If there was anything Thorgil knew more than anything else, it was how quickly things can spiral out of control. One moment you can be having the time of your life, and the next it becomes a living nightmare.

His was forced to fight as usual, and to be honest, he never had so much trouble with an opponent. The battle with his heavily armored foe seemed to last for hours, slowly draining all of his strength. He ended up sustaining life threatening injuries, and passed out at the end of the battle. He had woke in his bed back on his owner’s land, thinking that he had lost the fight and was preparing for the beating of his life. However, he was quickly informed that his opponent had died from his injuries, and so Thorgil was named the winner being the one that survived.

This was a relief of course, and as usual, his owner gave him freedom to celebrate. But it was no later than the following night that things took a turn. When Thorgil was resting, fellow slaves suddenly burst into his room all frantic and alarmed, bearing bad news. They told him that Ches’s elder sister, Carla, had decided to take a stand against their owner after learning that the rumors of him wanting to make Ches a fighter, just as Thorgil is, were true. She could not bare the thought of possibly losing her little brother.

And her objection to a man who hated being told no, cost her dearly. Despite the little fact that she was the niece of their owner, the two got into an argument, and their owner responded with his infamous violent temper. He struck her down in cold blood. And the moment Thorgil laid his eyes on her fallen body, all of his hatred and anger towards their owner was released.

He took up the nearest weapon, which was a fancy dagger his owner kept on display, and allowed his anger to boil over with each slash. His owner was a fat man who spoiled himself with unnecessarily large meals and amounts of booze; attempting to run from the well fit and experienced fighter that Thorgil is was futile. One by one, Thorgil slashed and stabbed the fat man with such savagery akin to a feral beast. He kept count of each cut and stab, sinisterly wishing to know just how many it would take to kill such a “great man”.

42. It took 42 stabs to kill him, leaving him, the floor, the walls, and Thorgil covered in blood. The other slaves had watched in horror, and even Ches’s gaze became fearful. His heart dropped at the sight, and suddenly the weight of what he had just done came crashing down on him like an avalanche, filling him with regret, and fear. Fear of being hated by Ches, his dear friend, and fear of himself. Surely they would turn him away if he made any attempt to explain, despite the fact that they were now free. And so he was only left with one option.

Run.

He ran and ran, despite how exhausted he was from his fight earlier and letting loose his anger to kill a man, despite how much his injuries body ached and screamed with pain, begging him to stop and rest. He couldn’t stop running. He needed to get away, somewhere far, far away. He didn’t know where he was going, nor what he would do once he got there, and he showed no signs of stopping until the starry night sky was covered by threatening dark clouds.

They rumbled with thunder and flashed with lightning, an early warning that a storm was soon to come. Thorgil finally stopped running, deciding it was best to look for a place to take shelter where he could wait out the storm. Before he could find a place, rain started coming down lightly, but it quickly turned to a downpour.

By the time he discovered what appeared to be an abandoned cabin, Thorgil was soaked. He entered the building, hair plastered to his face and neck, clothings dripping with a hint of red as some of the blood that stained them was washed loose. He didn’t stop for a second to think that he might not be the only one there; too much was on his mind. Sighing heavily, he pressed his back against the door and slowly slid down, his head hanging low. Pain washed over him as payback for not resting earlier, making him groan and wince. And for a while, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

But once he decided he should, he was sloughing, walking slowly as he made his way through the cabin in search for a bed to lay in so he could finally rest. Furniture seemed to have been abandoned as well, so it only made sense a bed would be there too. Perhaps even a fresh set of clothing that could replace his rain soaked ones that reeked with blood.

As the storm started to push in, Jesgil was on her travels once more, bag over her shoulder. The air was quick to smell moist as it closed in, making the day's travel that much quicker. She dared not risk getting sick if it meant she had to slow down her own pace to recover. She simply could not let it be. Luckily, though, on her way through the woodlands, she ran across a carriage belonging to a couple as they stared down an old cottage they had built long ago. The idea was an escape from the city as a vacation house, but the more time they spent at work, the more they forgot about it, leaving it to turn into a dusty mess it laid as now. Now, the couple talked about selling it to the Nature preserve as a base and haven for travelers, but debated on the actual task of clean up.

Luckily, with Jesgil's appearance with extra manpower, the groups were about to make a bit of negotiation: If she aided them in cleaning up the cottage, she could rest there for free until the work was done, and they would drop by in the mornings to help and offer meals. Simple enough, but it was clear that the first place that had to be tackled was the actual bedroom, which came built in with a wooden tub. Which would be great after laboring through the cleaning to finish off with a bath.

Though it may had been a couple hours of mopping the floor, dusting off the furniture, removing the bed sheets, and trying to clear out the mattress, it did not feel like it was that long to the Draconian, as she had already accustomed herself to .;such long hours of labor, and the help of her dress's perks also lent themselves well off. Still, it was not meant to be a long day as the shower of rain already began pounding upon the roof of the cottage. It was time to be ready to call it for the night. Luckily, she was left with some timber to get the fire under the tub started before filling the tub itself with water. As she waited for the water to get boiling, she began to work on discarding her garment, letting it rest upon the stripped bed aside from her own blanket and clothes she used for pajamas.

It did not take long after she stepped in did she hear the door move. "That's odd," she muttered. "I thought they said they wouldn't be back 'til morning?" Maybe they forgot something? It could also simply be the wind, considering how hard the storm was outdoors. Clearly not the case as the door to the room she rested in creaked open. An arm moved in front of her chest instinctively as she turned to look to find a drenched man staring her down. Her face was quick to wash as red as her hair before holding her free arm out, summoning a flash of light as a barrage of random items suddenly began flying at the intruder.

Thorgil, with as little experience as he has in the outside world, head learned something valuable on this horrid night. Never enter a house and assume that it is unoccupied, and never open closed doors assuming that there won’t be a person on the other side. Who knows, the house might actually have an owner because it was never abandoned in the first place. And, by chance you might just run into said owner while they were bathing after opening one of those closed doors. He had been searching for a bed to rest in, but instead he was ‘greeted’ by a bathing woman.

Perhaps it was because this was the first time he had ever seen a woman without her clothing, or it’s because his life took such a sudden turn that it takes him a while to process the situation. At first he seemed almost dumbstruck, frozen in the doorway with one hand on the doorknob and the other clutching an injured side. It was only when a bottle was flying through the air and coming straight for him that he snapped out of his stupor. Just in time to dodge the numerous items that followed. “Wait-” he started to explain himself, but was cut short when he was almost hit by a bar of soap. All of his pain was forgotten as his attention was directed at the immediate threat, until-

Wack!

All of his pain came rushing back when an item -he wasn’t sure what it was exactly, it came too quickly- collided with his head, knocking him backwards until he landed on the hard floor with a loud thunk. He lied there, completely frozen and groaning from the pain that screamed at him, not allowing his body to move anymore. It was as if it was holding him down with breathtaking weight, forcing him to finally rest after having pushed himself so much.

As soon as a rogue frying pan made contact with the intruder, tossing him out of the doorway, Jesgil's eyes gleamed gold as she flicked a couple fingers upwards, forging a wall of ice in the midst of the doorway, ensuring it to be as unpure and foggy as possible, as to use the ice to conceal her form. Her face still glowed red afterwards as her long rest was quickly turned into a more quick rinse. This quickly led to flushing out the bath water (leaving the fire going to heat up the room) before drying off and changing into her pajamas.

Once she was more… (would "presentable" be the right word to use on an intruder?) proper, she snapped her fingers, dismissing the ice between the pair. And there the man still laid, out from the impact and, from what she could tell from his condition, other injuries. Conflict: Should she mend him up, or lock him in the basement until morning to summon a guard? A hard sigh left her lips before she found herself dragging the man back into the room, arms tied behind his back and legs together before resting him next to the flames. "Maybe I should at least hear his side…" she muttered, as if the injuries he bore made her think there was something else connected to the intrusion…

He hadn’t realized that he had lost consciousness until he had woken. And what he woke to was alarming. His hands were tied behind his back, ankles tied together, allowing very little freedom of movement. But instead of trying to fight against his restraints, Thorgil attempted to think upon his situation. His memories were a bit blurred, perhaps from his sudden collapse? Oh yeah, he was hit by something. There had been a woman who started throwing things at him because she was bathing. At least, that’s why he thought she did it. She must’ve felt threatened by him. Naturally, who wouldn’t? Having a random man show up who was covered in blood while you are bathing. Yeah, he would throw stuff at the stranger, too.

But that was assuming she didn’t notice that some of the blood is his own. It won’t make things less alarming, but it would certainly raise different questions. As he made an attempt to move against his restraints, Thorgil released a painful groan as his body once again screamed for him to stop moving. Clearly he hadn’t been asleep long enough to recover even a little. So, he gave up on any more attempts to escape. His eyes were struggling to stay open, his breathing shallow, body heavy. Perhaps this is karma, punishment for his crime. Perhaps the universe didn’t think that an abused slave had the right to protect its fellow abused slave, to escape their Master and taste freedom. The horror on Ches’s face flashed inside his mind, making him shut his eyes for a moment, heart sinking lower. That kid would never accept Thorgil again, will he?

After resting his eyes for a few moments longer, he started looking around the room. It seemed he was still in the bathing room, laying next to the tub where the flames still burned. His back was turned from it, but he could still feel its heat and hear its crackling.

Then, he finally noticed her. He couldn’t really tell if she was the same woman as earlier;this one is fully clothed and doesn’t have her back towards him, but he assumed it was. Remaining laid on the floor, making as little movement as possible, he began to speak, “You are the woman who was bathing, yes? I apologize for intruding. I was under the impression that this place was abandoned.” His voice was quiet, heavy with exhaustion. Normally he would react with anger or irritation, but he was far too weary for that. And, he had no right to be angry. He was the one who assumed the place was empty and walked in on a girl while she was bathing.

"Would an abandoned place like this be unlocked with no shattered windows and everything inside in tact… for the most part?" were the words that spat out of Jesgil's mouth to respond to his thought. "Sure, the place does need a bit of cleaning and renovating, but it certainly isn't abandoned…" At least, it shouldn't be once it gets sold to the nature preserve and a safe haven for lost explorers.

"Now then, I got two choices to handle this up… The first is obvious: Throw you in the cellar and wait til morning to summon a guard for your arrest of breaking and entering at the very least," her eyes still stared at the blood stains that had been drenched by the rain, "… or I can get you cleaned up and you can help me get this place into better condition. Its up to you to decide on which way things will go.

"So then tell me: Why are caked in so much blood, breaking into this home, and staring at my body so slack-jawed?" As her eyes stared at him, ensuring he would not do any kind of risky moves, the obsidian shard necklace that rested on the bed shimmered. After all, this was a moment of chaos that needed to get under control…