Have Mercy On Me

Divos
Secluded. Safe. Isolated.

Alone.

Divos held the candle in his estate, the shadows reaching for each of his steps. The wind howled outside like a banshee, the rain tapping and smashing against the panes of glass in each of his windows. Every crack of lightning was a shot of paranoia straight into his stomach until he felt sick, weak with every step, until he was bolting for the nearest door to slam it shut on the figures chasing him--

Cool. Sweet. Cloying.

Something... soft, beneath his boots. The candle in his hand sputtered, dying in the damp air he found himself in. Only the glow from the swords so nestled in his neck gave any illumination to the edges of the cobblestone room, the water trickling from between smooth stones. It was... not his estate.

Divos shuddered. He looked around for his familiar-- for his library-- for the ghosts and the estate and the grounds and the plants and--

"Fortune, Grace, Destiny, all of you are cruel, horrifying masters and mistresses." Divos sank to his knees in the loam beneath, his voice broken. "How much more can you torment me? Spare my slipping sanity. I am so very... tired."

He did not want to see what this new hell was. He closed his eyes, pulled the swords out of his throat, and let them hang from his twitching fingers as that familiar surge of power urged him to some kind of action.
[244]


Shepard
Hell on Earth.

One moment he's surveying the area in which the spire had arisen, and the next... The next he is alone...

Room after room, door after door, hallways that beckoned and mocked and laughed in his face. Shepard was not a man who trembled often; He was quivering then, though. The voice of his father lingered in the back of his horrid mind, stronger and stronger with each door that opened and closed.

You are a soldier, Shepard would remind himself as if it would help.
You are a captain, He would reiterate when the first line didn't work.

Shep's white-knuckled grip on his blade only tightened when he heard echoes of a new voice. A voice he knew well, from a man who knew him well. This was surely a nightmare - A cruel prank played by the patrons just to see the man squirm again. Against every screaming fibre in his body, he took a step forwards, and another, and another until he saw as well as heard.

The sword Shepard had in his death grip fell to the floor with a metallic clink that rattled and echoed through the maddening maze of halls. He had just seen a ghost - A ghost of the one man Shepard had given his heart to... The one man who crushed it under his boot like it was nothing. His father had always told him that feelings were everyone's downfall, and, well... Daddy dearest was always right, wasn't he?

Begging the gods for mercy, ha, of course he was. Shepard would laugh if this moment wasn't going to shred his fucking soul to pieces - if he hadn't just relived years from his past in a blink of an eye. All he could do was stare for a moment - This was a trick. He had been seeing things in this hellscape for... How long-

"Divos." He did not ask. He knew, and his trembling from fear switched to shaking with rage.
[329]


Divos 
He hears the echo of an executioner's blade. That would be fitting, wouldn't it? For his sins to finally weigh down on him in this room of moss and water, so far from home--

One of his sins says his name, and Divos' eyes snap open. The swords in his hand twitch, surge, ­aching to finish what they started, what made Divos bolt from the sorriest echo of his past and tell himself it was so much better this way.

Gods. He hadn't aged a day. It had been a year-- close to two, now-- and here he was. Captain Shepard Wolfe. The only fucking person who had broken through Divos' barriers those years ago, who had made Divos feel things he long thought himself immune to. The things he was exploring with-- oh gods. Without Shepard.

"I'm going mad." The words fall from Divos' lips as his fingers remain twisted in his swords. "You're another specter sent to haunt me. What do you want to hear from me, you--" His compatriot. His dearest. His lover, one of many Divos had collected-- but the one who Divos pursued for years, and years, and years. The one who had finally broken an old, miserable bachelor.

His fingers released the swords just so they would sink back into his throat. The colors in his eyes, his skin-- they all surged. He remembered the first time he saw Shepard from a distance, stalking his office as Divos answered the call of a cruel patron meant to control him--

"Please, tell me you're alive." His voice became hoarse and weak, wrecked and broken. "Tell me you are not a ghost." Because the last time he saw Shepard, his swords were trying to kill him.
[290]


Shepard
And how sweet a scene it would have been for this to be his long-overdue execution. It wasn't like it was not deserved, the death of this man by Shepard's hungry steel - After all, how could he forget the piteous attempt on his own life at the hand of Divos himself, let alone the heartbreak? Now here they were once more, face to face with the phantoms of a past that had haunted the two of them for far too long.

Quickly, Shepard dipped down to grab the blade on the floor and no time was wasted before it was comfortably trained on the wretched man in front of him. His breathing was sharp, unsteady and clearly betraying the fearless demeanour he is so desperate to cling to in front of this... This apparition sent to tease him.

"Don't- Don't fucking come near me," The warning was sincere, and he took a small step backward. "What would you care if I'm alive you bastard- You tried... To kill me." And his voice faltered and cracked as he spat his disdain toward Divos, vivid memories, emotions and sensations overpowering anything else he could even try to think about.

This man knew everything about him - his darkest secrets, his desires- Him. He knew Shepard in and out, everything about Shepard belonged to Divos once upon a beautiful time. His blade yearns to meet the man's flesh-

"No. I am not a ghost." He wished he was. He wished for this nightmare to be over
[252]


Divos
The ghost isn't disappearing. He's drawing steel, the sword that fell to the ground which Divos heard earlier, which snapped him out of his plea to the cruel patrons. It seemed Fortune, then, was continuing to laugh at him-- or was it Destiny, showing everything Divos had thrown away out of cowardice?

But the command. It tore Divos apart. His hands fell limp to his lap, not realizing his half-aborted gesture to touch Shepard-- the way he had before. Carelessly grabbing him, pushing him, pursuing him-- the one night they had-- Gods. He was a fool. He deserved every thing Shepard was leaning onto that sword, because even now, Divos was happy to see him.

"I didn't..." How could Divos explain his magic? How could he say he never wanted to kill Shepard-- that his swords reacted to the surge of emotion he saw with Shepard, that he had no fucking control, that he had tried to stab Aleister, Atreus... He swallowed, the swords bobbing with the movement. "I didn't want to. I would never want to... hurt you."

But he did. He was, still. Every breath Divos drew was hurting Shepard while his traitorous heart still beat. But gods... Shepard was alive.

His gaze flicked to the sword in Shepard's hand. His own twitched in his throat. He wanted to laugh-- to cry. To scream.

"Gods, please." His eyes started to close. "It would have a home, and I would know you are alive." It was the cruelest joke he could make.
[250]


Shepard
This is pathetic - It's disgusting, and Shepard is close to screaming toward the ever-changing sky 'why, why now?' But he keeps his threat upon Divos and scoffs as the stutter of infantile excuses.

"But you nearly," A step forwards, "Fucking," Another, "Did." They were now face to face, delicate steel to delicate skin. In the blazing closeness, Shepard's gaze drops and inspects the sight before him. Of course, Shepard had caught a glimpse of the man that night he was poking around his office, but... Now he was fully on display, and not throwing swords his way.

He's understandably confused as to where this sudden vein of magic came from but... Now was not the time to ask, and Divos had the chance to explain whenever it happened; Instead, he ran away like a coward- Deserters should be shot, Shepard suddenly agrees with the sentiment.

There was no nearly about it, though, in reality. Divos tore his beating heart from his chest and gods, it hurt-

Cold eyes bore down into his, and he sees Divos again - Truly, as the man he is now, and he remains silent for what feels like hours with the blade ready to bite and tear and, oh, how it wants to.

"No." The word drips with venom, "You don't deserve the mercy." Shepard's scowl is void of anything other than pure, feral, rabid revulsion - if he were an animal, he would be frothing at the mouth, wide-eyed and baying for blood. "I will not offer you salvation by putting you out of your misery, nor will I give you my forgiveness so easily." So easily... He wishes he could remain firm, shove the fact that, no, he wants nothing more to do with him, down his impaled throat - but there remains a drop of hope... There always remained hope, and even the gods knew Divos did not deserve it.
[315]


Divos
Every word, every step, every breath... Gods. Divos compared each one to a moment in their past-- inciting Shepard to a different sort of anger as he coaxed passions in him, as he teased him, as they argued over foreign policy before finding each-other in the dark corners of the hallways and Shepard spat that he hated Divos.

It was so much sweeter then. Divos' gaze doesn't lift from Shepard's face, from the hatred that now flashed in Shepard's eyes. He wished he could feel the bite of the blade-- it's the cool of steel, but the swords already nestled home in his flesh warm the metal when it's close. Somehow, through sheer fucking will, Divos doesn't tear up hearing that he almost killed Shepard.

"I..." What is the point of saying sorry? It's a pointless, useless word-- one wielded far too often. "Gods." Why can he not find the words when Shepard is staring at him like Divos is not even worthy of the gift of life he has? Nothing to say before his sad, miserable life is finally over.

And Shepard doesn't grant it to him.

There's sheer desperation now in Divos as he stares at Shepard. "Why... does every ghost who haunts me... refuse to grant me such bliss? How many more lives must I ruin before someone finally wretches me from this foul existence?" He chuckled, darkly. "They still can't rip the humanity out of you, can they, Shepard?" And his name tastes so sweet.

So Divos grabs the tip of Shepard's blade-- the easiest way to tell dreams from reality is the pain. He squeezed the blade until the pain flooded from his palm to the back of his teeth, dark crimson blood spilling between Divos' fingers. "You are here," he whispered, even as he started to rise, still holding onto Shepard's blade, still keeping it at his throat until he was on his feet. There's true sorrow in his eyes, even as the hand holding the blade shakes. "Shepard... I'd never ask for your forgiveness. I already know I don't deserve it."
[348]


Shepard
"Don't call for the gods now. This is all on you." Shepard's voice remains low and steady, cutting through gritted teeth and venting the utter frustration he had been holding back for far too long.

His jaw clenches and flexes in the dim light of the room as his name is spoken by Divos again. He wants to say it does not feel like home, but bleeding hearts are not easy to mend, and that part of him buried deep yearns to hear it pass his lips again- "No. But you nearly ripped it from me." A growl, low and drenched in rage once more. "I'm back to how I used to be. Jaded, fucked. Yet I know when to show humanity." He chuckles, bitter, dry, "I'm a fucking Captain." But the words are not so reassuring now. "This is not humanity. This is revenge- justice."

Shepard's eyes fail to leave Divos as he begins to stand before him, and he would find this all so amusing in another time, maybe; How low he truly had fallen... Tragic, and Shepard relished in witnessing it.

And he loves to see him bleed.

That's what he deserves; To be rendered a bloody pool on some cold, unknown floor, void of life and unable to disrupt the lives of others. But no, no, death is far too easy for a man who's sinned. "Stop it." He spits again, hisses like a hungry snake, "Have some fucking dignity." His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his own hand starting to shake under the strength in which it was gripping.

And he hates how pleased Divos is to see him.

"Death is too good for people like you, that is why you aren't granted the sweet release," Shepard leans forward, pressing the blade further into the man's bleeding hand, "You do not get to leave this world and avoid suffering like those who you brought suffering upon. Living a long, painful life is the best punishment for you, not eternal rest." He hates it-- He hates the words, the cadence in which he spits at the man but by the gods it was right. Divos dying means there is no real consequence for all he's done. Not just to Shepard, but to anyone.

Sure, he would no longer draw breath and he could no longer harm others, but he also wouldn't be drowning in guilt, rolling on the floor with the worst of the worst bottom-feeders.

"Get off." Eventually Shepard shoves the man away, sliding the steel from his desperate grip and carelessly flicking the crimson stains to the floor. "There is so much I could say to you- So much I could do to you for how- what..." Don't fumble now, Captain. "For what you did to me. To my head. To my heart."
[469 haha nice]


Divos
It is all on him, isn't it? All of it is. Every fault, every sin-- it's all on Divos.

Didn't he warn Shepard not to get close? All that Divos has ever tried to love, to touch-- it has gone to shit. He's just sorry it took Shepard this long to figure out.

When Shepard says Divos is the one who ripped out his humanity-- there's not too much of his heart left to break. 'You cannot have gone backwards because of me.' But he swallows those words back. "I see you are still a proud Captain," Divos said. "I... I hope you still lead the Royal Hounds." He knows Shepard hates him-- he knows it now, intimately, truly, deeply. And Divos cannot hate him-- he could never hate him.

When Shepard tells him to have dignity... Divos could choke on the irony welling in him. "Dignity? What... what dignity?" It's too hard to keep lying, to himself, to everyone around him-- "I am all fucking out of dignity. I'll find some at the bottom of whatever fucking hole Fortune eventually wants to bury me in. Dignity is for someone who pretends they have nothing left to lose." And when he looked at Shepard-- when he thought of the people slowly coming back into his life-- Divos has everything to lose, and nothing left to gain.

He bit back a scream, but not the tears welling in the corners of his demonic eyes, when Shepard pressed the blade further-- the sword dug into the soft flesh between Divos' pointer finger and thumb, trickling down his wrist. Yes, he was very much alive, and Shepard told him he was not worthy of death. Divos wanted to throw his head back and scream. "You... are an idiot.. if you think living is an appropriate punishment."

Because Shepard does well and truly hate him, and Divos knows him well enough to coax that hatred. He sees it falter when Shepard admits Divos broke his heart. Good. Good. Because there's still a heart left to break then.

"I have only continued to be worse, Shepard." Divos winced when Shepard dragged the blade from him, but he approached Shepard anyways, stopping a foot from him, his eyes flashing. "I have fucked, I have murdered, I have... tried everything possible to forget you. I will break your heart into a thousand fucking pieces as long as you let me. I hope you hate me, Shepard, hate me with every fiber of your being so long as you are alive and away from me." The weight of the confession breaks his voice.

Divos grabbed Shepard's sword again, dragged it to his heart.

"Come on, lover. Kill me or leave." Because he will do anything to make sure Shepard cannot-- will not-- come to harm. He can control how Shepard feels about him-- he can make him hate him more than he hates his father. It will be a blessing that one person Divos loves isn't harmed. [495]


Shepard
He doesn't like the man he's letting himself be in this situation - this unbridled, savage attack dog, teeth bared and barks echoing through the unknown. But this is what he had been reduced to in Divos's agonising company. The man Shepard had been working on to replace this old shill, the one meant to replace the façade he spend decades building... He was gone once more, leaving that mask firmly in place.

He wouldn't be so stupid to drop it again.

"Don't talk about me as if you know still know me," Is all the man could snap back at the mention of his company. His heart twists in his chest, the sudden urge to whine and fall to the floor gripping his throat tight, relentlessly, aiming for guttural sobs. He swallowed the sharp ball of tragic fervour and returned frozen eyes to the man at the end of his weapon. "No, I suppose you're right, you don't have much of that left do you - Dignity." The chuckle is joyless, unlike any they'd shared all that time ago.

"Then what? You think dying is a better punishment for you? Why, so you don't have to be left alone with your rotten thoughts anymore?" For a man talking about the death of a former friend, Shepard's words are blasé, cold, and bereft of sympathy. Then Divos's bloody hand returns to his sword, ready and aimed towards where his own poison heart beats in his chest. He plays ignorant at the swelling of tears in the corners of eyes he no longer recognised, this was the least of what the captain could do to him - the least of what he deserved. Shepard scowls at the display-

'Lover,' He said the wicked word as if he had the right.

Once more does the blade fall and clatter to the ground as Shepard rips the steel from both their grasps and instead reaches a trembling hand out to grab a hold of his collar, careful of the swords in his neck. He shoves him back, and back and back until they cannot go further, and Divos is pressed firmly into a cold wall.

“Don’t. Don't you tell me how to think or feel in order to make you happy.” His snarled words echoed in the empty room, and his eyes raged like a wildfire, burning up the memories of when they were close like this before in shadowed hallways, entangled in… What? Love? He’d scoff at the notion now.

“I gave you everything of myself,” Shepard realises he cannot bear to say his name again, “Everything. You knew how hard that was for me.” The sting of his own salty tears goes ignored; He is not sad, he is furious. “And it wasn’t me you came to - It was anyone else but me. So yes, yes, I am an idiot, for thinking that you felt anything more for me than cheap lust."

A moment of strangling silence washes over him while he finds his footing in this conversation again, the thought of breathing the same air as Divos a sudden punch in the gut. "You didn't even try to see me." Came the saddest of all the words Shepard had hurled.
[543]


Divos
Perhaps Divos was wrong-- Shepard had changed. Not physically, no-- maybe a little older, maybe a touch of silver marring the blond hair Divos once ran his fingers through with impunity-- but the man who seemed to have no emotions but anger, who snarled and spat and had slowly grown to learn his humanity...

... No. Shepard wanted to say he had become what he was meant to be, but he still couldn't rip Divos away, cast him aside. What more could Divos do? How else could he beg Shepard to let him go? Gods, Shepard had to see now he wasn't worth it. Why, so you don't have to be left alone with your rotten thoughts anymore? Divos almost choked on the laugh in his throat. "No. Those will chase me long after..." Because he'd never stop thinking about Shepard.

He saw the waver in Shepard's eyes-- he saw the moment Shepard let his humanity win, his... affection for this broken shell of a man he pinned to the wall, the sword again fallen from his steady hand. Divos' own cursed swords sunk into the soft cobblestone behind them, but Divos paled, his breath catching. It wasn't Shepard he was afraid of-- it was himself. He kept his bloody hand up between them, his breathing uneven, eyes darting like a frightened animal-- keep Shepard safe, keep Shepard from touching them. Why was Shepard so goddamn adamant?

How many more times could Shepard break his heart? There were tears that welled in Divos' eyes as Shepard confessed-- gods. They were so close to something good, weren't they? "I..." Divos swallowed tightly. He wasn't going to break down, because Shepard deserved that much. "If I had hurt you... Shepard, I killed someone when I first became a mage. Emeline could barely stand to look at me. I... I wanted you alive. And safe. If I had hurt you..."

A smile wobbled. "I know I already did. I'm a coward, and a fool. But you...." He hated this. He wished Shepard had just tried to kill him instead. "You work for the Order. If I'm not wanted by them, I will be soon. I wouldn't make you choose between your career and me-- I couldn't. And I..."

He couldn't say he loved Shepard. It would be too cruel.

"I wanted to see you so badly." He looked away from Shepard then. "But I knew if I did-- and when I first saw you-- I almost killed you, even when the only thing I wanted to do was throw myself at your feet. But that is what this magic does-- it hurts people. It keeps a barrier between me and everyone else."

He hated the last words that slipped out of his mouth: "It's so good to see you." 
[465]


Shepard
And that's what he hated - The very fact that he couldn't thrust the blade forward just an inch and put an end to this torment, that he couldn't send him off to prison in handcuffs, forced to face those demons every day in a cell that wasn't even fit for a rat...

Shepard wanted nothing more than to slip to his knees and cry - scream, anything to let go of the emotional hold on his fucking throat. He wasn't going to show Divos that he still had that effect on him, though, that was the last thing he deserved; The satisfaction of knowing he finally broke the man once thought of as unbreakable.

When he heard Divos's pitiful excuse and grand confession as to why he didn't seek Shepard's help, he couldn't help but laugh. "You're a fucking idiot," The grip on his collar tightens, "Did you think I'd let them take you away? I would have done anything to keep you out of their filthy fucking hands, you know- you knew that." Shepard shoves him forward and backward against the wall again as he continues his verbal tirade.

"It doesn't matter now, anyway. As soon as I see a clean way out I'm gone- not that it concerns you." That bitter chuckle slips past his scarred lips again and the breath he takes in offers momentary relief. "I'm going mad surrounded by all these fucking reprobates. Mages killing mages - I want no part in this bullshit anymore." He sounds desperate in that moment, and he's back in time; When Shepard could voice how he felt about the path he's on and wouldn't be pegged as a truant, a defector.

Maybe deserters shouldn't be shot after all, he realises, knowing full well he'd run too if he could-

But then he said that. Divos dared to say he fucking missed him. The hands on his collar shake, bleached white with tension and his teeth feel as though they could crack any second with the force in which they're grit - No, no, no, he was not allowed to do this, not now; This was selfish.

"How dare you even think you can say that to me right now. I can barely even look at you." Which is a half-truth, because Shepard's death-wishing stare had not faltered. "It is terrible to see you. You've been a bad dream for so long." He huffs, close enough to feel Divos' breath on his skin again.

"Have you forgotten about what my magic does to people? You're not the only one who has the power to do something heinous with the curse they didn't ask for."  And perhaps a threat lies behind the words.
[449]


Divos
Shepard still won't let go of him. Dear gods, why won't he? Why is he still torturing the both of them like this? Because he can see Shepard's hatred, but he can see, he can see--

Gods. How can Shepard still be spitting words of protection, of what he would have done now? Divos realized he hasn't hit rock bottom yet, because every word from Shepard finds another new low for Divos. He deserved this, every miserable second of this, ripping a new scar in his heart. "How could I risk hurting you.... How could I even think about pulling you into-- into this hellish nightmare I can't wake up from? I... I wanted to protect you." And yet, Divos keeps failing. He couldn't protect Shepard-- and he's gutted to hear Shepard is still trying to leave the Order.

Even worse that it reminds Divos of how he once learned all of this from Shepard when they stripped layers from each-other, exposing truths to their bone. "I.... I hope you can leave," Divos whispered, because he cannot-- will never stop-- hoping Shepard gets a better life. Shepard may never believe another word that comes out of Divos' mouth-- but Divos finally knows the price of not speaking.

There's little spots of pain on the back of Divos' skull when Shepard forced him back to the wall, but Divos takes it with the slighest gimance. The sheer desperation in Shepard as their faces are so close-- Divos can smell Shepard's aftershave. It hasn't changed, and Divos nearly wants to sob. "I know," he muttered in Shepard's triad. "I know. Gods, I know--"

Divos didn't register the threat first. His magic, however, did. The swords twitch, surge in Divos' throat, every line of magic in his skin pulsating like a creature reacting to a threat. The tears spilled in Divos' eyes, weakness traveling into his limbs as only Shepard is holding him up now.

"No. No no no." Divos' voice shook. "Gods, I'm imploring-- begging you: don't use your magic. Please..." Divos' hands-- bloody, shaking-- find Shepard's collar, clinging to him in what little space is between them. "This fucking curse-- it wants violence. It will hurt you if you harm me." In the pale hollow of Shepard's throat, Divos can see his own blood there now-- a horrifying image of what could pass as he keeps pleading. "Don't-- Don't make me watch you get hurt, Shepard. Just let me go, let me go and forget you ever saw me... but don't make me show you just how I killed someone before. I can't.... I can't harm you. I can't control it. Don't-- please, gods, just let me go."

A spark of the lowest, dirt-ridden hope flared up in Divos. "Let me go, and I'll get you out of here." Anything to stop him from hurting Shepard.
[477]


Shepard
Divos had asked the question as if it was something hard to answer; As if people didn't help people in their grave times of need. Shepard couldn't understand why he didn't realise that-- Well, he would have done anything to ensure he got out alive and thriving again. But Divos never gave him the chance to even try, and that's what hurt most within his continued excuses.

"Because that's what you do when you-" Love someone? His jaw tenses as he pauses for a beat, "When you care about someone: You share your problems- you lean on each other. If you truly cared you would have found a way." Shepard did not want to sound as bitter as he's sure he does, but... Well, it was all coming out now. Naked truths are on display in this sour reunion.

'I wanted to protect you.' Shepard nearly burst into a visceral laugh at the comment. He had laid himself bare to Divos, once upon a time, showed him everything that truly resides under his skin and beneath the mask - It very well may be true that Divos could not risk seeing Shepard if it meant his magic would act on impulse, but there were ways to communicate that did not require a face to face meeting. Like-

"A letter. You could have sent me a fucking letter. Anything. Carrier pigeon, hired some two-bit thug just to tell me you were alive and explain the circumstances." Shepard was not in Divos' shoes though, was he? Outside of the hatred and momentary surge of rage, could he, perhaps, find even an inkling of consideration or compassion? The terror of gaining such loathsome magic and not a single idea of how to control it - Of course it would evoke utter panic, Shepard understood that. But... But this was supposed to be a man who trusted him, and he could not (Or would not) find him in his moment of need.

"I've killed men before, too." He speaks plainly, "Did it feel good?" No, he wants this to stop - he is not this man, he does not want to be this man. Every baneful side of him was clawing at his skin, desperate to take charge of this moment- He growls at the internal battle, his fingers curling tighter into the fabric of Divos' collar as a direct response to the familiar buzz of magic beginning to tingle through this hand.

And he's pleading, begging Shepard in a display of tears and utter desperation, something he's sure he would have enjoyed in different circumstances. He isn't an idiot, though, and the swell of light from the swords in his neck is a decent enough warning to the man still only half-intent on ending this now while he can. There's a bloody hand on his own neck now, and for one fucking moment he feels himself soften - Once upon a time he would have yearned for his touch on his skin but now it only stung and stained him red.

'Let me go and forget you ever saw me...' Shepard laughed; He knew it was an impossible task now he'd seen Divos here, in this state. But with all the power of the gods behind him, he let Divos go, let him drop to the floor, and took a step back to take in the lamentable sight of him. "Oh, how you've fucking fallen." He comments dryly between his desperate breaths for air that didn't belong to Divos. "I should be watching you bleed out on this floor... But I'm not letting you get away with everything just to satiate my own anger." Ever disciplined - a real soldier. He didn't know how he could have possibly walked away from the situation, his mind raced while he leaned himself on a wall for support.

"This is fucking hell. We must both be dead already."
[647]


Divos
Because that's what you do when you-- when you care about someone.

Yes, it is. That is what normal fucking people do when they love someone, they lean on their shoulder, they rely on them-- but Divos could not do that. He spent his birthday alone, he was cursed, alone, he killed someone alone. Would saying he loved Shepard help?

No. Divos' love was a poisonous, cursed thing, if the fact that Shepard was still hissing these vile words in his face, if he was still holding onto him like they had once embraced but unable to pull the trigger to end this, could be seen as proof. This is what Divos did to people.

"Dozens," Divos whispered. "I wrote you.. dozens. Each time, I... I was afraid. I couldn't admit to what I had... become. I couldn't risk you getting hurt-- I couldn't risk someone following the letter to you." He couldn't look at Shepard as he said this. Every single unread word stained his fingertips-- how fitting his skin now was black, black and neon and barely seemed to belong to him. "I was so hoping I could fix it... But there's no hope in that, is there?" He never wanted to return to Shepard like this; he never wanted to return anywhere like this.

But there were no answers for what he had become. Nothing he could present to Shepard that didn't make him look like a damned man grasping onto sanity with a trembling grip.

Shepard's words take him back-- he shook in Shepard's grip, voicing a low, desperate moan. The messenger's pale eyes look back at him, devoid of light, the back arched to accomodate the three swords now impaling him. Blood flows across Divos' foyer, filling the grooves in the tile. "He was seventeen, eighteen at the most-- he was so young, he was... he must have just started his career, gods, he didn't even have mud on his boots yet-- and I killed him. I killed him because I couldn't tell him apart from the ghosts tormenting me." It's a confession, the only time Divos even voiced what happened that horrible night-- and the man listening could care less about Divos' actions. Good. Telling his sins to someone who could execute him seems.. fitting.

Divos is boneless when Shepard lets him go, even though he has a sharp cry of relief when Shepard is away from him, lording over the space between them. Shepard is still talking-- he's not pierced in three different places and choking on his blood. Divos can't speak to how sweet Shepard's voice is to him, as he raises slowly to shaking feet, breathing shallowly as Shepard spat his insults.

"This isn't hell," Divos whispered. He looked up to the ceiling, the swords floating out of his throat. "I know I'm not dead, because it wouldn't hurt so badly to see you."

One, two, three. Each of the swords plunged into the top of Divos' skull, and he bites his tongue to swallow back his cry of pain until blood welled in his mouth. The splitting agony of the magic as it surged through his body, everything becoming nothing but the light of magic as it split apart his veins, surged in him with a delirious glory his skin could barely contain.

His eyes glowed, as if his being was lit by a lantern pressed into his ribcage, unholy in blue light. Everything was-- that horrific grid, magenta folding upon itself as rooms upon rooms burst into Divos' subconscious.

Shepard, outlined. Gods, he was alive. He was alive and real, he was standing with his sword and so proud, even when Divos' sight robbed him of the angle of his jaw.

"The exit is north. From this room." Every word was gritted out in sheer agony, his own blood glowing faintly from the magic now surging through him, a conduit he could barely control. "From there.. everything is shifting, like blocks--" He has about thirty minutes before the magic fades. Divos at least starts to walk.
[673]


Shepard 
Divos continued to rattle off excuses as if they were viable or in any way just - Shepard could only scoff as each one left his mouth, "Spare me your excuses, they're pitiful. A letter would not be my fucking downfall." Perhaps if the situation were reversed, Shepard would have done the same- Would he really? Part of him knew that he'd do anything to let Divos know he was okay, but Shepard wasn't a coward - The two could surely not be compared. There were things far more important than titles, the man had come to realise in the time they spent together, and what was becoming of their entanglement, they'd, unfortunately, never get to know.

Admittedly, the recount of the night Divos became a fugitive did rock Shepard ever so slightly. He was there with him, for a moment, in the scene and it didn't take a genius to see that the events changed him for good - When the wrath subsided later, when they were no longer trapped within an empty room together, the man knew that he would let his heart bleed. Strength in form did not mean strength in mind, and Shepard... Well, as much as he'd tried to be one, he was no heartless monster - He could never let go of what he once felt, no matter how much he wished it.

But, oh, he wanted nothing more than to be one right here and now; He wanted to be angry, wholly, forever, and he hated knowing that was an impossibility.

He was too lost in his own head to fully understand what Divos was preparing to do - He had captured a glimpse of the rising swords, noticed the beaming light swallowing the once dark room and- Oh gods, that noise. No one could ever mistake the noise of blades piercing flesh and bone.

Shepard reached forward when the swords fell and impaled the man he had just been threatening himself, "Divos!" Shepard finally said his name again (wailed, almost) and it was bittersweet upon his tongue. He hated that he cared, that he, for a brief moment, worried for him - He did not deserve his concern, and yet Divos still had it - And he likely always would. Frozen in place, his eye-wide frown deepened when he... Spat his blood and spoke?

Colours, lights, glowing swords, stained skin... He looked so different like this. Shepard couldn't tear his eyes off the scene, utterly discomposed and shaken to the core by what he'd witnessed.

So this was it, the magic that had rippled through the pair of them and pulled them apart, rendered them strangers, and turned Shepard into a bitter stray dog. He was speechless, cold eyes glued to his shaking frame as he stood and began walking away like none of this had just happened- "Divos- Fuck," The words came between gritted teeth, the hesitation to follow after him quickly fading when he remembered how little he wanted to be stuck in this- Whatever this was. The picture of what he'd seen replayed in his head as he cursed, his own sword back in his tight grasp as he reluctantly came after Divos.

For better or worse, they had to get through this maze of a tower together. "How..." He starts, softer than any word he had spoken in the last few minutes, "How do you... Know?" The question is tentative, his tone a baffled mix of confusion, concern and authenticity.
[575]


Divos
He should just spare Shepard. Gods-- he wanted to. That was what he tried to do-- spare him from this entire fucked up mess, this reoccurring nightmare Divos couldn't break from. Shepard always--always--deserved better than him. Shepard was the Captain of the Royal Hounds, a man sharpened and honed to be the king among captains. Divos was an Ambassador for a nation who couldn't decide if it hated him or loved him.

Divos was always a coward. Shepard could never sink so low as to understand how a coward operated-- and it was why Divos wanted him-- why Divos loved him. Shepard was always someone who, despite his flaws, strove to be something better than his demons. Divos wished he could have been there to see how much further Shepard could go.

It was a strange twist of thoughts to distract from the way his name finally left Shepard's lips. It sounded like Shepard cared, like it mattered what Divos did to himself. But it didn't--it couldn't. He felt Shepard reach for him, and still had the presence of mind to pull back from Shepard's grasp, even if the only thing he wanted to do was fall into Shepard's embrace, let it swallow him completely whole as his curse ripped through him.

But instead he kept Shepard at an arm's length, trying to spare him even as the second time he speaks Divos' name threatened to tear him apart. He leans heavily on the wall as he walks, tries to smile for Shepard. "It's fine. It doesn't hurt." Divos doesn't know how much his lie works when light is spilling between his teeth, but he cannot stop himself from trying to protect Shepard.

Divos hated how much slower he walked like this-- how everything was gridlines, flashing in his brain, his mind, trying to show him reality when he couldn't trust what his own sight gave him. He tried to look back at Shepard-- once. To see him bathed in the reality Divos saw, reading his expression in neon lights, but he couldn't see the color of Shepard's eyes and it hurt so much worse.

"It's part of the curse." He can still speak even when his jaw is impaled, though it looks ghoulish and his back teeth clicked against the blades. "I can see through things that aren't real if I-- if I will it. But I can't see..." He trailed off. Does it matter what he can do? No. Shepard didn't come here so Divos could tell him every part of this damned curse; he came here on a higher power, Divos had to guess. "I can get you out of here." His voice is flatter, his gaze-- he tries to focus on Shepard, but his eyes are pools of blue light. He can't focus, even when all he sees is Shepard outlined, the sharp lines of his cheeks and the set of his jaw.

Twisting hallways, doorways appearing and disappearing. Divos guided Shepard through one hallway, then another. He could see other people-- he assumed, milling in other rooms shifting above them, below them. "We're not the only ones trapped." Divos whispered at one point, feeling as the swords slowly slipped out of his skull, floating beside them like lanterns of the damned. His vision would start to fade soon; he had to get Shepard out of this prison.

Divos' gaze snapped to the side. A new doorway opened southeast of them and-- oh. Oh gods. Something moved out of that doorway, something that bent the grid he saw in until it bulged; something with tails and claws and sharp teeth, tails trashing like banners. It brushed the grid away like spiderwebs; it was real, it was magical, and it was beyond Divos' powers.

He knew Shepard would hate him for this. He turned back to him then, the color almost back in his eyes, hands barely touching Shepard's shoulders. "Something is stalking down this hallway. You need to duck into the alcove beside and trust me." And he shoved Shepard then, hoping, praying that Shepard's hatred would not outweigh his will to live.
[664]


Shepard
How in the name of Fortune had all of this happened? This whole situation was a scene from a horror novel, Shepard couldn't deny it - The unknown was terrifying even to some of the bravest souls, and Shepard was not beyond being uncomfortable right now. All he could do was watch what Divos did next, the light cutting through his teeth a sight Shep still couldn't quite draw his eyes from, even though magic was no mystery to him.

Divos had said that it didn't hurt, but the way he moved was slower now, careful and hesitant with each step, and the swords clattered against his teeth each time he spoke. It was, admittedly, quite painful to watch the man he once knew in this foreign state, and Shepard could only continue to listen to Divos giving his brief explanation as to how it all worked. It really didn't matter to him right then though - He could've done that a year ago when all of this started happening, couldn't he? What mattered now was getting out of here, and if Divos knew how to do that, Shepard would reluctantly follow.

The man frowns when he is notified that they are not the only souls trapped within the spire of uncertainty, and on instinct, the hand around his own sword tightens its grip. Again, he was no coward, and Shepard knew that he was willing to fight his damned way out of here if need be; So the suggestion that he should take cover in the alcove conjures up an exaggerated scoff. "I'm not going to hide from a threat, I'm-" A captain, yes yes, everyone knew. Before he can finish, Divos shoves him toward the alcove. He stumbles forward, caught off guard, and prepares his own sword for battle before- He heard it; Wild snarls of beastly magic, the unsettling tap and scrape of claws on cobble.

There was a brief hint of the man's regular eyes as he pleads with the Captain to let go of his pride for just a moment - It wasn't getting easier, looking at him, and now Divos was asking for his trust... Wolfe's trust was something the man did own, once upon a time- He would be kidding himself if he said there was not a part of him that still yearned to trust him wholly.

Shepard's teeth grit as he gives in and backs himself to the wall-- Gods, that day had started like any other, mundane and utterly boring, and now there he was, amidst some hellish game no one knew the rules to - his ex-lover was a terrible sight enough, and now they had become a hungry predator's prey, part of some terrible game of cat and mouse. He holds his breath without realising it, flush against the cold stone while cold, apprehensive eyes scan through the darkness, lit only by one of Divos' magic blades.

"What- What is it?" He whispers, beads of sweat gathering on his skin
[498]


Divos
He hated this. He hated every second of it. Every time Shepard looked at him with that mix of pity, fear, and contempt, and all Divos wanted to do was turn and grip Shepard’s shoulders and shake him until they both went back to screaming at each-other. Somehow, there wasn’t enough time between them, there wasn’t enough room to really rip their beating hearts out of their chests and examine all the ways they hurt each other.

And of course, his dear Captain Shepard is still trying to fight him until the very last second. He knows, gods he knows that Shepard hates him, that he has taken Shepard’s trust and ruined it—but this, for once, isn’t about him. This is about keeping Shepard alive and in one piece, when this curse which has been thrust upon Divos can be used for protection—the thing he’s claimed to have been trying to do with Shepard for so long. He presses a finger to his own lips when Shepard talks, glaring at him as much as he can. Gods, he doesn’t want to do something drastic.

But Shepard is trying to speak again, even after he holds a breath, and Divos clasps his hand—the only good one he has left—over Shepard’s mouth, pressing down until he can feel Shepard’s lips against his palm. He’s shaking, his eyes darting between Shepard and the alcove—and then the shadow passes across them.

The monster—creature—it’s huge. Its shoulder reaches their chest, its muzzle is as long as their arms. Teeth twist from its needle-like grin, eyes blazing gold, a thick pelt of swirling colors that can barely be picked out in the gloom. Nine tails snap like whips behind it, long claws pad across the cobblestone. Everything points to this monster being a fox of some kind—but the colors and size are nothing like Divos has ever seen.

It prowls beside them, continuing down the hallway. Divos can hear every inhale, see how it pushes between his own magic—whatever this thing is, it’s magical enough that even Divos’ vision is having trouble keeping track of it. When the monster rounds the corner, it suddenly stands on two feet—a transformation that makes Divos want to retch when the fox is more human than animal, when clothing billows around her—and her voice. ”I smell blood,” the woman’s voice chased down the hallway before she disappeared behind a wall.

Divos clenched his bloody hand, finally pulled his fine hand away from Shepard, and leans heavily back on the wall. ”I think I know her,” Divos muttered, but he craned his head around the alcove. He didn’t want to think about how close he was with Shepard, how he could almost feel his heart beating between them—instead he moved away from the alcove, hiding his own shaking hands, his own soaring pulse and the ache ripping within him that he can’t stay near Shepard.

”She’s… volatile and violent. But I think I can see the outside of this tower, or at least a way out.” Talking keeps his voice steady, reminds him they’re in danger and that he can’t fall to his knees in front of Shepard, because their closeness—and the lack of it—is now an ache for Divos. He starts walking with more confidence, in the opposite direction of where the fox woman went.
[568]


Shepard
Out of all the scenarios Shepard imagined himself in within that tower, being flush against a wall with a ghost from his past, his hand covering his mouth as they held their breath in the haunting darkness, was not one that crossed his mind. For a brief moment, Shepard is back in those dark halls, late at night with no one around but he and Divos, entangled in something bigger than the both of them - His eyes are wide in the shadow of the alcove and his heart aches for this. He missed this too much; Every fibre in his being protested, yet he hesitated.

This was beyond wrong, and yet Shepard still hesitated. Gods, he was even close to leaning into him, the quickened beating of his heart painful in his chest as the adrenaline, apparently, numbs any rational thoughts-

Right, it was time to move. Shepard took a breath in, ready to shove Divos away from him when he saw just what exactly they were hiding from; Towering, lumbering, canine in structure but bigger than any he had ever laid eyes on in his 38 years- Gods above, they really were deep amongst the unknown here. Its very being spoke of magic undeniably, and the offensive kind at that--

"I smell blood," It- She, whispered, and Shepard nearly shivered where he stood, unsettled and incredibly eager to see the familiar sky of Ivras once more. He can finally breathe again when Divos removes his hand from his mouth, and he certainly does take in a deep, steadying breath. Shepard so desperately wants to push back and cut sharp words into the man, question just what exactly he thought he was doing, but- They did not have the time to go at each other's throats now there was another, very dangerous threat around the literal corner, clearly hungry for blood. He takes a moment to swallow, huff in fresh breath and run a hand through his hair.

"You- Know her?" Of course he did. As if it wasn't bad enough with Divos just being here, the thing that they were hiding from was someone he knew - He couldn't make this shit up. "Of course you do." He added with a joyless laugh, a finger pinching the bridge of his nose while he tries to make any of this day make... Even just an inkling of sense. The relentless pounding of his heart inside his chest still hadn't subsided from the momentary closeness to the man he once felt so much for, much to Shepard's dismay, but they had to keep moving.

They had to get out of this hellscape, and Divos clearly knew the way - things were just... Ten times harder now a bloodthirsty, overgrown dog was on the loose. "Fortunes fucking tits-" A low sigh growls through his own teeth before he returns to following Divos, continuing to curse the gods under his breath.

"If you're trying to pull something right now, know I won't hesitate next time." Shepard warns behind Divos- and this time, he means it.
[510]


Divos
Divos can feel it-- gods, he can feel it down to his soul, crammed in a dark corner with Shepard, even covering his mouth with his hand... He did it before, twisted with Shepard against a wall where the light didn't reach him, having to keep him quiet as Divos' lips found his neck--

Dear gods he almost wants to call that monster back to end this charade. A fight to its bitter bloody end would be so much better than dealing with all these reminders of their past, especially as Divos' hand shakes from where Shepard's lips were against his palm. He has to take a steadying breath with his back to Shepard, shoving his bleeding hand deep into his jacket to staunch the bleeding and somehow calm his erratic heartbeat.

At least Divos knew, deep down, Shepard felt nothing for him in that dark. His eyes widened at the intrusion in his personal space, Divos knew--not because he still had affection for him. Especially as the accusations start to pierce his back. Yes, the other side of love was hate, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from snarling.

"I did tax work for her," Divos hissed, keeping his voice low. "It was not another person I--betrayed you with. I consulted for her at the inn she ran once a year, before..." Oh, gods. It had been two years. Divos stumbles on a step, fear thick and cloying in the back of his throat. "She, uh, has something of a temper." If that wasn't obvious by her baying for blood in the hallways, and how Divos is shaking slightly now, realizing just how many of his mistakes are coming to him.

Gods, they just needed to get out of here. Divos keeps walking, acutely aware more of Shepard's curses behind his back-- Ah yes, because Shepard could damn the gods and he couldn't? No, no... Divos shuts that line of thought down, even as he hesitates on a corner. His vision is fading-- had it already been so long, or was this place just a nightmare? He glances every now and then to make sure Shepard is still following him, only for him to spit the accusation back.

"By Grace, Sh-- Captain, I have been trying to lead you out of here," Divos spat, unable to help himself, heartsick and gripping into the stone wall beside him. "If I wanted to betray you for my past mistakes, don't you think I would have simply shoved you in her pathway?" He leans heavily on the wall for a second, trying to breathe between the air that smells like mildew and flowers all at the same time.

It's then that he manages to shoot a hooded look to Shepard-- the swords moving to float above Divos' head again, ready to pierce his skull once more, but Divos is wholly focused on the man behind him. "This place is a maze and it wants to trap us. Everything shifts and I am trying, desperately, to keep track of all of it to get you out of here. Now that I know some bloodthirsty beast is hunting us, trying to get outside is much more of a priority." There's something unreadable as Divos looks back at the ground, the places where their shadows cross. "Trust nothing else that I say other than I want you back in the company of the Royal Hounds." 
[573]


Shepard
It, unsurprisingly, isn't that much of a relief when Divos explains who and what that... Thing is, stalking the halls - Not only because it's delivered with a noticeable hiss, but because he implies she is not someone who would take finding them here lightly. He stares at the man in the darkness, clearly unimpressed by the attitude. "Oh, sorry, nasty me for implying you fucked up, right?" But almost as soon as he finishes the lambast, Shepard lets his hateful scorn drop from Divos' face to the floor. "Forgive me for not being so compassionate right now."

Things just seem to escalate - the tension between them does not feel like it even has a single chance to drop, regardless of the creature on their tail, and apparently, it isn't the only thing out for blood.

Perhaps this little dispute was... Childish, and maybe Shepard was taking this terribly - But didn't he have a right to be angry? Or was being angry only showing Divos just how much of an effect he had on him? Playing things casual, jaded, could have presented Shepard as a man who had utterly moved on - all he had done now was show his ex how much he cared, and thus, gave him the upper hand.

He steps slowly through the unknown ground, movements careful and precise, though he cannot help but pass glances over to Divos every now and again - this still feels like some terrible damn nightmare, and he's half-convinced this could very well be some elaborate mind game--

No, no one but the real Divos could have this grinding effect on Shepard- He was saying all the right things to spark up that anger again, spitting his replies as if the captain was brainless for even considering that he had ill intentions - As if there was no reason to be even a little suspicious. "Why should I believe a word that comes out of your mouth now?" Shepard snarls back, though careful as to not raise his voice too much, "As if you believe I owe it to you- As if you can't understand why I might be a little hesitant. I don't know you anymore, I don't know what you could be planning, do I?" And he sounds bitter, so bitter, clearly letting their tragic history take precedence over logical thinking and tactical planning.

There's a quiet scoff as Divos continues. "I don't have a choice but to believe you, anyway-- Just know my blade is ready if you even so much as think about fucking me over." But he can hear the distant echoes of snarls, voices- Voices?

"Can you hear that?" Shepard pauses, not thinking as he grabs Divos to hold him back. "Can you see anyone else?" He's quick to release him when he realises he's holding on, but keeps the concern heavy in his expression.
[477]


Divos
Divos can't help it-- probably because it's Shepard, and Shepard's very presence is making Divos feel every sting, every hurt passed between them, and he has no justifiable recourse for his anger and distress. He wants to prove there's something left in him while relishing in every scratch and bite Shepard throws his way, because it's what he deserves--but gods. He has to show something that can be redeemed. "Yes, I fucked up with her, but apologies that I didn't predict a recluse of a mage would end up in this nightmarish hellscape with us," and he truly has no right to be this angry, but he’s desperate to hold onto something between them, and the only thing they have left is anger.

And Shepard keeps going. Every step from Divos hits the stones beneath them a little harder (sometimes stones, sometimes carpet—never the same thing twice, because this place was a nightmare), and he relishes in the fight—it makes him feel horrible, and isn’t that what he wants? There’s nothing good left between them, so may as well goad Shepard into abuse with his horrific words.

He turned on his heel, crossing his arms in front of his chest as Shepard continued to spit at him. And yes, every single word hurt, but this was all they were capable of with each-other. “Did I ever say the word ‘owe’? Fortune’s goddamn ass—I, of all people, know that you owe me nothing! I am not asking you for your trust because I intend to bargain it away—I want to get you out of this fiendishly insidious place in wherever the fuck we are, but if you keep insisting that I am here just to torment you, why don’t you just be done with it and kill me then?”

He approached Shepard, hands shaking, and barked a laugh at Shepard admitting he has no choice. “So it has come to this. You have no choice but to trust me while spitting that you don’t, and I would rather flay the skin off my back so you’re out of here and back with your precious Hounds. We’re a goddamned pair, aren’t we? Next time that bitch comes back, I’ll gladly offer my arm just so I don’t have to have this argument with you!”

When Shepard did actually grab his arm, Divos froze. The touch—it made him want to instantly take everything back, his pulse soaring to roar in his ears, until he realized Shepard was speaking in a hushed, panicked tone. Divos stood still, the swords slipping into his neck as he held his breath and—

”My vision is fading, but I can see… the fox woman from before, she’s talking to someone taller than she is—“ He inhaled, audibly, when the gridlines faded, his eyes as normal as they could be. He grabbed Shepard’s arm back, pulling them into to a room he knew was empty. “You need to stay here. I can… see if I can draw them out.” He didn’t think before he started to leave.

“.. to see you’re in one piece. It’d be a shame if I lost you, Dee. Now, do you smell that?” 
[536]


Shepard
Perhaps he kept arguing because that was simply better than the terrible alternative - falling into a melancholy silence, letting his heart break and bleed on the floor in front of Divos-- He still didn't deserve to see anything other than contempt, as so Shepard would keep firing off words like bullets from a flintlock. Every scoff, every eye-roll and every harsh word angled them on a path that was much more bearable to walk. He didn't need to like it, and he didn't, but it was still far easier to handle the emotional tension like this, at each other's throats and hammering in hatred.

He hadn't exactly expected that Divos would be so eager to fight back with the same passion, though, and seeing him approach, arms crossed, face unreadable-- It did little to quell the thoughts persuading him to continue this futile back and forth that really wasn't solving a single one of their problems. "And do you blame me for feeling such a way? Do you think it terrible of me to let my anger out on you, the man who stripped me bare and left me alone, not a single clue of what the fuck happened to you?" Shepard's teeth grit once again with inhuman strength, the pang of regret chewing at his stomach. "You cannot condemn my skepticism."

There's a brief lull between them where neither are barking nor snarling, and instead, they are listening for once. Listening to the taunting echoes of their hunters in this tower. A spared glance up to Divos lets Shepard see his eyes are somewhat back to normal - their new normal - and he is once more suggesting that he hides from this threat.

Each damning word he had spoken was taken back as he grabbed ahold of Divos' arm again, trying to keep him from doing whatever it was he was planning.

He should have just let him go off to be the hero he seemed to want to be, and get himself out of this mess, but no- Shepard still could not let this man leave. He couldn't, not again. "What are you doing? Stop trying to be a damn saviour, Divos- We can do this better together." They are words the man did not think he would be saying to Divos again.

--

"No losin' me," The deeper voice starts, "'Course I can smell it. Hear 'em too. More than one person here." Dee's tone is flat, senses heightened under the intoxicating stench of strangers' fresh blood. He swallows his hunger and flicks a finger to the brim of his hat "The hunt's on, eh? After you, Yasumi."
[440]


Divos
This truly was where they were at. Standing in the middle of a situation which would damn them both, taking these shots at each-other when Divos knew he was bleeding from the inside. Shepard would never accept his forgiveness—every word was just another wrong Divos had personally done to him, and it truly did not matter what Divos did for him, Shepard would never again trust a single word that came out of Divos’ mouth.

It was deserved. It was warranted. Divos took every hit against him with a pained little smile, watching the muscles slide in Shepard’s jaw in such a familiar way it makes him ache. And yet, and yet—

Damn Shepard, because he’s so fucking transparent that the moment Divos gives him a way out of here, he grips onto Divos’ sleeve—even uses his name, in a way that makes the ache in Divos’ chest threaten to overwhelm him—and says they can do this together. “Shep…” Regret swallows everything in Divos’ expression, a faint tremor as he goes to reach for Shepard’s jaw, hold him, reassure him, make him hate him again so he leaves—

The laugh, a wild beast’s cry, tells them they’re already too late.

--

“Ladies first, after all. You’re always such a gentlemen.” Yasumi cooed to Deadwood, her companion in this decidedly damp hellhole. A routine check of the Inn’s grounds, an odd door both her and Deadwood poked at—a brief separation from Deadwood—and now the two are together, doing what they do best.

Yasumi sweeps down the hallway as if she owns it, but each step of hers is silent. A robe of stars and moons flows like water around her, her jaws parted as she inhales the cloying, oh-so-sweet scent of blood. Magical blood—lucky them, they have a wounded mage and gods know they’re hungry. Perhaps this detour wasn’t a bad thing.

--

“You need to leave.” Divos is gripping onto Shepard’s collar, desperation breaking his tone into shreds.  “I saw a doorway—it opened to the outside, I’m certain—they won’t know you’re with me, just head north.” Divos wiped his bloody hand on the wall beside them.  “Leave, for fuck’s sake, they—”

The laugh ran straight up Divos’ spine. He turns, trying to keep himself between the threat and Shepard, hand braced behind him as he’s staring right at Yasumi’s yellow eyes. She’s shorter, but gods he doesn’t register it when she has a muzzle filled with sharp teeth and she’s staring at Divos like he’s a chicken underneath the cleaver.

--

”You!” There’s genuine surprise in her tone, her ears flicking down.  “Oh, Destiny loves me. I thought I recognized your voice, that irritating monotone track when you aren’t harassing my staff—“ Her teeth are bared, snarling, her fingers curling as she reaches her claws towards Divos. ”You son of a bitch. Did you think your magic would save you? Oh, Deadwood!” Her voice is a howl, and as she speaks, the third eye cracks open hideously on her skull, magic starting to consume her bare skin, teeth curling up and around her muzzle as her tongue lashes across her fangs, saliva dripping from her open jaws. ”We’re truly masters of our own fate now! Look at what this tower has spit up just for us!”

Her gaze flicked to Shepard—her hideous gaze of three eyes, of fur and skin deepening into the colors of the night sky, of the flames of her very magic setting her fur to fire flickering around her. “You brought a snack to appease us too. Oh darling, just stay still and it will not hurt so bad when I eat you alive.”
[620]


Shepard
That... Why couldn't things just have been like that? Soft words, tears and gentle touches - Whispering one another's name again as if they were over the fucking moon to be face to face once more; The hate was easier, he had to keep reminding himself. There were things Divos had done that physically would not allow Shepard to reach forward and kiss him with the sickening passion he so wished for again.

And yet he still wants to weep when he hears that nickname whispered in the dark-- How had he let himself get to this point? The adrenaline of seeing him again was beginning to subside, and the climbing, primal urge to swap from fight to flight was getting closer to his surface... He could see himself a wreck on the floor soon, clutching at his shirt and admitting how much he missed him... How much he cared and just how sorry he is for the nasty words... How much he-

Shepard's breath catches in his throat, and there does the adrenaline come flooding back, following the heinous baying of their hunter.

The grip on his collar and the unbridled desperation in Divos' voice, it shocks Shepard's system quickly-- This was a horrifying situation, an imminent threat, and the realisation just barely begins to set in when he is being told to make his fucking run for it now or gods help them both. "Fuck you, I can't-" Shepard is about to hammer into his chest, shove him away or... Or keep him close so he can't do something stupid, before he's rendered frozen in place by that dismaying laughter. His eyes widen over the man's shoulders as he bears witness, wholly, clearer now, to the beast hellbent on being their end.

--

Deadwood half-smiles as he hears Yasumi's call and he does not hesitate to appear beside her in a thick black plume of smoke. His eyes glow low in the shadow of the room, hungry, ravenous, crazed by the smell of blood and an empty stomach. He recognises Divos instantly, a man who had caused him plenty of bother when he was handling the Inn's finances - The change in his appearance didn't evoke even a second of hesitation or question, though, he was here to follow Yasumi's orders, and he wouldn't waver.

"One for me, one for you. Funny how that worked, huh?" The man comments, lingering ever so slightly behind his charge.

--

Shepard's eyes are wide, his brows furrowed, cutting harsh shapes upon his face in the low light of their battleground. His breathing is heavy, and his grip is strong on his weapon.

"Watch your fucking tongue you overgrown mutt," Shepard snarls from behind Divos, shoving his way out of the protective stance and instead, he raises his blade to track her salivating maw. "My steel yearns for blood today, shall it taste yours?" He spits between gritted teeth, the sweat on his brow beading again while that unmistakable buzz of magic sparks along his fingertips.

"I don't even need to touch you to make you suffer-- Perhaps you should reconsider your choice of appetizer." Fight or flight; Shepard picked fight, whether it was a good decision or a bad one, he was not going to fun away from a threat with his tail between his legs, disgraced. His ground would be stood, come victory or come death; Dying a coward was not a choice.
[569]


Divos
It's the heartache right before the sundering, that moment of clarity before the monster comes in from the dark to rip it to pieces. No, Divos has made too many mistakes to ever entertain hope that Shepard will forgive him. But in that moment in the dark, Divos is so close to ripping his heart out and falling into Shepard's embrace and hoping, together, they can erase every page between them and start a new story.

Shepard decides to damn himself against the terrors they face, even when Divos grabs his sleeve in a last, vain attempt to move Shepard and get him to the freedom he at least deserves. Oh, but it's far too late, because Shepard is a noble idiot who never understood when to run, and who never knew when to damn a man just to save himself.

Yasumi, the mistress of a bloody prison of her own making, and... oh, gods. There's a swirl of darkness somehow deeper than the walls around them, a darkness forming teeth and glowing eyes, and Divos realizes all too late that Yasumi's lackey is also here to play.

"Why didn't you run?" Divos hissed under his breath, just for Shepard to stand alongside him, point his sword toward the threats sizing him up as meals. Gods, these two fully want to eat them. Divos grips onto Shepard's sleeve, why? He doesn't know, but it feels better than just standing here watching Shepard threaten two mages.

--

Yasumi laughed, looking to Deadwood beside her with a grin filled with sharp teeth. "Oh, did you hear that? The blonde is threatening us. I'm almost scared." She reached forward, her limb flickering in dark purple fire as her claws wrapped around Shepard's sword... then her entire palm, passing it through Shepard's blade harmlessly. Her third eye rolled wildly, the pupil focused solely on Shepard as she bared her teeth. "Use your magics, little boy. Use whatever your little rabbit heart tells you to use, because I'll eat your liver on a spit and make your boyfriend watch--"

--

Divos' swords blocked her, forming a pattern: two swords crossed in an x, one slicing down the middle, a ripple of magic displaying in a blue halo. Yasumi gave out a pain-filled yelp as she drew her limb back: no longer magical, simply solid, pale skin, and now the palm she was using to hold Shepard's sword dripped in crimson blood.

"Oh. I really hate you now," Yasumi growled. She flicked her hand aside, splattering crimson on Divos' shoe and the wall. "Your little tricks aren't going to save you, Divos Incantates." She lifted a claw, gave a sidelong glance to Deadwood that spoke more in a century of living together than language could. Her words were quick. "Kill Divos. I'll take his friend."

Divos' grip on Shepard's sleeve hooked into the button holes. He pulled, hard, trying to get Shepard to move.
[486]


Shepard
Why didn't you run? It was a good question now he was standing head to head with two, very clearly powerful mages, hellbent on chewing their bones for dessert. He didn't run because he could not condemn this man wholly, no matter how much he wished it- He didn't run because he did not want Divos to die alone in this room, holding on to the foul last words Shepard had spat his way just minutes before... They were words he didn't mean, impassioned by a year's worth of pent-up torment and relentless worrying that turned sour, to hatred and contempt.

Worst of all, Divos had always been able to see right through Shepard's façade; It's how they became entangled in that little thing of theirs in the first place. He knew there must be a part of the man that saw through those words, saw that this was a moment spurred on by pure, unbridled shock - And while Shepard did still hate the fact Divos left him, damn near tried to kill him, even, there would forever remain a part of him that belonged to Divos whether either liked it or not. It was impossible to deny... He would leave this place and be a changed man, knowing the one he loved was once again so close, yet further away than he ever had been.

It was too late to think about any of that, though, as the fox-woman and her snarling companion were already choosing their cuts in their heads, drooling, single-minded. He could only watch in terror as her third eye twitched and swirled, and then as her canid hand warped through his blade like it was an apparition before her. A breath is sucked in quickly as the scene is played out in front of his face; Divos' magic-summoned swords dealt a blow, a bloody one at that.

His eyes followed the spray of blood, his teeth still grit as though his life depended on it- Boyfriend? "He's not my boyfriend." Shepard snarled, as if then was the perfect time for particulars; Staring down not one but two bloodthirsty monsters. Still, he feels a wave of reassurance from the hand practically tearing through his sleeve. Perhaps they really could work through this together, if they could stop butting heads for a single second. It was needed, considering Shepard's mortal blade wasn't going to cause even a nick on the woman.

--

Deadwood's hungry eyes bore into Divos through the shadows - He'd wanted to get his teeth in that man's neck since the day he met him, but Yasumi 'Needed him' for 'Taxes' or something, so the urges had been repressed, despite how much he had grated into him every single time he showed his damned face around the inn. His own blood boils at the sight of Yasumi getting hurt, and he stops himself from tearing into them both then and there as she shares a knowing look with him and finally offers her command.

"Leavin' the best for me, ma'am? I'm honoured." Dee growls, and without a second thought, leaps for the man beside Shepard.

He's close, but freezes; There's a sudden lack of breath, a tightening in his throat that leaves him gasping and gripping at his neck and staring at Shepard, who now stood with his hand empty, the sword clattering to the floor and instead replaced by a raised hand and aimed magic.

--

It happened fast, in a breath of smoke and glowing eyes almost too fast to catch- But Shepard did catch it. With Divos still attached to his sleeve, it was easy to pull him behind again and the sword dropped without a thought, empty palm now trained on Dee as he let his magic surge through his veins. It was quicker than trying to swing steel, this was targeted, acute and staggering. (edited)

"I don't know why you've picked us, what you want from us- But you will heed my warning and let us go before these walls are covered in both of your blood. I have no grievances with either of you- I'll forget this ever happened. We'll forget-" Shepard wants to bargain with the beasts, his desperate words falling between tired pants, though he is all too aware of the fact he only has the use of one hand, and he's already sweating from the concentrated attack on Deadwood - And Yasumi had her eyes on Shepard.
[737]


Divos
Divos never much cared for plays—in particular, plays where lovers would sacrifice themselves selflessly so their partner may live. It seemed like such a needless sacrifice, a pointless plot, because ultimately people did not do that. As soon as the monsters showed themselves, people ran. They saved themselves.

And Shepard, his stupid, brave Shepard, was every romantic hero that had ever been played because he could not let his lover go. It hurt Divos down to whatever wretched remains of his soul still existed, because here was Shepard still defending him with his sword and whatever magics that man possessed against the two worst people Divos could have picked to find them in the labyrinth.

There is no time left to plead, again, for Shepard’s sanity. For some damned reason, as Divos clutched his sleeve and stared at two forms of death in the face while balancing precariously on a third, Shepard was still risking his life to save him. Even if he denied why in his very next breath.

------

Yasumi couldn’t help her laugh, grating, like it was forced out between her fangs—which it very much was. Her hand flexes, blood running from the puncture wound in her palm and dripping down her forearm, staining her skin before her dream-like fire burnt the blood to flakes. Her claws grew more ragged, tongue lolling between her teeth as she cooed.

“It matters little to me what you call each other,” Yasumi cooed.  “You’ll both die.”

Her ears canted to Deadwood, and there was such a wild look to him. Finally, they were let off their leash, allowed to be what they always were; predators, chasing their prey. She cannot wait to see the bloodshed, her own magics swelling within her, the fire licking her bones—

Deadwood is frozen. Yasumi’s whiskers twitch. Deadwood is choking, grasping his throat as if he is trying to claw hands apart from it.

Something foreign shifts within Yasumi. It has been so long since she has felt fear that when it nestles up against her heart, she cannot recognize the emotion for what it is. She scrambles for Deadwood’s side, her claws at his throat to rip away what it is that’s hurting him—

Then Shepard speaks. Yasumi roars, drowning Shepard’s words in the fury of her vulpine nature. The raised hand, the stench of magic on the air—it was coming from Shepard. He was hurting her perfect predator, and she was going to kill him.

Fire lengthened her claws as Yasumi launched for Shepard, jaws parted to bite into his throat and rip his jugular in a bloody spray.

She was cut off in a choked cry.

----

Divos did not raise his hands to do his work; his work came as soon as Shepard was in danger, his magic reacting to any threat.

One, two, three. Like lighting the swords flew out of Divos’ throat and pierced Yasumi, the blades pinning her to the wall beside her companion. But oh, she was too clever by half; that trick of her fire turned her arm translucent, two of Divos’ blades skewing the wall behind her and only licking her cheek fur with heat. But the third one sunk into the flesh of her shoulder, the cool blue of the blade soaked crimson with blood sizzling in the heat of the rapier. She bit her tongue to keep from screaming, and tried to wrap her functional hand around the hilt. The scent of burning flesh and fur masked the blood.

Divos did not let Shepard have another heroic speech. With his hand still in Shepard’s sleeve and the man pushing Divos behind him, Divos dug his heels into the cobblestone and pulled Shepard with what strength he still possessed.

They had to run. Divos did not think he had any more tricks up his sleeve.
[647]


Shepard
Trust is a strange thing; You can learn to trust anyone, after a while, and in some regards, trust is one of the most fickle things one can possibly have the pleasure of owning. It can be used against anyone, manipulated, weaponised... Something as admirable and rewarding as earned trust can be the downfall of so many when you place it into the wrong kind of hands.

It can be so hard to let go once you have been laid bare enough to give it away, and sometimes it feels impossible to cut the rope once it's been cast out and grabbed by the dirty hands of those who sought to exploit and control - Is that what this was? Exploited trust and compassion?

No, it wasn't his fault Shepard was such a damn fool - He handed that out of his own accord, threw the line out with his own hands and chose to see it any other way when it came right back to bite him.

And still, even then, he found it impossible to let it all go, still yearning to protect this man with his entire life, even when he was more than aware he could very well have killed Divos himself, and had ample room to do so multiple times--

But it didn't matter anyway, because Yasumi and Deadwood were going to see that both of them were dead before the day was over-- His nose bled from the sudden use of magic, cranked as high as he could possibly go, certain the ground around him had started to spin, but Shepard did not let his hand drop.

--

Deadwood's pants for air turn desperate quick, and like a coward, he would be pleading if he could produce a single word from his squeezed throat. His eyes dart to Yasumi by his side, her hands clawing at her neck as if that would relieve him of whatever ailed him right now; There was no use, Dee knows physical hands cannot stop an invisible force of hellish magic... That was something the pair of them should know. He wants to push her away, move her from Shepard's line of sight in case his aim shifts to her instead, but that woman has demons of her own inside of her, and he has known her long enough to clock when the switch has been flipped-

And Fortune fucking curse Divos, the one both had underestimated, apparently. Deadwood can only watch, paralyzed as the white-hot sword burns through Yasumi's skin and fur. The anger in his stomach boils, his eyes wild and furious like a rabid, cornered beast.

--

Shepard is nearly wobbling to the ground as Divos takes matters into his own hands and plays his cards in a way that could have risked so much - But a sword hits, and a clean out has revealed itself to the pair. He hardly has time to register it properly before he's being pulled away, the hand keeping Deadwood at bay snapping its fingers and... Bone, hopefully, if he aimed the magic right in the sudden hurry. That kind of surge was painful, and Shepard is exhausted, but he does not stop, nor does he dare to look back; His eyes flick from their way forwards and to Divos intermittently, still not quite certain if this is some abhorrent, inescapable nightmare- One where he could feel everything.

The echo of footsteps fills his ears and swells with the ever-loud pulse and rush of blood in his ears, legs unsteady, breath shaky and anguished while Divos leads him through foreign corridor after corridor, helplessness steadily building in the pit of his stomach.

Running away never felt like the right thing to do, no matter how detrimental the situation seemed. There was no way out of this alive if they didn't run like the godsdammed wind now. His grip on Divos is solid, afraid that he's going to disappear again if he lets go.
[659]


Divos
Shepard was always stronger, braver, faster—their courtship was Divos exploiting an easy opportunity with a man who was his equal in rank but superior in everything else. It was never supposed to be like this. Even the start of their courtship felt like a lie compared to the end of it—a lie Divos told himself, a lie Shepard did as well.

He wished they had time to develop it the way it should have gone. He wishes he had been as brave as Shepard, as strong as him—but all Divos ever had were his wits and his own cowardice.

As soon as Yasumi and Dee’s blood spattered the hallways, Divos was moving, pulling the man who could never be a coward away from his certain doom. So much blood stained Divos’ hands, his throat—the swords came flying back, splintering into Divos’ neck with such force the man stumbled forward, and Yasumi’s own blood now stained his skin. At some point, Divos would only be crimson and glowing, unable to keep the ledger of his sins balanced.

---

Yasumi slumped as soon as the swords left her—not long after their quarry disappeared around the corner, the labyrinth swallowing them. Blood spattered the ground, sickly sweet, but Yasumi’s senses were consumed by the crack of bone beside her.

The fire of her soul sputtered and died. Her right arm was useless— it hung limp to her side, more blood than pale skin, a charred punched hole in her shoulder joint showing her arm had been cleanly dislocated by Divos’ swords. Her fur faded to its amber color as she grabbed Deadwood with her good arm, feeling the bones of his arm shift beneath her touch.

There was no time. A predator with obvious wounds swiftly became prey. She brought her left wrist up to her muzzle, bit down on her wrist until hot blood gushed down her chin. Without giving Deadwood any time to refuse or consent, she shoved her wrist to his own fangs, hissing in the ancient language they shared that he needed to drink. He had to heal—his regeneration could mean life or death between them.

She would kill them. She would rip their livers out of their bodies and let Deadwood drink his bloated fill.

But Deadwood needed to survive first.

---

The hallway ended, except for a door lined in branches and tied by twine. It had to be the door to the outside—the one Divos had seen before. He stopped before it, knees shaking where he stood.

Shepard’s grip around his wrist was a manacle. Divos gave him a helpless look—pleading, terrified—and the blood dripping down Shepard’s nose, gathering in the scar at the corner of his lips…

He tried to wipe the blood away for Shepard. Divos only smeared more across his mouth, staining the man even further.

“I’m so sorry,” Divos whispered. “I can’t come with you.” His confession echoed in that small room, as if there was peace around them, as if they weren’t evading death again and again.

But Shepard was alive. Against everything, he was alive, and that was all Divos could pray for in the end.

He had no strength left. Tears welled in his eyes, turning Shepard into a blur of gold and white and that smatter of red. If Shepard wanted to drag him out to his death, Divos would be helpless to follow. Even the swords in his throat seemed muted, but Divos knew it was only a falsehood.

His throat bobbed. Words clawed at his throat, begging to be spoken—

“Go.” It was the only word left between them.
[613]


Shepard
Deadwood's shrill cry was one of the only other sounds that filled the room once the two men cut and ran as soon as they had their opening. He fell to the floor in a grand wave of agony, bone snapping within his skin without so much as a single fucking touch. Hissed curses fell from bloodied lips, both the tension from the previously strangled neck and then the cracking of bone proved quite the intense combination on his body.

Heaving, desperate for breaths once he had the means to breathe again, Deadwood's eyes searched for Yasumi frantically - She was hurt too, arguably worse than he--

And there she was, as always, right by his side whenever he needed her most, regardless of the injuries she received. She had always been Dee's saviour- for a century, in fact; The only face he loved to see in a sea strangers, the one who could sit with him in silence for hours and still somehow feel like they had shared a conversation. No bond was stronger than the one they shared.

So when Yasumi's bloody wrist was shoved into his mouth, Deadwood wanted nothing more than to protest, push her away and let himself take the brunt of his own missteps for once- But she could never let him suffer, even though she knew full well the implications of doing such a thing... Yasumi was the last person in Ivras Dee would ever wish to hurt, and drinking her blood felt filthy, vulgar in a way that filled him with shame.

But his teeth latched, and Deadwood cannot fight a battle against primal instinct.

--

The rooms are a blur of stone, and stone and stone and Shepard is convinced they are not finding a way out of this cold, empty hell-

Until Divos stops in his tracks before... Thank the gods, something other than wet stone and the stench of bloodied bodies. Shepard cannot manage to mutter a single word just yet, his breathing laboured and erratic, shaken utterly to his core. The desperate hand attached to Divos does not remove itself so quickly, even though they were no longer running from bloodthirsty monsters.

They share a look, no need for words because their eyes say everything they cannot speak - The way Shepard was used to conveying things to him, once upon a time - and he's close to wincing away when the finger tries to clear his face of the warm blood. But there's an ounce of tenderness in the gesture, familiarity, and Shepard feels his entire body shivering from the horrifying come-down high adrenaline enkindles, no matter how brave the man in the fight-

'I can't come with you.' The grip tightens. He isn't ready to let go again- But Shepard knows that there is no other way out of this harrowing situation. Squadrons of armed, Order-aligned soldiers surround this cursed place; Divos would not make it a single step in the face of his Hounds, no matter how much he would try and protest - It would be both their necks for the rope with such a brazen display is treachery to the Order.

"I'll find you again. Mark me, I shall." And it is uncertain whether that is a threat or a passionate promise; Shepard isn't sure which one he wants it to be- It should be a threat, the man is quite aware he should be grabbing Divos by the collar and throwing him outside, right towards the hungry dogs under his command, baying for their own blood in a way that doesn't seem so different from Yasumi and Deadwood anymore.

Go.

The grip slips away, drawn out, lingering, and he is not certain if he will ever lay his eyes on Divos every again, regardless of what was sworn. Does he even want to? Gods, he cannot say - The racing mind proves incredibly difficult to think with. And once they are no longer touching, Shepard turns away, stumbles through the door to his freedom, and falls to his shaken knees in front of his waiting guard.

Shepard had seen a ghost that day, and he knows for certain he is forever destined to be haunted by his past.
[700]