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took the other, as just as fair
[ Everything in the little house smells too clean. It's all too nice, nothing tattered and rotting, no holes in the walls — all the windows have their panes. The small table in the kitchen has all four legs and the sheets on the bed aren't moldering. There's no draft coming through the door and the floorboards beneath Xing's feet won't creak if he starts walking carelessly enough to make a sound.
The scent of blood that he's lived with his entire life is entirely absent.
The little house they've been left in is the nicest place they've ever stayed — far nicer than the dark room his father had locked him in, than the cell he'd dragged Nehan out of, than the holes they've been squatting in as they make their way across the skydom with nothing but Nehan's half-learned poisons and the death Xing deals out so easily. No one wants to hire two orphans for anything but the worst ends; Xing's hands have been dripping red.
For the first time in months, Xing's hands are clean. They're both warm and there's food waiting in the cupboards, with the man — Siete's — promise to bring them more when they want it. It's all far, far too easy.
Xing leaves his post by the window where he's been watching Siete's departing back and pads across the floor to where Nehan's waiting on the bed. He waits, ears pricked, breathing through another minute of silence, before he slides the dagger in his hand back into its hidden sheath and crawls onto the mattress next to Nehan. ]
...do you think he's lying?
[ About all of it: that they're safe, that no one will try to use them again, that they can trust these so-called Eternals. That they'll be part of them, Six and Eleven. ]
The scent of blood that he's lived with his entire life is entirely absent.
The little house they've been left in is the nicest place they've ever stayed — far nicer than the dark room his father had locked him in, than the cell he'd dragged Nehan out of, than the holes they've been squatting in as they make their way across the skydom with nothing but Nehan's half-learned poisons and the death Xing deals out so easily. No one wants to hire two orphans for anything but the worst ends; Xing's hands have been dripping red.
For the first time in months, Xing's hands are clean. They're both warm and there's food waiting in the cupboards, with the man — Siete's — promise to bring them more when they want it. It's all far, far too easy.
Xing leaves his post by the window where he's been watching Siete's departing back and pads across the floor to where Nehan's waiting on the bed. He waits, ears pricked, breathing through another minute of silence, before he slides the dagger in his hand back into its hidden sheath and crawls onto the mattress next to Nehan. ]
...do you think he's lying?
[ About all of it: that they're safe, that no one will try to use them again, that they can trust these so-called Eternals. That they'll be part of them, Six and Eleven. ]