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[color=808080]It took twelve breathes a minute, for one hundred and eighty minutes, before Nicolosia was gifted the embrace of unconsciousness. She tries not to think about the darker things her mind always wandered to when she attempted to sleep, like how it felt to lay her bare hands over a boys throat, how pressing her thumbs down until the cartilage of his trachea collapsed, how his skin had shifted from pale ivory, to screaming red, to dull and bruised purple. It hadn't worked, of course it hadn't, because once the thought started her memory filled in the blanks, and instead of falling asleep she'd spent thirty minutes with her own hands pressed to her throat. Her fingers laid delicately over her pulse, counting the beat of her heart until the panic that had made the edges of her vision grow dark and fuzzy faded away. 

When she eventually fell asleep, she dreamed. It is not any sort of peaceful dream, it never is, rather the dream is filled with blood, and pain, and tears. There is a sickness in her dream that drains the life from the land, that makes each breath from someone's lungs wet and putrid. In her dream, she can hear an ancient song, hymns she cannot understand reverberating within her very bones and drawing her in. It feels as if the trees are calling out to her, like the ground is trying to swallow her where she lies, and she knows it is the ghosts of those she's killed haunting her even now. In this dream, the day bleeds into a night that oozes with those ghosts, an air of nostalgia dripping down her lungs like liquid sorrow, and the birds sing that song, the one she can’t understand, and it urges her to let go. The dream twists further; blood blooming across pristine snow, the death rattle of her brothers last breath, the way her father's tongue curled around the word [i]exile.[/i]

She wakes up too hot, sweaty and gasping, feeling like her fingers were slick and sticky from blood. It's the boom of thunder overhead that reassures her it was just another bad nightmare. Nicolosia didn't bother to try again, some nights just weren't meant for resting. Instead, she dragged herself from the warmth of her bedroll and decided to use the harsh downpour in a more productive manner than most might. The woman stripped down to her undergarments, and stepped out of her tent with a bar of soap in hand. It felt a luxury to have chosen a spot so far on the edges of the camp, her tent opening was faced toward the surrounding wilderness and her comrades in arms were spared a free show as she used the relentless rain to clean herself from days worth of sweat and grime. 

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Her hair was still wet where it was braided back as Nico sat in the canteen hall, breathing in the smell of heady jasmine, red sandalwood, sweet carnations, and warm leather that was a unique mix of her soap and armor. It had been so refreshing to cleanse herself in the chilled rain, her mood raised so much so that she wasn't even irritated by her current predicament. 

[color=BB502A]"Is there something you needed?[/color] She'd finally asked of the man who had been standing in front of her table for no less than six minutes. She hadn't meant to be intentionally rude in her lack of acknowledgement, rather she'd just hoped he would go away before she needed to address him. The subtility of her silence seemed to be lost to him though, so here they were. 

[color=727842]"You're one of the new recruits, right?"[/color] His voice was gruff and sort of gargled, like he was in great pain and speaking only caused him further suffering. It was this that finally made her look up at the man instead of her nearly empty bowl. Nicolosia's eyebrows rose slowly as she took in his battered form. 

[color=BB502A]"What happened to your face?"[/color] She asked, a touch more politely than he had spoken, and yet the man still sputtered indigently. She felt it was a very fair question though, because both his eyes were black, and he looked like his cheekbone was perhaps fractured. 

[color=727842]"That's not any of your business."[/color]

[color=BB502A]"You look as if you fell and caught yourself with your face."[/color] It was very interesting to watch how spots of his face, unblemished with darkening bruises, turned red and splotchy in his budding anger. Someone at a nearby table snorted, though she didn't bother to look at who it was.

[color=727842]"I said,"[/color] he ground out the words through clenched teeth, leaning over where she sat some as if his intent was to loom imposingly over her. [color=727842]"Are you one of the new recruits."[/color] 

Something primal prickled at the back of her neck, and Nico allowed her eyes to slide away from him. His appearance was one part of an equation she'd yet to solve, the other half was near, otherwise he wouldn't be posturing quite so much. She spotted it quickly enough, another table not far from her own where a group of significantly less battered men sat watching their exchange. A soft breath escaped her, and she readjusted how she was holding her spoon. 

[color=BB502A]"What do you want?"[/color] Her voice was as cold as snow now, hazel eyes sliding back up slowly to the mans face. She categorized how he seemed to be favoring his left foot, how his right arm hung limp at his side, how he had no scars blemishing his bare arms. The fear that howled at the back of her mind constantly grew softer, and there was a spark of feral resignation in the air around her. 

[color=727842]"Your axe,"[/color] his voice was ragged and strained, she could see how sweat streaked down his temple. He was nervous now, but angry still. [color=727842]"It looks sturdy, someone like me would be more capable of wielding it efficiently than... you."[/color] 

The unsaid [i]than a woman[/i] hung in the air between them for a moment, and Nicolosia tilted her head ever so slightly in a manner that was birdlike in nature. Her free hand curled delicately around the edge of her table, arm loose and unimposing as she weighed her options. This was going in an...undesirable direction.

[color=BB502A]"You've recently had your ego bruised,"[/color] she hazard a lazy guess, taking no enjoyment from how his eyes bulged and his hands curled into fists. [color=BB502A]"I can only assume that you're attempting to pick a fight with someone who you believe you can win against in order to save face with your peers, but I feel it's pertinent to make you aware of how this will escalate if you attempt to use violence against me."[/color] 

He looked flabbergasted for a moment, before tensing as Nico dropped her spoon in order to draw her dagger from it's sheath at her waist. Her movements were slow and careful, trying to telegraph that the gesture wasn't inherently threatening in nature. The blade was bone white, polished meticulously, with what appeared to be runes carved into the surface, though they were none the man likely could have placed. She weighed it in her palm, humming softly but never taking her eyes off of him. 

[color=BB502A]"I had a friend when I was younger, his name was Ejvind."[/color] Her voice was very brittle, but her hand was steady as she kindly raised the dagger up for him to get a better look at. [color=BB502A]"We learned the stars together, he was very dear to me. One day though, it came down to me or him. It broke my heart to slit his throat."[/color] 

She didn't break eye contact as the words spilled from her lips, sticky and sweet like honey. It wasn't the full story, not even close, but someone like this sniveling rot didn't deserve to really know anything about Ejvind and their history. It didn't matter if he looked at her as if she were a monster plucked straight from his nightmares, so long as he [i]stopped looking at her.[/i] 

[color=BB502A]"I don't like killing like that, it's too messy. Someone else tried to steal from me not long ago, before I came here. He didn't like that I fought back, he tried to kill me, so I gouged his eyes out with my thumbs. That's messy too, the eyes are so soft and tender though, all it takes is a little force and dedication. I usually prefer cleaner kills, I don't like to prolong the process, it's better for it to end all at once."[/color] Nicolosia sighed, soft and theatrical. The canteen around them grew a little quieter as her words carried. It was better to nip this in the bud now, if anyone assumed she was an easy target they'd end up in a casket. [color=BB502A]"This dagger was gifted to me from Ejvind's mother, it was crafted from his femur bone and presented to me as a reward for having bested him in battle. I do not know where you hail from, nor do I care, but you ought to care where I am from."[/color] 

Nico stood then, her chair scrapping loudly across the cobblestone underfoot. The man took a reflexive step back, he looked as if he was going to be ill. That was good, she didn't care to scare the fool if it would save his life because if he attacked her here, in a place she'd slowly began to feel safe, she [i]would[/i] kill him. It wasn't in her nature to let such a transgression go. 

[color=BB502A]"Because,"[/color] she slid the dagger back into it's sheath, leaving her arms loose at her sides. [color=BB502A]"Where I am from has made me cruel. If you attack me, I will not be as kind as the last person whom you challenged and lost to. Do you understand what I am saying?"[/color] 

There was a distinct pause, and she could feel the vein in her throat jumping from the beat of her heart. Fear coiled like a rock at the bottom of her stomach, and she hid the fine tremble of her hands by clenching them into fists so tight that the scars across her knuckles drained of color. If he attacked her, she would have to fight him, and she wouldn't be able to sleep at night until she was certain his threat was extinguished. Nico's good mood from the rain slipped away like smoke between her fingers.

He didn't speak again, simply giving her a jerky shake of his head before he pivoted sharply on his heel and stalked back to his table. Nicolosia watched him go, pulling her emotions in from the whirlwind they'd become until they were a tight knot in her chest. It was only when he'd sat once more, his back to her, that she turned on her own heel and swiftly left the canteen.

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Nicolosia walked until the panic subsided, her dinner no longer threatening to crawl up her throat. She had to remind herself that she'd [i]chose[/i] this, she hadn't been asked to join by some mysterious hooded figure in a tavern [i]- which was a good thing, she might have gutted him -[/i] or something ridiculous like that. She'd heard about The Rethari Blades and went to join up on her own, she'd gone looking to fight the good fight because there was nothing else for her to do. [i]She'd chosen this[/i] and she refused to let her fear, the all consuming and rageful beast that it was, make her turn away from it now. 

[b][color=a2d39c]"Lovely. A suicide march dressed in noble intent. We should embroider that on our banner."[/color][/b] A woman's voice echoed down the corridor, startling Nico. She hadn't realized how far she'd gone to come so close to the Main Hall. [b][color=a2d39c]"Perhaps with a little skull holding a bouquet."[/color][/b]

Well, that didn't exactly make her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She pressed one of her hands over her mouth, attempting to stifle how her breath hitched and quickened. Her other hand rose, curled around her wrist until her fingers pressed into the raised and jagged skin of a scar. The action caused her no pain, it was old and faded by now, but it did help ground her some. 

[b][color=f7976a]"Enough. This isn’t a jest,”[/color][/b] Another voice cut through her panic further, and Nicolosia swallowed a few deeper breathes. [b][color=f7976a]“We don’t know what’s ahead, and guessing won’t make it prettier.”[/color][/b] 

The next voice was a familiar one, she'd heard her speak before but never directly spoken to her. Her voice commanded attention, quieting everything like a crack of thunder bellowing over the sky. Nico allowed the strength in the woman's voice to steady herself, her eyes slipping shut as she focused on the words she heard rather than the emotions she felt. [b][color=#39b54a]"Then we stop guessing. We [I]move[/I]. This is where we lose contact with the last of the Warden outriders. Dean, you're leading the team."[/color][/b] 

So it was a mission then, one that some of her peers would be embarking on. Nico bit the inside of her cheek hard, until blood filled her mouth and trickled down her throat. The flavor of rust and cooper bloomed across the back of her tongue, and she resisted the urge to gag on her fear. It sounded like a suicide mission, the other woman had been right, and yet...

[b][color=#39b54a]"You’ll take Vae’nra, Rasaad, Fleur, Raeretha, and whomever else you deem necessary. You get in, observe, and get back. I want eyes on Weisshaupt. Signs, tracks, survivors if the Maker has left us any. But if you meet something you can’t fight... you [I]don’t[/I]."[/color][/b]

There was a long pause, the names spoken meant nothing to Nicolosia, but she could feel the conviction in the woman's voice even from where she stood outside the room. What she wouldn't give to not be here in this moment, to not have heard their plans. It would have been amazing to continue living in ignorance, or at least as ignorant as someone who joined a group who strived to damn well save the world could be. She just wanted to be another face in the crowd, another fool tumbling toward death but at least one that wasn't [i]marching toward it.[/i] Fuck, she just wanted to go [i]home.[/i]

[b][color=#39b54a]"We’re not dying for ghosts and guesses. Not yet. You retreat. You bring word. We bring war only when we know what we’re swinging at."[/color][/b] Her voice became softer, so much so that Nico's ears strained to pick up the murmured words. [b][color=#39b54a]"We’ll hold here and prepare for the worst. That’s all we’ve ever had to plan around anyway."[/color][/b]

The silence stretched, and she allowed herself to lean against the wall for a moment. Her forehead was hot and clammy, the damp stone felt nice on her flushed skin. Outside, the storm raged on without grace. She could hear her fathers voice overlapped with the woman's for a moment, so much conviction, so much unbridled but contained fear. [color=3C6E51][i]Go forward slowly, it's not a race to the end. Be steady, my heart. You will live.[/i][/color] She swallowed around the bile that crawled up her throat. 

[b][color=#39b54a]"When the sky clears, we move. I want blades sharpened, packs light, and your minds ready. No stragglers. No hesitation."[/color][/b] The sharp crack of thunder split the air like a thrown axe, and Nico pulled away from the wall. She rolled her shoulders back, let her arms fall, and fought to remain calm. [color=BB502A][i]I don't want to die.[/i][/color] It was the thought that was loudest in her mind, it always had been, but then a new thought surfaced with all the force of a strike of lightening. [color=BB502A][i]I don't want to hide.[/i][/color] And really, her mind had been made up since she'd heard the first woman speak. [b][color=#39b54a]"Dismissed. And may the Creators, the Maker, or whatever gods you still believe in, walk with us when we step into that dark."[/color][/b] 

Nicolosia waited for the occupants of the meeting to exit the room, spilling out into the hall she'd been lingering in, and then before she could change her mind- [color=BB502A]"Dean?"[/color] She approached the man who had turned at the call of his name, shoulders squared and face set. [color=BB502A]"I would like to accompany you on the expedition, if you will have me."[/color]  
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