𝓙 𝐢 𝐥 𝐥 ❅ 𝓦 𝐚 𝐫 𝐫 𝐢 𝐜 𝐤

ㅤ he let her tug him along, his own feet moving in rhythm to her pace. once they made it to the building, clive would push the large door open. allowing jill to slip in ahead of him, then he quickly followed. the heavy wooden door of the inn groaned shut behind them, cutting off the oppressive heat and noise of the street. the air inside was cool and thick with the smell of spilled ale, woodsmoke, and roasting meat. it was a welcome relief ㅡ a dim, hazy sanctuary filled with the low murmur of conversations and the clinking of tankards. he felt jill’s hand slipped from his as she moved to find a quiet corner, and clive’s gaze followed her for a moment before he turned toward the front desk. a burly, bald man with a formidable mustache was polishing a wooden mug, his eyes flicking up to assess the new arrivals. clive approached, the hood of his cloak still casting his face in shadow. he cleared his throat, a 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘵 of hesitance in his voice. ❝ 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝔯ooms , ❞ he said, his voice a rough murmur as he placed a few coins on the scarred counter. the words were out before he’d truly considered them. a beat of silence passed. he risked a glance over his shoulder at jill, his eyes searching hers from the shadow of his hood. a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features. was it the right choice ㅡ .ᐣ would she think he was being 𝐝istant, or was it presumptuous to 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 she’d want to share 𝖔ne ㅡ .ᐣ he’d never been good at this. the look he gave her was a quiet, clumsy question, silently asking for her approval before he committed to the arrangement. ㅤ

ㅤ he watched the child disappear into the alley, the tension in his shoulders finally beginning to uncoil. the crowd’s grumbling faded back into the market’s normal din, the momentary crisis dissolving into memory. only then did he turn to face her, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood. a humorless chuckle rumbled in his chest as he looked down at her. ❝ a . . . 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘭𝘦 .ᐣ i was 𝖌oing to make a 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 , ❞ clive grumbled, though there was no real heat in his voice. the swordsman knew she was right, and clive was thankful to have her keep his temper under control. he reached up, his gloved fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek, a rare, 𝖙ender gesture in the middle of so much chaos. ❝ what 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 i do without you . . . ? ❞ he echoed her words, his voice dropping to a low murmur. he let his hand linger for a moment before letting it fall. ❝ 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 be 𝖗otting in some imperial dungeon , i imagine . ❞ clive would pause for a moment, his tone playful. ❝ or 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 . you're the 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 thing keeping me from becoming the 𝖒onster they all 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 to think i am . ❞ he glanced back toward the inn, his expression sobering. ❝ come on , let's get you that 𝔯oom . you've 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 it . ❞ ㅤ

ㅤ the crackle of magick at his fingertips died the moment her hand closed over his. it was like a bucket of 𝐢𝐜𝐞 water thrown over a raging 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞, her touch a grounding force he couldn't ignore. clive wouldn't look at her, but he felt her there, a solid presence at his side, her voice a low, steady counterpoint to the roaring in his ears. he let her speak, his jaw still clenched so tightly it ached. when the crowd behind them roared its support, a flicker of something — 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑬, maybe, or just grim satisfaction — crossed his face. she had a way with words, a talent he could never hope to master. he turned his head slightly, just enough for his hood to shift and his eyes to meet hers for a fraction of a second. the raw fury was still there, banked but not extinguished. he gave a short, sharp nod, a silent concession. then, he faced the guard again, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that cut through the noise. ❝ my companion 𝐬peaks for us 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 , ❞ the swordsman spoke, his grip on jill's hand tightening reassuringly. ❝ let the boy 𝘨𝘰 . before this becomes a mistake you 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 live to 𝖗egret . . . ❞ the gaurd taking in the change in tone of the surrounding crowd, would sheath his sword. a low groan escaping his throat before speaking. ˋ` fine , just bug off . yer' more of a headache than I get paid for . ˊˊ and with that ㅡ the armored man scurried into the crowd, the conflict being resolved more peacefully than clive would have managed it. ㅤ

ㅤ ❝ right , ❞ he agreed, his arm tightening around her. ❝ lean on me . i've got you . . . we're almost there . ❞ but the crowd ahead thickened into an impenetrable wall, the flow of people grinding to a halt with shouts and murmurs. frustration flared 𝒉ot in his chest. ❝ stay here , ❞ he ordered, his voice firm as he gently pressed her back to move behind him. he shoved through the throng ㅡ at the center, an imperial guard loomed over a small child clutching a stolen loaf of bread, his gauntlet raised to strike. a cold fury washed away clive's exhaustion. his hand curled into a fist, 𝐦agick crackling at his fingertips, and a glare of PURE anger peeked out from underneath his hood. ❝ is there a problem here .ᐣ ❞ of course, this would illicit a shocked reaction out of the gaurd. the armor clad male drawing his blade , and directing it towards clive. `` this is imperial business , fuck off . ˊˊ the gaurd responded coldly, tension quickly rising in the crowded street. ㅤ

ᅠ ᅠ 𝒯𝐇𝐄 2𝒏𝑫 𝐸𝐈𝕶𝐎𝐍 ⠀⠀ ⠀ ❲ 𝙸𝙵𝚁𝙸𝚃 ❳ ⸻ ╱╱ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ░░ — 𝑜𝑓 ˓ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 .ᐟ.ᐟ

⠀ 𝐢 𝐟 𝐫 𝐢 𝐭 .ᐟ ⠀