BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

ADRIK ODOL, assassin, a child of the bloodstone temple, twenty five years old, they/them. A beloved servant of Vermir, god of blood and mothers. "I am too full of life to be half loved."

[adrikodol]

hephireus​:

THE ARZICIARA / MORNING, DAY ONE, CATELIA / @adrikodol​​

The island is bright with colour and lush with sound, especially in this quarter - the arziciara, they say, a word that rolls off the tongue. Eskarel doesn’t have the taste for beauty that she does (in their humble opinion of themselves). Hephireus lingers by the stunning displays put together by artists’ guilds, wonders what they can afford with the little tal they have. If only a fine new dagger was in their range - all the better to stab Eskarel with, when the time came. 

At least the city’s public institutions offer free entry. She walks onwards, in and out of museums with wide sun-drenched courtyards and dark, richly-coloured works of art and even more richly-dressed patrons. All wandering the Artist’s Circle at an equally languid pace.

Mortals indulge in time as if they have it in endless supply. She knows what the nobles of this city dream of: death, and unmarked graves. 

At last they come to a pause at a quaint outdoors café, and decide people-watching is as good a pursuit as any. Besides, once Hephireus sets their eyes on someone, they can revisit them in dreams; a fine starting point to gather information about the coming masquerade. A sombre waiter in a white suit with dark velvet accents sets down a cup of something - the taste these mortals have for food and drink never ceases to surprise her. And as Hephireus takes a sip, they sense something - call it intuition, perhaps, that pushes them to look up and make eye contact with a passing stranger. 

Catelia seems to house many characters of interest these days, and this is definitely one. They smile, soft and sincere, and wave to the stranger. “You look as if -” she pauses, searching. “As if you’re looking for something.” 

They know devotion when they see it; it’s like looking into a mirror. The way you carry yourself, in service to a greater being, a greater cause. There are many people who walk Catelia with a secret on the tip of their tongue. There are few on a pilgrimage, as this one is. “Here,” Hephireus says, in their most inviting voice, buttery and warm. “Have a seat and I’ll order you a drink - you’re passing through Catelia, aren’t you? You have the air of a traveller.” 

Catelia is exactly as beautiful as Adrik remembers it being. This had been one of their early stops, when they first began their pilgrimage in the name of their God. Oh, they had wanted so badly to please Vermir, to do their job and do it well. There was a red string of fate that pulled them toward their goal, even know. The knowledge was constant in their mind, that at any moment they could find their truest calling –– the one man or woman that was their purpose, that would buy them Her eternal approval and a position anywhere in the heirarchy that they could wish. Adrik was a killer, and they would make their name with blood. 

They weren’t looking for blood now, though. They were just enjoying the city with Tatsuo –– though they’d lost track of him several minutes ago. That was fine. They didn’t need to be together all the time, as much as they joked about being joined at the hip. It was nice to breathe on their own, to look up at the beautiful buildings and watch the people passing by. Adrik knew that it could be such a dangerous place, but at the moment, all they felt was peace. A sweet and slow lull to the day, with nothing yet to do and no burdens. In the coming days they would be busy, as they always were, but for now they could play tourist for a little while. 

They walk the squares with a slow intent, mildly glancing around with curiosity. Wondering where Tatsuo had run off to, wondering where the rest of the Gambit was spending their time before they real work began. Calliope would already be looking for something pretty to wear to the party, they were sure of that. They had already been talked in to allowing him to shop or steal their clothes for them, so they would blend into the crowd. He didn’t quite trust them not to go dressed in their every day clothes, made for sneaking and killing. 

As much as they’re not hunting, not on the look-out for anything strange, they feel drawn to one spot. Something strange in the air, blood that doesn’t smell quite the same as anything else. Different. Interesting. They lock eyes with a figure, and the figure looks back at them with interest. With a wave. Adrik tilts their head in curiosity, and moves toward the person sitting at the table. 

“I suppose I’m always looking for something,” They agree –– because there’s a truth in it. Always looking for destiny, for ways to please Vermir, for blood to spill and mothers to grant benedictions to. They wonder if they shouldn’t be cautious, of a stranger such as this. But they move closer and take the offered seat, nod their head at the promise of a drink. They’re quick and sharp, they can escape this if it turns strange or dangerous. “Adrik Odol, at your service.” 

“Yes, just passing through. In the company of friends. Though I travelled before we joined together, and I will continue after we part.” They tilt their head, honest as they always are about. their intentions. “I will follow where my God guides me.” Their eyes narrow, slightly, in thought. “You’re strange. Not from here. Are you looking for something as well?” 

[adrikodol]

tatsuokon​:

She’s strong, the assassin, strong and desperate, thrashing beneath him as they sink towards the bottom. The canal’s deeper than he expected, too—it feels bottomless. Dark and deep, without the sun to pierce the surface and illuminate the white stones he knows lie at the bottom. A wide array of factors he didn’t take into account. Among them: struggling to grab her arms and keep them at bay, he’s expending more energy than he anticipated, his heart racing, rapidly moving oxygenated blood through his system. He can hold his breath for a remarkably long time, when he’s calm, but in his panic he somehow forgot to account for the fact that he’s not calm. 

His chest is already burning, when he sees the splash, the disturbance in the water, the slim dark figure diving towards them, when he feels the assassin torn from his grip. The flash of sharp metal. The blood. Adrik. Of course it is. Of course they arrived just in time. They always do, ever since he first met them, all those years ago, in the alley behind some tavern where they saved his life for the first time. 

He finds himself, momentarily, stunned. Surprise? Shock? Blood loss? Oxygen deprivation? Either way, he floats there for a long moment, unmoving, just watching, the water stinging his eyes, his heart pounding, his lungs on fire with the desperate demand to breathe. Watches the assassin’s body sink lower, limp now, blade still clutched lightly in her grip. And then looks to Adrik, and everything clicks back into place.

He swims upward, fast as he can. Reaching for the surface with a determined desperation, though with every push it seems farther away, as his vision starts to blur around the edges. His right arm is useless, so he propels himself with his feet, wishes he’d made it to the bottom just so he’d have something to kick off of.

And then, finally, at long last, he breaks the surface, gasping for breath, kicks his way to the side and tries to haul himself up over it, though he doesn’t have the strength to make it all the way. Holds himself there, and breathes, water dripping from him in great sheets, a terrible splash of faded red against the white pavement. The canals in Catelia actually do run red, he thinks to himself, wryly.

He turns back towards the water the second he can compose himself to, turns back and scans the dark water quickly, looking for them, any sign of them. How stupid it would be, for them to jump in and save his life only to have the water claim theirs. Not that he would let that happen. Not when he owes them his own life so many times over already.

     “Adrik,” he calls out, though he knows they can’t hear him from below the water, all sound muffled to an eerie near-silence. And then he sees them, a dark shadow rising, breaking the surface of the water not far from him, and he feels the fight go out of him and give way to exhaustion, his body having no need for the adrenaline anymore now that he knows they’re safe, too. 

Adrik shouldn’t waste time, beneith the surface of the water. It’s thick with blood down there –– Tatsuos, the assassins, even their own. But something about it makes them linger, slow movements. They watched as the small figure of the assassin sink, limply, down into the water.  They watched as Tatsuo finally swam, up and up and up into safer territory. Adrik just can’t help looking, can’t help knowing. It doesn’t take more than a second to get a look at her face, to ache at the familiarity of it, to reach out and feel her dull pulse, and then to take the knife from her limp hand and begin to swim away. 

Their lungs are aching as they swim back toward the surface. They don’t have much practice, holding their breath in situations like this. Adrik thinks that might be a flaw, something they should work on, because the moment they break the surface they’re gasping for air. They twist around in the water, a little frantic, and only feel something akin to relief when they actually set eyes on Tatsuo. 

“I’m here.” They gasp, already moving again. “It’s okay.” A promise. They get to the side, where Tatsuo is clinging, and they’re able to pull themself back up to the pavement where he hadn’t had the strength. They take only a second to breathe, to shake some of the water off, before they’re down and grabbing on to him, hauling him over the edge and out of the water, body laying below them on the white stone, staining it red. Their hands feel frantic, but they’re steady as they move over his body where he lays, pressing against the place where the blood is seeping out of him. They whisper a prayer, a wish. “Fuck,” They finish. “She really got you, didn’t she? Okay. That’s okay. It’s all okay.” 

They reach into their back, quickly looking over their shoulder for danger. None that they can see. The scrap of bandages they keep is soaking wet, but they don’t want it for much more than pressure against the wound. They shift Tatsuo with far less care than they should, rushing through it, tying fabric tight across the wound. “Okay. Okay. Hi Tatsuo. I’m going to pull you up and you’re going to lean on me.” 

They do it, quick movements, taking nearly all of his weight against them. It’s too familiar of a feeling, and they wish it wasn’t. But all they can do is get him home, safe, where they can actually look at those wounds.  

[adrikodol]

antnardoervs​:

◈

Truth be told, Antnar Do’ervs knew nothing of the art and craft of assassination. He’s heard about it, yes, stories and rumors from bards and minstrels, even rarely from the few books that had miraculously caught his attention, but nothing, not a single one of those remembered details, proved to be quite useful to him regarding the task at hand. How could a would-be assassin arrange her own death in a way that would make the trick appear as fact? Antnar was way over his head here.

Then again… He squinted as he tried to make sense of his thoughts, wading through the memories of his own escape from a place he once called him, wherein he suffered years of imprisonment, torment, for a failed mission from a strange old elf. “ I have no gods-damn idea, ” he furrowed his brow, scratching his head, drowning in his own past experiences. “ Although, when I escaped my captors, I had help from a defector, and we used the cover of an unexpected attack. ”

His warden was an ageless beauty who was obsessed with being proclaimed the fairest, the most powerful, and to that end, she once tried to replace his broken lieutenant, the defector, with him, the hapless thief found drifting half-dead nearby. Of course, he had to decline the offer, as he was in love with another, a child on the way. His warden did not appreciate the rejection, even though she pretended it was acceptable. She tried to make his dream of coming home a poison that drained him each day that it did not happen, and even though she failed, his return was not to a place he had remembered home.

“ If she wants it bloody and spectacular, then perhaps we can…kill her while in the presence of another? Make them help by becoming an unwitting false witness to spread the horror of her murder by a thousand swords? ” It was the best that he could come up with, given his lack of experience faking deaths and murdering people, and though there was an obvious assumption to make regarding The Reaper and their interactions with their employer, the way they did not seem horrified at the thought of dying even as a ruse, he would be the last to judge another wayward soul. 

◈

Adrik feels at ease, somehow. They’re comfortable with things like this, with the art of death. Of course, they know that not everybody in the Gambit is as at home with the idea, as comfortable with the intricacies of life and blood. It doesn’t sing to the others the way it sings to them, they don’t feel the warm love of the God Of Blood and Mothers –– though Adrik knows they are all beloved by Her, all cherished, their blood sweet with her adoration.

The job wouldn’t be an easy one. To fool the common man it might have been. But assassins knew their stuff, they knew when things were real and when a kill had landed well. Their job, then, was to fool a master. To make it look realer than anything else. They watch with careful attention as Antnar speaks of his own escape, eyebrow quirked in interest. It was such a hard life, such a hard thing to have gone through, Adrik’s heart ached with the wish to make sure that Antnar was kept safe from here on out. If their knives could achieve that, they would see to it.

“Someone on the inside is always helpful.” They say, a musing thought. “Unfortunately, I only know one Catelian assassin –– and Zara Myrdo isn’t someone I would trust to help us. She’d sooner see us all dead, I imagine.” They pull one of their knives out, as they speak the words. A mindless thing, something to shift around in their hand, flicking between their fingers as they run the problem over in their head. 

Antnars instincts are better than he gives himself credit for, better than they might have even expected for it. “That’s not half bad. Public. She should look surprised by it. There should be blood. And –– I was thinking, as well. I’m not well versed in the subtler methods of taking a life, but there must be a venom or a potion that could make a woman...appear far less alive than she really was. I wouldn’t know what to use, but I’m sure we can figure it out together.” 

[adrikodol]

tatsuokon​:

along one of the canals, dusk, the second day in Catelia      ( @adrikodol​ )

Adrik has slipped into one of the shops along the water’s edge, something catching their eye as the two of them strolled along the canal, and he hadn’t asked why—whether there was something they wanted to look at, or buy, or whether the shop’s proprietor had angered the blood god somehow and they needed to quickly dispatch him. Either way, he knows Adrik, knows they’ll deal with whatever it is quickly and quietly and be back by his side in just a moment. Instead of following, he’d found a spot on a low stone bench to sit, watching the water grow dark as the sun slipped below the horizon, watching the boats going by.

When he feels a presence behind him, approaching, silent footsteps and smooth movements, he assumes it’s Adrik. That’s how they move: dead quiet, like a shadow, undetectable except in that he knows them so well he can feel them wherever they are. Excepet—the closer they get, the less the silent footsteps feel like Adrik, something different, about the distribution of the weight—

An arm around his throat is pinning him in place before he can turn around to see the assassin behind him, not Adrik, but someone else.

     “Your kingdom sends its regards, Prince of Blossoms,” the voice behind him hisses, heavily accented with that distinctive Catelian lilt, sounding a little too pleased as it does, and the dread sets in a split second before the pain does, a blade so sharp he almost doesn’t feel it as it pierces twice, quick, once into the space along his side where the seam of his armor meets, once into the meat of his right shoulder, presumably to render his dominant arm useless. 

His sword is at his side, but he can’t reach it, and pain is already radiating down his arm as he feels them move again, shifting their own weight, pinpointing the weak spots in his armor, likely searching for the quickest way to his heart. He’s heard tales, of Catelian assassins; he has maybe twelve seconds before she finds it, and a deeply limited number of options, all of them less than ideal. He can’t pull himself away from her, can’t run. As far as he can see, his only option is…

The water. Adrik will know; Adrik will be able to tell. He just has to buy himself enough time for them to get here. 

He dives, into the canal, grabbing her with all the strength he has in him and dragging her with, throwing her over his own shoulder and into the water, holding her there beneath him as they both sink. Betting on the unlikely bet that this Catelian assassin can’t hold her breath as long as he can, as the clear blue water around them blossoms red with his blood.

They cherish quiet moments and quiet days, in the grand scope of things. Once they wondered if they would ever get sick of it, the way that they and Tatsuo walked side by side through the world. Trusted, cherished companions. They had wondered if they would get sick of the near constant company, with following each other in to trouble. Or if Tatsuo would get sick of them, their ill-thought-out words and their tendency to wander off and return with blood caked under their fingernails. But they didn’t, and he didn’t, and they loved to walk with him in beautiful places as the sun began to creep down across the horizon. 

It’s a foolish thing, the trinket that catches Adrik’s eye, beyond the shop window. A blossom, pink as anything, unnoticed by Tatsuo. Made of pale glass, ready to be pinned to clothing or tucked into hair. And it’s easy to imagine attatched to him, easier still to slip away from his company for a moment to run their fingers over the glass. Their mouth twists, and they bite their lip at the price attatched to it. Not outrageous, but far more than they would ever consider. If this was Darcassian trying to win someones affection, he would have slipped the damn thing into his pocket by now. But Adrik wasn’t someone who did things like that, held too firmly by a strange and unusual moral code. So a sigh escapes, and they resign themself to sacrificing they Tal. They’ll make it back and more, before they leave this city. 

And Tatsuo is worth the cost. 

They leave the store with the pretty blossom wrapped in pale white paper, tucked into the pocket at their chest. Close to their heart. Safe. 

Only Tatsuo isn’t there waiting on the street, like they believed he would be. They might consider the reality that he had wandered off, if it wasn’t for the slight sound of disturbed water. Adrik has instincts like no other, an with a quick movement they look down. Ripples across the surface, a hint of blood in the air too strong to deny.

“Idiot.” They sigh, frustration leaking into their voice. They recognise the increasd beating of their heart ; a sign of fear, terror at the idea that Tatsuo might slip away from them, that he might die here. Of course, the moment they turn their head away, Tatsuo would find trouble in a city of assassins. They should have known better than to leave his ide, with everything going on, with the reality of his existence. They say a quick prayer to their god, before they take the leap to follow. A prayer to guide their hand and their breath, to spill the blood of any unworthy foes and protect Tatsuo in the fray. 

They have to force their eyes open in the water. It goes against an instinct inside of them. Adrik fights that one while they embrace the others, the things inside them that drive them to protect the things they love. His blood is spilling in the water, red as anything, vital and precious. More spilling than they’d like. And the assassin is there, aiming to spill more, stuggling in the water and against the force of him. 

So it’s easy to move. Easy to take their own knives and do the same, slide the metal edges into the places where it hurts the most, rip the woman away from Tatsuo and spill blood until the fight goes out of her. Adrik doesn’t know if she dies, and doesn’t care. The important thing is to be quick, to incapacitate and then move to Tatsuo. The important thing is to save him, and pull him from the water with whatever strength they have. 

[adrikodol]

( A private room, probably around where they’re staying, @antnardoervs ) 

Adrik knew a kindred spirit when they saw one. Adrik knew who they felt protective of at a glance. Connections didn’t used to come easy to Adrik, back at the Bloodstone Temple, but after years on the road with the Gambit, they’d gotten far more adept at forging bonds with the people around them, the people who always had the potential to become family to one another. They didn’t actually know their current companion all that well yet, but they could feel that bloom of connection, the feeling in their chest that told them to guard and protect, to watch over him with a careful gaze. 

And so they would. But they also intended to use him as best they could for the mission that had been laid out before them. Adrik knew a kindeed spirit when they saw one, and Melodiae Myrdo had much the same skill. She’d taken a look at Adrik and clearly seen something....with potential, a dangerous snake in the grass, something sharp and intelligent and ultimately useful. The girl had approached Adrik when they had been in Antnar’s company, and so they found each other together in this private room, planning the kill of the century. 

To fake a death was a tricky thing. But Adrik knew more about killing than anybody else. And they knew they could do this. Make it loud, make it messy, make it undeniable until Melodiae passed judgement with the judges of her little task. 

“Lightning round, swarmkeeper.” They muse, as they settle in to the lull of planning a job. “What’s the best way to make a girl look very, very dead?” 

[adrikodol]

tatsuokon​:

They catch his eye the second the sound of the cry reaches them, and he finally draws his own blade from its sheath, the rapier slightly less subtle to carry about than their own knives. Adrik is off and running, tracing a path along the rows between the flowers, faster than him, moving rapidly in the direction the cry came from. But he can see, fast as they are, that there’s a faster way to the source of the sound, one that might save him precious time rather than trying to keep up with them: the sound is coming from the next row of flowers, and rather than running to the spot where the two rows connect with a gap in the tall stalks… he turns to his right and charges through. 

His armor takes the brunt of the slicing thorns, his torso and hands protected by thick leather, the vambraces on his forearms pushing back against the stalks around him to clear a path. He barely notices the slice and sting on the unprotected areas of his skin—his upper arms, his neck and face—as the thorns do whatever they can to find purchase and draw blood. The skin there is scarred enough anyway, it doesn’t so much as slow him down as he pushes through and into the clearing of the next row. These flowers get used in healing potions, he thinks absently as he slows himself to a stop, taking in the picture before him. Surely their thorns won’t poison me or something ridiculous. 

A little late for that thought, either way. And the thorns are the least of his problems, as he looks upon the scene now in front of him.

The girl—just as Adrik had described her—looks terrified, but unharmed. Tears streaking down her face as she looks in fear up at the thing that must have dragged her here, her dress torn at the hem but no sign of blood or injury. That’s good. And he can see Adrik approaching from the other side. Let them take care of the girl, let them look for any sign of injury, pick her up and get her safely away from here. 

Safely away from the monster looming over her, momentarily distracted by the sound of Tatsuo crashing through the thick flowers and into view. It’s… a horrid looking thing, really, nine or ten feet tall if it had been standing upright, though it isn’t, hunched over almost double, its impossibly thin arms nearly dragging against the ground, its legs jointed backwards like a horse, its hands… massive, and clawed. Its mouth too big for its face, open on rows of fangs, thick, viscous saliva stringing between its upper jaw and lower as it turns to face him. 

Luckily, he’s faced down worse monsters than this.

     “Adrik, get her out of here,” he says, leveling his blade with the thing in front of him, drawing his focus into place, preparing to strike. Taking in the tensing and coiling of its muscles, predicting just where it will lean and how to counter its blows. “I’ll take care of this thing. Get to safety.” 

It speaks to their level of trust in Tatsuo that they don’t really stop to think about what Tatsuo is going to do, before they run off into the fray. It’s useless to question it, useless to wonder. Tatsuo will do whatever he thinks is best, and that thing is likely to be reckless and wonderfully brave –– he’s that sort of soul, the kind who will allow himself to be ripped to shreds if he thinks it’s the best or fastest way out of a problem. They’ve gained the confidence, over the years, to know that whatever it is he does, he’ll probably come out of it alive. 

He’ll spill some blood, but he won’t fade from the world. The Blood God appreciates him too much to allow him to slip away from Adrik. He is loved by them, even if he does not realise how much. 

In the moment, they hold no real worry for him. Their mind is focused on a singular task, the rescue of this child. That is another loss the Blood God will not stand for. Vermir loves children above all else. Children, and the mothers who protect them. If it is possible for this little girl to come home unscathed, Adrik’s god will ensure that happens. Perhpas that was why Adrik was there, in the moment, to hear the pleas of a frantic mother, sick with worry. Perhaps their purpose does expend beyond the killing and the spilling of blood. They like the idea of that, holding the same capacity for protection in their heart that the Temple Mothers do. 

They slip through the opening in the flowers, and see that Tatsuo has chosen a straight course through. Blood seeping from his little wounds, leaving the two of them flanking the girl and the monster in kind. They lock eyes, just for a moment. Their footsteps slow slightly, moving silently across the ground. Tatsuo is in the perfect position to deal with the beast, and Adrik will not draw its attention back toward the direction of the child. They can see the glint in his eyes, they know his plan, and they trust him more than any other force in the universe. 

They move quickly, at the same time he and the beast do. They re-sheith their knives, and they sweep the little girl into their arms. They are clung to in turn, by small arms, sniffling cries buried in their hair as they pull her away from the fight. “I’ll come back,” Is all they take the time to say. A promise, thrown in his direction. And then they move. Away, away, out of sight and out of harm. Tatsuo told them to get to safety, and they intend to. With a quick prayer to their God, they carry the girl back out of the flowers, back to the waiting arms of a mother who weeps with thanks. 

They don’t linger as long as they should, just enough to make sure the girl is safe and unharmed by her encounter. With a promise to return again soon, Adrik heads back toward where they left Tatsuo. Rushing through the flowers to him, earning a few small cuts of their own. They slide to a halt at the edge of the fray, looking for an opportunity to join in the fight, wondering of Tatsuo doesn’t actually have it handled. 

[adrikodol]

tatsuokon​:

For a second he thinks he’s hallucinating. For a second, he thinks he’s died and this shadowed figure moving towards them is some angel of death come to take him from this world and into whatever waits beyond. For a second, as the figure steps behind the man and holds a knife to his throat, he thinks fate has decided to smile upon him once again, albiet briefly.

Maybe that last one’s right. Or maybe, he thinks, this person is coming for him next. They’d be able to do it, easily; he doesn’t have much fight left in him right now, isn’t armed, has at least one broken rib. 

But when they step towards him, it’s a hand they extend and not a blade. They’re terse, and quiet, and firm, but there’s a warmth in their voice he doesn’t expect, when it sounded so cold whispering the last words the man would ever hear. He eyes their hand for a moment, warily, waiting for the trick, waiting for the other shoe to drop, somehow. He was as good as dead no less than a minute ago, and his view of the world hasn’t quite caught up with the reality of the situation.

      “You killed him,” he states. Obvious, but he’s got to work through this one step at a time. “You… saved me.” He’s breathing heavily, though each inhale stings and smarts deep in his chest and he finds he can’t quite breath deeply enough to catch his breath entirely. His face feels warm, and hot, and they said something about bandages, right, he’s bleeding. “Sorry, the… blood god?”

He shakes his head a little, and immediately regrets it as a wave of dizzy nausea overtakes him, and he braces himself against the ground as he rides it out for a moment. Whoever they are, whatever they want, he can’t afford not to accept their help right now. Especially not when he has no idea if they’ll take a refusal as an insult and decide to slit his throat, too. So he takes their hand, winces and grits his teeth as they pull him to his feet, his other hand going immediately to his ribs like he can hold himself together if he presses hard enough, though of course it doesn’t help.

     “You… didn’t happen to grab a sword on your way out of there, did you?”

.

The rush of the blood in the air is a beautiful thing, lingering. It had been so useless, before. But now it was something claimed by them, claimed by their master. Blood for the blood god, food for her power. For Adrik, as well. A job well done, a rush of pride in their heart –– a rush of something else, as well. A surprising and unknowable feeling in their chest, at the sight of the man before them. The feeling as he looks up at them, his pretty face dumb with shock for a moment. He sounds so shocked at the idea that someone might protect him, and it makes something deep down inside of them ache. Poor boy. Poor little thing. Some instinct in them tells them to protect, to nurture. Their fingers itch to help heal those wounds. 

“I saved you.” They echo, with something almost sure in their voice. They had. They would have done it even if Vermir hadn’t requested the kill. They can’t stand a bully. They can smell his blood too, the sweet pure lull of it, something worth protecting, something almost beautiful in the dark of the night. “The Blood God.” They nod, again, looking down at him, waiting for him to take their assistance. “Our great Goddess of Blood and Mothers, the Lady Vermir. My patron. She doesn’t want you dead, so you don’t need to worry about me finishing the job this brute began.” A promise, one they think he probably needs to hear. He has the energy of a hunted thing, something fearful in the night, someone who has not seen real rest in quite some time. 

They’re relieved when he takes their outstretched hand, hauling him to his feet. They’re deceptively strong, and he’s easy to move. More delicate even, than he’d looked before. He holds his hand to his wounds, the blood seeping through. And they huff out a laugh, something almost fond already. “Your sword. No. I didn’t.” And they look at his face, wondering if its important to him. They decide it probably is, and that he can hold for a moment while they fetch it without bleeding out, and they  huff out a sigh. World weary, they shift him. They prop him against the wall of the establishment, settle him against it and the barrel beside the enterance. “One minute. Don’t move. Don’t die.” 

It only takes a moment to go back and find it, the beautiful thing. They grab it from the hands of another foul-smelling man, who takes note of their blood drenched hands and their many ill-hidden knives, and is smart enough not to inspire their fury. Atfer another moment, their back out to Tatsuo, attatching the sword to their belt as they move. 

“You can have this back when you’re strong enough to walk straight.” They promise, stern. “Now come, lean on me. I have a room nearby.” Insistent, they sound like they won’t take no for an answer, shifting to take his weight back on their shoulder again. 

[adrikodol]

tatsuokon​:

He rolls his eyes right back, a silent banter they’re both long accustomed to, but the closer they get to the impossibly tall flowers, the more serious he grows, watching the way the colorful petals seem to catch the sunlight from above and shatter it in different directions, leaving the area beneath the canopy of petals dark and strange. They’re beautiful, from afar, but the closer he draws the less easy he feels, until finally moving past the barrier between field and flower pulls from him a rare several moments of pure silence. 

They walk beside one another silently, instinctively shifting between them who is leading and who is following as they move silently down one of the long, long rows between the plants. They run once, twice, as they hit the rows’ ends, and just as they come to another row, he feels something slice across his bicep. He hisses, quietly, a sharp intake of air from between his teeth, and draws his hand to his arm, presses to the spot blooming with a pain as sharp as thought it was from a blade. Pulls it away and sees blood—something sheared clean through the sleeve, sliced through skin.

     “A little gift for your God,” he jokes, dryly, wiping the blood from his gloved hand onto a handkerchief he pulls from his pocket, the red disappearing into black silk. Glances to his side for what cuts him and sees a thin sheen of red staining one of the purple-blue leaves. “Be careful, the leaves are razor-sharp.”

No more than a few dozen steps later, his attention on his feet keeping to the thin path carved between rows of stalks pays off, as he spots a disturbance in the even soil—footprints, he thinks, though not terribly clear ones. He kneels to get a closer look, touches the soil to see how much it gives.

     “They’re small enough to be a child’s, but… it doesn’t look like distinct steps.” They’re too deep, on such firm soil, and there’s a blurring at the front and back, like whoever they belong to was being dragged. He shifts to the side, to let Adrik take a look, waiting for them to confirm what he’s seeing. 

They sense the blood just a moment before they see it, before Tatsuo points it out. They’ve managed to avoid their own brush against the barbs here, the two of them moving as quickly and as gracefully through the rows and rows of plants as they can manage. Adrik quirks a smile, just a small one, at the humor. Tatsuo loved those little jokes, but it was. All blood spilled was a gift for the Blood God. Adrik had learned, mostly, to be calm about it. “You can pay tribute later,” They say, almost scolding, mostly fond. “I’ll be careful.”

Everything they ever promise to this man seems like a solem vow. They just wish that Tatsuo would be more careful as well, that he payed far less tribute to their god, that they could really keep him out of trouble in the long run. But they’d been doing their best together for more than three years now, and they liked to think they’d helped him make it through that vast expanse of time. 

Tatsuo stops, and Adrik hesitates, watching as he examines the footsteps in the soil. He’s sharp, and they trust him, but they lean in to take a look when he offers them the chance. Calculating eyes, a heavy heart. Adrik knew what he was thinking. These weren’t the footsteps of a child who was running willingly through the flowers, of a child having a lark. They weren’t even the scared footsteps of a child trying to find their way home They suck in a breath, keeping it steady and calm inside of their chest. But they look at Tatsuo and give a nod. An agreement. There was something else here. In the weeds with them. Adrik is steady as they reach for a blade, better to have it at the ready, better to have the warm steady presence of one in their hands. 

“At least its something to follow.” They say, voice hushed now, where it hadn’t been before.

And follow they do. Careful foosteps tracking the childs drag-marks through the weeds. Adrik only pauses to snatch a torn peice of ribbon off the frost-flowers barbs as they walk, a simple green thing. It had caught their eye from several steps away, a minute or two after they picked up pace again. They prick their fingers for the trouble, but it feels better to take it than to leave it there. 

Its a sound that catches their attention, after that. Off to the right of them, the small cries of a scared girl. They share a look with Tatsuo before leaping in that direction. 

[adrikodol]

tatsuokon​:

The spark of pain blossoms, across the side of his face, before he knows what has happened, pain and the hot wet gush of blood, and distantly he realizes that the man—still holding onto his shoulder with what is now a vice grip—has picked up his glass from the table and shattered it across Tatsuo’s face. Shards of class cutting deep across his forehead and cheekbone, having somehow mercifully missed his eye, but not by much. And before he’s had the chance to take much more stock than that, the man is hauling him up off of his stool, hands gripped tight around him, and throwing him onto the floor, where he collides hard with the wood, catching himself with his hands, more pain shooting up through his wrists as he does.

A fight or flight reflex he’s grown much too reliant on these past few months kicks in, and he’s scrambling in the direction of the door at the same time as he’s trying to push himself back up to his feet, ungraceful and desperate, and then suddenly he is on his feet, and then off them again, the man back at his side, dragging him towards the door.

     “What the fuck did you say to me, boy?”

The wind is knocked out of him before he can answer, a blow to the gut, and he reaches frantically for his sword, sheathed at his belt, too long to be of much use in such close quarters but better than being defenseless—only the man gets to it first, grabs it, rips it from him, sheath and all, tearing leather, and tosses it to the floor, where it rolls to a stop just out of reach, below a mostly-empty table.

And then he’s in the alley, and then he’s being thrown to the ground. He can practically feel the bruises forming across his back and his ribs as he tries to catch his breath, to roll onto his stomach so that he can get up, get up, get up, get the fuck up before he kills you, you stupid piece of shit—

A foot to his chest, and he feels something snap, a clean break across one of his ribs, and as if that weren’t enough, the man keeps kicking. Every breath hurts, and his chest burns, and he can’t get up, he’s got no weapon, there’s no one here in this alley and fuck, if you had told him this would be the end, the exiled prince of the Northern Kingdom of the Blossoms, beaten to death in an alley for being rude to a stranger, he would have just stayed in the godsdamned palace and burned—

Adrik can’t have glanced away from their mark for more than a moment, shifting around as someone else tried to get to the bar. Surely nothing could escalate as quickly as this situation wanted to –– and thus marked the first time Adrik ever underestimated Tatsuo’s capacity for getting in to trouble –– but the sudden smell of blood in the air was an undeniable thing. 

The confrontation kicks off in a cacophany of sound, the smaller of the two men being thrown around quite handily by the oaf whose blood called to Adrik the loudest. They stand and watch for a moment more as events develop, as the small man scrambles and heads toward the door, fleeing the violence that this man so clearly wants to inflict upon him. It mades Adrik wonder what words oculd have been exchanged, what the percieved insult might have been, how someone who looks so tired could go looking for trouble in a place such as this. 

The man drags his opponant towards the door, and Adrik sighs out a breath. They move silently past the crowd, following the two men out and in to the night. The ally that they enter out into is a dark and dank place, and Adrik easily blends in to the shadows as they exit the bar, catching sight of the two men once again. They don’t feel panic, they don’t feel scared, they don’t feel anything but the blood thumping in their own veins, mixed in with some small amount of pity for the smaller of the two. And then the blossoming determination that the man who loomed over him would cause no more harm. 

They move with silent grace, and its so easy to take him by surprise that they almost laugh. In a moment, he’s on the ground, slumped againsg the wall of the dingy alley. “That’s quite enough of that,” They say, with a soft and lulling kind of comfort in their voice. “Shh,” A knife against his throat, a glint of steel in their eyes. “I’ve come to send you home to the god of mothers, old man. May your blood serve her better in death.” 

The kill is such an easy thing. Quick. Adirk isn’t the type to draw it out. They clean their blade against their sleeve when the act is done. If it was more precious blood, they would try and save it for something, but it isn’t worth anything to them. Dirty and vile. They let out a sigh of satisfaction, slipping it back into place, safe for later cleaning. 

And their attention turns to the boy, critical eyes at where he cowers. They consider him for a moment, before sighing out a breath. Adrik takes a determined step toward him, before holding out a hand. “Up.” They offer, with a short little huff. “Let’s get you bandaged, before the blood god welcomes you home as well.” 

[adrikodol]

tatsuokon​:

He leans into their touch, easy and familiar, lets them guide him away, out into the street and down it, in the direction of the wide expanse of purple-blue flowers that takes up most of the field along the horizon. Tries not to think about it too much, same as he always does. Tries not to think about how easily he lets them lead him, about how readily he would probably follow their touch just about anywhere. They could so easily lead him straight to his doom if they wanted to, but he knows he’s lucky: their god seems to have decided he has some usefulness left in him after all. He’s accidentally spilled enough of his own blood over the years to appease Her, or something like that, and She lets Adrik stay close. 

     “Oh, it’s alright,” he says, waving a hand, dismissing their thanks. “Probably for the best that I contribute something to the world for a bit other than just looking pretty.” He taps a hand against the sword at his hip, leans his head in close to theirs conspiratorially. “If there’s anything to fight, out there in the, ah, very tall plants, you’ve come to the right man.” 

They walk at the same pace, a hard-formed habit, his own long stride deliberately slowed to match Adrik’s slightly shorter one. He finds himself walking at their pace, these days, even when he isn’t walking with them, a curious quirk, a marker of the years they’ve traveled together, the way Adrik’s body has changed his own just by sheer proximity. They head towards the outskirts of town, and the flowers on the horizon get taller and taller as they approach, towering well over his own head, and even more over Adrik’s own.

      “Do we have a description of the kid? Or are we mainly just only expecting to find one child running around in the field?”

Adrik fights back a fond smile –– the smile they always find themself battling against, when it comes to Tatsuo. He brought out this part of them, lit up the place in their chest that felt like joy, like safety. But you’re so good at looking pretty, they think to say, before brushing the tought away. They transmute it into a rolling of their eyes, utterly fond and affectionate in the dimming light. 

Adrik looks up at the flowers, when they approach them. Toweringly tall. Something even Adrik could get lost in, if the situation was right. They tilt their head as they consider it. As reportedly dangerous as it might have been, it was still just flowers. They could see how a child could be drawn to this place, want to play games inside the expanse. It was a pretty space, full of pretty things, even if those things might hurt you. 

“If you aren’t careful, you’re going to start seeming like you think I’m foolish.” They say, with a soft sigh. “Black curls, with a green ribbon in her hair. Comes up to about my waist, her mother said.” They shift, turn to face him as they back slowly toward the flowers. “As long as you don’t get lost, I’m sure she’ll be the only one we have to wrangle.” 

It’s a teasing comment, with a soft look accompanying it. Adrik quirks their lips, gestures forward. 

“Let’s go. Her mother is frantic.” 

[adrikodol]

tatsuokon​:

He’s been in the Gambit for long enough now to know the drill: stop in some town, or city, or whatever, stock up on supplies, pick up spare jobs to make up the tal they spend on food. Play the noble hero or the enterprising opportunist or the stoic swordsman, slaying beasts, escorting merchants, etc. etc. He’s been in the Gambit long enough now that he always has his ears peeled for an opportunity to do just that. But the carnival has him sun-drunk and lazy, like a cat curled up in a patch of light on a windowsill, and working is the last thing on his mind, and has been… pretty much since he got here. 

Adrik’s presence shouldn’t make a difference, as they appear soundlessly by his side. Sensing their approach, he’s halfway into conspiring as to how to convince them to have one of these strange, elaborate cocktails with him, but they beat him to it, their words out before he’s put together his own, and if it were anyone but Adrik asking, he might put up a fight: finding a lost kid in the flowers sounded, for one, far too easy, and for two, like it wouldn’t pay nearly enough to be worth their time.

But it is Adrik, and what’s more, they sound concerned, in that way of theirs. Voice a little tight around the edges of their firm, sure tone. He’s not sure he’s ever heard them be unsure about anything—and they aren’t about this, either, but they don’t sound nearly as impassive as they might if they said let’s go stand guard for some rich person for a bit or let’s go clear up a giant scorpion infestation. It sounds more like the tone they use when they tell him they’ve sensed someone nearby whose blood their ever-hungry god wants spilled. The kind of serious tone he knows, instinctively, not to question.

      “Yeah, alright,” he answers, immediately, instinctively. This matters, to them. And it matters that he helps. “Give me the details, what are we looking at here?”

He finishes the last sip from the glass in front of him, slides a few tal across the bar to cover his tab and a nice tip. Leave it to Adrik to pull him away from the party; leave it to Adrik to make him care about some lost kid. They’re a good influence, maybe that’s finally starting to rub off on him. 

Adrik feels a smile spread across their face, the kind of warm and easy thing that they’ve gotten used to over the last several years. It feels soft across their features, it feels right that they should give it to Tatsuo. He doesn’t have to say yes, and they hope he knows that. If he really wanted to sit here and drink, Adrik would find someone else to go along with them. But Adrik –– they always feel stronger when he’s there with them. The trust between them is stronger than anything else Adrik has ever seen, stronger than any city walls, stronger than any armor. 

Tatsuo makes them feel safe. They feel steady and settled in their trust for him, the knowledge that he’ll help them whenever they ask, whenever they really need it. Not because of any debt that needs to be repaid, but because this is what they do for each other. 

“Her mother Sera thinks she wandered off into the flowers. But they’re harder to navigate than they look.” They say, voice firm and steady. “Easy for a child to get lost in, or caught up in something dangerous.” The girl must be scared. Must be terrified. Must want to be home. Adrik remembers the feeling, the way that the world falls out from under you when you’re that age and you find yourself alone in the world. But Misty won’t be alone forever. Adrik is here, ready to shepherd her back into the welcoming arms of her mother. 

They watch him drink the last of his drink and pay, place a hand on the small of his back to begin to gently usher him out into the wider city, toward the edge of town. The motion is familiar, the touch steadying. “Really no time to lose.” 

They offer him a warm smile, as they begin the walk out. “Thank you for this. I’ll make sure you get back to your drinks when all is said and done.” 

[adrikodol]

tatsuokon​:

about three and a half years ago      a particularly grimy tavern in Holstadt, Southern Haelion ( @adrikodol​ )

The tavern is disgusting, crowded and loud and sweaty, the ale warm and the food awful. All the better to hide, he’s learned. All the better to get as much as he can for as little of the coin he’s got left, and avoid anyone who might look like they’ll cheat him out of more. He is, after all, exhausted, near constantly. His body is a map of scars that weren’t there a year and a half ago, and he’s been cheated out of more tal than he can count; he doesn’t know how or where to sleep, anymore, alone in a world desperate to wring every last ounce of life from him. He feels like he’s been running for weeks since he last had a good night’s sleep.

He wants, for once, to eat his fill and have a drink, and maybe save up enough tal to pay for a room with a lock, where he won’t wake up with his pockets emptied. 

He’s not so lucky. He’s pretty sure he used up a lifetime of luck on an all too easy childhood, and now the world is coming back to bite him in the ass, to demand he repay what he took without realizing there was ever going to be a trade. No, he’s not so lucky, tonight, when he feels a hand on his shoulder, meaty and heavy and gripping, feels a spark of pain in his bones.

      “Haven’t seen your pretty face around here before,” the man standing above him intones, leering down at him, grip tightening. He’s an unpleasant sort, crooked yellowed teeth, eyes a permanent squint in his face. Breath that reeks of ale, and something fouler. “And I would know, I’m in charge here.”

For someone running for his life, Tatsuo still hasn’t quite mastered the art of self-preservation.

     “How astute of you,” he says, and tries to turn away, back to his ale and his…. gray… mush, that’s meant to pass as food. “You must be awfully observant. Fortunately for the both of us, I have to assume that means you’ll be able to realize without too much trouble that I’d kindly prefer for you to fuck off.”

.

Places like this make Adrik yearn for the temple. The air is so muggy, the space is so crowded, and Adrik has no time for the kind of fools that inhabit a place such as this. Wasting their lives, in need of a higher purpose. 

Adrik has a higher purpose. 

They’d felt the tug in their gut, the spark of meaning, a request from Vermir to see a job done. They wrinkle their nose against the smell in the air of the tavern, even past the general aura of the place, they can catch the scent of the blood –– a promise, something that needs to be spilled into the dirt. A man in the crowd that would be of better use dead, whose blood could nourish the Blood God. There was more value in that than whatever he was doing now, whatever brutish behaviour he was getting up to.

Adrik lingers by the bar for a few moments, casting their gaze around with a subtle curiosity. It isn’t hard to follow the pull of vengence, the necessity. Their eyes fall on the man, and the smaller one beside him. Clearly stirring up trouble. They huff out a sigh, they shake their head. They lay in wait, for a long moment. Wondering what will happen. This doesn’t seem like the kind of person you should make a habit of pissing off, and the boy before them seems so... soft around the edges, exhausted, like a stiff wind could knock him over. He has the aura of a lost puppy, and his blood, at least, isn’t as foul as anybody elses in this room. 

They lean their hip and watch out of the corner of their eye, ready to step in when the time is right.

[adrikodol]

( outdoor tavern where tatsuo is hanging out, a little ways into the celebrations )       @tatsuokon

Misty Ridenour was missing, of that her mother was certain. Adrik could see the worry in her eyes, as the story was shared, the frantic energy of her voice. A lost child, that was something that Adrik couldn’t ignore, no matter what else was going on around them. They didn’t have respect for anybody who could. 

So it was easy to offer their services, to assure the frantic woman that her child would be brought back to her safely. After all, Vermir could never let a mother’s fear go unanswered, would never doom a child to any harm if it could be helped, if one of her servants was so close by. Adrik took a breath after they departed from the meeting, trying to center themself and not let any worry overtake them. All would be well, they would see to it. 

But –– they knew, after this long in the Gambit, that it was always advisable to bring a friend along with you. Their instincts drew them, as always, to Tatsuo. Like a string between them, Adrik always knew where to find him. Of course, it wasn’t difficult. Look for the bar, and there Tatsuo would be. They track through the crowd with grace, and stand next to his chair. 

     “Got word of a child that got lost out in the frost-flowers. I’m going in to look for them.” They let the concern lace in to their voice, because they know that there’s no point hiding it. “Will you come with me, Tatsuo?” 

[adrikodol]

VERMIR, GOD OF BLOOD AND MOTHERS 

She’s an all-loving creature. Except for when she isn’t. Some chose to call her the God of Vengence, because that’s what so many pray to her for. Vengence against a man who hurt them. Vengence against the woman who hurt their child. They plead for blood to be spilled, and Vermir complies with their wishes with grace. The blood sustains her, makes her stronger, gives her more. Blood is life, after all, and some people don’t deserve it. Those who follow her closely are more inclined to add Love to the long list of her domains, for they are encompassed in the warm embrace of her affection for them, for they have been raised in her halls and fed by her devotees. 

[adrikodol]

trevante rhodes

PAX ONGRID 

Adrik used to joke that they should initiate him as one of the temple mothers, for all that he protected the little ones. The streets of their city were as safe as they could be, but it didn’t mean that everyone who came across them could apprecitate the work of the Blood God. Pax was a hunter, by trade, yet more often you could find himself chasing trouble away from the young ones, or trying to charm Miranda who worked in the kitchens of the Temple and helped to raise the children. The months when he left the city to hunt some beast or another were always met with heavy hearts, by those in the Bloodstone Temple. 

[adrikodol]

jodie comer!

ZARA MYRDO  

An assassin trained at the infamous assassin’s guild in Catelia. Zara and Adrik crossed paths when they were both trying to kill the same man, and neither left the encounter without their fair share of scrapes and bruises, blood spilled between not given in service to the Blood God. They’ve spotted each other once or twice since then, and Adrik can never tell if Zara wants to be their mortal enemy or their best friend. 

[shadowandbonewomen]

INEJ GHAFA S01E02, We’re All Someone’s Monster