Leon
She was glad he had a sense of humour about their situation. She didn't find anything about the situation humourless but didn't also regret anything besides the lacking of a plan, they had gotten what they came for. 

"Absolutely no idea." She replied truthfully. Rekkan was right when he mentioned the tavern, it would be best for them to lay low for now. If they hadn't been deeply involved before, murdering someone of importance in the criminal world made them so. Marsila was sure that her male companion would become a bounty, his face had been visible throughout the entire scene they had created. The shifter on the other hand barely showed her human form until towards their escape, every person in the building would have been to focused on escaping the fire to worry about the outcome of the large feline. 

"Let's not talk about my 'trick'." Was her simple reply, reluctant to discuss her shifting abilities due to her own dislike towards it. 

"I think it's best if we leave the town. We don't need to leave Astoria, we could make our way west until we reach the city. Hopefully we have time to sort ourselves out before any bounties are placed, if it is too much of a risk then we will head the opposite direction and make our way south towards South Feyshore." She continued as she looked towards Rekkan and observed his appearance, taking note of all the blood that covered his clothing. "That's if you're in good enough shape to make the trip."
David
It is not hard to admit that the girl has it right in her head. The only problem for them is the visual of Rekkan, him being the only one the future bounties will bring up, maybe the large black feline too. But not the girl. "I would suggest breaking off. I don't want to put you in harm's way. If I'm the only one they can make a description of, it would be safer for you to not be seen with me." He's not wrong either. But it's not like the wanderer is saying they should split right this instant. They have time, so he will follow her idea.

"A return to camp would be good. I just need to clean the wound, apply a balm and bandage it up. It wouldn't be the first time." Rekkan tears his shift off and uses it as a makeshift bandage for now. It will do to stop the bleeding until they arrive at camp. The walk is harsh on his legs, his body did fall from two stories high and, when the adrenaline settles, he can feel the ache all over his body. It's not crippling, but it's still a bother. "Maybe.." He adds, as he starts walking with a sort of limp. "Maybe a little rest before we set out on the journey." Damn heights.

The warrior is leader apparent of this return back to camp, following the same path he took when looking for the amulet. However, their trip through the slums will not be as peaceful as they have been until now. Bounties aside, it seems some thugs trying to capitalize on the death of their bosses are trying to fight it out for supremacy, making the place a war zone. The victims are, as always, the poor AND innocent. Rekkan and Marsila will come upon an alley where four thugs are beating a man as the woman that is probably his wife or girlfriend is cowering and looking at the scene in horror. One of the thugs looks at the new arrivals and eyes widen at the sight of the big man. "O-Oi... That's the guy that was at the warehouse just an hour ago!" Great. One of the survivors that ran away.
Leon
He had a point in his explanation as to why they should split. Marsila didn't have to worry about thugs tracking the her down, no one but her parents, Ave and now Rekkan knew of her abilities so she couldn't be linked to the panther. If the shifter was to journey off alone like she was used to, Marsila wouldn't have to worry about looking over her shoulder every second. The large male would also slow her down due to his injuries, she needed to think logically.

She was silent throughout their walk back towards the camp, her focus had been taken by all the possibilities that could occur with every option she had to choose from. She hadn't heard the commotion until they came upon the thug's and their victims. Seriously? They couldn't have an hour to themselves after the shit they had gone through. Everything went from bad to worst when one of the thug's recognised Rekkan. As she had believed earlier, neither of the men recognised the shifter beside him. 

The thug to the left of the one who had spoken eyed Marsila in a lustful manner, not seeming fazed about the warehouse incident. He also knew by the looks of Rekkan, he was in a weakened state so he felt that they had an advantage. It was obvious he wasn't aware of what the two were capable of as he looked towards his mates. "And he brought a nice lil lady with him." 

She felt like gagging at that before she knelt down to take out her daggers which only amused the thug's besides one. She was going to take advantage of their blindness towards what she was capable of. "Just when I thought we would get a chance to relax." 

"Nah fuck this man, you should have seen the shit he pulled. I'm out." Was the survivor's reply as he began to flee from the group, not wanting to take his chances with the two.
David
The thugs, as usual, are lesser humans with limited intelligence, usually sub-par even in the lowest of standards. However, one of them proves to be smarter than the others. He runs, leaving his supposed friends behind. Perhaps they are only together because they have this one thing in common: banditry. The three other thugs care little about losing a member. They see opportunity in taking down the big one and taking advantage of his companion. They lack insight to know this is a losing battle before it begins, but at least they stopped pummeling the man that lies on the ground. Weak and beaten to a pulp, but he is still alive.

"We do not want any trouble." Rekkan says, taking a stumbling step forward. Instead of bringing one of his weapons to solid existence, he prefers to grab a stick from the ground, idly laying there like most of the trash in the slums. Then, he draws a semi circle in front of himself. "This is my home. If you come near my home, I will have to put you down like dogs you are." His voice is calm, his face stern but not heated. Rekkan is provoking them, riling them up with his insult. None catches on to his strategy, making the one charge ahead of the others with his club. "I'll bash your head in!!" He growls, but just as he is about to get in striking range, the wanderer whips the stick from the side and strikes at his temple. It makes that side of his face red and his body slump onto the ground.

"I do not like when strays try to sneak into my home. They have no sense of loyalty. Are you stray dogs or good little pets?" They almost seem to drool in their rage. Confused as to what to do and brain addled by pride, they charge at the man, only to find the stick thrust between them and wobble in hard lashes of their faces, multiple times over. "Tsk. Simple tricks." The guy grunts from exertion, but looks at the woman and the man, then back at the woman. "You are alright now. They won't stand for a while." The thugs are groaning and half conscious.

"You are hurt." The woman says. "Come to our house. We will tend to you." Rekkan chuckles, groaning from the pain on his chest. "I think your husband needs your help more than I do..." But what is Marsila thinking about this? Surely, it could be a good place to rest up as any.
Leon
Marsila knew Rekkan was able to handle the thug's when the first who came charging towards him now laid in a heaped mess on the ground. Her companion had barely moved when the thug was brought down, amazing her with his skills. Marsila continued to watch the scene in front of her as she unable to find a way to the injured man who had been curled in a fetal position. 

As soon as all the thug's were laying unconscious, Marsila walked over towards the husband who had also passed out from his injuries . She knelt beside him and carefully listened to the rhythm of his heart, thankful his heartbeat wasn't exactly weakened to a state where his wife would need to panic. She could hear the two behind her converse between each other as she slid her arms beneath the husbands shoulder blades and upper thighs. The position she placed herself in looked as if she was giving him a hug until she carefully dragged him over her shoulder. Due to his thin frame, the shifter didn't find it difficult to lift herself up, making sure to use her legs rather than her back. Walking back towards the two, she raised a brow towards Rekkan before her gaze shifted to the woman. 

"We are more than happy to take the offer." Was her reply as Rekkan seemed hesitant on the offer. It wasn't like the camp was a safe place to rest and she assumed this woman had some form of first aid in her home.
David
Rekkan turns his attention to the shifter for a moment. She is keen on checking the man's status and pick him up, accepting the woman's offer without hesitation. Thinking through it, it will be better just to nod at this and go with them. A warm bed will be better than the rough ground of the forest, that is for sure.

Still shaking a bit, the woman stands and guides them only a couple of blocks through the alleys until they arrive at a door. She opens it wide and holds the wooden door as Rekkan helps Marsila the best way he can, transferring some of that weight to him when they step inside. The man is led to the bedroom of the decrepit and old place, a typical slum shack in the middle of many more. Not a window in sight and without much to decorate it, but it is a roof over one's head. Rekkan prefers these to the extravagance of manors and palaces either way. He finds himself being laid on the bed next to the man after helping him lie down. Coincidentally, the woman has experience in stitching and cleaning wounds.

"I always wanted to be a doctor." She says. "A person that saves other people's lives. I've practiced on the kids and adults of this street. I'm sort of a healer." She explains. "You need not fear needles around me." She asks Marsila for assistance, guiding the shifter in each step of washing the wounds, asking her for bandages and other tools, as well as the concocted potions of her own design. On a shelf to the side of the bed are books of anatomy and even herbal lore. Quite the oddity to find in the slums, out of everywhere else. This woman is dedicated, and considering the most worn out pages are those with images, she cannot read.
Leon
Marsila followed every instruction the woman had given the shifter, careful to not cause any more damage to the soft tissue when she cleaned the wounds of the two men and made sure she had all the correct tools needed. Once the wounds had been cleaned, Marsila could tell the woman's main focus was on her husband who had multiple broken bones along while his face looked almost unrecognisable due to the swelling. She asked Marsila to help hold her husband down as she began to break the bones back to their original place, causing him to pass out once they reached the last bone. 

Now that the husband had been taken care of, the two of them began focusing on Rekkan once again. During the stitching of his wounds, the woman gave them her name, Priscilla. She was a kind hearted woman who truly enjoyed helping others and it saddened the shifter that she had to live in necessitous conditions. Once Rekkan's lacerations has been stitched together, Priscilla allowed the two to have space as she went back to caring for her husband but not before Marsila showed her gratitude for her kindness. 

Marsila found a seat beside Rekkan, finally taking the weight off her feet as she leaned back against the chair. Her attention turned to the large male and pressed her lips together whilst in thought. He was lucky most of the wounds hadn't cut any further than where they had been or else he may have bled out back in the warehouse. 

"How are you feeling?" Marsila asked whilst rolling her shoulders back as she arched her back until she heard a few pops. The shifter still felt sensitive in her shoulder but to her luck, the wound had almost healed and now looked like a mere scab.
David
There is not a moment where the noises that escape the man elevate beyond a muttered groan or a grunt. He's a tough guy after all, and he just can't have the women see him whining like a little bitch. All jokes aside, he is just a bit too used to this kind of treatment, having received rougher in the past. He does grit his teeth, grinding them even when the thread is sewing his chest wound, merging severed flesh together. It is a relief for him to have bumped into Priscilla and he does not let her go without proper thanks. "Thanks." It is uttered, almost forced, perhaps more due to the pain than it being hard to appreciate someone's time to take care of him. He still puts it on Marsila to have brought them here. As stubborn as he is, he would have walked away and took care of things himself. Granted, he acknowledges he wouldn't have done such a good job himself.

Now in the living room to leave Priscilla tending alone to her husband, Rekkan lays on the rugged couch as Marsila sits on a chair she places next to him. He keeps his body as still as he can. Deeper breaths are a pain, making him regulate breathing in his blank stare upward into the semi-broken ceiling. The bandages around his chest are wrapped neatly, with a balm having been rubber directly onto the stitched area. Priscilla claimed it would help with closing the wound faster, but they can stay as long as they like.

"How are you feeling?"

Rekkan turns his head a slight to have face craning to the side where Marsila is sitting on. His dark brown eyes study the shifter as she rolls her shoulders and forms an arc with her back. "You don't have to stick around." He says. "You've done more than enough, helping Priscilla with me. It won't be long until my bounty is out circulating around town and beyond. You, on the other hand, are free to do as you wish." It's not that the guy wants Marsila to leave. It has been a long time since he last met someone he could probably call a friend. But the circumstances don't favor them. Not only is he hunted, he's injured. All the more trouble for a girl like Marsila. And the fact he doesn't like to feel dependent of another. Just laying there is a bad joke.
Leon
"I've thought about that actually." She began, tilting her head slightly as she stared towards his injured figure. After she thought long and hard about their situation and what she planned to do next but she had one question on her mind that she couldn't figure out herself. 

"Why did you help me find my amulet? You even threw yourself in danger which resulted in all this.." She paused so she was able to wave her hand in front of her while also pointing it towards Rekkan's body. "You are injured and to make it worse, you will probably have a bounty on your head like you said." She took a deep breath and relaxed her body against the backrest. She raised her arm and placed it against the arm of the chair before she used her hand to support her head. She didn't understand this man at all. And now he was practically telling her that she should leave due to the possible bounty. 

Priscilla suddenly walked back towards the two of them with a set of clothes for Marsila. "I noticed you have only been wearing that coat. You're more than welcome to have these as a Thankyou for saving my husband. They would have murdered him if you haven't come to our rescue." As she said this, she looked towards Rekkan in admiration before handing Marsila the clothing. 

The shifter gave her a soft smile and watched her retreat back to her husband.
David
She thought about it. This is good. Maybe she is just waiting for the guy to feel better, to be sure he can take care of himself and be on her way. She is good willed. But she wants closure on his reasons. She asks Rekkan why he went out of his way to help her, to find the necklace that had been taken from her room. What kind of answer does she expect to hear? There's a whole load of bullshit that he could stick in her ears. She's a pretty lady he wanted to help, like some kind of washed up white knight. Or maybe he wanted the thrill of battle, to bleed and make others bleed, and found an excuse in helping her get to the black market. But none of that makes sense in his head, he'd just be lying. So, why did Rekkan help Marsila?

They are interrupted before the warrior can answer. Priscilla appears with a set of clothes. That's right, the shifter girl is still wearing the guy's red cloak. It still looks good on her. He gathers his opinion won't change. Rekkan can see the sparkle in Priscilla's eyes and smiles softly at her. That kind of gaze is rare for him to feel, it leaves him at a loss of words. He can only nod curtly at the lady before watching her walk off, back to her husband.

Alone with Marsila once again, he thinks for a moment before the words come up to the tip of his tongue. "Why shouldn't I? I saw the sorrow in your eyes. That amulet must be very special." He smirks softly. "A young soul like you shouldn't suffer like that. No soul should. Just like Priscilla shouldn't mourn for her dead husband. I don't want that." He sighs, taking his gaze away from Marsila and back into the ceiling.

The warrior brings his head above his head and peers onto the calluses on his skin, the scars that cover his palm and phalanxes of his fingers. This is the world that gods and kings forge with their ambitions. Slaves are born to never feel life, only to survive. Freemen live for their worldly desires, useless matter that the clergy and nobility sponsor to corral souls into their bidding. Gods mock mortals and mortals mock themselves.

Rekkan hates this world, the ignorance of the masses brought by the illusions of kings and religion. He despises law and unlaw that toy with the noble souls that are given a breath to live, but only suffer from the corruption of others, corrupting them. He doesn't want Marsila's soul to be twisted by such a depraved system. He doesn't want Priscilla to live hollow over losing her loved one. He could not care less would it be a battle he saw fair, a man fighting another in equal terms. Such is life. If he had to die then, so be it. But that was a group of monsters trampling the liberty of another. That was the system they live in, favoring the wicked at every turn with shallow promises of absolution after death.

There is no absolution. There is no light. Only torture and more torture. As long as one lives under the laws of gods and kings, or under the unlaw of the dark nature of humanity, one will never be free. One will never know what it is to truly live. Rekkan wants Marsila to live. He wants Priscilla and her husband to know happiness and sorrow together, to rise above survival of day after day of looking behind their shoulders.

He clenches his hand into a tight fist. It makes his arm ache. His eyes shimmer fiery red. He loosens the grip of his rugged digits on his own palm and chuckles softly. "Just a guy with years behind him not wanting people suffering for the years ahead of them. Something like that." Judging through his looks, under the scars and bruises, he wouldn't be much older than twenty, thirty tops. His soul weighs for longer, his body a vessel that hides other secrets, harder to perceive. Ultimately, is it what he wants or not that drives him? Is it selfishness?
Leon
She watched him carefully, studying the facial features he made as he thought about his reply to her. He took a long while so she could only assume he barely knew, himself. The anger he expressed was evident and grew to the shifter's curiosity. If only she could read minds rather than turn into a beast, it would have been a lot more useful. When he finally was ready enough to give her an answer, Marsila furrowed her brow, wondering why he wanted to play the Good Samaritan. 

When he continued, Marsila leaned her chest forward so she was no longer resting against the back of the chair and placed her arms lazily between her legs. The shifter felt safe where they were currently hiding, Priscilla didn't seem to care about how long they planned to stay. She was just thankful they were able to save her husband. It was a lot better than the camp Rekkan had set up, she had the gut feeling it wouldn't be a safe place to rest, hence why she took the woman's offer instantly compared to the male she was with. But it didn't mean she trusted her. 

Even though she was conversing with Rekkan, Marsila kept her senses on high alert so she would know if Priscilla left or not. If she was to leave her home, Marsila would recommend to Rekkan that they left immediately. If she had overheard them talking about a possible bounty, any poverty stricken person would rush to have it collected. 

"You can't always help someone in need, especially when you don't know the outcome of doing so. Not that I'm thankful for it." A small sigh left her lips as she raised her hand and placed it gently on one of his shoulders. It was more to show her gratitude before she continued to speak. "But I can't help to feel that I owe you my life." 

With that, she realised that she had finally made her decision. "My departure is up to you. I don't care that I would be putting myself in harms way like I had done to you. Just know that it wouldn't exactly be easy to leave, especially with the state you're in."
David
One could say that it's not that Rekkan doesn't know himself, but he procures the right words to express the right feelings. After all, all he said was about what he wanted or did not want, not doing things out of being a good guy. He doesn't believe to be good or evil, clean or dirty. Rather, he believes in just being himself. What if he was in a very bad mood the day before, back at the tavern? Nothing would have existed, he wouldn't have gone there, nor have met Marsila. But does the girl need to know that? And does he really know about that?

Now the shifter speaks to him of owing her life, of having a debt that she can't repay just like that. She puts her own decision in his hands, being honest as to how easy it won't be if he chooses to tell her to leave. That's not his choice to make. He does not want to control her fate like that. "I made my decisions out of my own accord. I knew what I was getting into, all the possible consequences and some more." He states sharp and cold. "Do not think you owe me your life. That's how tributes are created and slavery maintained. You are your own woman. Growing strong and true. You make your own decision. If you'd like to stay with me, even if just for now... I will appreciate it. But if you need to go and live your life, then I won't blame you. We each have our lot in this world." He chuckles. "Just don't go around thinking it's the same lot others want to put you in."
Joseph
She'd retired early, unable to keep her eyes awake any longer. Angelica told Anya goodnight, and left the parlor to head to her own chambers. The confirmation from Mara had been unsettling, and she hadn't been able to focus on anything else for the remainder of the night. It left her foggy, and she just wanted to sleep heavily until morning. 

Those hopes were disrupted when the door to her quarters opened in the middle of the night. Immediately her eyes shot open, looking to the doorway to see who had barged in without knocking or announcing themselves. The sound of the footfalls was familiar, and the sound of someone stripping out of heavy clothes pointed towards Stafford. When he got close, she recognized the scent of him after a long ride, and he slipped beneath her sheets without hesitation. She hadn't moved to indicate she was awake, and his arms wrapped around her waist as he pressed his cold nose into her shoulder. 

"We need to talk, Stafford."
Edward
Eric had barely passed into a sleep when her heard Angelica's voice. His heart then pounded at the concern in her, voice. Was she going to end it? Instantly, every point of anxiety drove up in him. Terror stalked him in the few seconds it took for him to answer. 

"What is it? Is something wrong?" He asked, stirring a little, taking his hands off of her in the event that she was ending their relationship tonight.
Joseph
He stirred, and she could practically feel his heart beat increase as he pulled his hand away. Knowing him, his mind was probably already racing with possibilities. Angelica shifted as well, and moved to sit up a bit. In the darkness of the room, she could barely see him, and she wished there was an oil lamp lit on the nightstand or that she'd had the sense of mind to leave the curtains parted. But she hadn't expected him to arrive tonight, and she supposed the dark played in their favor to not have to see his reaction. 

"It's fine, don't panic." She started, and let out a long breath. "I'm pregnant."