The walk from the Red Dragon Inn to his mother's Grove was a long one, and Salvador Delahada cursed and swore the entire way. At least his cargo was a light one. Sophie was three days starved and the lack of weight of her in his arms was a small blessing in comparison.
"Tell the sinner and Marcus to release this girl from their company or I will kill her." Simple, straight-forward. "They have five days. If Marcus touches her, those days are gone. Mark me."
More white shadows. More demanding, annoying, commanding deities playing him as a pawn. "Fuck them," he muttered. That one choice expletive was the one he snarled and spat the most to himself. He dropped it into choice phrases and hissed them for the peace of his own ears alone. Not once did Sophie stir. He was glad for that. She probably wouldn't have been too happy about the fact that he was kidnapping her.
Taking her back to Peccavi was out of the question. That was the sinner's domain, and in part also Marcus. This also ruled Ambrosio Enterprises out of the equation, and above all the apartment he and Sin shared. The House between worlds that the sinner had given him was also not an option. He had given the key to that safe haven to Fury. At the time, she'd needed it more than he did. Now he was adding her name to the list of curses he was hissing, though entirely unjustified.
He could have made the entire trip much easier on himself by simply taking that Step Between the living world and the spirit realm, but he took some comfort in making his legs work. He was also hoping that along the way he'd be struck by a bolt of genius, a better plan. Much to his dismay, he hadn't been able to think of any place better. This was probably due in part to the fact that he couldn't stop cussing and swearing.
All this snarling and spitting to himself made the trek shorter, really. Before he knew it the City was far behind him and his boots were snapping twigs through the forest. There was resistance when he hit the border of her Grove. The air felt heavier, thicker, as if he were trudging through slime. More like he was pushing against a thousand taught ropes that insisted on tethering him to civilization and keeping him and this girl from stepping inside. He broke those ropes with a furious snarl. He snapped the tether and carried her within.
Bones snapped underfoot instead of twigs. The air here was pungent and thick with the smell of rot. No other time before this had he ever thought the scent to be suffocating, but now it was.
A blur of silver and frost sped through his peripheral vision and leaped atop the jagged stone that marked the center of his mother's sanctuary. It moved so fast and carried with it a particular menace the drowned out all thoughts, all other sound, all scents and cares. He dropped to one knee at the edge of her grove instead of dropping the girl in his arms. He sent her down as gently as he could while his eyes locked onto the enraged monster crouched upon his mother's throne.
Her ears were elongated but not pointed. They narrowed at their peaks and tapered off into little bulbs of flesh. Set high above her brow was a set of short little horns, peeking out amongst wisps of thin hair. Her mouth was set with two clean rows of sharp and pointed teeth. Her eyes were wide and yellow with slit pupils like a cat. Her body nude but genderless, skin glitter-toned gold and silver, pale. She had the shape of a human with short, sharp claws capping fingers and toes. Three sets of ragged wings spaced apart by a row of spikes down her spine identical to her son's. A long and prehensile tail coiled against the base of the rock they lay across together.
He crouched protectively over the unconscious skeleton of a girl and looked upon the beast he had seen more than once before. Whenever she was angry with him, this is how he saw her. This time he did not fear her. This time he set his stance and bared his teeth at her in challenge.
"Salvador," the creature hissed. Her tail lashed and cracked like a whip behind her. She matched his pose, crouched low and teeth bared. "What blasphemy do you engage in now?" Her words were laced with acid and copper, inflected with fury when no other time before did her voice carry a tone.
"Madre," he growled back at her. The atmosphere between them sparked and crackled. Without taking his eyes off of her, he wormed his arms out of his coat and gently lay the article over Sophie's unconscious body. If he were to face her, he would have to face her as one of them. Here he had to shed his human skin and wear the suit of a monster as well.
"Fool of a child," his mother hissed at him. Her yellow eyes glowed. "How many times must I break you before you learn?"
Salvador had no answer for her, he only snarled and willed his carapace to grow. Under denim and cotton it slithered and sliced, cut fabric to ribbons that were easier to peel from his body than disrobing one at a time. He set his feet firmly when the transformation was complete, pushed his toes into bones and sludge and leaped for her.
The collision of these two monsters meeting within her Grove made no noise beyond the boundaries of her sanctuary. The veil caught the explosion of rust and silver, the clash of steel and copper, and bounced it back at them like a stone being pushed out of then sucked back into a vacuum. To mortal ears, the silence would have been deafening.
They clawed and hissed at each other for hours. One was left bloody and raw while the other only dimmer as the time went by. Her glow faded from bright and blinding to mellow with exhaustion. His armor hung from his flesh in tattered and broken bits. Blood trickled from a thousand little wounds all over his body, and Salvador was left knealing, panting in the dust. His voice was hoarse, throat raw, from all the spitting and snarling and yowling he had done. Regardless of his pain, he huffed out his words.
"I've nowhere ... else ... to take her ... Madre."
Faye did not answer him. In the end she lost her form. A dim silver mist blanketed the floor of her Grove. She did not speak, but he knew she was near enough to listen.
"Just need ... time to ... think. Plan." A fit of violent coughing interrupted him. He spat thick cold blood into the sharp and slick turf, then wiped his mouth with the back of a wrist. "Keep her safe."
Silence lingered between them for a time, for the most part. His wheezing breaths were the only music in this place. His words cut deep and brought words back to him. A haunting and chill monotone laced with the song of copper chimes. "This one is not mine to claim, Salvador. You should not have brought her here."
"No," he admitted. "No. I know. But there ... was no other place. Just ... give me time."
The mist that was his mother, silver and cold, considered these words at great length. Never in their history together had she ever relented and acquiesced to a single request. His demands were too high. He asked too much of her. But this time he was not asking her for help. Only time. "Time," she said, "has no meaning to the fae."
Silver frost swirled about his tattered body. He shivered from the feel of it and hacked up another glob of mucus and blood. The fit shook him fiercely, and the frigid chill of his mother's essence was a painfully soothing addition. "Th-thank you," he wheezed. Unable to remain upright for much longer, he shoved a fist into bones and sludge.
Her essence retreated, sliding and slithering across the ugly landscape. Time was something Faye could give her son. Time was all she had to give.
"Tell the sinner and Marcus to release this girl from their company or I will kill her." Simple, straight-forward. "They have five days. If Marcus touches her, those days are gone. Mark me."
More white shadows. More demanding, annoying, commanding deities playing him as a pawn. "Fuck them," he muttered. That one choice expletive was the one he snarled and spat the most to himself. He dropped it into choice phrases and hissed them for the peace of his own ears alone. Not once did Sophie stir. He was glad for that. She probably wouldn't have been too happy about the fact that he was kidnapping her.
Taking her back to Peccavi was out of the question. That was the sinner's domain, and in part also Marcus. This also ruled Ambrosio Enterprises out of the equation, and above all the apartment he and Sin shared. The House between worlds that the sinner had given him was also not an option. He had given the key to that safe haven to Fury. At the time, she'd needed it more than he did. Now he was adding her name to the list of curses he was hissing, though entirely unjustified.
He could have made the entire trip much easier on himself by simply taking that Step Between the living world and the spirit realm, but he took some comfort in making his legs work. He was also hoping that along the way he'd be struck by a bolt of genius, a better plan. Much to his dismay, he hadn't been able to think of any place better. This was probably due in part to the fact that he couldn't stop cussing and swearing.
All this snarling and spitting to himself made the trek shorter, really. Before he knew it the City was far behind him and his boots were snapping twigs through the forest. There was resistance when he hit the border of her Grove. The air felt heavier, thicker, as if he were trudging through slime. More like he was pushing against a thousand taught ropes that insisted on tethering him to civilization and keeping him and this girl from stepping inside. He broke those ropes with a furious snarl. He snapped the tether and carried her within.
Bones snapped underfoot instead of twigs. The air here was pungent and thick with the smell of rot. No other time before this had he ever thought the scent to be suffocating, but now it was.
A blur of silver and frost sped through his peripheral vision and leaped atop the jagged stone that marked the center of his mother's sanctuary. It moved so fast and carried with it a particular menace the drowned out all thoughts, all other sound, all scents and cares. He dropped to one knee at the edge of her grove instead of dropping the girl in his arms. He sent her down as gently as he could while his eyes locked onto the enraged monster crouched upon his mother's throne.
Her ears were elongated but not pointed. They narrowed at their peaks and tapered off into little bulbs of flesh. Set high above her brow was a set of short little horns, peeking out amongst wisps of thin hair. Her mouth was set with two clean rows of sharp and pointed teeth. Her eyes were wide and yellow with slit pupils like a cat. Her body nude but genderless, skin glitter-toned gold and silver, pale. She had the shape of a human with short, sharp claws capping fingers and toes. Three sets of ragged wings spaced apart by a row of spikes down her spine identical to her son's. A long and prehensile tail coiled against the base of the rock they lay across together.
He crouched protectively over the unconscious skeleton of a girl and looked upon the beast he had seen more than once before. Whenever she was angry with him, this is how he saw her. This time he did not fear her. This time he set his stance and bared his teeth at her in challenge.
"Salvador," the creature hissed. Her tail lashed and cracked like a whip behind her. She matched his pose, crouched low and teeth bared. "What blasphemy do you engage in now?" Her words were laced with acid and copper, inflected with fury when no other time before did her voice carry a tone.
"Madre," he growled back at her. The atmosphere between them sparked and crackled. Without taking his eyes off of her, he wormed his arms out of his coat and gently lay the article over Sophie's unconscious body. If he were to face her, he would have to face her as one of them. Here he had to shed his human skin and wear the suit of a monster as well.
"Fool of a child," his mother hissed at him. Her yellow eyes glowed. "How many times must I break you before you learn?"
Salvador had no answer for her, he only snarled and willed his carapace to grow. Under denim and cotton it slithered and sliced, cut fabric to ribbons that were easier to peel from his body than disrobing one at a time. He set his feet firmly when the transformation was complete, pushed his toes into bones and sludge and leaped for her.
The collision of these two monsters meeting within her Grove made no noise beyond the boundaries of her sanctuary. The veil caught the explosion of rust and silver, the clash of steel and copper, and bounced it back at them like a stone being pushed out of then sucked back into a vacuum. To mortal ears, the silence would have been deafening.
They clawed and hissed at each other for hours. One was left bloody and raw while the other only dimmer as the time went by. Her glow faded from bright and blinding to mellow with exhaustion. His armor hung from his flesh in tattered and broken bits. Blood trickled from a thousand little wounds all over his body, and Salvador was left knealing, panting in the dust. His voice was hoarse, throat raw, from all the spitting and snarling and yowling he had done. Regardless of his pain, he huffed out his words.
"I've nowhere ... else ... to take her ... Madre."
Faye did not answer him. In the end she lost her form. A dim silver mist blanketed the floor of her Grove. She did not speak, but he knew she was near enough to listen.
"Just need ... time to ... think. Plan." A fit of violent coughing interrupted him. He spat thick cold blood into the sharp and slick turf, then wiped his mouth with the back of a wrist. "Keep her safe."
Silence lingered between them for a time, for the most part. His wheezing breaths were the only music in this place. His words cut deep and brought words back to him. A haunting and chill monotone laced with the song of copper chimes. "This one is not mine to claim, Salvador. You should not have brought her here."
"No," he admitted. "No. I know. But there ... was no other place. Just ... give me time."
The mist that was his mother, silver and cold, considered these words at great length. Never in their history together had she ever relented and acquiesced to a single request. His demands were too high. He asked too much of her. But this time he was not asking her for help. Only time. "Time," she said, "has no meaning to the fae."
Silver frost swirled about his tattered body. He shivered from the feel of it and hacked up another glob of mucus and blood. The fit shook him fiercely, and the frigid chill of his mother's essence was a painfully soothing addition. "Th-thank you," he wheezed. Unable to remain upright for much longer, he shoved a fist into bones and sludge.
Her essence retreated, sliding and slithering across the ugly landscape. Time was something Faye could give her son. Time was all she had to give.