Carlos
Arvid Erwynson
Rural Northwind

Arvid was indifferent to her sorrow and numb to her despair. His gaze followed the axe, lingering on it, even as Amaryllis pleaded for her orphan's custody. His face then reflected genuine thought - like her words had finally evoked consideration from the beast. Arvid's teeth gnawed at his soft lower lip. He cared not for gold; gold offered him nothing his hand could not gather. He considered the flock briefly, but the child seemed a more appetizing bounty, like a precious lamb and its prized veal. Of course, Arvid knew he would not return to these grounds. Never again would the little shepherdess plead her case before him. It would be a crime beyond foolishness for him to believe her hollow assurances: food! Gold! Return, and I will reward you for burgling my cabin!

Arvid's pointed stare flicked back onto Amaryllis; he donned a fanciful new mask.

"Give me your arm," He requested gently - relatively speaking - with a handsome, subtle grin, "Your arm and your leg. Skin for skin."
Frankie
Amaryllis Sweetford
Rural Northwind

Amaryllis' face paled another shade, though already she had looked like a ghost from all the blood loss. A fresh wave of nausea and fear at the horrible realization that she was going to die, as she obviously wouldn't be able to survive such an event, especially after already losing so much blood. But Rosalee might get to live...

She wavered, hesitating, fear and a vague sense of self-preservation threatening to overtake her. Why do all this for a child that wasn't hers? Not biologically speaking, anyway. What kind of live would Rosalee have if she didn't have some adult to take care of her? She'd probably die anyway... But letting Arvid take the child just didn't seem like an option, even with those thoughts rearing their heads in an attempt to persuade her to save herself.

"Very well," She said slowly, her voice choked and small. "But before you do it, you have to set her down and let her go. It's not like I can run anyway, so you will have me, and it's not like I can stop you if you chose to just take her anyway. It's the only way I can be sure you'll keep your end of the bargain."
Carlos
Arvid Erwynson
Rural Northwind

Arvid glanced between Amaryllis and her discarded axe. There was complete neutrality in him, even as he commanded that woman's sorry life, like he had merely asked an errand of her. His thoughts on the matter were practical and unbothered. Amaryllis nauseously swayed. Her voice was strained, a whisper, escaping her with her breath. Arvid knew he had spoiled her and marked her to live - at least, ensured her story would not end on his sword's edge - when he sliced her arm. Then again, she was an experience he had enjoyed before. He had dined on the meat of woman, man, peasant, and noble. Sheep, too. Rosalee was the only exciting prospect set before him. Still, there was work to be done; he had not properly stolen the girl. Not yet.

"I won't be taking them myself." He gestured towards the axe. "This doesn't bring into question my ability to use an axe. No, it's about your willpower."
Frankie
Amaryllis Sweetford
Rural Northwind

Amaryllis stared at him incredulously, her mind not entirely believing what he was asking her to do. Yet he looked back at her with such serious indifference that she knew this was no joke and that he fully intended for her to remove her own arm from her body. 

She hesitated, then finally bent down to pick up the axe, though when she did, a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over her so strongly that she crumpled to her knees. Somehow, she managed to take hold of the axe anyway, grasping it in her good arm and picking it up, though it felt as if it must weigh a hundred tons. Had the thing gotten heavier in the time since she had first picked it up?

She held out her bad arm and looked at it, gripping the tail end of the axe in her good arm, gauging how she could manage such a thing. The angles just didn't work out. It would be impossible for her to cut off her whole arm, especially in her weakened and partially incapacitated state.
Carlos
Arvid Erwynson
Rural Northwind

Arvid observed Amaryllis with a resuscitated interest - the same terrible, dark look he'd shot her from the other side of her axe. He seemed a mountain with the woman on her knees. Rosalee was stranded on his peak, her resistance worn to tired kicks and half-hearted squirms. The girl had a narrowing supply of oxygen left up on that hill. Who knows how long Arvid would entertain the burden of a child? Rosalee's life could persist for days, or perhaps months, if she behaved. She had to be terribly gentle with that supply of air, with Arvid's good graces. 

"Pity. Look, girl." Arvid cupped Rosalee's cheeks, forcing her to gaze upon a groveling Amaryllis. "She doesn't want you enough. She won't even try."
Frankie
Amaryllis Sweetford
Rural Northwind

Rosalee's lips puckered a bit like a fish's as Arvid gripped her cheeks tightly to force her to look at Amaryllis, his grip tight enough that it left little half moon patches on her face where the force of his grip drove the blood away. Her little face was streaked with tears, and at the sight of her caretaker in such a sorry state, she began to cry harder. Amary! Amary had to save her! Amary would save her! 

Amaryllis gazed up at the two of them, a little flash of anger flickering in her eyes, like the last licks of flames at a dying campfire. "I think you're just too cowardly to take it yourself," She snapped, a little bite to her voice. "And you still didn't put her down. I'm not doing it until you let her go."