Bodyguards. Ruli inhaled as he nodded. She would know better than he, he supposed, what sort of company would be around their enemy. Akuma, while in Ziad, had entertained no bodyguard, but she hadn't needed one. Not then. Not when she was the apex predator and only she knew it. Here, while still dangerous, there were many factors that would remain a threat. Caged or no.
He smothered down the portion of himself that felt the need to protect her, reminding himself that she wasn't real, she was a monster of the worst kind.

As Kire asked about their being ready, he nodded, glancing to Ysaryn. "Just Walk with me." He said, extending his hand. 
The elf didn't hesitate in taking it, turning to grab Bolym's in silence. With his other, he grasped Kire, and after another deep breath they were gone. 

Into the cold shore. Ruli immediately clamped his jaw as the frigid air wrapped around him. The silver lining, of course, was that the gnawing cold woke him, the burn fading from his eyes and instead filling his cheeks before he pulled his cover over them. He muttered a soft swear before he started for the warehouse. 
Behind him, Bolym made repeated questions in their native tongue; why were they not fetching the tribe? Why allow this one [Ruli] to lead? They should include the tribe, this was their fight. Why follow the woman who had continuously failed? -It was then that Ysaryn silenced him with a firm command, earning an appreciative glance from Ruli. He was glad Kire didn't understand. Bolym, for the rest of the trek to the warehouse, only glared.
At least he looked more than ready for a fight.

When they were just beyond the warehouse, Ruli turned to the others, hidden behind one of the slanted shacks that had once served as a home. "[i]Ysaryn. Bolym. Shake your shoulders. Unclench. You're loyal to Kire, who will take the appearance of Akuma. Obey her every word. It is not like being a slave, this time. You're armed. You're her protector. One step behind, flanking. Watch everything that moves, and size everyone up if you are approached and spoken to. Understand?[/i]"
They both nodded in sync, then each glanced at Kire; Bolym in barely contained ire, Ysaryn in expressionless preparation. 

"They'll flank you." Ruli said, looking back to Kire. "I'll get us to the door and we'll slip inside. Move quickly in case there are men out front or just within. If there are, I'll handle them."
Bolym pointed to him, muttering some salt-soaked observation.
"I don't need a sword, and it'll be more effective if I don't have one." Ruli argued back, forgetting the language barrier, and pausing as Ysaryn translated for her companion. Bolym sneered, but said nothing more. Ruli closed his gritty eyelids and sighed before opening them. "If you feel at all like your life is threatened, get out. This is not a fight or die situation. It is a win or try again another day." Again, Ysaryn translated, her voice steady and low. "I'll drag as much attention as I can my way. I won't be able to help you much." His piercing blue gaze fell onto Kire. Her face was still her own, but the echo of Akuma's lay beneath that scar, behind those blue eyes. Slowly, he reached out for her hand, his thumb brushing over the knuckles. "I'll look for the ring." He said. "If I don't see it, be careful." And he poured in his memory again, refreshing his signature in her head. 

[i]His mouth filled with the butter-crisp flakes of the baklava, the taste of the pistachio nuts making his tongue water enough to not require the glass of milk Dara set before him. He looked up and smiled broadly, earning one in return.
"I knew you'd like that." She said sweetly, reaching out to pat his cheek from where she stood across the small, square table, the wood so worn it was shiny.
"Never known a lad who didn't like cakes and sugar." Said a deep, male voice. Ruli turned his head to spot Xavier, Dara's husband, as he squeezed into the kitchen. His face was wrinkled and weathered from years of outdoor work, his skin dark in contrast to his wife and daughters creamy complexion. "But I knew my Dara would find something you'd enjoy."
"I don't back down from a challenge, easily." Dara boasted, lifting her chin. Xavier grinned and flicked his finger beneath her jaw before swiping a kiss.
"Ew, dad! Mom!" Their blonde daughter wrinkled her nose. "Don't be gross!"
"What, like you're never going to kiss a boy?" Zeke asked, sitting beside her with a half-eaten plate of maple cake before him.
Ruli grinned. Subtle, Zeke.
Xavier, catching the hopeful tone in the young man, turned to arch an eyebrow. "No, she will not." He said firmly, and Zeke almost shrank in his chair.
"Don't worry, Zeke." Ruli whispered. "You don't count as a boy."
The sharp pain from the punch to the arm Ruli received was answered with laughter from both Ruli and Zeke's beloved, who in turn sent a punch into Zeke's arm.
"Lree!" Dara gasped, putting her hand over her full bosom. "That is not a very lady like thing to do!"
"But I'm not lady like!" Lree answered defiantly.
"You better start tryin' to be, or no man will want to marry you!"
Zeke only smiled at Lree, looking very much like he'd marry her even if she was the furthest thing from a lady imaginable. Ruli grinned at the family, [b]his[/b] family, as he took another bite of the baklava.[/i]


He withdrew, his expression somber as the memory left him feeling empty and colder still despite the coastal breeze. Dual purposes, that memory had. To offer Kire his signature, and to remind himself of what he was fighting for. What he'd lost. What he hoped for again, sometime in the far future. 
If they survived.

When Kire slipped on the ring, her scarred face morphing into that beautiful face that haunted Ruli's dreams, he stared. She looked flawless. That was the word they'd used. That was what Kire was, now. 
[i]I hate your face. I hate your face. I hate your face.[/i]

Ysaryn cleared her throat gently, and Ruli tore his eyes to look into the elf's deep fuchsia stare. She met it, and he knew she'd read his thoughts and hatred. Ruli looked down, unable to bring himself to look into Kire/Akuma's gaze again. "Don't laugh while you're wearing that face." Ruli warned, pleading, before he held out his hand again for the three of them.

There was no one outside the warehouse, which Ruli both liked and disliked. He Walked them to the door, and Bolym opened it, using his elven hearing to gauge how near danger was. Not near enough, he deduced, as he turned to wave them inside. Once the door was shut behind them, Ruli moved away, slinking through the shadows, letting the three of them work their way on their own. 

The warehouse, or what Ruli decided could be considered the uppermost level, was empty. Odors of sweat and piss filled the room, a testament to the amount of bodies that had passed through here, tired, labouring, too busy for a proper toilet break. Or they were just crude men who didn't care what they pissed on. Frankly, neither would surprise Ruli. 
He found the way down by following the footsteps that tracked in dirt and dust, hidden inside a small room that could have served as an office were it not filled with wooden crates meant to obscure the winding stairwell down. KNowing Kire and Ysaryn would be able to follow his scent, magical or bodily, he went down. 

And down. 

The stairwell was poorly made, made to fit the tunnel that had been crudely dug out. It spiraled neatly at first, then sloped to the side as the tunnel curved. The ground evened out after a time, Ruli had lost track of steps down after breaching seventy. The room he'd broken into was full of narrow, iron cages. All the doors were open, the inhabitants removed not too long ago. The stains on the soil inside, urine, blood, or who knew what else, were still fresh. Ruli's nostril's flared, and he followed the path through them all, delving deeper into the underground. 

He didn't meet the first unsuspecting footman until clear on the other side. Ruli strolled past a break in the cages only to double take, realizing there was a corridor behind it. A figure moved out of it, thickly built, arms laden with a bundle of blankets. He and Ruli spotted one another, and the footman dropped the blankets with a heavy thud, and the gasp that sounded from within told Ruli there was someone in them.
Without hesitation, Ruli flew at him. The footman went for the blade sheathed at his hip, but Ruli grabbed his face. [i]Sit down. Don't move. You don't remember seeing anyone.[/i] He forced the order into the man's mind, feeling the subtle shudder as his conscious fought it before the man went slack and sat himself down. Ruli made sure he listened, ensuring his magic took hold, before he crouched down to pull at the blankets. 

Coiled within was a semi-conscious elven female, her dark ebony hair cut at her collarbone. Her throat and forearms, which were held around her face, were covered in tiny pinpricks similar to Ysaryn's. Drugged. Ruli uncovered her face enough to pull at her eyelid, peering at the brilliantly golden irises, the pupils dilated. 
Definitely drugged. 

He hefted her to the side of the corridor, tucking her against the wall so she wouldn't be trodden on, and he kept going, further underground.