I feel like this has happened. On the way back from an expedition. She's got a recruit draped over the back of her horse, unconscious. He lost his horse, and he almost lost his damn life. But she won't bury another body. She won't place him on a funeral pyre. So she carries him back, one hand extended behind her to ensure he doesn't move.

They ride past a river, and their flank slows down, to a stop. They see a smaller group in the distance. They'll wait for them to catch up. There's no titans nearby, anyway. It's actually... oddly quiet.

Suddenly, a gasp. A stir behind her. He's awake, and he's coughing. He's trying to push himself up. ❛ Are you stupid? Stay still! ❜ She barks. He looks over, his eyes a little wide. He's relieved to be alive, but seeing her face? He remembers it from his drills. He remembers she made him run extra laps, actually. Until he threw up from exhaustion. But she's... getting off her horse now. She's grabbing her canteen, heading to the river.

She leans down and dips the canteen in. This kid's lungs sound like they're about to deflate, with all the coughing he's doing. She pulls the canteen from the river once it's full, and in the moving water –– she catches a glimpse of herself.

It's the ghosts again. Her mother – she'd tell Eden to make sure she sits the recruit up before giving him the water. And her father would laugh at the way she yelled at him the second he had become conscious.

She doesn't look for long. She can't look for long. Her stomach twists. Turns. Churns.

She pushes herself up. Heads back towards her horse.

❛ Sit up. ❜ She watches him struggle for a moment. He can fly on wires, but he can't figure out how to sit up on the back of a damn horse? She hands him the canteen, practically shoves it at him when he finally sits up. ❛ Fischer, right? ❜ He's gulping the water down, nodding. She nods in return. Turns towards the front of the flank. They're about to get moving again.

❛ Stay here. I'll be a minute. ❜ The words roll off Alexi's tongue ; he'd done this many times before, though he didn't usually have an audience. ( And he intended to keep it that way. ) So, he left Accalia somewhere she wouldn't be detected – though her association with him was a shield enough in itself.

Once he's out of view, he brandishes his knife. It isn't like he is hiding his ways from her. No – to his core, this is who he is. Not an assassin or a hitman, but a man who does a job when it needs to be done. It had been this way since he was young ; he had been a child when his hands were first stained with blood.

Soon enough, he spots his target. Pitiful man. He wouldn't see it coming. Not until it was too late. And the act is quick ; the man turns around after sensing a presence. His eyes grow wide. ( The reaper approaches – his number is up. There is silent understanding of unpaid debt. Not to Alexi – but to a valuable informant of his. So he would do what must be done, as always. )

The man reaches for his own blade, but he is not quick enough. Alexi drives his knife into the center of his prey's chest, pushing it upwards and twisting it. He lets out a groan and slumps to the ground. Dead. Alexi's expression remains unchanged, and he pulls the knife from the man's chest. He uses the corpse's shirt as a rag ; blood smears over dirtied linen. He'll clean his knife up later.

One task done – and now he has another. Get back to Accalia, and get her 'home,' if she could call it that. To the room he graciously lent her.

Alexi cocks a brow as she approaches him. He was well-aware she was being followed. In fact – he had been following her too ; though, he was far more skilled in stealth. So, the man doesn't argue or correct her. He simply begins to walk with her, his hands stuffed in his pockets as they walk side-by-side. He sees the others in his periphery ; how they fall back into the shadows now that she was accompanied by him. ❛ That'll happen – often, if you're not careful. Good thing you found me. ❜ He looks down at her now, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Ever the charmer.

@frostbittcn  And though much of her yearned to have been there, in his childhood years, when he had needed her love and guidance... she understands that she is little more than a ghost to him. He does not know her, not yet, she thinks of him as her child yet embraces that he is an adult.

Perhaps a little subservient even though she knows him well to be otherwise.

"I wouldn't ask you to do that," she says gently, still taking in his appearance, how much he looks like her, "We both are tired and need rest for now... and I'm not sure where the nearest town is from here."

She observes him, she does not see a monster, underneath the exterior of a hardfaced madman... she sees, much like she saw with his father, there is more underneath. The major difference being that what she sees in him is a child. A frightened child desperately trying to cling to something, anything, that might tell him he is not what he has been fashioned to be. A monster.