One of Those Nights (Cont'd) [Finished]

[Luther Verhulst]

Luther blinked twice. There was nothing more to be said about it. It was simplicity itself. The gates would remain shut for a little while longer.

Long ago, Luther had tread where no sane man would dare. The experience made him stronger, but it also made him mad. He had come to expect that same madness in others, but it was not until they consciously acknowledged it that there would be problems. Naelona did not consciously wish to open the gates and walk the gauntlet. Perhaps she did and simply did not wish to speak the intention aloud. There would be wisdom in such a thought.

"It is a part of what I wished to know, but it is not my place to ask such things." Even here, as her captor and caretaker, Luther did not have the right to pry into certain matters. Of course, another in his position would certainly wish to know why she had sent him on such a hunt in the first place if there had been no intent after finding the location.

The first reason might have been childish curiosity. Luther would not appreciate such an excuse. His second thought was that it had been in hopes to lose the groundskeeper in the grounds which he kept. If it had been so, then it was a foolish attempt regardless. If she wished to be rid of him, it would have been best to just ignore him.

"It would be best that you do not presume to know me." He said it calmly, but even so the words seemed to contain the edge of a threat. "Those clothes are ragged, frilly, and poorly suited to your environment," he mumbled as he returned his attention to the antler he was working into a knife handle.

[Naelona Ezel]

"Then if you are not one to ask, I shall not indulge you with answers." It didn't matter if it was his place or not. If he refused to ask, Naelona felt a bit all the more smug for holding the information from him. Naelona did have her own reasons, but truthfully felt no-one was privy to knowing them. She doubted she would even explain them to her own sibling, they were so secretive and private to her.

For all points and purposes, sitting there near him beside the fire, Naelona couldn't presume to know him. She didn't, nor did she desire to. He was a thorn in her side. A constant irritation which (for now) there was no salve. No solution, fix, or fancy that would absolve her of the obscure situation. At least he noted reason to be up front with his intentions for once - even curiously dismissed ones.

At his offhand remark, Naelona glanced down at her clothing - or rather what she could see that wasn't covered in fur and hide. "For the moment it is all I have, as someone saw fit to remove me from there in such a state." Not to mention any names, of course. "All I can do is make do with what I have. I highly doubt venturing unclothed would be a more suitable option." Naelona added the last bit dryly. Her only true option besides borrowing furs was currently steaming dry an arm's reach closer to the fire. To see if there existed some similar garments here was out of the question. The possibility alone was laughable.

Falling quiet Naelona sat a bit straighter, making her back stretch and hold itself properly. Fluffing the thin material a moment, her attention instead seeped over to his work as a slight bit of curiosity for what he was doing snagged a moments attention. Glancing to the antler she watched him work a few moments, frowning slightly. Oddly, it was something she hadn't much seen done before. "What are you crafting?" No doubt it sounded as a stupid question to him, and he would make some irritating remark in response to her apparent stupidity. The time had lasted just long enough she was beginning to expect these sort of things from him.

The crackling of the fire was all that she heard for what felt like several moments. Whether it was actually moments or not she was no longer able to tell, but it seemed like it. Watching, her mind started wagering it's own bets and more useful suggestions. Some pins were made from such things, or buttons.. those sort of materials had so many uses. These hides needed buttons to secure them. The fur was nice but they were heavy to carry and - pop. Nae flinched at the sudden sound, and then quickly scooted back in short order as some embers bounced out of the fire and part of a log tumbled onto the hearth.

Mumbling some curse, wiping the side of her face where some piece had hit. Fireplaces had shields for that very distinct reason. Glancing at her fingers for soot a glare was shot at the fire. She didn't need inanimate things waging war against her now, too. That seemed the worst of hit however - until she fire that wasn't in the fireplace at all. No, the bright young flames were licking their way up something thin, light, black and very clothlike. Eyes widening Naelona snatched down the dress, taking cloth and patting out the fire that'd been making it's merry little way right up the skirts.

Splendid.

Gingerly unfolding the skirt of the dress, charred pieces flaked away effortlessly along one side of the skirt. Where cloth hadn't already fallen apart the thin material showed signs of scorching. Wonderful, now she got to make due with even less. "Well, it's dry now." She mumbled more to herself than anyone. Gathering what burnt bits she could she tossed them back into the fire. She would still put it back on in a short while, just not right away.

[Luther Verhulst]

That woman was the single most unpleasant wretch that he had the displeasure to not avoid meeting. Her personality bordered on being even more coarse than his own, and Luther recognized it. Refusing answers that were not asked for was just being vindictive--she was trying to get in the last word only for the satisfaction of having it. She was playing a confrontational game with someone who would not pull his punches if pushed too far.

Luther remained silent with a sneer permanently affixed to his face. There was nothing to be said to Naelona, nor was there anything he wanted to say any longer. Well, perhaps that was not the complete truth, but there was nothing to be gained yet. Except for the grim sense of satisfaction that snapping her frail little neck might also give him.

And yet she was curious enough to peer over his shoulder, or around it anyways, to see what he was working on. Luther might have accused her of ignorance of the ways of the world outside of paperwork, but he did not say any such thing. There were no doubt artisans at the palace who were far more talented than he, but Luther's existence relied on his own abilities to do such things. "After some time, tools need to be mended. I am carving a new handle for a knife blade." Each word was said with measured and controlled breath. He explained it to her as he would to a child, should he have wanted to explain something to a child at all.

She would watch him shaping and shaving off portions of the material. If he desired to later, he might even chisel designs into the handle before affixing it to the metal blade of his knife.

Distractions pulled her away from observing his work. Luther glanced backwards, only curious about what sorts of fuss she was making now. His nose had already picked up the scent of burning fabric. She might have been grateful that happenstance saw fit to dispose of the ragged clothes for her, and all she could manage was to be upset. After her earlier haughtiness, this was amusing. Luther's sneer turned into a smug look.

He made a sound in his throat that was not quite a grunt, but not quite a laugh either. How far the self-righteous had to fall.

[Naelona Ezel]

For several moments Naelona sat by the burnt garment, resting back upon her feet while removing the charred pieces before they flaked off. Leaving a trail of fluttering charred cloth bits wherever she went later was not very high on her list. Granted it was a dress she rarely wore, even during the warmer season for which it was created. The cut was too low and the fabric too thin. Naelona much more preferred the heavier, thick dresses in the wintertime. The palace was a stone structure and it became very cold during certain parts of the year. Wool didn't burn as easily either.

Naelona was quite content to ignore Luther for a few moments while she worked and did so - until she heard a sound. It's purpose wasn't clear, but it rang as amusement in her ears. Shooting a glare over her shoulder, her suspicions were only confirmed as the notable look on his face. He was enjoying this.. this misfortune of hers.. and probably every last bit of it.

"Oh shut it, Verhulst." Naelona snapped over her shoulder, working at the fabric ends where the burnt cloth met its spared counterpart. "This isn't something celebratory, to be amused over." Nothing quite like being several miles away from the Palace with little clothing at it was, and then to have one of the largest and warmest garments left to catch fire. "Do you realize how rude that is? To laugh at another's misfortune?" she sneered, getting to her feet. "You don't have one shred of decency, do you?" He needn't answer that question, she already knew the answer. He didn't.

"No.. no you don't. You don't listen to instruction when it's given. You ignore common protocols. Completely insensible, with no rhyme nor reason to uninstructed social interactions. Not to mention you haven't once seen fit to explain why you've brought me here, only seeing fit to.. to.. criticize and nitpick upon questioning instead!" Walking across the small cabin, the furs were left forgotten on the floor where she had been sitting while she sorted out the singed garment, slipping in on over her head. The skirt of her chemise shown through where the fabric had burned, running up most of her leg. "Impossible!" Impossibly infuriating. ..and she was still stuck here with him, too.

[Luther Verhulst]

Luther's fingers tapped against the table in an impatient manner. There was no rhythm nor reason to his finger strikes against the wood. He continued to do it out of irritation from Naelona's sudden tirade. She had been set off and now she saw fit to go off enumerating every little thing he did that bothered her.

She had called him 'Verhulst'. Did she not understand what that name meant? Luther Gethsemane Verhulst, the birth name of the only child of a very old and very powerful and VERY foolish Boogie. The only part of that name he had ever earned was the first, Luther. He felt his teeth grinding against one another as he just considered it. He might have been able to just let it slide. With effort he could just let it all go.

Everything after that was peculiar. She was contradictory and hypocritical--so much that it caused Luther pain to actually listen to her rant. Aside from her spewing hypocrisies, Luther could find very little that she found obnoxious to be wrong. No, she was in perfect line with the way Luther wanted to be assessed. So why was it so damn annoying?

It was because Naelona was doing the assessing.

There was silence for a moment as he stopped drumming his fingers and she finished her complaints off with a simple "Impossible."

His response was short. "Are you quite done yet?" There was a loud pound as he jabbed his knife firmly into the surface of the table to punctuate his sentence. Slowly he pivoted his body so that she could get a full view of his face. There was not a speck of amusement apparent in there. It looked like there never had been. The light from the fire reflected off of the backs of Luther's eyes and gave it the appearance of glowing at this angle.

It was fast. If she blinked she might have missed him rushing at her and snatching her tiny little body off of the ground. He lifted her into the air by the shoulders. She could still try kicking him if she wanted, but that would only serve to piss him off. "It's my turn," he muttered as he leveled her eyes with his.

"You are little more than a selfish and hypocritical brat; haughty, but without a just cause. There is no room in your mind for any methodology other than your own--and all others you inherently find wrong. You fail to appreciate what others do for your benefit, and offer only incessant meaningless questions and criticisms in exchange. As of yet you are still a child in spirit and manner and you are currently my ward. It is advisable that you do not choose to be so suicidal in the future. This is your last warning."

Dark depth and terrifying meaning was conveyed in each and every word. Furthermore, the words he used were hefty and powerful, and he chose to toss each of these at Naelona like a verbal punch. He was now done talking.

His left hand loosened its grip on Naelona's shoulder, but his right hand tightened for just a moment as he swung the whole woman about and tossed her carelessly across the room. She sailed through the air five feet before ending her horizontal journey in a meeting with the door. The hinges rattled and shook upon impact, but Luther was already moving away.

He moved to that chest in the corner that he had shown Naelona earlier. Opening it up and flipping through compartments he managed to pull out a placement that would have been hidden before. He pulled a thick bundle from the antique chest before shutting it loudly and tossing the dark woolen bundle on the table.

It was a set of clothes. They were plain black and white and made of wool--suited for the winter. They had been cut for a woman of roughly Naelona's size, but never had seen use. The intent had been to politely offer them to her, but children did not get such choices.

He went back to the task that had occupied him before, though it took some time to pry the knife out of the tabletop. There would be no words from him now, even should she try and speak.

[Naelona Ezel]

To say Naelona had finally snapped was a bit of an understatement. There came a point where an individual lost their cause and reason for caring to mind their tongue. In most cases Naelona was not such a person to pursue such actions - most anyone was subject to her verbal lashings as much as the next person - but there were a few notable circumstances where even she would keep her tongue. Among them one being around her father, Jouhnin, and in this situation, Luther. Each for very distinct and different reasons but all for much the very same outcome.

None of the three did she purposely want to provoke wantonly, least of all in such a situation when she was subject and within the charge of another. That circumstance alone probably hadn't occurred since her days as a child. Kazn had a tongue much like she did, and a backhand to match. Jouhnin was a foolish subject to have as an opponent concerning anything. And Luther.. what souls he didn't rend or toss out for Labyrinth meat he apparently threw into doors.

His fingers dug in painfully and instinct kicked in to grab his arm to at least stabilize herself. No such a hope never happened when he suddenly flung her across the room instead. With a gasp her shoulder took the brunt of the impact, spreading to the rest of her backside in notable burning lines while the shuddering door stopped her backwards progress and dropped her to the floor. Naelona hit the floor rather harshly, landing on her hands and knees when feet failed to do the catching. The sounds of the rattling door was secondary to the bright pain that spread across her backside. Gasping from the sudden pain that was now sinking in she shrank back, eyes wide as each disturbed nerve voiced it's adamant opinion of the disturbed well being of her body.

As shock wore off and heat sank in she could feel at least two distinct lines of painful warmth seeping down her back. For once the exact specifics weren't as much of a huge deal to the Ezel, not as much staying immobile moving was. Maybe some boogies could shake off such an impact, but Naelona certainly wasn't one of them. In most physical cases she proved weaker than average, and colliding with a door did little ti dissuade this persistent fact.

Gingerly she sat by the door and didn't bother moving or trying to move for some minutes. Nae was aware Luther had tossed something upon the table and gone back to his own.. task.. and that the door was letting in a draft to her stinging back.. along with that scolding. Naelona wasn't even sure where to begin in critiquing what it was he said. Only a few things stuck in her mind for the moment. Something about her benefit, and being called a child.

The cold air proved oddly soothing. The sting of the impact subsided to a dull throb across her shoulders, part of her back and a hip. With a wary glance towards the fire Nae slowly got to her feet as bruising skin protested the movements. Just the nature of her garments pressing into flesh from simple movements hurt. As much as she tossed it out, a nagging thought insisted one little thing. She'd overdone it. Finally she'd pushed and someone had snapped back. The disturbing part of the concept was that flinging her across the room seemed like simple feat to him. It was troublesome to consider what else he may be capable of.

Finally teetering to her feet, Nae glanced at the bundle of cloth but didn't touch it, staring warily as though some unknown thing was about to happen. At a glance Luther didn't seem to be paying her any more mind. At this point, nor did she want him to. Taking a closer look at it turned out to be clothes. Woolen, womens clothes. Naelona was confused as hell at this point. First suspicions expected foul play but wearied reason refused to support the notion. Both confused and conflicted Naelona unfolded the cloth a little - just to see what it was. It hardly even looked worn. Her mind still felt stunned from the earlier event. She could wear this then.. correct? There was no proper place to change - though he'd unabashedly dressed in the bathroom that one time. Luther probably didn't even care.

On that bet and faith in his ever-turned backside she gingerly dressed, keeping only her chemise to protect her skin from the itchy but warm wool. It was even in suitably acceptable colors. Feeling considerably warmer the boogie gathered her clothing, setting it in a corner near the bearskin. Quietly she retrieved the other fur covered hide she'd been using earlier. Naelona curled up as best she could then, resting her less tender shoulder against the wall and still saying nothing. Only once she was sitting still, quiet, warm in her own little space did her mind begin to race with thoughts and what lines he'd spoken earlier replayed. He made no sense. She'd been berated, thrown, and then tossed her something warm to wear.. it didn't make sense. A lot of things about this present and recent past didn't make sense.

So great, here she was stuck for an unknown amount of time with little insight to an unfrostbitten way home, and Luther here was yet another madma-.. ... ..no, no. The boogie halted the thoughts where they were. She wouldn't even think about that. Not yet. Ears picking up the stormy winds only one things seemed to ring true. It was going to be a very, very long night.

[Luther Verhulst]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Was it night, or was it day? It was hard to tell anymore. At one time there had been windows in the shed, but Luther had removed them and boarded up the gaps. Walls were easier to insulate in the winter than windows and provided fewer points of entry on the off chance that something did break out of the Labyrinth.

Hours had passed without any words between the captor and captive. Luther had finished the knife and moved on to recreational projects, though he did not need to justify these time-wasting activities. There was little left to do at the current time that would not be seen as a waste of his time and energy. Your axes and shovels only had to be so sharp for ease of use.

Regardless of current time, Luther could still hear the howling winds of the storm. It sounded like this one might last for a full day, at the very least. It was just more proof of the storm's supernatural origins.

Was the tool called an awl? The name escaped Luther as he punched another hole in the freshly cleaned skill of his recent kill. Tanning or other treatments might have preserved the material for longer, but it was only going to serve a temporary purpose. As such, there was no need to make it last.

He had not so much as given a Naelona a second glance since his outburst. It had been more out of minor irritation than anything else. Given the way she acted around him, Luther was certain that she had deserved what he dished out, at the very least. Meting out punishments was, more or less, one of his duties. Typically they were of the capital sort.

It occurred to him that he had not heard her moving much. If she had not gotten up from the doorway at all he would have just presumed her dead. Certainly she must have been tired or hungry? The bones from before still remained untouched. The temptation to go over and break one in his maw for a snack was rising. Instead, he contented himself with more work.

[Naelona Ezel]

Naelona spent much of the time huddled in her own corner. When her mind wasn't zoning and tempting sleep, it was mulling over what the beast had said and her own issues at hand until her head hurt more than her body. Once or twice the boogie's eyes sank shut for a short only to open again. Rest was meager and fleeting at best, but she was still able to catch at least a little rest with the scant company at hand.

After a while Nae couldn't rest anymore - or try to rest. Her limbs and muscles ached from not moving and her back was tender and sore from being thrown into the door, the muscles knotted and the flesh bruised. She wouldn't see how much was bruised or how badly, but she could feel how tender it was whenever the boogie accidentally leaned back on the wrong side. Opening her eyes Naelona blinked blearily at the fire. Luther was busy doing 'something' again. Did he ever sleep?

Wiping the sleep from her eyes the boogie got up to her feet with some effort. Spotting a bucket that still had water and a new resolve sank in along with the fresh pang of hunger. There were bones to cook. Nae didn't have the faintest idea of where to look for a kettle. Luther didn't seem to have much of a use for one and so she didn't expect to find one. Yet... he didn't seem to have a use for woolen clothing that a female of her size could wear either, yet that existed as well. Barring the strange questions that alone raised, Naelona went digging.

In one chest she finally found something suitable, a cast iron pot and lid of all things. Wiping it out Nae glanced back into the chest just in case there was a ladle or spoon to stir with that went with it. No luck - but something else caught her eye. Worn leather with bits of paper sticking out.. it was a book. A very old, worn, and dirty book. Contrary to her work, Naelona wasn't much of a fan of said items, but certain tomes were easily regarded par sacred for their contents.

At the sight Nae felt a bit indignant as it clicked in her tired mind what it was and what it most likely held. It was a book of records left out here alone, buried, and in detestable condition. It was an injustice to nearly every degree, but she couldn't expect a brute like him to understand such a delicate thing, even despite the befuddling things he was apparently prone to saying. Cautiously, Naelona lifted the book out of the chest, careful not to bump it or encourage it's decay. Shuffling over to her pile of discarded attire she gently wrapped it up and hid it within the midst of her things. It would be okay there, for a time.

Content the boogie left and resumed her task, filling the kettle with water and quietly hanging it up by the fire, ignoring Luther and his work as she did so. Sorting through the bones she wanted - and a bit of meat - that was also added when the water reached sufficient temperature. Other menial ingredients were difficult to find, but the meager requirements or their substitutes were eventually discovered with effort to some degree and added appropriately. Luther might not appreciate such creation, but that just meant all the more left for her.

While keeping an eye on the kettle, she vaguely noted he was making something. What it was and why she wasn't about to ask. If he desired her to know, he would say such. The otherwise intrusive boogie wasn't about to ask, either. Enough words had passed as it was, about now even silence spoke loud enough.

[Luther Verhulst]

His personal project continued at its expected pace. There were at least three items he would have to produce for the moment. If they were to serve any more permanent purpose aside from one use, he might have put a great deal more preparation into the project.

He had a surprisingly nimble set of fingers and had picked up the handicraft easily over the years. People took one look at him and assumed him slow and dumb. Maybe that was why Luther could have never participated in society like the rest of the people. This presupposed that he ever really had wanted to in the first right. "Assholes," he mumbled under his breath as he continued working.

Luther knew that Nae was up and moving about. His nonvisual senses were focused on what she was doing. Searching about for something. Maybe she was finally going to do what she suggested in the first place. It seemed like a terrible waste of the bones to Luther, but if it made her happy and gave her something to do other than nag him, he was all for it.

He leaned forward and reached with his obnoxiously long arm to grab the bottle of scotch once more. He took another long sip from the bottle and set it back down where it had been before. He was done punching holes into the material and so he took up some new materials and took a seat on the other side of the shed. He would leave her to what tasks she could find.

And maybe his hunger would get the best of him and he would try the soup. He doubted it would be very good, but have no previous experiences with such culinary tricks to compare it with. This entire experience was bothersome and he wished it was over.

[Naelona Ezel]

Naelona settled quiet contentedly infront of the fire as Luther left. He apparently didn't care for her to be interferring in whatever it was he was doing, and she was just as fine not knowing. The less she knew of his actions the less she would find the critisize, the better for all involved. She still remembered well what had happened the last time her tongue had gotten run of her actions. It wasn't something she was seeking to repeat anytime soon.

Setting the lid upon the kettle to simmer, Nae stayed by the hearth though her ears were listening to the work going on across the shed. What was written in that book? It certainly was old and had seen a lot of wear and use. To find any sort of an item out here was a considerably find in her opinion. Staying in the shed with Luther proved about as perplexing as the Labyrinth was itself. It was just one small mystery after another - not to mention his own strange habits.

The concept of doing something for anyone for merely their 'benefit' seemed silly and absurd to Naelona. There was no reason to do something for an individual if they were fully capable of completing the action themselves. There was nothing he was required to offer. Feasibly, he could even throw her outside to freeze to death this very minute and there would be little action anyone could take or say against him for it.

Reflecting upon her short stay it seemed several of his actions could be explained by classifying them as such a motive. Bringing in buckets of snow so she could bath, leaving her with some privacy even though she was aware Luther apparently had no need for such things. Holding her by the fire, keeping her warm by a coat, and even offering her food.. they were all things she was not obligated to for the terms of the state by which she was there. Some even contradicted what she suspected of his nature. She even could have made due with furs, but still there was a woolen garment for her to wear. It was perplexing.

Naelona said little for the next hour and half, as most only causing sound when checking the soup or adding a log or stirring coals. Finally - after carefully lifting the hot lid from the steaming kettle - the delicious, enticing smell that could only be bone soup poured from the kettle into the room. Now this was a scent that brought back memories. Funny, the slaves back home never liked making it much. Funny how it had taken little Nae years before she ever understood why.

"Soup is ready, if you would like to try some." She doubted he would, as raw as he preferred his meals, but the offer was still there. Hunting for a bowl - or something that would suffice for one - Naelona could hardly wait to sip down the hot broth. There was nothing quite like hot favorite in a cold winter night.

[Luther Verhulst]

A sound issued from Luther's throat. It resembled a sigh, a groan and a growl all at once. A great deal of the sounds he made could be classified in nonverbal communication if one bothered to learn what each and every sound communicated. No living soul, barring Gwyllgi, had ever spent enough time with Luther to learn the full meaning of each and every sound.

This one expressed a range of emotions related to having to get back up while in the midst of his work. He had made quite a bit of progress, but still had several hours of this ahead of him. He was willing to stand up and move around for a little while, even if the offer of soup did not entice him.

Almost as though he were able to preempt Naelona's thoughts he grabbed two shallow bowls. The material was clearly bone and the shape made it readily obvious that they were the tops of skulls. Human skulls. Humans had a large enough space in their head for the brain that it made a suitable bowl with little modification aside from cutting and some polish.

The smell was hardly appetizing, but there was the intent to try what she had wrought in the kitchen. Otherwise he would have only grabbed once such bowl, or pointed and grunted in their general direction for her to locate them.

He dipped his bowl into the kettle and withdrew a small sample of the steaming liquid. Before putting it to his lips he actually gagged at the thought of what he was going to be doing. He took a sip, but it was hot and burned his mouth. He tasted nothing and only felt burning. He stared at Naelona in bewilderment for a moment. How was it that the rest of them could stomach such things?

[Naelona Ezel]

Naelona didn't have to hunt for a bowl for long as Luther apparently saw fit to grab two himself. Making a small note she took one, apparently he had the sensibility to have some soup after all. He wasn't that civilized, but a taste of civilization wouldn't hurt him. Glancing over the bowl, the make of it almost amused the boogie. A suitable function for the bone structures. Soup would be more usefully filling than those bones ever held.

Once Luther was out of the way Naelona filled up her bowl, wiping off the drops with a clean strip of cloth she had from earlier. Holding up the steaming bowl she blew lightly across the surface so not to splatter broth all over. The boogie was impatient for it to cool. She was hungry and it smelled delicious.

Something about the room seemed odd, however. Glancing over to Luther, Nae raised a thin eyebrow at the large boogie only to be met with a bewildered gaze instead. Didn't he know how to drink broth out of a bowl? A glance at his empty bowl told her apparently he did, a little too well.

"You just-..?" The boogie stared at him for a moment in slight disbelief. Had she a stitch of humor to her she might of snorted at his childish misfortune. "You're not supposed to just drink it straight from the kettle. Your supposed to blow on it, like this.." Nae repeated the earlier action so he could see it. "..so it doesn't splatter. Then you can drink it." It was almost comical, instructing a boogie nearly twice her age on how to drink soup. Taking a sip she tasted it carefully, making a note of approval. "It's much better this way. Try it."

Maybe she could get the old dog to learn a few new tricks.

[Luther Verhulst]

His eyes examined Naelona with great suspicion. There was another reason to dislike cooked food--it burned the mouth and left a dead feeling on the tongue and palate. Luther had lost his sense of taste, but that was something he rarely used. Food was not something you took for enjoyment--it was something for nourishment. Enjoying food meant betraying the utility of it. Enjoying food meant succumbing to the temptations of just one more of the spirits that haunted the region.

He attempted to blow gently against the soup, but it was awkward. It was about the same amount of force he used when handling a newborn animal, one of the few remnants from a forgotten childhood. The soup was still hot and Luther did not imagine that any amount of blowing was going to cool the liquid down enough to match his comfort levels. He felt the heat spread down his cold throat. Warmth spread down his esophagus much in the same way that a shot of strong whiskey did, but this heat chose to radiate outward. He had never thought he was cold before.

Aside from that, he could not say that he enjoyed the experience. Burning his mouth alone had guaranteed that if there was supposed to be some kind of magic in the flavor of this concoction that he missed it. He doubted that he was missing much. The bowl was now empty and he set it down. Before he worked back on his project he took a hard look at Naelona. He stared hard at her legs, or what little he could see of them. If anyone but Luther had done this, she might have assumed they were checking her out. Luther's intention was much more practical.

Diverting his gaze without so much as another word he went back to his project. He had a few more hours before he would be done, but now he had what he needed.

[Naelona Ezel]

Were there ever a glance that in one look explained the uncivilized mind and its first encounter with civilized food, the suspicious look from Luther was probably it. Naelona was pretty sure if he had indeed burnt his mouth on it - the soup was rather hot fresh off the fire - the rest would probably be unpleasant. It was a horrible thing to burn one's mouth at first bite. All that could be tasted was heat. All the flavors off a prepared meal were lost into a persistent ache. Ah well, even children burnt their tongues.

Sipping down the hot soup Naelona frowned, something catching her attention. Luther was done with his bowl but there was some other matter at hand instead. He was staring at her. Intently. At her legs. Granted skirts obstructed such a scrutiny to quite a degree, but some things could still be determined just by how one moved and how the fabric moved with them. A much subdued almost-a-glare became a frown, and turned into a mere raised eyebrow at he just turned and left back for whatever task he was toiling at this time. How odd.

Glancing down at her skirts a moment the boogie couldn't find anything wrong with them. There weren't any marks or spills or anything else of the sort upon them. There were a few creases from her sleeping, but that was about it.

With what time remained Nae sat in front of the warm fire, having at least two bowls. It seemed the wind wasn't as violent outside as it had been before.. but it still whistled it's way outside and drove the snow into flurries of white. Nae wondered how much snow had fallen.. and how things were back at the Palace. Were walkways being cleared? Numerous balconies needed to be cleaned off as well. Had anyone checked on the slaves in the South Wing? Some of those rooms were quite drafty.. the last mess she needed was a frozen occupant half-consumed by wandering familiars.

Beyond soup and maybe a piece or two of jerky, there wasn't much else to be had. More time was spent thinking, but even that became boring after a while. Leaving wasn't yet an option. Her limbs felt stiff from the lack of exercise and movement. The furs and hides could only be looked at for so long. That book came back to mind.. and though Naelona would quietly check to see it was still there from time to time, this was hardly the proper place or environment to go rifling through such an old book. It was bothersome to consider what one untimely gust of air from an open door would do to such a worn book.

With nothing else to do, Naelona resided herself to musing over what it was written on and what records were recorded within it. Maybe books were kept on the happenings of this location before? Then why had they ceased? She certainly wasn't aware of any.. then again until a year or so ago even Luther was just a myth. Comfortably full and warm, Naelona curled back up in her makeshift sleeping space, letting her eyes sink shut for the time being. Hopefully this would all end soon enough.

[Luther Verhulst]

There was one thought that went through Luther's mind while he worked, though he would rather that it quit his mind entirely. Deep thoughts and considerations were not the place of children, small or large. Yet, he considered that every myth and legend had at least one grain of truth contained within. The building blocks of any good lie was that at some level it borrowed strength from truth.

At some point Luther had passed a point where he no longer existed. It was as everyone had long prayed: he was dead. The nature of his death had changed with the passage of time. Death gave way to rebirth as a legend, and life as a legend returned to death as a myth: nonexistence. Now the truth was redefined: it was not that he had lived or died, but that he never been in the first place.

Many knew the stories of Luther Gethsemane Verhulst; he was the monstrous offspring of yet another monster. If you gave him the chance, he would devour your flesh or drag you off to an unimaginable abyss. The reality was much more mundane and certainly tasted much more bitter. He was a poor caretaker of a place where no sane man nor woman tread. His duty was to maintain the barriers between sanity and madness. The mad, unruly and sickly were dragged off in the night and forced into the Labyrinth.

The Labyrinth, in of itself, was an oxymoron. A true labyrinth had only one way to progress and retreat. There was only one true path, though the nature of that path was in a constant state of flux. Or perhaps it was merely that deranged minds perceived what was only one possibility as limitless. Regardless, within the single-tracked Labyrinth would have been the maze proper, a true test of winding passages leading to a center which no living feet had tread.

He had seen it in his wakeful dreams. It was all so clear. Or perhaps he had been there and his mind wished to interpret it as dreams--a last ditch effort to preserve what tatters were left of his sanity.

Reality was often much more dreary than fanciful fantasy.

He would not be here when Naelona awoke. There was that inherent desire to slip back into the state of mythology--to have never existed in the first place. He would be the product of a fatigued mind. After all, aside from other madmen and madwomen, none could have ever claimed to have seen and recognized Luther for what he was. And even amongst those, none could claim to have ever understood him and his ways.