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The Assassin (HeartOfTheDarkness & Mad Hatter)

HeartOfTheDarkness

HeartOfTheDarkness

Promise Nothing, Deliver Less
Joined
Jun 8, 2012
Stumbling in the forest during a rainy night, Trevor felt his end approaching him. Blood was flowing from the stab wound in his chest, and his vision was getting blurry. His life slowly began to flash before him as he fell to his knees on the muddy ground.

For as long as he could remember, he had been taught to kill without emotion. He went through years of tough training to become the deadly assassin he was today. Behind the scenes, he prevented so many horrible events just by taking a few lives, or so he thought. The night before, his master, the man who taught him everything he knew, overthrew the head of operations and claimed that every life taken was for him to take over countries with ease. And with that, those who did not follow him were slaughtered. Trevor managed to get away, but was seriously injured. Now, he awaited death to end it all.

In his final moments, he began to wonder about all of the people he killed in his life. Were they all killed to fuel his master's goals? Were their deaths really for the greater good? Trevor finally collapsed on the ground, in a pool of his own blood. His vision finally went black, he was finally dead. Or so he thought. While he was out, he began to hear faint noises, of a woman, possible mumbling and grunting. He assumed that it was just whatever afterlife he was sent to as he remained motionless.
 
"Goat cheese, eggs, milk. Goat cheese, eggs, milk." Annaleia muttered to herself, eyes on the muddy ground. She was running low of the three items and she was almost certain a storm was settling in. Either a storm or a night with heavy raining.

A gasp escaped the faint pink lips, which were turning purple and quivering due to the cold nature of the night, and she took a few steps back. "Is that a..?" She muttered to herself, confusion in her soft blue eyes, damp black hair surrounding her like a thick veil.

Annaleia dropped to her knees, her middle and index finger pressed lightly against his neck, ear hoovering his nose. "Good god, he's alive." She muttered, eyes swooping over him. "How?" She asked herself, grabbing onto his arm and struggled to pick him up, failing numerous of times and sped-walked to her home a good distance away, having to set his massive body down numerous of times.

Annaleia was more of the house-wife type built, not really strong enough to carry a man of his weight, but she couldn't just leave him there. She couldn't just let him lay there, rotting and decaying when there was the slimmest of a possibility he might live. It went against everything her parents had taught her. Everything she'd learned, practically programmed into her head to be selfless, to a point she didn't have to think about the possibility that he would slaughter her in the morning. Her natural morals like that were clouded by her 'programming'.

Finally, the frail woman had reached her home, and took him straight into the bathroom, stripping him of what covered his skin. Any decent medic would know that to properly treat a wound, you had to be able to properly evaluate the wound. Mud does not help you properly evaluate and treat a wound. She set the man in the warm bath tub, propping his head up and scrubbed the mud and blood from his skin, the water now a murky brown.

When all was done, she took his out of the bath tub, dried him off and drag-carried him to her room, laying him on the center of the bed, pulling the covers over him. She soaked his clothes and set them on a towel on the ground by his bed, watching him until she finally drifted asleep, leaning against the bed, on her knees.
 
For a while, Trevor felt like he was in some sort of limbo. He could hear the screams of the people he killed, but at the same time, he could hear someone mumbling and grumbling as if they were right next to him. He couldn't tell if he was alive or dead, if this was life or hell.

When he finally woke up, he woke up to the sight of a woman sleeping beside the bed he was on. He quickly raised from the bed in shock, only to grab at his wound in pain from moving too fast. As he tried to settle down from the pain, he looked around the room to see where he was.

It seemed to be a nice cozy house, nothing too special. He figured that the woman resting beside his bed was the person that saved him. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't find the woman to be attractive, but this was probably the first woman he had really seen, other than his targets or instructors from when he was little, but they were much older. He reached over to brush his finger against her soft cheek, and flinched when she moved a bit.

Finally, he looked around again to notice that all of his belongings were missing. She must've taken them off to clean his wound, but he didn't know where she could've put them. He decided to grab the woman's shoulder and gently shake her. "Hello? Where am I?" He wanted to make sure this woman meant no harm to him.
 
Annaleia jumped back in alarm, but instead of sitting upright, she was leaning back, slightly away from him. It had been much time since she had had a man in her bed - the last and only being her late husband as far as this house was concerned, and that was a good two years back. She relaxed at his voice rapidly, readjusting herself in a more comfortable position.

"Well," She said calmly, her light blue eyes still wide in shock. "Your at my home," She said, looking around as if to confirm it to herself, then looked back at him. "And I'm Annaleia. As far as my last name, well that isn't so much of a concern as of the current." She said politely.

"Your clothes on the other hand," She said, fluttering her hand down towards where they laid beside her. "...Well, I must say, unique clothing for the common-goer." She said, raising an eyebrow. She stood her full height, turn sharply on her heels and headed for the door, but looked back.

"See to it you'll dress yourself into the given attire," She said softly, closing the door behind her and walking into the kitchen, deciding that if he passed out in the mud, he may have gotten drunk, and into a fight, so he'd need a meal to sober him up as well as regain strength.

She pulled out a fine piece of meat, tossing it into a skillet and turned the stove on, fluttering about the kitchen to fix him - as well as herself - a fine meal.
 
Trevor watched as Annaleia left the room, allowing him to get dressed. As he moved, he felt the pain of his injury. It was going to be quite some time before he'll be able to move at full potential, but he knew he had to get out soon.

It took him some time to get dressed, since it hurt to do any sort of movement. He noticed that his clothes were cleaned, and that some parts of the clothes weren't his. He simply assumed that the missing clothes were too torn up to save, so she gave him new clothes to go with his large coat.

Once dressed, he checked to make sure that everything was where it belonged. His pockets were empty, but the woman didn't act like she knew he had weapons on him. Then he remembered dropping some of his things to both lighten the load and to throw off his pursuers. He assumed that he dropped everything in his weak state of mind.

He stepped out of the room and slowly walked to the kitchen to join Annaleia. "Thank you, and I'm sorry for the inconvenience." He said, not sure how to repay the woman who saved him.
 
Annaleia snorted in laughter at what he said, fixing him a well-proportioned plate and set it on the table for him, fixing herself a more dainty meal.

"Inconvenience?" She said rhetorically. "This house hasn't seen to much activity for the last two years." She added, finally looking up at him. "May as well eat - your bound to be hungry." She said, then thought about it. Depending on blood loss, he might have enough energy to eat, so he might resort to another power-nap to recuperate.

Annaleia gave him a tiny, hopeful smile. Not hopeful for herself, but for him. "Though, I have failed to recollect your name..?" She asked, raising an eyebrow as she fluttered around the kitchen, putting things away before finally sitting down herself, hungry from hauling him around.
 
Trevor began digging into his food when she gave it to him. He was much hungrier than he remembered. And it was a very delicious meal. He ate it as if it were his final meal, enjoying every bit of it.

He paused for a moment when she asked for his name. "It's Trevor." He said a little quietly. He wasn't really sure what more to say to the woman. Sure her looks were intimidating to him, but it was mainly because he had never really had a conversation with someone before. All he ever really said to people were reports and 'yes sir' or 'no sir'.
 
"Trevor," Annaleia murmured, as if to roll it around on her tongue before pushing a piece of her jet back hair behind her ear. "The politest thing to say as of current-" For some quirky reason, Annaleia didn't say 'as of currently', she said 'as of current'- " would be 'nice to meet you, Trevor' but it seems a bit late for that." She laughed a little to herself, getting up when her plate was empty and washed it, before leaning against the counter, staring at him, thinking.

She was trying to figure out of he had a concussion without physically touching him. If the tables were turned, she was absolutely certain that she wouldn't want - or likely allow - a stranger feeling her head.

"You don't mind if I ask you a few questions, do you?" She asked politely after a moment of silence. She was not educated in the medical field of work, so she was honestly poking around for a decent way to figure out how to see if he had a concussion without touching him.

She pushed herself off the counter, returning to the opposite side of the table, head cocked barely to the side as she gazed curiously at him. Her gaze was not intense as if she was angered, or fitful if she was scared of him, but did lean to the lighter side, not willing to intimidate him, or have him snap at her.
 
Trevor continued eating as Annaleia continued to gaze at him. He wasn't sure whether to be suspicious or annoyed. Having her stare at him like that was a little bit uncomfortable for him. He was grateful to her though, she did save his life and gave him food, so he tried not to let it bother him too much.

When she asked him to answer some questions he stopped and looked at her. "Depends on what you ask me. I might not be able to provide an answer to all of them." He had a story in mind for how he got into this condition, but he wouldn't want to answer to her if she pried him too much for information.

After finishing off his plate of food, he leaned back and looked at her, awaiting her questioning.
 
Annaleia nodded. She understood that he may have had parts of his life he wanted to keep in the dark or it was simply to painful or secretive to tell. She had the same.

"Do you remember where you passed out - geography wise. I'm not asking for a specific tree or lake or anything." She laughed a little awkwardly, trying to make this as comfortable for him as for her. She knew the bare-scrapping little about him so she couldn't really dig deep, considering it was a medical test rather than a personal interrogation.

She stood, taking his plate when he leaned back, finished. It was a move her late husband would occasionally pull, so she reacted instinctively by finished a light cleaning of the kitchen, thinking lightly of him.
 
Trevor stopped for a moment to think. Just where did he pass out. His memory was extremely hazy at the time, he probably didn't really know where he was to begin with. "I'm sorry, I don't think I do remember. At the time, I was just trying to find safety, but after loosing so much blood, I couldn't think straight." He said, trying to make it so that it was an accident that he found her. The last think he wanted her to think was that he was somehow after her for whatever reason.

When she took the plate and began cleaning, he stood up and helped her gather things. "I can help, it's the least I could do." But when he began moving too much, he grabbed at his chest in pain.
 
Annaleia nodded. There was in fact a chance he had a concussion. "I've been cleaning this house by myself for as long as I've had it. Sit or relax. You'd be foolish to oppose that what I say is not in your best interest." She said calmly, though authority rang through her voice.

She didn't know who she was dealing with, but had she said it softly, he wouldn't have taken her seriously, and had be not, he could seriously damage himself. Permanently.

"Though, I do appreciate your offer." She added quickly, pushing her long black hair behind her ear, sweeping it too the side as she sung softly under her breath. It was an old habit that hadn't died hard and she hadn't even realized that she was until it rung in her head, automatically shutting her up.
 
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