. What if someone had already located it thanks to the distress signal? What if they had left again? Fuck, he needed to...
A rustling noise caught Eridan's attention and his gaze snapped to the entrance of his meager room. His breath caught in his throat. Layers of black crow feathers cascaded down a naked, pink back and down the sides of that stranger's face, half of it covered by shorter, softer looking feathers until they faded into pink skin around the nose and Eridan couldn't tell if that was the face or a mask or something else entirely. Nothing looked back at him when he tried to find the eyes beneath the black mass and with a wrinkle of frustration between his eyebrows, his gaze moved lower. Bird feet greeted him, the talons sharp and gleaming in the pale moonlight drifting into the primitive wooden room.
A bowl, also made of wood, how primitive, filled with worm like somethings was dropped unceremoniously in front of Eridan. He knew from personal experience that even the lowbloods got served better food than this.
His... his what? Guard? Rescuer? Executioner? Whatever the thing with the feathers was, it sat down not too far from the entrance and pulled a sword out of thin air, followed by a weird looking stone and the noise that were the result of blade and stone meeting grated on Eridan's nerves and didn't exactly help his headache.
With as much dignity he could muster, Eridan ordered the thing to stop tending to it's weapon. All he got for his troubles was a tiny, crooked movement of lips that was as sharp as a bird's beak.
Eridan feels the darkness spill around the edge of his vision, coaxing him into closing his eyes, to blink just a little bit until his eyes would stay closed longer, forever and before the velvet voice finally take him away, he sees a pair of red eyes.
The seadweller ended up eating what he had been given, disgusting as it was.
---
It frustrated Eridan like nothing else when he walked out of the hut after another (daymare fraught) nap and noticed that no one was stopping him. Sure, his guard (he'd settled on that for now) was following him as soon as he was out of the door but he didn't seem to mind Eridan's attempt at leaving the room. In fact, the thing was still smiling in that crooked kind of way. Though Eridan supposed he should stop referring to his guard as 'it' from now on, it was obvious that he was male. At least after stumbling head first into another one of those feather wearing things. Only that this one had her chest covered and judging by the lumps beneath the wraps, it was obvious there were gender differences not unlike those in Troll society.
Eridan had also noticed the tattoos. Everyone seemed to have something inscribed on their bodies, sometimes, the seadweller noticed as he walked past tents and huts and fire places, on their shoulders and arms and in some rare cases on the stomach. His guard has his on his upper arms, red and jagged and looking like one of these ancient clock parts his mentor liked to collect.
Everyone was talking in low voices around him but without his automatic translator, he didn't have any clue as to what they were saying. It would be the first thing he'd retrieve, along with his weapons. Someone had emptied his sylladex. Eridan had not appreciated that and let his guard know in a very bemused voice know about it.
The guard had simply cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow.
Asshole.
But now Eridan was out of the hut at least, he could gather information and map this place out. Which appeared to be rather primitive and in the middle of nowhere. There were old fashioned fire places all over the village, apparently no electricity whatsoever, no running water though he'd seen something that might have passed as a well.
That wasn't how he'd wanted this day to go. At all. But once again, the universe seemed to be against his plans. Go figure.
“A course it didn't go well. When do thing ever go my way?”
Eridan didn't realize he'd said this out loud until his guard made a short, questioning clicking noise and stared (or at least Eridan assumed that the guy was staring, seeing as he still hadn't found anything resembling proper eyes). Of course, now this guy would imply that he could understand Eridan perfectly, after Eridan had already attempted to convey some sort of speech. What a scumbag.
Drawing his shoulders back and straightening his back, Eridan drew himself up to his rather impressive height and stared down at his guard. In return, the alien moved from the slouched position in an instant, own back straightening as he what Eridan assumed to be a challenging look. It seemed that their difference in height wasn't so small after all.
It made Eridan sneer as he gave the guard the most intimidating look he could muster.
“I want my stuff back. My stuff,” Eridan pointed at his empty fingers and facial fins. “My rings and my sigil. I want them back.”
For a handful of seconds, his guard blinked before that same, irritating smirk appeared and, without proper courtesy, waved a hand in front of Eridan's face before walking off into another direction.
It was obvious that he wanted the seadweller to follow and Eridan didn't waste any time, he wanted to feel the rings clink against each other when he moved his hands, needed to have the comforting weight of rings in his fins. And he was going to get it back.
Two equally strangely dressed aliens stood in front of a small tent, blocking Dave's way with awkward looking spears, mouths a thin line of disapproval. What followed was a series of odd, bird like noises and Eridan almost reveled in the fact that his guard was giving the other two guys something akin to a verbal whipping before marching into the tent. Eridan followed, shoving the spears attempting to block him aside. Morons.
There, on a small table, his rings were laid out, resting on a clean cloth. Or at least what was left of them. What had once been a grand collection now consisted of a meager offering of three rings. And beside them, a very much broken translator.
Eridan's mouth twisted unhappily as he turned around to give his guard a disapproving look. Feather-head didn't even try to look ashamed or innocent, he was obviously palming something inside of his pant's pocket. With a carefully blank look, he pulled a ring out of it, a golden one, set with a stone that looked more red than tyrian in the pale light.
Eridan glared as he ripped the ring out of the guard's hands, jamming it on his thumb with a wince before repeating the motion with what was left of his jewelry.
“Dave.”
Startled, Eridan stopped scowling at his hands to give his guard a confused look. “What?”
If the alien had eyes, he would have rolled them this very moment.
“Dave.” He pointed at himself and Eridan could now see that the lips were forming the word slowly, as if the guard himself was testing the sound. Then he gave Eridan what could only be a cheekily blank look (How? Eridan asked himself) before turning around on his... whatever counted as heel and marched out of the tent.
Eridan smiled before he could catch himself.
He was starting to grow fond of that attitude. Damn it all, the weird alien, Dave, with all his feathers and roundabout and complicated behavior was giving Eridan enough attitude that, instead of annoying him, he was starting to appreciate it.
Mother Grub.
---
During the time Eridan was recovering from the rest of his injuries, he learned several things.
First, the hut he'd woken up in actually belonged to Dave. He really wasn't sure what to react to the knowledge, mock the avian alien for the mediocre living conditions or thank him for letting him stay. In the end, he'd thanked him even if Dave had just shrugged his shoulders and said something incomprehensible in return.
Second, Dave was starting to learn Alternian. It was a slow process and some words came out so mangled that they gave Eridan a headache. Steadily, however, Dave's skills increased. Occasionally, he surprised Eridan with how much he could convey already.
Third, whatever race lived here, it was brutal. Eridan had walked past something that could only be torture or a fight to the death on several occasions. He could tell by now if someone belonged to this tribe of avian beasts based on their tattoos. And the ones who were tortured or pitted against each other bore markings with little resemblance to what Eridan was starting to get used to seeing.
Fourth, nights in this place were nothing like Eridan had ever experienced.
They crept in through shadows and whispers and soft little giggles, shadowy tentacle arms appearing from beneath tent flaps and windows and through the cracks in the walls. They crooned in a language Eridan couldn't understand, murmuring into his ears and dreams and every breath he took. Being awake didn't stop you from coming for you. Eridan had witnessed it, people, coated in a velvet blanket of promises, half lidded and dull eyes, then with a sudden jerk they were gone, dragged into the darkness.
From what Eridan had witnessed, warriors actually fought against that darkness. Dave fought against it and when the first whispers made their presents known, he'd push Eridan into a corner of their shared hut before collecting his sword and leaving.
He'd return, lips a thin line and sometimes bleeding but always alive. Always there to explain to Eridan in chunks what was going on but the Alternian language had no words to convey what the monster lurking in the shadows was.
On some nights, they would sit next to each other and wait for them to come, each of them talking in their own blurring languages.
Until others of the avian species carried a convulsing Dave into the tent and in the glow of the torches drifting in from outside, Eridan could make out ashy gray skin. Talons dug into the dusty ground and fingernails left bloody scratches on arms until they pinned him down and Eridan was scrambling to their side to do something.
They were reaching for Dave's head, perhaps to keep him still so he wouldn't hurt himself but then they were digging their fingers into the feathers melting into the skin and pulled--
With a wet noise, the feathers came off. The skin beneath was pale and the hair light, lighter than Eridan had ever seen but at least the gray was bleeding out, melting away from Dave's skin and into the ground with a noise of acid meeting metal.
The convulsions didn't stop.
Red eyes snapped open, staring around wildly, blinking before Dave was kicking and flailing his arms, throwing off people left and right and Eridan did the only thing he could think off and pounced on Dave's body. Rolling with the punch thrown at his cheek, feeling his teeth sink into his own soft skin, tasting blood but he snarled through the pang of pain and forced Dave's hands down.
Through the haze of keeping Dave in place, Eridan caught another voice, higher, with a lilt to it that he couldn't place and next to him was suddenly a maskless female, hair the same colour as Dave's framing her face. She said something, placed a hand on Dave's forehead and suddenly, everything stopped.
Eridan stared.
Slowly, the female sat back and waved the other aliens away, running a hand through Dave's hair for a while before she abruptly took Eridan's hand and gave it a quick squeeze, sharp fingernails digging into his skin.
The words came slowly, heavily accented and the seadweller was utterly tempted to kiss Dave, just for teaching the Alternian language to someone else in case of emergencies.
“You need to...” She stopped and pursed her lips before gesturing to Dave and making a cradling gesture with her arms, eyes not leaving Eridan's own.
He understood.
“Death's keeper. None keep him. You shall.”
She watched him with hawk-like gaze before standing abruptly and leaving Eridan behind without an instructions.
With a sigh, Eridan moved into the place the female had vacated and grabbed one of Dave's hand, taking it all in, the long nose, the eyelashes like white shadows against equally pale skin. The dark eyebrows which acted like a dark contrast were hidden by the unusually light hair.
With a fond sigh, Eridan made himself comfortable and squeezed Dave's hand, who was looking past him with a half-lidded stare.
A fond smile crept up on Eridan's face.
What a pitiful fool.
What had happened? He'd been on a trip, a mission given to him by his superior, his mentor and it should have been easy but then--
Everything screeches around him as they descend, the ship spiraling down and down and Eridan is shouting curses at the flashing screens and speakers and he is so very furious because he can actually hear the Helmsman laughing like a lunatic. He's thrown back and something sinks into his arm and Eridan starts cursing more loudly.
With a wince, the seadweller reached up to cradle his head and gritted his teeth against the painful onslaught if memories. His brain was finally catching up with the fact that he was awake and decided that now was a good moment to remember everything.
There's blood in his eyes and it takes him a couple of seconds to realize that it is his own. Eridan blinks it away, smearing it over his cheekbones and down the sides of his face. Next to him lies something orange but his vision is too blurred to focus on it and he's pretty sure he has a concussion. With a noise that sounds very muffled in his own ears, Eridan gets up, stumbles left and right, tethering on the edge of a vision going black before his determination kicks in and pulls him through.
--he's walking now, down to the Helmsman block to get him up and running again so they can get off whatever planet or moon or some other bullshit they landed on but yellow blood is pouring out of the Helmsman's every orifice and judging by how the yellow is darker than usual, the ship's core is probably dead. Has been dead for a couple of hours and shit, what is Eridan supposed to do now? He frantically tries to remember if distress signals work without Helmsman powering the entire thing. When he gets back into space, he'll be petitioning to crack down hard on Helmsmen who are not as durable as they are supposed to be. If they--
There's grass beneath him and it's night, thankfully, but his limbs are not listening to him anymore and his rings dig into his swollen fingers and—
Eridan's eyes flew open again as he quickly pulled his hands away from his face and stared at them. No rings. Who had dared to take his medals of valor and honor and skill from him?! Snarling, Eridan reached up to check his fins but the accessories usually making his fins glint were also gone and his face twisted into sluggish fury as he ran his bare, naked fingers through his hair. He was being disrespected by someone faceless, they hadn't even had the guts to take his belongings from him when he'd been...
The fingers froze in the dark hair, trembling as he felt up his left horn. It was a little scratched, yes. Scratched horns were worn by some like badges of the victorious but Eridan had always wrinkled his nose at them. Sleek, nice horns were part of his charm and now the right one appeared to be missing.
His fingers danced over the stump of his right horn once more, just to make sure that his brain wasn't trying to fool him. It had broken off a little above the base. Someone had put a slimy mass on the sad remains and angrily, Eridan wiped it off.
They would regret leaving him unbound, he was going to raze everything to the-
No, Eridan, he told himself. It would not help you. For a miserable moment, he really longed for his Moirail to pat his face and make soothing noises at him until the rage died.
Then he squared his shoulders and looked around. Enough wallowing in misery and bemoaning his situation. He needed to get out of here, fast, collect his most important belongings and gadgets before making his way back to his ship. What if someone had already located it thanks to the distress signal? What if they had left again? Fuck, he needed to...
A rustling noise caught Eridan's attention and his gaze snapped to the entrance of his meager room. His breath caught in his throat. Layers of black crow feathers cascaded down a naked, pink back and down the sides of that stranger's face, half of it covered by shorter, softer looking feathers until they faded into pink skin around the nose and Eridan couldn't tell if that was the face or a mask or something else entirely. Nothing looked back at him when he tried to find the eyes beneath the black mass and with a wrinkle of frustration between his eyebrows, his gaze moved lower. Bird feet greeted him, the talons sharp and gleaming in the pale moonlight drifting into the primitive wooden room.
A bowl, also made of wood, how primitive, filled with worm like somethings was dropped unceremoniously in front of Eridan. He knew from personal experience that even the lowbloods got served better food than this.
His... his what? Guard? Rescuer? Executioner? Whatever the thing with the feathers was, it sat down not too far from the entrance and pulled a sword out of thin air, followed by a weird looking stone and the noise that were the result of blade and stone meeting grated on Eridan's nerves and didn't exactly help his headache.
With as much dignity he could muster, Eridan ordered the thing to stop tending to it's weapon. All he got for his troubles was a tiny, crooked movement of lips that was as sharp as a bird's beak.
Eridan feels the darkness spill around the edge of his vision, coaxing him into closing his eyes, to blink just a little bit until his eyes would stay closed longer, forever and before the velvet voice finally take him away, he sees a pair of red eyes.
The seadweller ended up eating what he had been given, disgusting as it was.
---
It frustrated Eridan like nothing else when he walked out of the hut after another (daymare fraught) nap and noticed that no one was stopping him. Sure, his guard (he'd settled on that for now) was following him as soon as he was out of the door but he didn't seem to mind Eridan's attempt at leaving the room. In fact, the thing was still smiling in that crooked kind of way. Though Eridan supposed he should stop referring to his guard as 'it' from now on, it was obvious that he was male. At least after stumbling head first into another one of those feather wearing things. Only that this one had her chest covered and judging by the lumps beneath the wraps, it was obvious there were gender differences not unlike those in Troll society.
Eridan had also noticed the tattoos. Everyone seemed to have something inscribed on their bodies, sometimes, the seadweller noticed as he walked past tents and huts and fire places, on their shoulders and arms and in some rare cases on the stomach. His guard has his on his upper arms, red and jagged and looking like one of these ancient clock parts his mentor liked to collect.
Everyone was talking in low voices around him but without his automatic translator, he didn't have any clue as to what they were saying. It would be the first thing he'd retrieve, along with his weapons. Someone had emptied his sylladex. Eridan had not appreciated that and let his guard know in a very bemused voice know about it.
The guard had simply cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow.
Asshole.
But now Eridan was out of the hut at least, he could gather information and map this place out. Which appeared to be rather primitive and in the middle of nowhere. There were old fashioned fire places all over the village, apparently no electricity whatsoever, no running water though he'd seen something that might have passed as a well.
That wasn't how he'd wanted this day to go. At all. But once again, the universe seemed to be against his plans. Go figure.
“A course it didn't go well. When do thing ever go my way?”
Eridan didn't realize he'd said this out loud until his guard made a short, questioning clicking noise and stared (or at least Eridan assumed that the guy was staring, seeing as he still hadn't found anything resembling proper eyes). Of course, now this guy would imply that he could understand Eridan perfectly, after Eridan had already attempted to convey some sort of speech. What a scumbag.
Drawing his shoulders back and straightening his back, Eridan drew himself up to his rather impressive height and stared down at his guard. In return, the alien moved from the slouched position in an instant, own back straightening as he what Eridan assumed to be a challenging look. It seemed that their difference in height wasn't so small after all.
It made Eridan sneer as he gave the guard the most intimidating look he could muster.
“I want my stuff back. My stuff,” Eridan pointed at his empty fingers and facial fins. “My rings and my sigil. I want them back.”
For a handful of seconds, his guard blinked before that same, irritating smirk appeared and, without proper courtesy, waved a hand in front of Eridan's face before walking off into another direction.
It was obvious that he wanted the seadweller to follow and Eridan didn't waste any time, he wanted to feel the rings clink against each other when he moved his hands, needed to have the comforting weight of rings in his fins. And he was going to get it back.
Two equally strangely dressed aliens stood in front of a small tent, blocking Dave's way with awkward looking spears, mouths a thin line of disapproval. What followed was a series of odd, bird like noises and Eridan almost reveled in the fact that his guard was giving the other two guys something akin to a verbal whipping before marching into the tent. Eridan followed, shoving the spears attempting to block him aside. Morons.
There, on a small table, his rings were laid out, resting on a clean cloth. Or at least what was left of them. What had once been a grand collection now consisted of a meager offering of three rings. And beside them, a very much broken translator.
Eridan's mouth twisted unhappily as he turned around to give his guard a disapproving look. Feather-head didn't even try to look ashamed or innocent, he was obviously palming something inside of his pant's pocket. With a carefully blank look, he pulled a ring out of it, a golden one, set with a stone that looked more red than tyrian in the pale light.
Eridan glared as he ripped the ring out of the guard's hands, jamming it on his thumb with a wince before repeating the motion with what was left of his jewelry.
“Dave.”
Startled, Eridan stopped scowling at his hands to give his guard a confused look. “What?”
If the alien had eyes, he would have rolled them this very moment.
“Dave.” He pointed at himself and Eridan could now see that the lips were forming the word slowly, as if the guard himself was testing the sound. Then he gave Eridan what could only be a cheekily blank look (How? Eridan asked himself) before turning around on his... whatever counted as heel and marched out of the tent.
Eridan smiled before he could catch himself.
He was starting to grow fond of that attitude. Damn it all, the weird alien, Dave, with all his feathers and roundabout and complicated behavior was giving Eridan enough attitude that, instead of annoying him, he was starting to appreciate it.
Mother Grub.
---
During the time Eridan was recovering from the rest of his injuries, he learned several things.
First, the hut he'd woken up in actually belonged to Dave. He really wasn't sure what to react to the knowledge, mock the avian alien for the mediocre living conditions or thank him for letting him stay. In the end, he'd thanked him even if Dave had just shrugged his shoulders and said something incomprehensible in return.
Second, Dave was starting to learn Alternian. It was a slow process and some words came out so mangled that they gave Eridan a headache. Steadily, however, Dave's skills increased. Occasionally, he surprised Eridan with how much he could convey already.
Third, whatever race lived here, it was brutal. Eridan had walked past something that could only be torture or a fight to the death on several occasions. He could tell by now if someone belonged to this tribe of avian beasts based on their tattoos. And the ones who were tortured or pitted against each other bore markings with little resemblance to what Eridan was starting to get used to seeing.
Fourth, nights in this place were nothing like Eridan had ever experienced.
They crept in through shadows and whispers and soft little giggles, shadowy tentacle arms appearing from beneath tent flaps and windows and through the cracks in the walls. They crooned in a language Eridan couldn't understand, murmuring into his ears and dreams and every breath he took. Being awake didn't stop you from coming for you. Eridan had witnessed it, people, coated in a velvet blanket of promises, half lidded and dull eyes, then with a sudden jerk they were gone, dragged into the darkness.
From what Eridan had witnessed, warriors actually fought against that darkness. Dave fought against it and when the first whispers made their presents known, he'd push Eridan into a corner of their shared hut before collecting his sword and leaving.
He'd return, lips a thin line and sometimes bleeding but always alive. Always there to explain to Eridan in chunks what was going on but the Alternian language had no words to convey what the monster lurking in the shadows was.
On some nights, they would sit next to each other and wait for them to come, each of them talking in their own blurring languages.
Until others of the avian species carried a convulsing Dave into the tent and in the glow of the torches drifting in from outside, Eridan could make out ashy gray skin. Talons dug into the dusty ground and fingernails left bloody scratches on arms until they pinned him down and Eridan was scrambling to their side to do something.
They were reaching for Dave's head, perhaps to keep him still so he wouldn't hurt himself but then they were digging their fingers into the feathers melting into the skin and pulled--
With a wet noise, the feathers came off. The skin beneath was pale and the hair light, lighter than Eridan had ever seen but at least the gray was bleeding out, melting away from Dave's skin and into the ground with a noise of acid meeting metal.
The convulsions didn't stop.
Red eyes snapped open, staring around wildly, blinking before Dave was kicking and flailing his arms, throwing off people left and right and Eridan did the only thing he could think off and pounced on Dave's body. Rolling with the punch thrown at his cheek, feeling his teeth sink into his own soft skin, tasting blood but he snarled through the pang of pain and forced Dave's hands down.
Through the haze of keeping Dave in place, Eridan caught another voice, higher, with a lilt to it that he couldn't place and next to him was suddenly a maskless female, hair the same colour as Dave's framing her face. She said something, placed a hand on Dave's forehead and suddenly, everything stopped.
Eridan stared.
Slowly, the female sat back and waved the other aliens away, running a hand through Dave's hair for a while before she abruptly took Eridan's hand and gave it a quick squeeze, sharp fingernails digging into his skin.
The words came slowly, heavily accented and the seadweller was utterly tempted to kiss Dave, just for teaching the Alternian language to someone else in case of emergencies.
“You need to...” She stopped and pursed her lips before gesturing to Dave and making a cradling gesture with her arms, eyes not leaving Eridan's own.
He understood.
“Death's keeper. None keep him. You shall.”
She watched him with hawk-like gaze before standing abruptly and leaving Eridan behind without an instructions.
With a sigh, Eridan moved into the place the female had vacated and grabbed one of Dave's hand, taking it all in, the long nose, the eyelashes like white shadows against equally pale skin. The dark eyebrows which acted like a dark contrast were hidden by the unusually light hair.
With a fond sigh, Eridan made himself comfortable and squeezed Dave's hand, who was looking past him with a half-lidded stare.
A fond smile crept up on Eridan's face.
What a pitiful fool.
