Asrael watched as the last of the men slinked off into the tunnels. Kester had given up on cleaning the cellar- what use was there, when only a few hours later, the cracked and broken floor would be covered in yet more pools of blood? Asrael had remedied the stench of rotting blood by smearing his upper lip with lavender- courtesy of the alembic and his own, capable, flower-identifying hands, but neither of the girls had made themselves deserving of such a luxury- certainly not after the day’s sinful denial of his orders.

He tapped the table and watched as they stood up from the congealing floor- careful not to lean on the thick layer of viscous, metallic matter on the walls. Both avoided his gaze, meaning they were well aware of his disapproval of their little ‘excursion’. As was usual, both strode towards him to clean their hands and tools in the clean, metallic washbasins atop their one study-table.

“What you did today was reckless. I expect better from the both of you. The outside world is more dangerous than ever- leave it to myself or Kester to retrieve the men.” Neda rubbed the bar of soap between her fingers and felt the sticky blood loosen from her skin. Her chest and cheeks flushed with a sudden warmth as she turned towards him. He narrowed his eyes at her and reminded his air-headed apprentice: “I have use for you here. You can go and get yourself killed when I no longer have use for you.” She giggled- knowing the day would never come in which he would admit to having no use for her... not after what they’d been through.

Ellie, on the other hand, nodded her silent understanding, but took the rare initiative to protest. “I... wished to test the spell, Master. I knew I could kill him- I was never in any danger.” Asrael leaned forwards from where he sat on the bench and glared at his youngest, apathetic apprentice. The girl was nothing alike Kester, despite her propensity for murder. As opposed to him, she did not crave it, as he did- she seemed to be in it for the long run, rather than for any momentary relief. Though he did not doubt that she enjoyed herself as she claimed her vengeance from the Inquisition, apprentice to say: “As much as I appreciate arrogance when it is deserved, you do not deserve it yet. Had it not been for myself and Longa, you would have been a neatly, cleaved torso, by now.” He warned. She bit her lower lip to reconsider her defiant stance. The Master was not wrong, but... she nodded. Pleased with his lesson, he leaned back and sounded an order: “Go. Eat. Study for two hours, then sleep. I’ve a deal to see Bartholomew tonight and the man is growing as restless as you are.”

Ellie bowed her customary bow before leaving to ascend the stair, where Kester would feed her the Master-mandated ration of a stack of potatoes before returning to scrub the Banshee’s slaughter from his countertop.

In the cellar, Neda stayed behind to clean her hands and glance slily towards Asrael whose attention was split between organizing his three-hundred-sixty soldiers and considering his apprentices’ punishment. A girlish giggle brought him out from his musings to look at the desert-dweller's red cheeks. The girl was growing increasingly more amorous and, stuck in these close quarters, he was finding it increasingly difficult not to... feel... things... He shuddered as she broke from her silence to say: “This is... nice. I like it. We’re almost like a Mother, a Father and a child, y’know.” Asrael had never heard such depravity- to suggest he was part of any family. The insult was made all the worse by how gravely she had misjudged family dynamics.

“What in the world is wrong with you, you lusty harlot? There is a world of attractive men out there, yet you’ve chosen to attempt to sink your teeth into me.” He knew he was not particularly attractive in any way, shape or form. In fact, he was horrendously ugly by most objective standards, he was not particularly pleasant and he was, most importantly: dead. Yet this seemed to not deter her.

She had known for some time that she enjoyed Asrael’s company- despite his many flaws. Maribelle had spoken of it being a delusion- that she viewed him a savior for having rescued her on several occasions. Neda, herself, had considered that the reason for wishing for his care had been that he was the first man who had ever cared for her, but no... Barrel had been the wisest, when he had told her that ‘Love dutnt follow no rules. Can’t help it.’. That was exactly how she felt- as if it was an unconditional sensation without sense or rules- just as the villagers had spoken of around the campfires in the late nights.

“Love dutnt follow no rules.” Neda spoke dreamily out into the air. Asrael grabbed the ridge of his nose- smearing a droplet of blood on his face in the process.

“We do not love one-another! Whatever infatuation you feel is as misguided as it is unwelcomed- now, if you’ve finished washing your hands, I will have you rest for when Kester returns... he should be done in the tavern, by long...” He looked to the wall next to the desk, but already knew what would come next. She sat down next to him to stare dreamily at the side of his face with a brave smile.

“No...” Asrael muttered, though he found that it took a measure of strength to remain stalwart in his decision. The predator saw it- she preyed on his weakness.