Devil By Daylight [Vinaein/Mim]

[Vinaein]

The frown on Isla's face hurt the worst of all. Upon her features was writ an expression of disapproval, like he had trespassed into her domain without invitation, that he was unwelcome. that she might have lied to him. He took deep breaths, feeling the grip of iron hands against him, his eyes set upon Isla Catanach with memory of how she looked back at him. With memory of how she reacted when his hands and lips were on her....

The ecstasy she'd displayed with the primordial being of the forest, his breath quickening despite himself as he looked at her without fear or hesitation. If she'd kill him, then let that be the end of it. Let her make an end of it, quick and clean. How long, he wanted to know...

But when he searched within, he was devoid of hatred or rage or betrayal. He was devoid of any negative emotion save only puzzlement and a trace of pain to go with it. There was curiosity, more than fury. Desire to know, to understand her just a bit more now. Desires to witness and to hear what she knew...

And he heard it. He looked at her without shame at her nakedness, having seen her in that exposure before. His eyes stared at her own, not caring at the mention of the Pope (was there a worse hypocrite and pretender in all the world?) But then Isla was telling him more than he had expected....from all of it, from the 'old ways.'

"....Might you tell them to unhand me?" He asked after a moment before he ran his tongue against dry lips, judging what she had said an d knowing the truth of it.

"...I'd not kill you, Isla..." He hesitated a moment. "...You'd not be the first practitioner of the old ways I have encountered. Nor would you be the first I had left in peace."

 

[Madam Mim]

When Justin requested that the Feegles unhand him she looked to the little blue men then tilted her chin up at them. "Go on," she said. "Thanks for lookin' out for me, it willnae go unrewarded. Blessed be, Stonehill Clan."

"Aye, same ta ye Mistress," said Awfully Wee Mad Spike. "C'mon lads. Night's gettin' oan." Quick as a blink, they were gone again.

"I'd not kill you, Isla," Justin said, and she snorted.

"Couldn't if you tried." She rose to her feet and stretched, rolling her neck and pulling back her shoulders. "You're on my land, in my woods, on my mountain, in the middle of the night on a Sabbath." Isla considered him for a moment and smirked. "Actually, never mind. I'd like to see you try, really. It'd be hilarious" She snickered and offered her hand to help pull him up onto his feet with surprising strength.

"You'd not be the first practitioner of the old ways I have encountered," Justin said. "Nor would you be the first I had left in peace."

Isla snorted again as she bent to retrieve her shift and pulled it on over her head. The fire was dying and she was beginning to feel the chill. "You're a witch hunter, Justin. Forgive me if I don't believe you."

She was quiet on the way back to the cottage. Justin claimed he had spared witches before, and in all fairness to him he didn't seem like a normal witch killer. But in the end, that was what he was: a killer. The moon, barely there to begin with, was beginning to set by the time they hopped over the little stream and crossed into the yard. A shadow moved in the blackness, and Kellas left his spot from the shadows of the hawthorn tree and joined his mistress. Kellas didn't go into the woods on Sabbaths; the denizens of the forest didn't bother him, but he generally didn't trust anyone whose eyes he couldn't easily claw out and he frankly didn't like his chances against a god most days. With a little trill he rubbed against her calf and glanced up at Justin. Isla shook her head, but didn't say anything. Instead she led the way into the house and put the kettle on, busying herself with tea for a few long moments while Kellas jumped onto the table and watched Justin carefully.

"So then," she said at last, setting a mug in front of him, "what're we gonnae do about this?"

 

[Vinaein]

Justin was still pushing against the steel grip of the strange creatures that held him ever so tightly. Their blue skin, their bizarre eyes, their adherence to Isla's words. He did not particularly like feeling helpless and yet he knew his life hung by a thread, with Isla holding the shears. He lived and died by her word. Or rather, her whim. It was a grim feeling, not at all one he relisshed at the moment. Her thick Scottish accent bled into her words while she gave the blue men their orders.

And then they were gone, leaving Justin to sink to the ground. His breath rasped firmly out of his lungs, his hands brushing against his wrists where he had been held, a soft grunt escaping him as he stared up at Isla, in all her bared glory before the night. Her freckled, intense visage as he gave his own reassurances he would not harm her. Not now anyways.

And, as she said, he couldn't. He knew he could not hurt her. Not here, in her place of power, not when he was unprepared. "I am still making a gesture of goodwill," he mumbled as he stood. "....And I am well aware of the purpose of the Sabbath." He accepted her hand to rise up.

"I am a witch hunter, Isla. But I am no mere fanatic, murdering any woman who so much as gathers herbs. The Catholic church for years taught witches did not exist and ordered more women released. I have done similar in my time." He said as they began to walk, his eyes still shadowed.

She WAS a witch, though. That much was obvious. He was still bothered by the memory of her astride the being with horns, riding in such ecstasy. Bothered and...

Other things. Other things he did not want to particularly consider at the moment. He barely noticed Kellas's present, the vast feline brushing to Isla while Justin stalked into the house, simply waiting. He did not play with Kellas, despite the cat's attention.

"I should ask how long you have been a practitioner. But the answer is oviously quite a while. Doubtless your late husband was involved as well, no? Worshipers of the land, and the old beings. You were kind enough not to murder me. And we are no longer in the woods on the Sabbath, but I do not relish offending your god of stags tonight..." He picked up his mug and sipped the tea

"....My duty would demand I see you tried for it. But it'd not be the first time I've neglected that." He shut his eyes, in a sudden and clear anguish for a moment, face twisting before he managed to return to a point of neutrality.

"...I've known witches well, Isla. all my life. I know full well many are not monsters. My mission has only been to find those who are."