Interlude 2.00

Ian. My dear Ian. He lay bloodied against my side, and when I went to inspect his hands. I found naught but tiny little calluses filled with the flesh and blood of whoever may have been his latest victim.

"Rest."

"Bu-" He tried to protest but I would not allow such defiance. For with a single withering glare he shut that stupid mouth of his.

There was a moment of tranquil silence. I enjoyed it to the fullest before I held my rapier firmly in my hand. There was something to be said about the smile on my face, the beautiful curls that gave me an almost haunting look.

But that could be interpreted by another admirer on another occasion.

Snow fell over my curls but I did not shiver. Even as the winter chill settled verily over my shoulders. I merely took a deep breath and let myself touch that inner power coursing through my body.