Damanius couldn’t think.
The jolt of the horse kept breaking through his mind, his entire body twitching as the thud of horseshoes on the cobble broke any thought had tried to hold. His mind was no better than a sieve at the moment, flashing between the face of the guard, the downed man he had struck, and the sensations of the horse beneath him. His body was locked rigid against Horatia, letting her lead them through the town. Muck and stone pelted his body and dress, the blanket beneath him heated with the constant sway of muscle beneath him. Each shout from the drunkards and stragglers was just another alarm in his ears, trying to listen for the rush of guards or horses. It was a complete jumbled mess to his senses, so all he did was bury his face into the woman's back, trying to catch his breath against everything in the world.
There was a brief moment when the horse beneath him slowed, forcing him to look about in panic, having been dead to the world during their frantic dash through the city. They had come to the countryside, the sounds of the city far off, and the world at odds with his mind. Horatia spoke to him, letting them know of the long ride ahead and that she would be safe. Damanius tried to relay understanding, but the brief respite of the hard ride only let his mind focus for a few minutes, not sure just what his eyes relayed before they were off again. Dwelling some on her words though, he felt himself reflexively tighten his grip against Horatia as they took off again, the heat from below growing intensely as the sleeping world blurred around him.
Damanius tried to block the rest of the world, tense muscles starting to shake from his grip upon his rider as the horse moved beneath him, the thud of Capiluts hooves lessened just a small amount due to the change of the ground. He wanted to be thankful for it, but even then he could feel sweat beading his body, and the jumped fence forced a grunt of pain from him. So lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t even register when they slowed, the world turning lighter as Horatia finally spoke again. They were stopped in front of a rather humble building, nestled into the surrounding woods as the man waited patiently. It took a few moments for Damanius to realize what he was waiting for, and even further for his body to unwind enough to hand over the tube that contained his bow and arrow, feeling both numb to the world, yet acutely aware of every sore and stiff joint in his body.
When the second man came to lead them to possible food, Damanius was more than pleased to be off the beast, dropping from his hind quarters with the grace of a newborn duck. Another groan of displeasure escaped him as the monk helped him to his feet, Horatia urging him to follow with the promise of food and clothing. Damanius nodded numbly as he allowed the monk to lead the way, his pace generously slow for him to hobble along with as much dignity as he could muster.
“Kind sir.. Do you have a place I can freshen up and relieve myself?” Diana asked as other demands suddenly made their needs known. She was given a curt nod in before the man beckoned her to follow through the slowly lit hallways, her feet echoing loudly through the cobbled halls. He led her to a small room, a large basin sitting with water being fed from the local tributary and a stove sitting beneath it, the fire banked with low coals. Thanking the man profusely and accepting the offering of clothes, Diana closed the door, letting a long held sigh pass through, dragging every sore muscle and locked joint back to the forefront, slumping against the door as her mind was finally able to lock back into some sort of stable though, taking stock of everything her body was screaming at her.
She moved gingerly, tossing some of the stocked wood carefully into the embers, watching the kindling take hold and spread slowly. She moved then to start pulling the clothing from her body, having to struggle through shaking limbs as the layers fell from him, slowly leaving him standing in nothing by his underthings and banded material against his body. He looked to his legs, grimacing at the angry red strips along his legs, some of the skin having blistered from just how tight he had been holding onto Capilut the entire time. He groaned as he ran his fingers against them, finding a mixture of sweat and ammonia, and thankfully no blood despite the wounds. He checked the bandings against his privates, grimacing at the darkened material that took up a small section of them.
“Cursed body, I am not a wee infant. I have shamed … shamed myself.” He grumbled to himself, not able to find the energy to berate himself as he carefully dipped down into the heating water, shivering as the still cold water touched his sweat drenched body. He couldn’t even hate himself as he allowed himself to sit for just the moment, letting the steady rising heat work through him. Despite the relief he could feel, the pain and images stuck in his head didn’t let him rest like he wished. Even with the long hours and exhaustion dragging at him physically, he couldn’t let himself drift off. The captains face still played in those few seconds, shock in the dead mans eyes turning to realization and shock as death took him. He could recall everything from his face, the short cropped brown hair that framed him, to the wellkept beard that covered his chin. The deep blue eyes that were wide with anguish, his gurgled voice echoing around the bubbling-
The knock at the door forced a shout of surprise from him, quickly turning to stare at the wooden frame, every nerve alight waiting to see who would enter. Another three knocked sounded through before he could hear the whisper of leather as the intruder left. Finding himself panting a bit, he had forgotten how long he had been resting in the water and slowly got out, having to fight the urge to pace as he banked the fire and moved to the door. The monks had respected his wishes, leaving fresh cloth bandages and extremely modest clothing, something he had seen peasant children wear very long ago.
It took longer for Diana to emerge back into the main hall, the scent of food calling her. Her hair, freed from its braid, fell in waves around him, framing his face and offset by the brown robes. She walked gingerly, feeling the rough cotton against her bruises and worn skin jarred by each rough movement. It was unsettling as she looked up to see Horatia having entered as well, the quiet serenity offset with the tumult thoughts still burning through her mind, flickering back constantly to the dead captain as she moved to the food, her stomach giving a roll of queasiness at the rich broth and cheese wedges awaited them. She waited for the moment, expecting something from the woman, or at least some noise to break the quiet tension that was growing in her mind, burning through her thoughts as she finally took a bench, looking uneasily at the food. The silence was irritating her, even further as her body protested the hard wood beneath her. It was almost suffocating, so detached from the panicked flight from just mere moments before. She looked towards Horatia, noting the almost relaxed and happy visage of her body, eying the food laid before them. Something itched at the back of her mind, and before she could compose herself, her mouth spoke first, jumping from her spot, the wooden bench dropping with a loud bang from the sudden action.
“We should be dead. Every action we took tonight failed miserably, and cost an innocent man his life! How can you stand there, looking as though you’ve more care for the simple cheeses than the dead man we’ve left behind?”
“How is it then that we managed to succeed then?! How in the gods grace are we standing here, peaceful and free as though that frantic dash for our lives did not just occur mere moments before!”
“Why aren’t you saying anything?! I fucked us over! I killed that man for my own selfish wants in the moment and struck down your friend, and yet you still, you still brought me here, protected me. I killed that man!” Diana stared at Horatia, huffing some as he realized he had given the woman no chance to really speak to her defense. Before she ever allowed the woman to speak, she sunk back to the ground, feeling all her tension bleed from her, leaving her hollowed like a bowl.
“I fucked up… and killed that innocent man. I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I screamed at you. We should not have managed to get free.” Diana spoke with a hollow voice, unable to muster much more than exhaustion as the shock of the night finally left her, replaced by pure exhaustion behind her. She was angry with herself, her mind having not come to terms with her newfound freedom having cost another life, one she had taken by her own hands.
Suddenly sleep sounded exceptional to her.
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