Escape
She was kissing Ithildess. All around she recognized the blank faces of her village, just as they were before she left years ago. In the wide circle of trolls sat the elf's parents, pale and cold, unmoving as she sensed their disapproving looks crawl over her skin. She found herself in a troll hut, a twisted, wooden and impossible large one, open to the air from the ambiguous landscape near the blood-colored horizon. It all made sense, Ithildess had grown to her own height and her arms wrapped like cushions and velvet, soothing her tired body. Her skin touched like soft fabrics and Zul'raja wanted to question none of it. Serenely surrender, that's what she would do.
The strange scenery crumbled and gave way to an intrusive, golden ray of light; and so she fell. When Zul opened her eyes she was in a foreign bed, in a foreign house with the elf she had met the day before. Ithildess was her name, and through foggy slits of vision she saw her brilliantly green eyes burst with joy when she stirred. With groggy resolve she tried to rise from the bed, but was pulled down from behind to mewls of protest. There would be no early start to her day this time, electing instead to reacquaint herself with the woman next to her. Holding her achingly close again brought memories of last night, and Zul remembered in disbelief the frail creature next to her matching her own sexual animalism, feeding it and ardently surpassing it. But now it felt unreal to even lay a hand on Ithildess despite witnessing and experiencing her impassioned, fervid lovemaking. The troll smiled through her pearly tusks; it wasn't lovemaking. It was fucking: wild and unrestrained, a battle for dominance and pleasure.
"Good morning." Zul felt her voice, low from the morning stillness, rumble in her chest. Ithildess purred with content and kissed her lips with nothing but slow, drawling movements. From looking at the spot of bright on the floor, Zul tried to deduce just how far from morning they had landed, likely closer to afternoon by the looks of it. She let herself sink back into the mattress, and a natural rush of feelings formed a lazy smile. She gave Ithildess an affectionate squeeze, idly petting her head and preparing to return to dreaming.
She wasn't aroused, that much was certain. Had the potion worn off while she slept, and if so, the love she felt for Ithildess might have disappeared along with the passion. She glanced down and saw only a frizzy tangle of golden hair nuzzled beside her shoulder, and the long, pointed ears she felt like touching. The potion had definitely left her system, Zul reasoned, watching the silently stirring elf and her set of bobbing ears. The sight provoked overwhelming, nervous flutterings that came in repeating waves from her heart, vividly crashing through her. It was love as she knew it; nervous excitement greatly overpowered by longing and devotion.
Is this not the kind of morning to strive for? Zul'raja knew for certain it wasn't morning but all her senses told her otherwise.It was an awakening spelling out new love, when the whole world takes on a glowing warmth and all it takes to overwhelm the heart with love is for a sleeping lover to stir ever so gently in their mutual embrace.
Ithildess mumbled something she couldn't understand, but she didn't feel the need to answer. Her blue lips came down on that mess of golden hair, silently thanking her for the opportunity to see her tired, defenseless and unbearably captivating self. Simply learning the blood elf was not a morning person brought her joy, and if spending time with Ithildess meant defying what she's wont to do, then she would hate all mornings for all eternity; just not this one. But a reverberating, violent pounding noise below shook them both out of their blissful fantasy. Zul sat upright with her eyes locked on the broken, now useless door to the bedroom. Someone was knocking, or rather launching their entire fist at the front entrance.
"Ithildess! You're late, open up or we're coming in." A threatening and confident voice had them both silenced, and a second had them at the edge of the bed. "You get no more late excuses."
Something else hit the door with even greater force. The sound seemed to ignore walls and distance as it slammed into Zul'raja and Ithildess.
"Who are they?" Zul hissed at her. By their voices she could only tell that they were male, an orc and a troll. Working with meticulous planning, stealth and ambushes in the field, she most of all disliked the receiving end of surprises.
"I think they're Scrolldigger's men, they're looking for my research results." Ithildess got out of bed together with Zul, straggling after her pace.
"Do you know if they arm their goons? Have you ever seen them?" She looked out the window, then to Ithildess. They couldn't escape by jumping outside, all their belonging were in the house and they'd be vulnerable out in the open, naked and unarmed. Not the mention the drop.
"I don't know, the ones at the labs are never armed." Zul steadied her breathing gradually. They would eventually notice the mess downstairs, and the troll would surely smell what's happened. If they went upstairs they'd notice the doors, too. Frustrated, she tapped her fingers to her furrowing brow. She could see no option but to fight both of them; no room for an ambush.
Her breathing caught speed again, as a tortured, splintering sound followed by a crash reached her. Her vision seemed to narrow as she stood hunched, yet a warm presence easily cut her through, and with a soft touch to her cheek everything became clear. She wasn't alone, she had Ithildess who had a victorious look about her. "I have an idea, and it's going to work."
Zul dropped her shoulders and took a breath to recompose. The idea of working together resurrected her frown. She loved Ithildess and there was no convincing her otherwise, but she hit a wall the moment she wanted to give her life and trust, as well as her love. It was a wall that loomed ahead, like the unknown swords whose footsteps punctuated each moment leading up to the last.
"Get in the first door before they make it up here, I'll distract them past you and then you get up behind them. We have to hurry so go, now!" Zul stumbled out of the bedroom, pushed by Ithildess, she looked back and saw no one. Looking to her right, the two doors that were forced open the night before stood as they were. She dove silently into the room to her far right, when what she could only assume were steel-tipped leather boots knock on each step as they ascended. She hid well and could sense them reach the top when softer, naked steps padded out into the hall. There was silence, followed by a confounded, orcish grunt before she heard Ithildess. "I'm so sorry, I totally overslept! I have all my papers in here with me, come in!" Zul knew she could be awkward, but not deliberately ditzy to the point of fooling paid swords. But she was naked, their abnormal silence confirmed at least that to her.
Ithildess went back into the bedroom and two pairs of heavy steps followed. Zul pressed herself against the wall to get a quick glance of the men walking by, troll in front and the orc close behind, a small blessing. She saw sheathed weapons, none drawn; their chance of escape immediately looked more favorable if all went according to her experience. She began to stalk them with large strides, timing her steps as she gracefully slid out of the room. Because of the orc's low height, Zul would be able to get her arms around his neck without losing her balance, if only she could ignore the noxious odor of grime and sweat, barely concealed by the stinging fumes of spirits rising like a fog around him. Like a hundred times before, her arm constricted around the throat, and she mechanically leaned back with a smooth motion, taking him with her. She then jerked her torso sharply, and an unmistakable pop ended his life.
Ithildess wasn't there to see her and she felt relieved for it. The orc slumped awkwardly in her grip as all strength left him at once. His neck was twisted and his head flopped languidly as Zul pushed his body towards the male troll, who had turned around with his eyes dead on Zul. "I know I smelled a female, and so strong!" He drew the dagger from its sheath, and stepped over the dead orc. Without a weapon she was clearly at a disadvantage, and the narrow corridor limited her movement. He had only made his second step past the orc when he lost his balance, and with a gurgling from deep in his throat he fell forward, revealing the jagged shards of ice embedded through the dark leather tunic and jutting out grotesquely. He fumbled blindly to lift himself off the ground, it seemed like minutes before his efforts weakened and a last, wet sigh rattled from his mouth.
Looking back up, she noticed Ithildess, wide-legged in a strange stance and lowering her outstretched arm. That insurmountable wall between love and trust had already begun to crack and her image of the elf as as powerless girl to be protected shattered with her confident grin. Zul took the orc's dagger, the weapon was small but lunged into the right place it's effectiveness was undeniable. They edged down the stairs with Zul in front, each step a challenge and a danger as the front door slowly came into view. Near the lock were several deep gashes in the wood, and the final push had almost broken the door in half as it had fallen inwards; yet the bottom floor was as silent as the upper. The living room was directly to the right from the bottom of the staircase, and they were forced to inch past the broken entrance as they scanned the outside for a any presence.
The goblin's thugs had left the room just as it was the day before; Ithildess' clothes lay in a pile on the floor while Zul's armor and weapons were propped up by the corner, thankfully untouched. They dressed quickly, the unspoken consensus among them being a quick escape and regroup. Ithildess put on her lab coat after explaining, "It's the only one I have." while Zul tightened the leather straps and metal buckles holding her armor in place; a sturdy collection of plate, chainmail and boiled leather leather for mobility. There were no golden crests or guild emblems, no dragonhide cloaks or jagged shoulderpads, only a scabbard for her sword and a holsters for her sidearm, all painted in camouflaging colors. She was aware, more than anyone, of the impression her equipment gave to others: a rank-and-file, someone not worth the effort. The very effect she had striven for.
Looking to the examination chair, she recalled her own hazy memories the sensation of tenderness that they summoned; Ithildess was a spellcaster in more ways than one, Zul mused to herself. With only a small bottle and her own body she had connected them to each other, and that connection revealed more of itself to her as time and moments passed. She looked at the elf, this woman who unwittingly or not brought them together looked to her with a wonderful boldness as she headed for the outside. Zul'raja swelled with excitement and joy, but would keep it safe until they were alone again. When they were, she would huddle close and talk through the night, and she would ask her about her life, and everything that made Ithildess the one she had fallen for. But for now, she would keep those questions deposited until time allowed to learn everything about her.
Ithildess managed to turn before he struck. The sharpened edge of the axe attached to the third man's rifle made contact with her hastily erected mana shield, making a strange, warped metallic sound as it connected and sent the rifle's barrel aiming for the ceiling as it bounced. She was pushed down by the momentum and power behind the blow, and landed on the floor with a hard, fleshy thump. Zul froze, arms idly at her sides when she saw her fall. Next, she watched herself race past a bullet scraping her arm and into the human that had entered the home. There was a tranquil atmosphere surrounding her disembodied conscious as it hovered behind her own shoulder, and in that sea of calm, cruel noises forced their way forward and exploded around her like bombs rending the silence. First the human's surprised yell and what she knew to be her own rage-filled scream, then the crash of metal as they both fell. The fierce charge had knocked the air out of him, and instead of reaching for his rifle within arms reach he panicked and locked his arms over his face. From what she could see he was a muscular man, possibly the leader of the small party judging by his armor, dark chainmail reinforced with hardened leather patches, far more protected than his friends. She held him down with brute strength and straddled his chest, preventing him from either rising or breathing.
Now the calm began to sway and warp, like a ship's bow in a storm, swaying and swaying until the sheer force of the waves collapses it. From the side she saw a face she didn't recognize, her own but twisted with horrid rage as her entire body trembled. Exerting every bit of strength in every motion she brought her closed fists down on the man's guard. Her fury was devastating, and her legs tightened and cramped impossibly around his ribcage so his legs kicked and screamed a frantic rhythm into the wooden floor. His will began to slowly weaken, until Zul knocked the feeble arms aside and brought a hammer-like strike down on his temple, one after another, severely denting his forehead and features, until she could no longer see any resemblance of a face. He stopped moving, and control was returned to her from one blink to the next, but her rage incinerated everything and flowed like molasses, compelling her to strike him even as his ribcage gave and his upper body compressed sickeningly.
