Deep Pond's Monster

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.

Well. Seems it was what she wanted then. He could tell by the intent of every step, the outreaching hand. She was terribly small. Ashford had several feet on her. It almost made him chuckle when his metal finger twitched. His only eye glanced the glass that seemed to prepare itself. That he had to comment at, as her hand found his coated shoulder. "You're just the right amount of distrusting. Glass to skewer me, yet you're still close enough I could kill you with a finger before it'd reach me... Oh. Name's Ashford. Ashford Narric." He didn't mention the fact that he had a fire bolt, prepped beforehand that he could have blasted her with as she left herself open to him.

But he did not speak after that. For five seconds. For ten. For fifteen. Every second he looked down at the masked figure, and when half a minute passed, he tilted his head. Confused... "What are you doing? Is something meant to be happening?" Ashford asked, apparently fine. He glanced down to the hand on his shoulder. His coat. And a moment of understanding crossed his brow. Ah... He raised his bandaged hand up. Slowly.

"You're doing it wrong. Here, if I may?" He moved the bandaged hand to her hand, slowly, trying to not appear as a threat. And if allowed to touch, would only take five seconds for the effects she had promised, to take hold. "Ooh. I feel it now... See, you were... Mmm. Trying to drain my coat. Now you may wonder... What difference would that make? My coat is a being of it's own power... A second skin you may. Power far and above us both... Oh lord this sucks." He coughed, feeling his chest burn from the resounding exhalation of breathe, enough so he let go of her.

"Haaa... Not gonna lie. That's pretty cool. I feel like glass." He glanced to his arm, and with a far too curious desire, rolled the sleeve of his coat down over the bandaged arm, and flicked it. The sound of bones breaking resounded through the warehouse as Ashford bit his lower lip till it bled. Before laughing, a shocking reaction to the pain he felt. "Haaa. Hahaha. Wooo. I get it now. I do... Touching people and making them break... That'd suck." He'd wiggle the broken arm, giving this woman another tilt of the head.

"One thing... If you kill me... Could you wait like... Half an hour or so... I still wanna talk."

This was certainly...not what she had expected from him. He was annoying yes, and this certainly was very very very annoying, and it did tick her off, but...it wasn't something that a normal person would do. She had honestly been so surprised by the movement he made, grabbing her hand and pressing his against it. The hell was wrong with him? Usually, her power could leak through clothes, though in this case, it may have just weakened his coat, depending on what it was made of. Either way, this had far from made her happy, gritting her teeth beneath her mask.

When he spoke, saying he felt like glass, at least he got it now and with that she backed away. In her steps, though, it would be taken as if she was scared him, a hand slightly moving up and covering her chest as if he was some freak of nature. She had dealt with heroes before, but never one like this and something within her told her to get out of there, that this person was certainly dangerous despite him being such an idiot, to go so far. The fact that he was being so casual about this meant he had something up his sleeve or a plan, but how it involved her she couldn't be sure. She didn't trust it, not one bit, there would be something bad to come from it and while he could understand her power, she would never really understand him.

As she backed away, she would at least try and ensure that he wouldn't follow, that he would back away then and there and leave this all be. Moving her hand out, the glass spikes around him would move in, almost seeming to lunge towards him in an attempt to pierce him in several places, arms, legs, and chest. She wasn't sure how much force she pressed into it, she at least wanted him restrained, but with that coat...she couldn't be sure...his arm though, the one she weakened, maybe that would've been enough for the glass to be able to pierce through.

Regardless, she had begun to back away towards the door, ready to leave, ready to run. As she furthered backed herself from him, she spoke in that low tone which was hinted with fear, "S-stay away from me. I don't want to talk or anything, I just want to leave this place." And then she tried to leave, granted that she wasn't stopped.

"Are you serious?" The man growled. After all of that? Now she wanted to run. No. He promised her a talk. He was going through with it. He just needed to survive what came next.

Once she had started to back away, the glass finally made its move. Several lances of sharp glass moved to pierce his skin. He could barely see whatever was left of him... But that didn't stop him. His right hand cracked and smashed into the glass aiming for his chest, and he managed to catch one lance that had gone for his leg, his metal arm moving with a speed that didn't seem human. But while his right side was protected, his left was not. Glass smashed into his side, breaking against the coat.

But he let out a seethed breathe as glass punctured his left arm, already broken from his earlier test, soon followed by a shard cutting into his left leg. Holding his palm flat, the drills at the end of his clawed hand smashed into the glass stabbing into his leg, following through for any more lances that could have reached it, before he broke off the glance stabbing through his left arm. Free of glass, he started limping towards the girl, blood seeping into the bandages of his left arm, and down his leg, the glass left over in the limbs still itching. It'd fade soon, but damn was he not a fan of feeling this kind of pain again. Ashford had quite the history with glass.

But he made a bloody promise. "Hey! We aren't done till I at least get your name." Ashford called out to the retreating girl. He didn't have his magic. His left arm was far too damaged to do anything with it... He did have the blood... No. That wasn't worth it. And he wasn't going to catch her. Given a moment, he could start running, glass in his leg or not... But most likely she'd be gone by then.

One chance. Just one. "Girl! I'm not broken yet." The man yelled, stopping in place. Staring a hole into her. Quite possibly the last words she'd hear if she continued to run... But maybe they were the only words that mattered right this moment.

Mirah was by all means completely serious in her attempts to escape. She did not like this man, there was something so terribly…well, she couldn’t find the word in her head. Something about him told her to run. She had fought metas and heroes before. Sometimes she won, sometimes she was broken and forced to run. However, in this case she didn’t care whether or not if she could win or lose, if she would get broken. No. She just wanted to get out while she could before he tried anything. That voice in the back of her head told her that staying would mean something bad. The thing was…she couldn’t place if the bad thing was directed at her or him and she didn’t care to find out.

Even after she exited the room she waited, just for a moment, to listen for the puncture sound. Once she was sure he had been hit she continued on. Even against a normal person that wouldn’t kill, but it’d slow and that’s all she really needed right now. She made her way down the long hall and into one of the far rooms on the left. She slammed the door shut behind her and placed her back to it, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

The man wouldn’t get any of that from her. Not her name or reason or motive or history. She would be sure that he didn’t get his “talk” because there was only one way it would end. He could’ve been a monster himself, after what he claimed to do, but there was no way in hell that meant she pitied him or related to him. She would have nothing to do with him and be the happier for it.

She only opened her eyes again when she heard the man’s voice call after her the last time. Bragging that he wasn’t broken? Or was that a warning? Either way, it wasn’t good for her. Still, she had the time she needed. She pushed herself away from the door and began to search the room for anything of use. In particular she needed a mirror, it’d be her escape. In the meantime, however, she made sure to raise up a few shards of glass and stick them to the door, making it harder to get it open should he make his way down this way.

Seems his words had no effect. He almost considered leaving it at that. Clear she didn't want to hear a word he had to say. But his arm was broken. He had two jarring pieces of glass, boring holes into that very same arm and his leg. He was in pain, even if it was fading. There was a very good chance he could just drop dead from the blood loss... Nah. It'd clot.

Yea he could have walked away. But wasn't the reason he chose to step back inside and try to talk to this girl because he had that thought before? And how many had had that thought before with her. How many had simply attacked her because of her ability. So he limped. Following the sound of the loud bang of a door. The sound of someone looking for something. She had trapped herself hadn't she? No... She had appeared from the mirror. Most likely she'd escape if she found another one.

Stepping up to the door, he tried to open it, but found it jarred. He quickly considered ripping the metal and the glass apart with his metal hand... But he didn't want to do that. Instead. He knocked. Tapping the door with his metal knuckles, the echo of metal on metal loud and clear. "Kid. You're running now. suppose that, 'I am far from afraid' didn't turn out so truthful. And it isn't because I'm a threat to your personal being. I think we made that clear. You're running cause you know that talking to me is gonna make you think about yourself in ways you don't want too. Easier to be a monster right?" He spoke through the door, knowing he might not get an answer. Tapping the door once more. He stepped back and to the opposite side, leaning against the wall.

"I'll be right here... I won't even know if you leave... or if you're gone. Need to dig the glass out of my skin anyway. Can't exactly walk into a town looking like this now can I?" He tried to joke, hoping to levitate the tension the girl had, his metal claws digging at the glass in his wound. It stung, but it was necessary... And if she were gone... Well. It was better then doing nothing at all.

She had thought of running, of finding some way to escape and getting out. She could probably chip through the wall, make it fragile and just break it down. Same went for the bars. She could’ve gone any way she wanted and left the man to deal with his injuries. She could’ve even killed him. She could’ve chipped through the wall, put a hand to his neck and squeezed, making it fragile to the point of breaking and then….and then….

But she didn’t. She didn’t try any of that. She didn’t run, she didn’t move to break through the wall and get the drop on the man, and she didn’t even think of trying to escape anymore. She also didn’t know why she didn’t do any of those things. She had always run before, but perhaps it was the fact the man had called her out. Said she was afraid. She wasn’t, she…probably wasn’t, but now she felt a strange feeling of wanting to prove that she wasn’t afraid. Running or killing him would just prove his point and the thought of that put a painful feeling in her stomach.

On the other side of the door, she set her back to it and slid down until she was sitting. She rested against the door, sighing a bit and thinking for a few moments on how to reply. When she did speak, she started quiet, then cleared her throat and spoke a bit louder so she could properly be heard. “I don’t know what you expect from me, from talking, or really any of this. I am not going to change and I don’t really care about you at all. But, I will listen to what you have to say, for a bit. If you annoy me anymore I am just going to go.” She paused for a moment, “So…go on then. Say your peace.”

She would remain silent, at least for the time being. She didn’t think he would have anything to offer, but she had meant what she had said. She would listen, for now, to what he had to say and see what exactly it was he wanted. Nothing would change though, nothing would be altered and she’d stay her course. This was just…just…she wasn’t sure what this was, but she was too far in now.

Ashford huffed, prying one of the shards of glass in his broken arm out. Luckily it wasn't too deep in there... Shame the arm was still shattered. Neat ability that. Also a sad one. He looked back to the door. Was the girl gone? He couldn't hear anything anymore. No more shifting. Perhaps she was gone.

The thought was disappointing. After all that. But then he heard the slightest thud. His eyes lit up as he stared at the door, expecting more and more he got. The woman's voice was surprisingly good to hear. Her words were the cherry atop the cake. She was giving this a chance. He just needed to be careful with his words. He smiled.

"I won't ask you to change. I stopped being worried when you said you weren't a killer." Ashford admitted. That was the concern at first. But it was something she denied being. Seeing as no one had died, only been caught up in accidents of her or their own making, he was inclined to believe her. "Really. By saying what you just said. You're already doing better for yourself... I don't really like fighting people when I don't have too. I told you before. I've... Killed people that didn't need to die. Not really." Sighing, he rested his head against the metal wall.

Really. There was nothing he could do. He didn't change people. He just liked to think he gave them the chance to make that choice for themselves. The only reason he kept at this was because this girl seemed so intent on a choice. One he felt was a bad one. "The ability to make people fragile by itself is not monstrous. Not even when you don't have a choice when you touch someone. There are many ways to work around it. None of them would be perfect, but I... Imagine there is more too it. I'm not from this world so I can't speak for it." He stood himself up, still leaning against the wall. He was a little tired.

"But no matter the world, it tends to be pretty shite. Gotta fight to survive most of the damn time. But what's worth living if it's just all survival and fighting you know? You may shatter a few times. Break some bones. But it'll heal. And this world is so fecking weird anyway. You're not some red skinned goddess of war I met once." He chuckled a bit at the memory. Really the first person he met that he liked in this world. Well. Madeline's clone at least. The goddess herself was a little too much for him personally. Reminded him too much of another red skinned devil.

"You're just a girl with a... skin condition that doesn't allow you to physically touch someone. Don't hide in some abandoned warehouse next time. Just go into the town. Work around your issue... Do mercenary work. I imagine your ability to jump between mirror's would be... Highly sought for. Imagine the places you could break into. And if you're short for money... Not every person needs the money they have and you and your ability could make stealing it an easy thing. Just don't steal from happy people is all I ask... My old teacher taught me that when I tried stealing from him when I younger." Ashford stared at the roof as he finished speaking. Maybe he shouldn't be encouraging thievery... Nah. Nothing was wrong with a little thievery.

Mirah quietly listened to the man, her back against the door as she spoke. Gently, her fingers rubbed against the floor, a bit anxious on what the man had to say. She wasn’t the sort to just converse with people so freely, especially people that she had injured, but she’d give him the benefit of the doubt.

It would soon be, however, as she listened the man, that her anxiousness left her. As he went on she could feel something crack in her head, splintering apart, something breaking. Her fingers left the floor and slowly curled into tight fists, tight enough where she had started to hurt herself (mind you this was quite easy to do). She felt as though she was going to fall apart, anger now seeping in through those cracks.

He didn’t get it at all. He was so far from.

Shards of glass began rise around her, one actually sticking through the door she leaned against, though it wouldn’t be close enough to strike the man. Slowly, she slumped to her feet, letting hands dangle a bit. She could feel the mask on her face go a bit loose, hanging slightly and beneath that mask she felt a mocking grin come to her expression. She leaned against the door, pressing her head against it, a fist now tapping on the wall as she tried calm herself. She wasn’t doing a very good job of it, but she was trying very hard.

She wasn’t sure what the man’s goal had been, what he wanted to do. Maybe make her stray from this path or perhaps to not refer to herself as a monster or even to do good instead of what she was doing. She couldn’t be sure, but the fact that he assumed and spoke ignorantly, without really knowing her…she was boiling at that, ready to explode.

And then she started to laugh. It was a soft, anxious laugh, and though he couldn’t see it, she’d shake her head a bit. “No…no no no…” She reached a hand up to adjust her mask, fixing it to her face. “You think I’m upset because my power hurts people? Because I drain people?” She straightened a bit, taking a few defensive steps back from the door. “I control that…I have choice when I drain people, I can touch whoever I damn well please…you think because my power hurts people that I think…” She laughed again, this time seeming more mocking in tone.

“No.” She said flatly. “I need to drain people. You see how it felt? Like your insides were crumbling, that they could collapse under the weight of your body? That’s how I feel every moment of every day and the only way I can get past it is by draining others.” She laughed again, “Yes, you said before, survival…I could do it anyone good or bad, but that’s also a choice…”

She tightened the mask to her face and shook her head, still knowing he couldn’t see her. “I chose this, and I’m going to stray from this path.” More glass rose from the floor, this time blocking the door, securing it as best she could. “I’m nearly done here, I’ll be leaving soon. If you haven’t fallen apart, go. If you stay, you’ll just end up like the rest of them.”

Ah... Finally. His words were as she claimed, reaching. They offered suggestions. Solutions. But like he had hinted. He didn't really know all the details. But in the end, all it took was some cliche words to finally get the truth from her. Albeit she seemed to misinterpret what he had said herself. Worried she hurt people? She seemed quite happy to drain his life, to cut him with that ability of hers. He never assumed she was frightened by her own ability. The only thing he had wrong was her inability to control it.

"Heheheh. Took you long enough." Ashford chuckled lightly to himself. "That is truly a curse. To feel any kind of relief, you must make others suffer." Stepping to the door, he trailed a clawed finger against the metal. There was so many a choice he had to make in this moment.

Finally. He had all the information he needed to act. But to act required he knew what it was he wanted. She could not 'live' without making others suffer. The issue being she seemingly choose to do it in the worst way possible. It was truly a turmoil of morality. It wouldn't be right to stop her. But it wouldn't be right to allow her to do as she pleased.

And he may be one of the few that recognized that. Gripping the metal door with his claws, he dug into it, before tearing away at the metal, opening four slashes into the door. He pulled away at the strips of metal so that a small window was open, and he could get his one good eye to see her finally, glass slowly separating them as she seemed to build more of a barrier. "Stray? You think I'm trying to change you? I don't even know your name. I'll say this one more time and give you the chance to think about these 'paths' of yours. Get paid and drain people without consequence as a mercenary. Don't just live like a boogeyman rat. You keep on this path and someone far less patient then me will interrupt that path." Stepping back, he pulled the rapier out with his arm of heavenly metal and slashed it through the door, from the wall to the hinge.

The rapier as a weapon was not made to slash. It's power came with it's needle like point, and was used normally as a piercing weapon. But the Midnight rapier did not care for what was normal. It's blade shaved the fabric of space with every movement, would cut was it in the hands of someone stronger, and the slice Ashford made with the weapon carved through the door and glass behind it.

"You wanna go your path? Your path is that of a monster. And I kill monsters. Ether run. Think about what I said, or fight. I can't actually die, so I can keep coming at you as long as I stand. And I'll tear this door to ribbons eventually." He declared. She was going to make her choice now. He spoke truthfully. He was a patient man. But he had been too patient with this woman. So he swung, the point of the rapier tearing into the metal of the door, the frame of it, the wall around it. Each slash was quick, precise. Inhumanly so. The door would be nothing but ribbons in a matter of seconds.

For the first real time, at his taunt and threat, Mirah had stood her ground. Her mask was firmly on and behind that dull, lifeless expression that it bore, she seethed and gritted her teeth together. He was just like the rest, he assumed, he tricked and lied, and then he threatened. Worst of all, he mocked, at least in her eyes he did. He mocked her in that laugh of his, calling her power a curse. It was, but it was all she had and nothing would change that. There was much he didn’t know and there was part of him, to her, that he would ever accept to understand.

However, there was a brief moment beneath her steely mask that there was some fear, the first time he had made a cut into the metal. That…that she did not expect and it did catch her off guard. She had, reflexively, taken a step back, unsure how to rightly process it. She had known he was strong, but strong enough to tear through metal with such ease…that she didn’t know. She didn’t know if she could rightly beat him, even got up after the damage she had done to him. It was for that exact fact that she didn’t want to be a merc, too many powerful people out there, she had to go for the weaker sort. But someone like him? She’d have to think and be on her toes, careful, cautious, and quick.

As man’s arm fell from wall to hinges, Mirah slowly rose a hand and pointed a finger at the man. “My name…my name is Shatter, and if you want to beat me you’ll have to be prepared to break over it.” She retorted back. And as those last words left her mouth, shards of mirrored glass rose from the floor. They crashed upward creating jagged walls. Of course, this would never do against someone who could cut through metal…it was just glass after all, but they were distraction. Rising from the ground, only a couple inches or less, were tiny shards of glass that rose up intended to cut through the soles of his shoes or boots as he walked through, hopefully at least slowing him.

It was as this wall came up that she further prepared, taking a couple steps backward and placing her free hand on the wall. As she did, she would make it fragile and start to crumble. It didn’t fully break, not yet, but it’d be easy to get through it if things turned bad. It was always good to have a way out, he did, after all, offer her that as a path forward. Still, for the moment, she stood her ground at least willing to see if she could keep up with this man. He had angered her and that wouldn’t stand, not without her taking something from to make up for the offense.

“You’re just like the rest…the damned heroes, whether you align yourself to them or not, you’re all the same. Forcing your way forward and jumping into violence as if it was your best option.” She shook her head, “I don’t care if I can kill you or not, but that will be your end. I know it…it’s the same for everyone. Just you wait…” And with that, she slipped her small hand mirror beneath her sleave and took out her pocket knife, ready as she could be for whatever was to come.

As the door fell apart, the rapier doing the work, Ashford slid it away, safe and sound. If he was to die, it would not be by that cursed blade. But now what stood between him and the woman was glass, too much glass in his opinion. "Shatter huh? That's a good name. And a good line. I'm the man in the coat, and I don't want to do this." Ashford shot back, taking a single step. And regretting it. He hadn't made it a inch past the door before stepping into sharpened glass, glass that had been prepared for him. That hurt. He could ignore it for a bit. But it was going to be painful.

Hell. Getting through these jagged walls of glass was gonna suck. But he had made his threat. Pulling his metal fist back, he threw it through the glass walls, the punch itself was no problem. Metal wasn't so easily cut by glass, but the explosion of shattering glass was the issue. Shards both small and large cut into his chest and legs, he felt as if some caught his face, but he couldn't see it so he choose to ignore it.

A second smash, much the same. Shouldn't have let her weaken his arm. Shouldn't have broken it. That was stupid. "Don't play with food next time." He mumbled to himself, stepping past the wall. All that stood before him was space, glass floors and a girl with a knife. But his face wasn't that of determination.

He had meant what he said. He didn't want to do this. "You sure get philosophical for someone who doesn't like to talk. I'm probably the same... Jumping to violence was my last resort. But I get the feeling you like to believe things differently." He shrugged. Gods his feet hurt. Maybe it'd be better if he died soon. The healing would be faster that way.

He looked past the woman to the wall. It looked weak. Much weaker then it had any right to be. Ah. Smart. He smiled to that. "You should really think about it. I reckon being a merc would suit you." Was all he said as he charged forwards, his fist pulled back, ready to attack.

Ashford was fast. Despite the glass slicing open his feet, he still moved with the efficiency of a trained killer. But still he left himself open, and his fist was not aimed for the girl, but beside her head, for the wall itself. One good hit from his metal arm would shatter it completely with what she had done, and her knife had a home for his gut should she choose to defend herself.

Just this once... He had decided. Just this once she could go. Maybe that was too soft of him. She wouldn't care. She was so set in this way. Her against the world and he felt sorry for her for that. That was it. That'd be the excuse he'd tell himself later.

She had always considered herself, at least from the day she had gotten her powers, to be a monster.

Yet, as she saw this man stomp through the glass, leaving faint signs of blood left on them, she thought for sure that this too was a monster. He seemed so unphased by the glass, as if it was nothing, that he could continue forward at such a pace. Was it even doing anything to him? Could this man even feel pain? He had seemed to even shrug off getting his body weakened, played it off…still hurt but indifferent to it? No…ignoring it. Could he just do that? Could anyone?

It made her gut curl and tightened. This wasn’t the fight she was used to or even wanted to get into. She fought and targeted towns because the people were weak and that the risk to herself was minimal to say the least. But this…this was something else. She had to be careful, she had to make sure that was covered…more covered, more covered than she thought she had been. These preparations…were they any good? Was it enough?

Everything about him told her no. This wasn’t gonna do it…she had be smarter or faster or…something. She couldn’t know for sure.

She huffed under her mask at his mocking words. She shook her head slowly, but viciously, staring coldly at him from beneath the steely mask. “I. Can’t.” She reaffirmed. “You could’ve just let me stay here a night…” She shot back, “Only one or two people have to deal with how I feel for a week or so…that’s all…” Her voice was quiet, but firm in that statement, speaking with a sort of conviction, a true belief behind what she had.

And then he charged. She had still had her knife, but had begun to doubt it’s ability. As he had come in, her knife rose and while it didn’t cut into him…it would’ve if he had gone in closer, it was pressed to his neck. But his strike never did come. Not to her at least. If it had, that knife surely would’ve cut into him. But no…no…he had struck the wall behind her, the one that she had weakened. Beneath his fists she could hear it crumble and fall apart, leaving only rubble on the ground.

A way out…?

She glared at him, still holding the knife up to his neck, but taking a cautious step back. “I am not well enough to leave town yet…” She nearly spat at him, “You don’t get it, if I go like this I’ll barely be able to move by the time I get to the next town. It won’t do me any good.” She took another step back and now dropped the hand with the knife from his neck, a few feet between them. She was so unsure by all of this…it felt more like a trap. She couldn’t trust people like this, couldn’t trust people like him…he was…he was the same as all the rest. That much she knew for sure.

"Huh?" Ashford was stumped. He had expected the sharp, boiling pain of a blade. He had died a few times. Never to a blade, now that he had thought about it. He'd been cut before, and it had always sucked. He had really expected this to be it. But it wasn't.

His one good eye looked at this masked girl. She didn't kill him. She wasn't a killer. She made people suffer, yes, and one bad mistake on their part could leave them dead in moments. That shattering affect... It was quite dangerous. But she didn't kill. Not yet... He pulled his metal arm back. She was stepping away now. Right. She felt like that all the time, unless she 'fed.' As if transferring her pain to them, until it seeped away back into her.

Ashford took an uneasy step forwards. Then another. His boots were nothing but shredded leather now, blood weeping with each step. Glass littered his skin. He was quite the monstrous thing indeed. In time, hours, maybe a day, it'd all go away. Skin would be restored, glass pushed out. Brought back to what it had been. He had nothing to lose now. Never did.

"I was wrong. Mercenary work wouldn't suit you." Ashford stated, holding his metal and clawed hand out to her. "I'd give you my fleshy one, but the bones are still jelly... Come on. Can't promise I'll taste nice, but I'm a hefty lunch." Ashford joked to himself, before finally relenting to the pain. His knee hit the ground first, and he lowered his other leg. "Oh that's better... Now come on. Do what you need to do. Avoid the coat or you'll be eating nothing. Or nothing worth feeding on anyway." The man continued to mutter, exhaustion finally reaching his voice. Maybe it was all the blood loss. Made sense.

"Got a name beside Shatter? I mean. Don't get me wrong. It's a good one. I quite like it. Matches your look. Actually, shitter would match it better but I guess Shatter will do." He chuckled to himself. Was it a tinge of fear? That he rambled like this. Never felt like that to Ashford. He was a talker. And he didn't quite fear death like he used too. He lightly shrugged to himself. He'd think of a reason later. "Come on. I got all day. Or until my body fails. Stick around if it does. We can keep chatting."

It was a strange moment to say the least. It was one of those few moments that Shatter was reminded of one of those feelings she thought she had pulled from herself and, well, shattered on the ground. Empathy? Was it? She couldn’t remember, rightly, but she knew that she didn’t really want to actually hurt this man anymore than she already had. In a strange way, in the time they had fought, she was…well, she was still quite annoyed and honestly hated the man, but there was some semblance that he was trying and in some way that did mean something compared to everyone else. She didn’t want to break that, something she didn’t want to break. At least at the moment.

At his step forward, she took two back. She didn’t like to be close to people, for obvious reasons. Though moreover, she didn’t want to see him do more than he had to. She had…at the end of the day, done a number on him, though at the very least he was standing pretty strong. Was that worry mixed in there? If she had done too much? Maybe, she still didn’t know. This was a very different situation from what she had normally dealt with.  

She was quiet as the man spoke, a head held low as he went on. She didn’t seem ashamed, not that one could tell with her mask, but she just wanted to think over his words…to process it all. This was…this was an offer, one that no one had ever really made for her. It was a lot. It was a lot to take in and it was a lot to think about and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to, at least to this person. When the offer was finally made her head raised and she gave the notion that she was looking into his eyes, trying to read him. Really, she was just trying to see if this was a trick or a trap.

Regardless of what it was, even as he went on, she took another step or two forward towards the man. Slowly, she outreached a hand to him, readying herself to drain him. Though, while still a few feet away from him, she made a choice. It was a hard choice, but a choice she wanted to make. From behind him a thick piece of glass shot out, not a sharp piece, but a well rounded thick piece aimed for the back of the man’s head. If he was anything like a normal person, which she partly doubted, a good hard hit to the back one’s head was a clear way to knock someone out.

Whether it succeeded or failed, she’d take a few steps back towards the forest behind them, unsure of really what was next. And then quietly, as she began to try and head off into the woods, she spoke. “Mirah.” She said simply and then would run off into the woods, hopefully not pursued, but ready if that was the case.

Ashford waited for what felt like too long. Was she hesitating? Why would she hesitate now? Was kindness something she'd never been given before? But then she stepped forwards, silent as always. A hand reaching for his metal one. He thought about telling her that his arm was metal so she might have to actually touch some other part, and that it was pretty silly that he offered his metal arm, not that he could offer the broken one.

But he never got the chance. He heard it before he felt it, the hiss of something moving fast. Glass shaping itself behind him. But he was too tired and too drained to move out of the way as the glass smacked the back of his head, and the man fell forwards onto the ground, still as the dead.

But Ashford wasn't dead yet. Nor was he out. His metal arm clawed at the dirt, mouth full of it. He wanted to call out to her. Ask her to wait. Ah... That was it. He wasn't scared of the death, the rambling had been because she was there to hear it. He didn't want to die alone. He tried to drag himself forwards, but the glass stuck in his skin wept with blood, digging further in, and suddenly, even the coat could not sustain him with so much lost blood. Ashford stopped. Not a breath to be heard.

"Mirah!" Ashford jumped up to his feet, breathing heavily. But it was too late. The sun had sunken away, replaced with the light of the moon. He had died. He glanced at the ground to confirm it. Every bit of glass that had found it's way into his skin was now on the ground, dried with blood. "Damn it... Couldn't just give me that huh?" He looked past the trees. She had to be long gone by now...

He started walking back to the town with hopes of food and a bed softer then the earth, but he knew that if he stayed any longer then that, he wouldn't get the woman out of his head. She was suffering. Suffering with something that he couldn't stop thinking about. If he were a smart man, he'd let it go.

But Ashford never claimed to be a smart man.