No one was born brave. Courage, much like walking, had to be learned, earned only after the fall and the knowledge of pain, as well as the desire of the prize behind the act. Not a being was born brave, no matter what poets and feeble-minded folk attempted to tell him. How could one learn lessons without a trial after all? The instinct was always there, that fight-or-flight mechanism solely based on survival. Some chose the hard-beaten path, roaring into the melee with drawn weapons, prepared for irrefutable consequence. Others chose to sit back and wait as their fates came to them. He knew, that even while she ran from him, that she was the bravest person he had met; but also the most broken.<br/><br/>Xavierâ€™s intellectualization plagued him in the midnight hours as he dwelled upon the memory of the woman who had tricked him; who had poisoned him, and stolen from him. While the day to day surface thoughts were more concerning his role in the grand scheme of things rather than the formerly contracted thief, she had a way of hooking into his subconscious and cloaking herself there waiting for the first hours of twilight to strike. Yes, he had thought of her often. He had recalled the events and studied every little reaction and had begun to put the pieces together of his little Fox.<br/><br/>What had him thinking of her this night was indeterminate. His inkling was stronger than usual; which signaled the possibility of encountering her in the near future. He always had that sixth sense about him in addition to his skills as a healer. While he could heal her physical wounds or take away her scars, he could not mend the fragments of the soul. He could see how it had already been broken and rebound in an alien and disgruntled shape. It made her structure strong, her will and resilience undeniable. It did, however, have its consequences. The apprehension within his soul on the prospect of seeing her again built rapidly; a blended mix of anticipation and curiosity. He would be damned if she ever knew how often he had tried to peel back the layers of her character to get to the heart of her suffering. It was unsettling. He had never found a puzzle that he couldnâ€™t solve, until she had found her way into a contract.<br/><br/>Either way, when their paths would cross again he would be prepared. His eyes drifted from his notebook over towards the corner. He smirked. This time he would bring rope.<br/><br/>~<br/><br/>She didnâ€™t know how much time had passed. Torture can make minutes seem like hours. She could only hope that the outsiders were safe by now. Now, she was alone without Armada or Jade or any other soul about her. She listened to her own, labored breathing from too much pressure being put upon her chest from the bindings. It was peaceful, serene. Her soul itself was not at peace.<span style="font-style: italic">I feel the coming of a blade to my neck,</span>she thought to herself.<span style="font-style: italic">My cunning is nearing itâ€™s end.</span>She came to terms with the grim fact that she would likely not make it out alive. She would die unbeknownst to the outsiders, but recognition mattered little to her. It was the choice she had made that she had second thoughts about.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">She had done it to save you all</span>, she could hear Xavierâ€™s voice saying, lying to them. He would lie because he understood her, or the most anyone could.<span style="font-style: italic">Yeah, sureâ€¦I did it all to save your hides in sacrifice of myself. Iâ€™m not that noble. The reason is duel, you shouldnâ€™t lie. I know I shouldnâ€™t lie but because I am a thief, I must lie because itâ€™s a necessary trait for a thiefâ€™s survival. Were you unaware? What other choice did I have but to take the route that I did? Is it better to be tortured and beaten and maybe save a few petty souls than to come face to face with you again and with no shadows to hide in? Yes. It is. </span><br/><br/>She let her head hang gently as she tried to conserve what strength she had. She was already suffering slight dizziness from blood loss, and her muscles screamed in the dull agony. She could feel her weapons, Armada more strongly. While they were not present, she knew they had not spoken. She knew that they had been defiant. She could feel Armada was enraged, most likely due to the fact that a glaive without its wielder could do very little, unlike in his former life. Armada needed her. She closed her eyes and tried to listen for him calling out for her; but she could not hear him. She just hear the dull growl of an unhappy dragon and the silence of the princess.<br/><br/>Neither of them would stay by her side, she had thought to herself. If Armada should ever be free of his prison, he would not need her. And Xavier she had been avoiding at all costs to squelch the need to even think about anything having to do with him; to avoid hearing any words that she couldnâ€™t mentally accept. These costs included getting herself captured and tortured in this dungeon, and she thought she got the better end of the bargain in that regard. No, she would not run from a horde of Tyrneâ€™s finest warriors, rogues, bounty hunters, and marksmen, but she would run faster than the northern wind to avoid her own feelings and introspection.<span style="font-style: italic">Iâ€™m thinking too muchâ€¦</span>she searched for something to drown her thoughts in.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Donâ€™t be ashamed of the events which have come to pass in your life. For most, you were not responsible, sia kaldra.</span>She heard the rough voice in her mind of the ever wise but irritated dragon. She almost cried in thanks for the connection.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Iâ€™m not ashamed,</span>she thought to herself quietly, knowing he would hear, at least for a short time.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">You are a terrible liar, sia kaldra.</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Well there is no time for me to be changing professions now. </span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">While your dark humor is one point I enjoy of your personality, si-a kal-dra,</span>he drew out the phrase to make his point clear. He always had this way of speaking she couldnâ€™t quite describe in words. It penetrated through her soul.<span style="font-style: italic">You cannot keep running from who you are. Donâ€™t run from what you have done, nor what you have become. These are human reactions. Rise above that level and revel in your experiences. For every one that has hurt you have gotten your revenge, and for those to come as well. Their time will come. Revel in that brutality. Ferocity, cunning, tenacityâ€¦celebrate the monster that you are, and you will find the acceptance you so much desire. You already have mine, mia Plisoiv, and it is not because of your strong grip</span>. Armada chuckles.<br/><br/>Those words struck her. How she despised the fact he could get underneath her skin so easily. It took a moment for her to reply.<span style="font-style: italic">I get along just fine as I am, Armada</span>.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I see. Well, you may, sia kaldra, want to take into consideration that there are others that have a sense of the future, and the differing paths that you may take. Believe me when I say that I have a vested interest in your future.</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Coming from a blade that no one else can wield, why am I not surprised?</span>she sighed softly.<span style="font-style: italic">If your plisoiv is dead things are going to be very, very boring for you.</span><br/><br/>He chuckles again.<span style="font-style: italic">That is not the only reasoning behind it. You should know after travelling with a dragon for so long, that we are not, or were not, such simple minded beings.</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Then what is your reasoning, Armada?</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">In time, you will see what will come to past. In the meantime, I will mark your Huntsmaster for you, mia plisoiv.</span><br/><br/>Armada slips from Lezarrâ€™s hand and clatters to the ground in symphony with a drop of blood.