Female, he was sure of it. From the softness to the sharpness of its release. That undoubtedly belonged to a woman, which was rather odd, considering the life-scarcity in the area. This, of course, prompted a thought:
What in the Almighty would a person be doing this deep in the camps? That is, if this were the camps to begin with. He was rather away from the place he knew. Nonetheless, the scream soon faded back into the night. Strange.
Merrin lingered yet, ears perked for further attention to the sound—if it so was to come. And it did; a slow panting, and scuffling feet within the lightning-sparked darkness. He crouched, peering out from the rim of the building. There, he saw, in the street below, a woman wandering alone. She carried on her a buzzing lamp, light spilling out into the route. Dim, yes, but just enough for the Ashman.
She was an oddity—a tall woman with silky black hair and eyes that seemed on the edge of grayness. That reminded him of someone. Moeash... and of course, Yoid. This woman, from observation, was dressed in a light purplish dress, skin glistening with an oily sheen. Uncanny. She groaned, arm stroking the side of her sleek legs. Beside them was a round blackened stone. Nightfell had many of those: black rocks.
She's injured... That much was admitted from the quiet scrutiny. Who was she, though? Likely, no simple woman would wander in such places in such times. Enor was by far not a place of true safety. Be it in the territory of a Great Clan or not. Who then... Merrin leaned in... is she?
Her eyes snapped shut, face twisted to that agony, sweat trickling down her brows. "Mist it!!" she cursed, arm ever present in a singular action: the caressing of the legs. That seemed to help little—was she no Caster? He wondered.
Likely not, since despite the passage of time, the pain existed with the same intensity. If she were one, then in fact, she would have dulled the mind in the acceptance of the ache. Merrin sighed, feeling within a sense of error present in the coming actions.
Yet... the lady required aid. One did not need to be the sunBringer for that, and the lords knew he wanted no such thing. Thus, with the same silence awarded to the Ashman, he leaped from the edifice, piercing down like a toss of thrown rock. Downwards he came, landing with a dull thud, scattering the bed of growing steam.
The grounds were like a rolling tide of white.
The Ashman within delighted in that. Nonetheless, the matter ahead required his attention. And there she was, still tending to the broken ankle. It would be strange to approach her suddenly, he realized, raising then his arm to the air.
This seems odd.
"Ma'rim!" he called out, voice chimed far past the silence of the road. She turned to it, eyes locking quickly on the figure beside the path: Him! She seemed relieved by his presence, at least he believed it so.
"Excuse me, what are you doing here?" she said, arm strangely away from the harmed ankle. Did it hurt less in his presence? Was there a precedent for such occurrences?
Merrin replied. "Just taking in the clearest air I could find."
"You're a Nightsailer?" she asked, eyes probing. Was that done in an attempt to assure her own safety in the presence of a stranger? He had no clues—this woman acted with some similarity to another he knew.
Catelyn!
Merrin sealed the thought, answering. "Yes..." Smiling now. "Don't report me to the guards, though."
She nodded childishly. "Doing so will only put me in trouble."
She's a Nightsailer? He expected as much, although this now beckoned the question as to her presence in such a place. He nodded, regardless. "That's good then." Taking a step closer. "Are you okay?"
"Not really." She winced. "Must not have been paying attention before I had a meeting with a rock... I'm not that powerful, you see, haven't even said the first Words."
She's not a vested caster... He edged closer, now standing but a few steps from her, still pensive. She smiled brighter, almost inviting. Perhaps that was the intention behind them; however, to Merrin, this startled deeply within. Why smile like that? Not so long ago, she endured a terrible pain, and now... what? Was that all gone?
He paused. "What should I do to help?" he asked. "Is there a cleanseWitch nearby, or?"
She giggled. "I doubt the Camps have such luxury." Waving. "What's the point of having a cleanseWitch when they won't even feed us?" She eyed him. "You must be new."
Might of the caster? He lingered for a moment. "Just arrived."
Her eyes beamed. "You were among the ones who saw the light from the sea."
He shuddered internally. Why was everyone so interested in that? "Yes... But before you ask, I didn't see who did it." More lies. Frightening even that he could now utter them without a care in the world.
"I see." She said, "It seems many people have probed for said questions."
"Mmm." He nodded. Are you part of that group? His eyes drifted to her legs. Is there truly damage in that?
She reached for it, rubbing with a grimace across her face.
A facade?
"So... what exactly are you even doing here?" the lady asked.
More questions... Data spewed from the pool of mentation. In it, a single desire to detach existed. Why was she asking such questions? Was there a reason behind them?—Merrin froze.
In the distance, in the darkened corners of the road... the shadows had stirred. That sent an inward alarm. "I think we should go," he said. "What if the guards—"
"The guards don't come here," she interjected, taking a big huff of the misty air. "The breeze here is so much better than the cramped space of the camps."
"Aren't you injured?"
She halted... just for a moment, but admitting a beam. "Perhaps talking with another distracts the mind from awareness."
"Oh..."
"Yes... It would seem you have reminded me again."
Odd, he realized... for some reason, the woman had taken a firmer tone in her words. Was this some version of anger? Annoyance? "My apologies, it's just that—"
Again, something stirred in the corner.
No time for apologies. "I think we should go."
"Why?" She gripped his arm. "Do you see something?"
"What?"
"Ashmans are known to see better, don't they?"
And that was the last piece of hesitation within. There was none now, just the overwhelming awareness of the oddity that existed here. And much worse, he could see it. In the shadows, in the darkened corners of the road... something was rousing.
What was it?
Is it another caster?
Is this some kind of attack?
Why would a Caster harm another of their kind?
He wrenched his arm off the woman. Her eyes ever locked on his features. She smiled then. "I'm not with it!"
What?
And just then, shooting out from the shadows, a man... a dark thing with arms of blackness trailing behind it. Abrupt. Onwards it came, form covered wholly in that deep tenebrosity. And then it swung—the left arm piercing forward, smacking the earth in a loud thud.
It missed him.
Merrin was gone, skipping to a stop some two meters away. So was the lady, standing now, arm resting on her waist. Elegant. Gone were the supposed injuries, just a sharpness of the eyes that peered intently on the figure... the same figure that stood now, shadowy arms swaying round and round.
What in Origin was that? Merrin passed a glare at her. Once again, some madness had come before his presence. How hard was it to do nothing? I should never have tried looking for the killer!
"I assume you're here for the bounty for the killer?"
Merrin glanced at her, grasping now the greater similarity shared between this woman and Catelyn.
"No response?" She offered no expression, digging calmly into a pouch, taking out the twin bottles of liquids. Both having a varied colored fluid within. What was it? She said, "My name is Sibel, Ashman, and that, you see, is your killer."
And the world melded into a mash of shifting hues—the world tilting and spinning as though it had been spun into lunacy. What was happening? The blackness, the greyness of steam, and the sparkling of the sky's thunder all merged into my cognitive madness. Almost as though he was staring at some unknowable symbol... except this wasn't that.
What did she do to me? Even thoughts were a grueling task. "Stop this..." he murmured, "stop whatever you are doing..." Of course, in truth, he could stop this... quite easily. Thus was his might as a caster. However, doing so likely revealed his prowess to whoever this Sibel was.
A whore based on the men working for Pycelle.
She said soon after, "For an Ashman, your senses are quite dulled... It's the scent."
Data!
His palm was quickly wrapped around his nose, halting further permeation of the perfume. And slowly, the world melded back into its originality. The creature, on the other hand, was swaying like a man in drink. It was affecting it!
Whatever Sibel had done was targeted at the killer?
She's not attacking me?
"Wow... just a few minutes and you two are already working together?"
A newness... a voice. A familiar one.
He turned, startled, cause standing right beside him was that short, dark-haired Shae... the so-called member of the Black Eyes. She smiled. "We meet again, Ashman!"
Mist me!