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2412 Xavem 21, Jyda
June winced as he wrapped the bandage around his throbbing arm. Luck was on his side when he found an abandoned house to crash into before he lost consciousness. He woke up soaked with his own blood to the point where he couldn't salvage his tunic. Well, there goes his other set of clothes. But hey, what were spares for, right? He could still use his old clothes as bandages, which was good.
The memory of what happened at the border was still fresh in his mind. Marin made it rain knives so that she could throw the real one at him. She cast that spell knowing that June would easily deflect it. She cast it so she could drive his focus on the raining knives and not on the real threat she had chucked at him. Smart. Devious. Marin was someone June should be wary of starting now.
June glanced at the wrapped cloth around his shoulder. It's either a very strong throw or a magic-aided one considering how deep the blade lodged at his flesh. He sighed at the dull throbbing in his skin. Wounds like this were just scratches considering all that he had gone through in the past. The beatings he took from the High Queen when they were training were harsher than this. Was that woman really his mother?
A bitter snort sped off his lips as he pushed himself up from the brittle, wooden floor. He glanced at the corner where he had propped Xanthy the day before. She hasn't moved. She looked so dull. Was there even life inside her?
He sighed, sounding more tired than the last time he did so.
June made it to Thenaserine under dire circumstances. Judging from the state of the things here, it seemed that even the Unseelie Court wasn't safe from the Sovereign and the Heiress's prodding. Hundreds of houses were abandoned, torn down, or simply vacated.
June reached a room carrying the resemblance of a dining room and found a half-eaten meal on the table. Mercok, molds, and other insects spawned from hell feasted on it and June was too tired to care. He rummaged around, looking for any edible food but everything was either missing a chunk bitten off by animals or too moldy to be salvaged.
He sighed again and trudged back towards his satchel. He drew his last fairy potion out. Well, he had to survive. Might as well purchase another set in the next town. His stomach swirled with dread as he tipped the small vial into his mouth and swallowed, not even tasting its supposed sweet flavor. He was just tired. Really tired.
He needed to stop running.
How Ironic was it that Xanthy had saved him from running only to have brought him back to this kind of life. He dropped beside Xanthy and stared at her. His back pressed against the cold and dusty wall where the paint had started peeling.
She hadn't changed since he saw her last; her hair had only grown longer. An unholy amount of dirt was smeared across her face and skin. He avoided cleaning it up in fear of her leaping out of her sleep and punching him for touching her. It's a silly fear, anyway. In fact, he wanted Xanthy back to her original temperamental self, to see her alive and kicking people in the shins. What even happened to her? All he knew was how Xanthy felt about him. Or at least, he could tell.
