[hider=Fuck let's go another round I'm on a roll]

Help watched with an eyeless gaze as the quarry camp burned. They listened with earless attention as, even high on the cliffside, the sound rang clear of people screaming the Sculptor's name.

There would be no help, and soon there may very well be no Help. The obsidian blade of a khopesh was laughable before the fires of Heaven, no matter how quick its wielder. Somewhere down there where the smoke was rising from a blaze of white, Nguxhil, with staff in hand and pack on back, was burning through the gaps in her shield of fae. It was cold, they knew, to abandon Nimble to her fate for a slim chance to hide. But what else could they do?

A faint [i]clack.[/i] Stepping back from the thick brush that hid them, Help turned to check on Tauga. The hain had stopped watching a while ago. Now she slouched against the marble outcrop, staring at the sky wide-eyed. Her beak slowly slid open again, as if her jaw was too weak to hold it. [i]Clack.[/i] Tauga clenched it shut and the process repeated.

[b]"We should go, child."[/b]

"Child." Tauga bit her tongue and gulped. "You sound like a kid and I act like one. But we aren't kids anymore, huh, are we?" Reflexively she ran her fingertips along her hip, where, three years ago, she had moulted the shell of childhood. She was whispering. 

"Pervert. That's the last thing he said to me. He called me a pervert. My own father. Just a pervert, he said, same as everyone else did. Same as they did for you, right?" Her head lolled in Help's massive palm. "That's all I am now, huh? I'm a pervert and you're a monster. This is God, you know that? This is the moon-fire of Lysiuh." Incoherent. "All my sins."

[b]"You can't stay here, Tauga. You need to run. It's dangerous to be near me."[/b]

"Yeah. I know. That's your fault, isn't it? Thanks, Help. You piece of shit."

Help knew what had happened to Tauga, and would keep happening. She was sick. And she needed help. But Help could only keep Tauga alive by abandoning her. The destroying radiance had come for them and them alone.

The old Sculptor cradled Tauga's head in their hands and gently tapped their grim grey mask against her forehead. She clenched her jaw again at the kiss, the movement dislodging a tear.

...

Abruptly Help reared their head and crouched, gripping the hilt of their khopesh. Something had moved. Just enough to let them know it was there. [b]"Come out."[/b] The thing with the glassy black face on two lithe and absurdly tall legs obligingly stepped into view from the thin air it was hiding behind. Tauga looked at it in stunned confusion. It was one of fair folk, no doubt, a disciple of Yah Vuh, and yet it raised no alarm in her mind. That scent had been purged from it, or masked. Help had already leapt to conclusions, leaving Tauga far behind.

[b]"You're the rogue it talks about. The lost envoy."[/b]

[color=f6989d]"Correct."[/color] And quite astute, it might add, but Heartworm never [i]added[/i] anything much, and there wasn't time. [color=f6989d]"There is safety among my workers."[/color]

[b]"And my apprentice?"[/b]

[i]Apprentice?[/i] Tauga had thought of Help as a friend, but when she looked, they had already raised a finger in her direction. [i]Am I being claimed?[/i]

[color=f6989d]"Yes."[/color]

[b]"That does not involve the end of her natural life?"[/b]

[color=f6989d]"Yes."[/color]

[b]"Let's go."[/b] 

The Emaciator disappeared into the steadily clotting cut in the air.

"I'm not going." Help turned.

"...I'm not going!"

Deftly and silently, the Sculptor pulled their scabbard sling off their shoulder and handed it to Tauga. She held the heavy khopesh in two quavering palms. They nodded, and stepped through the portal, leaving the hain alone with a sword, an overgrown hideaway, and the approaching cries of refugees.

"...Wait!"





[/hider]