the perfect place to dump a body.
@fintindeorai
Ivakir promised herself that this would be the last time when she has dealt with priests. Last time, if she gets out of here alive. Even from the very beginning, Ivakir had bad suspicions that all this would end very badly for her. And before she could look back, fate plunged her daggers. Literally. The priest was dead, and the poor witch now became part of some conspiracy. Ivakir fled through the forest from some idiots with swords in company with another redhead idiot, who imagined himself a hero in shiny armors. He was the source of the problems, and she had to leave him, just saying: “Well, guys, you need him, and I am going home.” Why did she save him? Perhaps in Ivakir’s dark, like a forest, soul was hidden something that prevented her from leaving the knight.
Ivakir was running towards the river, as the knight said (however, this didn’t mean at all that she did it at his will). One of the arrows whizzed right past her ear, and the witch, clutching at her hat, started to run faster. Oh, heavens, why didn’t she learn to fly on a broom? If she could, she would have avoid all this, laughing at these idiots from the sky!
Finally reaching the river, Ivakir began to look around for a bridge or something else, but before she could think of anything, the knight picked her up and simply rushed along the water, like some medieval version of Jesus.
“Let me go, you freak!” of course, Ivakir met such treatment with hiss and curses. She pounded him on the back (not hard, though), completely forgetting about the fact that if the knight let her go, she would just fall into the water.
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Fintin slowly got to one knee, using his Braith to stand up. The witch was cursing him out, saying something about how this whole situation was his fault and what not. He partially tuned her out, and partially couldn’t hear her over the roar of the river near by. Plus, they had both just narrowly escaped death, so he could really care less about what she thought about him currently. They were safe for now, and that’s all that mattered to him. Fintin gently pushed her finger down and away from him, looking out over the river. He could see their assailants across the way, pacing back and forth, seething with rage at the fact that they couldn’t reach the witch and knight. “We gotta cover up so they won’t be able to track us.” Fintin waved his hand, and a fog rolled over the river so as to blind their enemies. He had to be careful on how much he used the miracles, he was beginning to get tired.
“Damn it!” the witch yelled, kicking a rock very far away, Fintin watching as it flew through the air. “Impressive” he thought to himself. He turned his head toward the witch, who had a point. “If you’ll just collect yourself for a moment and stop blaming me for everything, I know where the nearest town is. We can hide there, have a drink, and figure out a plan.”
As the witch threw her temper tantrum, complaining about how she needed a drink and didn’t know where she was, Fintin tried to study her. She obviously had trust and anger issues, and didn’t mind covering them up either. Speaking her mind also seemed to be something that came naturally. However, she did seem very intelligent, quick thinking and independent at times. He repeated himself again, but she was so caught up in her own rage Fintin assumed she didn’t hear him. The cold rain and brisk air were becoming a bit too much for the knight, and the idea of a drink and a warm place to sleep near by sounded amazing, so he began to walk hastily in the direction of the village.
“Coming?” he called over his shoulder, with a cold and stern voice. Fintin had tried bettering their situation, and if she didn’t want to come or take any sort of responsibility for what was going on, fine. But that was not Fintin, he obviously had some part in it, and it needed to be sorted out. With or without the witch. He was done playing games with her.
