Ellie had been disappointed as Longa had scratched the back of Titus’ neck with the poisoned claw, yet she had not moved. She remained there- in that same, unmoving position with her hand held limply ahead of her as Titus had collapsed and Neda got to work on inscribing the cold, comatose Titus’ chest on the carpeted floor- a soft underlayer, in comparison to the tavern’s cellar’s substrate. Asrael was still fighting off the looming impressions of the long night but conceded that, by long, he would have to process some of the sights he had seen. He closed his eyes to question Kerras for a status, only to be unsurprisingly disappointed to hear... “The white-haired one is nowhere to be found.”

Asrael spat to the floor and threw a glance over towards the Gustav-replicate to sate himself on the sight before stepping over towards the eerily still, awaiting Eleanor. Her hair now hung down to cover her entire face, shrouding what Asrael expected to be an expectant frown. He looked to her gray, malformed hand and questioned: “Are you in pain?” She used her good hand to wipe her eyes in turn, before the head of black bobbed up and down.

“Good. Perhaps the pain will teach you the lesson you have failed to learn from me. You do understand this lesson, yes?” She paused, before bobbing her head once more. Asrael motioned for one of the dead in the hallway to close the door and, as expected, they complied with the order without hesitation- sealing the quartet of Neda, Asrael, Eleanor, and Titus inside the guests’ quarters.

Eleanor yelped as Asrael grabbed for her lower arm to verify that the girl, as foolish as she was, had a talent for magic. The gray sheen to her skin came from having gathered her magic around the fragments of her bones to stabilize them into a sturdy chunk of iron, ossa, tendons, and skin. He gave her appendage a couple of demonstrative squeezes, before nodding his approval of her well-thought-out remedy. He dropped the hand from his own and spoke: “Naturally, this will need fixing at some point. I would have you do it, but you’ve made it abundantly clear that I cannot trust you with anything important. Despite the value you seem to have estimated your hands worth, I assure you- your hands are needed to perform my work.”

Eleanor’s lips tightened into a frown as she nodded her acceptance of Asrael’s judgment. To her surprise, Asrael was relatively calm- despite having undoubtedly suffered for their foolish venture into the city. His green eyes seemed distant, as he watched Neda carve through Titus’ flesh to inscribe the marks into his subcutis- as if his attention was split between the room and the hundreds of eyes searching out every last survivor of the Garrison.

“I had not intended on moving so soon, but you two forced my hand...” Though Ellie was shamed, she noticed a peculiar lack of anger in her Master’s green eyes. Not to say that Asrael was not furious with her, but his distance seemed to hint at a hope that, by the end of the day, she would not only be alive but still his apprentice.

“I suppose, this time, it worked for the better... we’ve wasted enough time in Pilta. I have been shown a future- whether it be an illusion or the truth, it has served to motivate me to quicken our stay here...” Ellie remained uncertain as to whether she was still the subject for this conversation or if he was speaking to someone beyond his green eyes.

He raised his hand to ponderously scratch his chin. “They will find her, by long... When they do, I will get to the bottom of her assault and that vision...” He had to stop himself from falling deeper into his musings- not now! Not when there was still work to do...

Ellie took a single step forward and sounded a whimper. Another glance to her side revealed that her hand was already deforming again. The beads of sweat on her forehead confirmed that her substantial pains were returning in tune with her fading magical strength. Dreadfully, he realized that by long, he would have to deal with her hand... and at that point, he would be left alone with naught but his two foolish apprentices and his thoughts.

Neda sat above the unconscious Titus’ bloody crotch and felt something uncomfortably protrude against the back of her dress as she cut into his flesh- throwing sideways glances towards the moaning, drooling, bumbling Petrus who lay at an uncomfortable angle up against the wall- miraculously still alive. The sword- still in his head, kept him relatively still, but Neda could still feel the discomfort of his stares.

“Assie... he’s looking at me...” Asrael turned around and finally remembered the brainless husk leaned up against the wall. The fascinating blob of flesh was a case for study, but Neda was correct in assuming that the man was fiercely annoying, where he lay and foamed from the mouth. It was unfortunate that the man’s central nervous system had been split, but the true mystery lay in his abdomen- right above his navel.

Asrael stepped over the carpet and extended his hand out for the knife, but before Neda could extend it towards him to finish the job, Ellie stepped up from the side to grab it with her good hand. From behind the hanging, black hair, she whispered: “I’ll do it.” Neda peeled her eyes to see a mute, apathetic frown on her fellow apprentice’s lips. Asrael hesitated- with his hand still outstretched to his side.

“Why?” He questioned.

Ellie answered swiftly and with a certainty Neda envied- especially after having failed their Master, as they had. “Because he was there, wasn’t he? When my mom was killed... if you could kill someone like that, twice... wouldn’t you?” Asrael could scarcely fault her logic but imagined he would have to consider her emotional condition and growth at some point. As it were, Asrael could understand her wish for vengeance- he had overthrown the Garrison for it, after all.

“Do not consider this leniency. You are yet to receive your punishment... but fine. Do not harm his core or organs.” Asrael retracted his hand and watched Ellie walk over to the bubbling wretch. The girl was merciless- void of all hesitation as she hunched down behind his back to quickly jab the knife into the front of his neck. Petrus’ dim eyes immediately fell shut as the steady stream of blood spewed forth to cover his dying lover’s flesh in warms, metal-scented, sanguine fluids. Eleanor twisted and turned the knife with a smile most would’ve found disheartening, when worn by such a young girl on such a terrible occasion, but Asrael could not help but find it... redeeming. A hope-inspiring visage, as it reminded him that one day, he, too would sate his lust for revenge.

“That’s...” Neda still sat on Titus’ hips and watched as the blood trickled into the carved glyphs, with a smile of her own. “That’s kinda nice... they’ll be together until the end, y’know. I guess the blood’s gonna be in him? It’s...” Asrael was acutely aware that the Inquisition had not created one monster, but two. Neda’s blissful smile as she watched their blood mix together seemed to make her cheeks blush. Asrael could see that she was racking her mind for the word and, naturally, informed:

“Romantic.”