cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war

Ezekiel de le Poer · 04-26-2012, 07:45 AM

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(300) Can start wrapping up? :O

The heat of her body was a vague thing to him. After combat everything seemed distant, even when it was right against him. Even the curve of her shape afforded no comfort. One hand took the rosary and the cross and held it so tightly that it dug into the leathery palm of his hand. He let his hand remain atop her own, using it to keep the girl steady. “Don’t talk,” he grunted, and muttered to Viggo as Alma situated herself to mount. With both women aboard, he turned the big stallion and began moving towards the mansion.

“You both did well,” he said, and felt a surge of hot pain rush through his shoulder. Though his body tensed he gave no further sign of discomfort. Viggo noticed, however, and hurried his walk as best he could without jarring the riders. It was a short, bearable thing—the noise of combat had lessened around them, though Ezekiel was certain they had not been alone in facing this.

Enkiel was on the grounds with Rémy at his side. The Cajun was armed with a staff and his red eyes looked hellish. Someone had thought to defend the building, Ezekiel thought crazily, and was glad for it. He slowed the horse before the guest house and dismounted, hitting the ground hard and releasing a hiss of air. While it was subtle, he did not miss the sharp look given to him by the jackal.

“All of you get inside,” Enkiel ordered. “Emmanuelle, when you are capable, I will need your assistance.” She had shown promise as a healer, and he did not want to be the singular one working with so many to tend to. Ezekiel grunted and made a hand gesture to Viggo, who whinnied loudly and shook his head.

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