Deep Pond's Monster

Driving down the 287 between Eads and Wiley one could find Deep Pond nestled away. It was about ten minutes from the Neegronda Reservoir and was a common pitstop for people traveling between the two towns or on the way Denver. The small sign outside the town simply read “Come and sit for a spell.” though it was rare that anyone rightly did so. It wasn’t a town where anything happened. It had all the essentials and even a small school district. The factory and mine that had employed a good chunk of the town back in the day both had closed down leaving the small local businesses to be the only source of revenue. Some people from the nearby towns came by to see the pond where you could catch smallmouth bass and wipers. The pond itself wasn’t actually a pond, but a lake, though everyone just called it the pond.

It was a quiet town, a population of roughly of three hundred or so, and those three hundred or so (with the exception of many of the youth) enjoyed that quiet. It was a town to retire to, especially if you were trying to get away from the city. The town did whisper though, its main export was urban legends. Strange tales that they told one another to pass the time and to keep the kids strait laced. It didn’t work, at least in regard to keeping the kids strait laced, but it was entertainment all the same.

In the recent days, however, the Urban Legends seem to be more than just that. It started with the young McGlick boy, saying saw someone standing at the edge of the woods. A slender figure, short, but ragged. They were wearing a mask that covered their face but he was sure he saw a knife. The adults played it off as an overactive imagination or an older kid playing a prank. Then older Jones’s girl said she also saw someone like that, they were standing outside their house one late night. The Jones’s girl was always a clever one, the elderly said she was gonna go off to Harvard or something and that she’d never make such a claim. The rumor started to gain speed at this point and slowly word of the masked girl became more and more widespread. A new urban legend or some sort of deranged serial killer, no one was sure.

The younger kids called her a ghost which was laughed at, at least for a time. Then people started showing up at the hospital, bones aching and brittle. It was pain beyond anything anyone had felt and the idea of the masked figure being some sort of supernatural entity became more than just something to be laughed at. The real thing that bothered people, though, was that this had all go on over the course of a few days. It had started about five days ago and it showed no sign of letting up. A few of them men who found themselves particular to hunting began keeping watch, driving around the town at night and looking for this specter. Even some of the local football team joined in, keeping watch where they could.

It was, however, the middle schoolers who found a lead on it. Not that many believed them, but they said the saw a girl in the old factory. She was dirty and her clothes were ragged like the monster’s. They didn’t dare go in, but warned the town to stay away from there. As it stands, no one has dared enter, but still the town remains under heavy watch and the authorities are investigating to some degree, but how does one actually investigate a supernatural entity?

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At the factory Mirah found herself slumped against a wall. While she managed to feed on a few people one man in particular managed to get a swing of a bat in on her. The swing had broken at least one rib and made it hard to move around. While she managed to use some wildlife to heal up the wound the pain was still present and to be safe she secluded herself in this dank place. It wouldn’t be her first choice. Honestly, she had found a comfortable shed with a soft wooden floor to rest on. Here it was dusty and the stone floor was cold, but there wasn’t much of a choice.

Thankfully, the town was either dumb or scared or some combination and it had kept them away from this place. She hadn’t managed feed on people, but she was safe, at least for now. She was sure that some kids had managed to spot her, but nothing yet had come of it. For the time being she just had to lay low and hope for the best. If she did get caught it wouldn’t be like it’d be for all that long.

She brushed her hand along side her chest, wincing slightly at the pain that lingered. Maybe another day or two and she could try to feed again and then get out of this town. Now that they had caught on it was getting time to leave. She pulled out a map and began searching through it. Part of her wanted to get to Denver where there would be people and decent food, maybe an actual bed to sleep in, but the people were also the problem. More chances to get seen. Eads was a choice too, decent population and maybe there would be more of a chance to stay safe there. It was close to here though and the rumors could’ve spread. She honestly wasn’t sure where she should go in the long term, she was just going place to place, surviving. She waiting for…something.

A cure?

No, this was her power now and she wouldn’t give it up.

A way to fix the pain?

Maybe. If she could be unrestrained with her power then maybe she could think about an actual life, not this piece of shit she managed to scrape together.

A helping hand?

No. Never that.

Rare moments when one got to relax. Ash wasn't use to them and yet that didn't stop him from making use of such rare moments. "Hmmm." Humming along the sound of gentle bird calls, the man floated atop the water of a lake, close to the woods, where he had hung his coat and arm up. Rarer still was it the coat allowed him to be without it. Every time, it was a one sided conversation. A need for a bath, a need to be alone. Most of the time it didn't listen, leaving him to move on. But when it did, he didn't hesitate to remove the coat, freeing him from the curse.

But with freedom came paranoia. What if someone came by. What if he was attacked... What if someone took the coat and put it on. Without the protections he had, the coat would soon take over whoever was unwise enough to wear it. That thing would be reborn and this world would suffer for it. And Ash? He'd be no one again. It was why he always came back for it. Not just because he was the only person who could wear it safely. But because he couldn't bear to live without it.

Drifting back to the shore, the disgruntled man rubbed along the stump of his right arm, he had his shoulder and some flesh after that, but everything from his elbow to his fingers was gone. Sometimes, when he took the coat off and then his arm. He could still feel them. His fingers. Maybe that was another reason to wear the coat. So he couldn't feel that phantom pain. "Still where I left you huh?" Ash chuckled to himself, staring at the coat as it hung across a branch of a tree. The bronze and crudely designed arm was below it, and Ash spent a couple of minutes making sure it was secured to his right arm, a lengthy process by his lonesome for such an ineffective thing. More a hook hand then anything else.

Tugging his dry clothes on, he left the coat for last, but inevitably he took it into his hands. He could throw it away, burn it... But he doubted that would stop it from worming it's way into someone. No. This was his curse. His gift. His power. No one else would suffer. The coat came on easy, like it always did. As the sleeves wrapped around his arms, the bronze became a silver grey, hook turned to fingers, nails to claws. He had his arm back, and a small smile returned to his face. He felt complete. Rolling the sleeves up his arms, he set to wrapping the old and bloody bandages around his scarred left arm. He was going to need to buy new ones soon enough. That meant getting money. He had some but not enough and unfortunately, he wasn't here for money.  

No, the reason he bathed in a lake, considered a pond by the inhabitants of this small little town called Deep Pond was because he needed a moment before the hunt. His prey? A superstition. When he had first passed into Deep Pond, Ash didn't have any time for it. He was moving towards Denver with hope for work. But then he did something dumb. He asked questions. Questions led to answers, answers led to warnings, warnings led to an old abandoned factory that you were told to not visit because of the wraith that would be there.

If Ashford Narric were any other hunter, he'd have laughed it off and moved on. But he had fought many things, here and in his world. Many dangerous things that felt unreal and were considered myth and legend by many of the people who just wanted to move on with their daily lives. Ashford Narric was a monster hunter. Self proclaimed sure. But that didn't stop him from doing it. For free or pay. A monster was a monster... Well... Looking back to the water, he frowned at his thought. A monster was a monster. "I suppose not all monsters are bad. You'd throw me through a wall if I thought otherwise, wouldn't you?" He asked the mostly still water, getting no answer back. He missed her. The water was the only thing that could remind him of her. But he knew her enough to know what she'd say to him. It was what he loved about her.

Collecting his gear, weapons and utility, Ashford started towards the factory, his good eye keen for anything dangerous. The old factory was quite spacious looking from the outside. If a ghost was about, he wasn't sure how easy a time he'd have finding it. Not even mentioning how to harm it... Actually, he could think of a few ways. He'd never hunted a ghost before. He could only wonder how it felt about magic.

All in due time, he decided. First, he needed to attract it. Looking down at himself, he decided he didn't exactly look easy to approach. Rapier and dagger attached to his belt, a clothe wrapped around his 'sword' which he held atop his shoulder, hand on the bone hilt. "Well. I suppose I can drop the rapier." Pulling the rapier free, he dropped it onto the floor with a metal clang as it hit cement. He was in the factory now. No turning back. And how to attract a ghost, he decided?

Ashford began to whistle.

There was always something.

At first Mirah was convinced it was just a noise. It was an old factory after all. Old machinery whined under its own weight and the building itself creaked and moaned with age. Originally, she worried that dust or mold was going to make it an uncomfortable stay, but in honestly it was the sounds of decrepit age that made her uncomfortable here. She tried her best to the tune those things out, to try and ignore it so she could get some well-deserved rest, but in some late evenings it was hard to manage that. She wanted to get out, maybe find a nice motel in another town. A nice treat for a change, a well deserved break.

It was, however, the whistling that made her jump in surprise. The sound wasn’t the building, but a person. A person who was now whistling carelessly. That didn’t bode well. The people of the town wouldn’t approach such a place with ease, and the children surely wouldn’t be so casual. This meant it was someone out of town? At least probably…but what would they do here? Maybe someone looking to buy the property? Or…was it an investigator? There had been times in her past where such a visitor had come by. Where someone, seeking the steel masked specter or killer for evidence of the supernatural. They rarely got the evidence they wanted, and those who did only caught glimpses of her, nothing more than evidence someone could muster up for bigfoot. Of course, the stories moved about from place to place that she visited. The girl in the mirror, the ghost watching from behind them (though really it was in front and the mirror just made it seem so), and, the very occasional name, Bloody Mary.

There was an easy way to find this all out, of course. She wouldn’t waste idle time making guess work of who decided to intrude upon her. At the front of the building she had placed a small mirror, nothing big or noteworthy, just an old mirror from one of the bathrooms leaning against the wall by the door. A way for her to check on whoever came through. She had brought another into the room she made her room, which really was just a sleeping bag, a hotplate, and a bag or two of hers.

It was a strange sensation to slip through a mirror, but soon enough she was in that other place. It looked very much like the real world, but…blurrier, faded, like you were looking at the world through a fogged glass. She had grown used to traversing it though and soon found herself looking out of the mirror she had placed at the front door. She was staring at…a man? Who was he? What did he want? And…was that a sword? These were all the thoughts running through her head as she stared at this lone figure.

Evidence pointed towards the fact that this probably wasn’t an inspector or someone trying to buy the building. An investigator then. But what sort of paranormal investigator brings a sword to this kind of thing? This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right at all. She couldn’t help but feel…threated by the man’s presence. The mere fact that he was here meant that he wanted something…from her. To do with her. She had to figure out how exactly to get rid of this person…which meant she might to have to actually engage this person. Which meant…how to do this.

Quietly, she let out a breath, which fogged her side of the mirror. Quickly writing in the backwards letters she began to spell out a few words. Of course, writing backwards on her side meant they’d appear normal to whoever was looking at it from out there. She wrote quickly, not wanting to waste time and potentially get caught by the man. When the short statement was written out and complete she ducked low and reached a hand out of the glass, tapping the floor three times and hoping to be heard by the man to briefly grasp his attention. However, in the next moment she would jump to the side, hopefully avoiding the glance of the man so that she could remain hidden. The message written on the glass read out a short, but simple message.

“Hunter. Leave and I shall soon follow suit.”

And that was all. She learned that leaving short, simple messages was the best way to trick people into believing you were a ghost. Longer messages didn’t give the same feel and would lead people to investigate further. This would surely do to get rid of him. Any further, then maybe…just maybe, she would have to choose a more…direct method of removing people. Nothing she hadn’t done in the past, but it always ended up in her getting hurt.

This place was quiet. It should be expected, Ashford noted. Quiet was natural. He didn't like it none the less. He was use to confrontation. For his foe to be eager for a fight. Suppose if it was a ghost. That'd make sense. He had never fought one before. Met one, sure. But the spirit of luck wasn't exactly a phantom. Just an old man who was unlucky enough to not be able to rest.

This world was a strange thing enough on its own. He kept his pace silent and sure footed. The only noise his whistle and the soft pattering of a clawed metal finger tapping along his coat. Perhaps he shouldn't have whistled. Maybe he scared off whatever it was that had kept itself hidden. Shame if that had been the case. Would have made all of this worthless.

So perhaps it was luck. Or perhaps it was that confrontation he had expected. Muted that it was if it was only a few quick taps. It was to his left, so of course he missed whoever had made the noise. He silently cursed his missing eye as he turned to face the source, only to come face to face with a mirror. When was that there? No, he had noticed it before, having paid little attention to what should have been nothing, he was all but ready to have ignored its being.

But now it was his focus. Stepping close too it, he found out why. A simple message. "Heh." Ashford smiled with a small chuckle. The smile was accidental, but he couldn't help but be happily surprised by the cheeky little message. He went to wipe the message away, but found it had remained, it being written not on his plane. That caught him by a surprise he didn't smile too. "Neat trick." The man said seriously, looking around for the source of the message. Was this the power of a ghost? Or was this magic? Had to be...

Now he was interested. He wanted to know who did this. It was clear they didn't mean him harm. Why warn a trespasser if you wished to harm them? Didn't mean he couldn't see what they were capable of. Leaning into the mirror, Ashford let out a breath of his own, but that was mostly for show, for it wasn't his bandaged hand he was using to write his message. Taking a claw, Ashford began to cut into the mirror with it. Writing a much more simple message.

"On."

The message had been written as no, but Ashford wasn't insightful enough to think that the message was written from inside the mirror, leaving his message to be backwards for the being behind it. But he was satisfied as he stepped back, his living hand held the hilt of the sword on his shoulder still. But then he dropped it, like he had dropped his rapier.

Rather then a clang like his rapier, the sword hitting the ground was meaty. Like flesh and bone. Made sense to him. His sword was made of demon bits. Now only armed with a dagger and his arm. Ashford continued to look for his watcher, stepping deeper into the abandoned factory. "Come out... Come out. Don't have to worry about my desire. Really. I'll adapt to yours." Ashford started to call out. Ears keen for any sound. It was quiet. Noise echoed. He didn't think that whoever it was could be silent forever.

Mirah had spent enough time on the other side of the mirror to understand what people meant when the wrote back to her. Rarely did the idiot on the other side account for the fact that words would come back backward on this side. It seemed like common sense to her since, well, you know...that's what happens when you hold words up to a mirror. But still, from the angle stood, still out of sight, she could make out the message he wrote to her. Hell, she could even hear him speak afterward. He was just begging for a fight.

Usually, when she wrote messages like this people got the...well, message. People understood that the danger wouldn't be here much longer and that there was nothing to worry about. That, or they were just scared and ran away. Not this man though, not him. That would be a problem if she was going to be able to rightly leave this town. She did plan on leaving after all. It wasn't in her nature to stay in one place. Honestly, no place would want her to stay anyways, but still. She wanted to leave and move onto the next place as soon as she could, but getting into a fight would only extend her stay.

If she had to, she would...

Although, for the time being, she would take on a bit more of an aggressive note to try and make the man leave. First, she try and grab his attention. She looked around her side of the room, searching for something to knock over. Instead of finding something to knock over her attention would be brought to the reflection of the man's rapier. With a small motion of her hand, a bit glass spiked up on her side and attempted to knock the reflection of the rapier. If on her side the glass spike did manage to knock the rapier reflection, the rapier on his side would jostle and move slightly, although there would be no glass on his side. Even if it didn't work or if it didn't catch his attention she would lower herself quickly and extend a hand out of the mirror, touching the ground and then creating a sudden rise of glass in front of mirror, not nearly close enough to strike the man, but rather create a barrier between him and the glass. The glass itself would be jagged and sharp, broken and pointed at several different points.

It would be, at least to a normal person's insight, a threat. A more direct and meaningful threat.

If she was lucky, that would do. That would be enough to send the man away. At least, that's what she hoped. As soon as the wall was constructed she would pull her hand back in, move in front of the now obscured mirror and start to back away from it. She wanted to keep an eye on it in case the man suddenly had the urge to break it, that and she wanted to see what he might do in general. Regardless, if he decided to act and break this mirror she wanted to get away from it so it wouldn't force her out. She needed back to the mirror she first entered through...she just needed the time.

Apparently they could be silent. Perhaps it was just as simple as a ghost. Something he couldn't see if it didn't want him too... No. It wanted him to leave. Why would it care... Perhaps emotionally it wanted to be left alone. He could see that. But he wanted to know for sure. Taking another step, sound did finally come. But not what he expected. It was metal, rolling and clashing and he turned to see his rapier rolling back towards him, the jagged guard, looking like broken, shattered glass itself impeding much of the rapiers movement.

"No. No playing with that." Picking up the rapier, Ashford twirled it in hand, careful of the guard, before placing the tip of the blade to the ground. "Trust me. Nether of us want to be stabbed by this thing." He said, just as a wave of glass suddenly barreled towards him. He turned on the spot and held his coat up, but frowned when no impact came. A wall of glass now sat between him and the mirror he had just walked away from. Interesting. It wasn't an attack... Just another warning. He was really starting to think this thing didn't want to fight. It just made him want to know for sure more.

Taking the rapier, he brought the blade and thrust it into the wall, easily cutting through the glass and the blade then almost just as quickly craving him a window to see that mirror now hidden behind. With a further frown, he flipped the grip of the rapier so that the blade was in his metal hand, and with a huff, threw the rapier. Watching as it speared into the side from the center of the mirror, the glass shattering from the impact as the rapier drove through it and into the wall behind. "Rude."

Turning away from it, he sighed and cracked his neck... Still. That was just another warning. No real threats yet. But he was done with words. Not till he got his eyes on what exactly he was dealing with. It had earned enough points to keep his interest and if he were a smarter man, he'd understand it wanted to be left alone. But he wasn't a smarter man. He knew that. He'd go till he dropped. More interesting that way.

Of course...

Of course, he would do the one thing that Mirah dreaded. The mirror shattered and, while it was a familiar feeling, it was one she dreaded. It felt like getting swept up by a massive wave and sent tumbling forward, but instead of getting plunged further into the water and sand, she was met with the cold stone of the floor. She landed face first, her metal mask clanging against the stone, her knife skidding away from her and through the glass and dust on the floor.

Her body shouted out in pain, though all that left her was a pained whimper. Nothing felt broken. She had, after all, experienced this before and knew how to land to prevent any serious damage. But, still, there was nothing she could really do for the pain, at least right now. Not from her position. Further, she couldn't waste any time laying around. She had just been forced from her mirror and out into the open. All it would take was for the man to turn around, and given the noise, she made it would be surprising if he didn't.

She would slowly push herself up, rising up to her knees, then to a stand, her body moving to its full height. She wasn't the tallest, though, an average height for a girl her age. There was something about the way she stood though, a menacing presence about her. It was probably the metal mask or the wornness of her clothes. She looked very much like a tattered ghost or a monster, maybe some sort of slasher from an old movie. She was, of course, a human, but never once did she consider herself one and for the past few years she hadn't looked or acted like one. (her artwork: https://imgur.com/a/0IGDyeW )

She didn't speak as she stared at the man, she just stood there, waiting to see how he would react. Despite she had made she was suddenly silent, not making a peep. The light breaths she made were as quiet as the night, and only one with a keen ear would be able to pick up on it. If it was, that would at least be a sign that this girl was in fact alive. Her hands clenched into fists, ready to strike if she needed to, though if he made a move towards her glass would be her first way of dealing with him. She would prefer if the man backed away out of terror, though. She was more of the quiet attacker, an assassin type. Straight on conflicts were usually too painful for her to endure. Sure, she could put off the pain for a little bit, but unless she won, she usually left the fight with more broken bones than she would like.

Huh... That's weird. That was metal. The clash of it hitting the ground. Did the rapier bounce off? So, he did the smart thing and turned around, curious as to what this sound was. His one good eye widened in surprise when he stared at the... Thing in front of him. A human in a mask and shoddy clothes. Torn, weathered and old. Honestly it was a shock as Ash peered at them through the hole he had made in the glass wall. She looked physical... Where did they?

He frowned to the shattered mirror. Reminded to that no that had been scribbled on it, had she come from that? Seemed impossible... But then things were never really impossible. He wasn't sure if she was dead or not, perhaps it was what sounded like the faintest of breathes that broke through the otherwise complete silence that he assumed she was perhaps solid. Tilting his head, Ashford held his metal, clawed hand up to his cheek, carefully tracing the dagger like finger tips along his cheek. "You look like absolute shit." He teased, smiling lightly.

Holding his hand up away from his face in mocked surrender, he took a step back. "You want to step away from the wall of glass and have a chat? And uh... Don't touch the rapier behind you. Like I said. No one wants to be stabbed by it. My apologies that I apparently nearly did. Would have been a shame of a way to die for both of us." Ashford grumbled, annoyed with himself at that. He needed to not throw the rapier like that. All it took was one death. One.

Still, now that they were no longer hiding. He was calmer. His eye focused entirely on them. Foot light to make sure he kept the same amount of distance to her. He didn't want to scare them off, nor make himself out to be a threat. Not yet. Not less it was required. He was a rude bastard, but he wasn't that rude.

These were not the first words that Mirah had expected from the man. While they were unexpected and out of the norm from what she usually heard, they were certainly not received well, and as the offensive words hit her she felt her hands ball into tight fists, eager to be done with the man as soon as she could. He then had the nerve to go on and ask to chat, as if he was at a good start for such a matter. Making requests, acting friendly, acting like he didn't just cause her harm. He had the good graces to apologize, but that nearly wasn't enough. She could feel her fists tighten even more.

She was far from scared now, and given her subtle nonverbals, she was most certainly angry. Still, she would be ready for him, though she wasn't ready to meet his demands and even if he had been polite she probably wouldn't have. Instead, with a flick of her hand, she caused even more mirror-like glass to appear between them and then behind him, to block his route out. He could go around still, a clear path was made towards the door, but not too her. Of course, it was all still glass and it would be easy enough to smash through if he had wanted to.

However, instead of just outright attacking the man (as she so very much wanted to do), she would give communications one more go. A fight with a man with a rapier would probably end in her getting injured and that would only prolong her stay in such a town. The was the last thing she wanted, and as she truthfully told the man, she had planned to leave tomorrow. "There is nothing to chat about. Not with you, at least. I told you. Plain and simple. I will leave tomorrow, and only then. The people here will be done with me, just like I am done with you now." She raised a hand and pointed to the door. "Leave now. Your rapier will be where it is now tomorrow. That is all I have to say on the matter, I will accept any further words." There would still be that tenseness around her. She was expecting him to deny and she was ready should he react with violence. She did, half expect, him to try and speak further, to which she would have only one response.

Shame she made a fair argument. If he left her alone, she'd leave. Some part of him believed that would indeed be the case. It would have worked for him. If she leaves, the people here won't be hurt, albeit they'll still be frightened for years to come. He could move on, another day in the life of Ashford Narric. Really. It was a shame she made such a fair argument. Made it worse that he couldn't do what she asked.

He had remained still when the glass has circled him, giving him one way out. Again she hadn't attacked. Maybe he didn't need to fight. "I can't leave the rapier here." He stated, irritation seeped into his voice, but it was aimed at himself. He had been playful before, dropping his weapons as he went. Dumb of him. Rapier should always be on his person. "See. Anything of mine, reappears eventually. I could throw that rapier into the ocean, or lava. And I'd find it beside my bed the next day. But like I said. No one wants to be stabbed by that thing. And I can't let it out of my sight with a lady who, no offense, looks like a serial killer, the rapier loves those kind of people."

Stepping forwards, he placed his metal hand on the glass between them, his claws piercing the glass as he tore a hole from the wall of glass around where he had cut through it with his claws before bending low to look through the jagged hole at the strange woman. "Don't know bout you. But I am a murderer. And I'd have no qualms killing you to get to it. But I don't want that. I came here cause I was told a monster rested here. I see a scared woman in a mask. Now it's my fault for throwing the rapier. And if you just want to run and hide, then run. But I will take the rapier from here. Dead or alive." Ashford warned, his hand placed in the hole of the wall, the glass cracking under the pressure he was putting through it.

Real shame she made such a good argument.

Beneath her mask Mirah gritted her teeth, anger further growing as the man went on and on, talking, seemingly, endlessly. She didn't him or the cut of his jib, and honestly, she would like to impale him on glass, cut him good for what he had said, for looking down on her. But she'd resign herself from such thoughts, she'd hold those back, but still, she stood on her guard. There was a slight shift in her step, though, as he stepped forward and poked a hole in the glass. It wasn't out of fear, rather a necessity, something she learned from fighting. She wasn't supposed to be close, not if she could help it. It was just glass, after all, anyone could poke a hole through it.

She would choose her words carefully, eyeing the man as she did. "If...if taking the rapier is what it'll take for you to leave, then fine. You may take it, then leave me be. I am not a serial killer, but I won't deny the claim to a monster." For that, she did believe she had become on, not willingly, but...it was hard to see herself as anything else. "And I am far from afraid, you are not worth any effort at all and I avoid fights when I can. Nothing can be gained from them." Again, this was something else she believed, on both sides. He wasn't worth the injuries she could incur, and she did try and avoid fights. She just preyed on people when she needed to. Still, it was a monstrous thing to do, and she could not deny that role.

She began to move back, the glass behind her shifting and clearing way. As she moved back the glass in front of the man would shift and change and make a path for him to take his rapier. No tricks, no plots, a simple deal to get an annoying man out of her hair. The last thing she needed was to get into a fight with this person and she'd do what she could to avoid it. "Take it and go, leave me alone and I'll be gone and moved onto the next town by tomorrow. This town will be free of its 'monster' and you'll be able to rest easy knowing its not their problem."

Ashford eye widened when she relented. He was fully prepared for her to argue, to stay on the defensive. To fight back. It was always how it went. It was the only outcome he had expected the moment she had made her demand. His words were fluff then anything. An execution of ego. And yet. She wilted. She listened. She said yes. He stepped back as the glass fell away, making a path to his weapon. Her words had no effect on him. They were their way of devaluing him, raising herself above. He had heard it all before. And sometimes. He had proven them wrong.

But today, he stepped forwards in the path laid for him, bent down to pick his quite dangerous weapon up and put it away. He watched her, silent as she spoke. He had nothing to add to that. He would leave, she would leave... To perhaps terrorize another town but that was life. "I'll leave the other two here if you don't mind. They'll come to me eventually." He decided to say as he turned on his heel and started to leave.

He was outside by the time he stopped and considered all that had just happened. He looked in the direction of the town. Yea. He could leave now... It'd be so easy... "Won't deny the claim to be a monster... And yet you weren't really a monster to me..." He muttered under his breath. Just go. Just leave. No point in prolonging this. She won't even talk to you anyway... But wouldn't he just be a monster if he left? Letting out a agitated sigh of his own morality, he once more turned on his heel and walked right back in, steps echoing into the old building as he arrived back where they had started.

"I burned an entire tribe of people by trapping them in a cave and lighting the entrance on fire. I didn't give them a chance to run. To surrender. I just did it. I called it another consequence of war but they were no more pawns then I was in it." He loudly proclaimed, before dropping onto his butt, wincing at the light thud but choosing to not moan about his own choices as he crossed his legs and waited. "That's my first claim to monstrosity among many. Why do you call yourself a monster?"

Mirah hadn’t shifted her gaze from him as he moved, cautious and keeping one foot back, ready to jump if he had tried anything. But the moment passed and he had begun to leave. Not before making another comment, of course. She had expected such a remark from him, looking for some smart ass reply to her. She got the notion that maybe, just maybe, he was one of those masked vigilantes, minus the mask part. She didn’t reply to that, though, she didn’t need to, not to him. He wasn’t worth that much effort and she knew what she was, even if he didn’t believe it. Still, that last comment surprised her a bit. She hadn’t expected that from him, though…thanks to her mask, he wouldn’t be able to see the expression that overtook her.

He had been close to leaving, or at least…trying to? But he decided to press in, to stay, to ask questions when he had no right to. For a moment, she had felt there was a shared moment between them, a brief tug at her that told her perhaps they had some common ground. But, thinking back on it and their interactions so far…he just irritated her, he made her mad. Just all around annoying, and that last question, that prod towards something he had no right knowing was the last little push she had needed.

Was she irrational? Certainly. The way she had looked at things, the way she had taken things shattered a long time ago and there was no helping it. So, with her next attempt, she wasn’t in the slightest surprised by what she was gonna try and do.

Slowly, she rose a hand, she had no reason to, but maybe there was some part of her trying to warn him, to put him on edge so that she wouldn’t actually hurt him. She extended her finger, and as she did, sharpened glass shards emerged from the ground, spiking through the floor, starting at her and beginning to head towards him. The spikes of glass would continue forward towards the man, then emerge, aiming to try and stab him in the gut and hopefully push him away. Of course, between the point and having the glass start at her, there was ample time to dodge if he was quick.

From beneath her mask, she stared at him, eyes burning though not that he could see them. She would speak finally, breaking her silence. “I don’t care…I don’t care what you are or were, and you have no right knowing why I am what I am. I gave your warnings, if you stay and push more you’ll just end up broken like everyone else.”

He watched her. Surprised she hadn't quite hid herself yet. She watched him. He could feel her eyes behind that mask on her. Slowly, a hand was raised. He had an idea what that meant. And could he blame her? He had been an asshole. Of course, he hadn't exactly known just what he was dealing with in the minutes before now. But he had an idea now. He knew this was just some girl that was... The glass shards came at him.

He couldn't think about that anymore. On his ass, he didn't have many options. He could roll out of the way... Or he could take it. No. The coat will. Twisting so that his coat was facing the charging lance of glass, he felt the hard impact of something trying to stab his rib, the coat brushing off the worst of the damage as he was pushed back, sliding a few feet.

That was when she talked. Can't say she was wrong. But in almost every way. She was. She didn't need to care about him, but that didn't matter. And he didn't need to know her. But that didn't matter. And he could break... But he would not remain broken. Standing, he turned to face her, apparently with no injuries despite having seemed to have taken the attack directly... Albeit he could feel the bruise and possibly cracked rib. "I killed a misguided girl. She wanted to stop a threat that was coming by killing people I knew, people connected to this threat through no fault of their own. I lie to myself and say I tried to get her to stop. But really, I didn't. I asked once, and then I killed her. And in the end, it didn't matter." He stepped towards her once more. Writing an invisible rune of fire, the glove on his hand glowing soon afterwards.

"Telling you this changes nothing and frankly you don't need to care. It doesn't fix anything. It doesn't change the past or make us feel any better. I know and you know that. But I am working to move past my past." He stopped, holding his hands up once more. An easy target for any attack. Attacks he could just as easily avoid with how they seemed to work, or use his coat to block.

"So go on. Do what you gotta do. Break me if you can. We can talk after."

It was so painfully obvious what the man was trying to do here. Was he some form of hero? Or was he just pitying her? Both options were infuriating to her, nonetheless. She wasn't some weak damsel that needed rescuing and she wasn't some wounded animal that needed pitying. She need people to try and relate to her or to try and make a connection with her, all she needed was to try and hurt less, and all her pain was physical, it was always physical with her. Sure, a therapist or someone who really knew how to dig into someone might find out otherwise, but in the end it all came down to her own abilities which...well, no one could really do anything about. And she didn't anyone to do anything about them. She had suffered with them long enough that she didn't want to give it up, all she wanted was to adapt to where she no longer broke.

But still, he made his offer. He offered up a challenge, to break him, if she wanted. He wouldn't get his talk, not after she was done with him. If there was one thing she knew how to do, after all, it was how to break someone, how to make them feel as she did. That was all she had, after all, and he was just standing there, waiting for it.

The glass around him shifted, sinking down, and as it did she started forward. There was a clear path now between her and him, and she began to move towards him. Each step she made echoed through the building, a few lone shards of glass crunching beneath her boots. There was something about the way she moved towards him, with purpose and malintent. There was something dread seeming to leak off of her, and beneath the mask her eyes seemed to burn.

As drew closer, she extended a hand, reaching it out to grab his shoulder. If not stopped, she'd latch on to him with her hand and begin to try and drain him, to weaken him. Around him, regardless, the glass would begin to shift and turn, sharpening and getting ready to pierce him, ready to try and stop anyway that he'd try and hurt her. The feeling, if he was touched by her, would be subtle at first, but slowly it would feel as though his chest could start to cave in on itself. All the while, she did not speak a single word to him.