𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 ℭ𝔯𝔬𝔴

While she doesn’t much concern herself with the business of other spirits, it is still a rather easy task for her to sense others of her kind. Especially when they are on her territory. The mountain resonates with her magic, as she has resided her for many centuries. The forest whispers to her, a familiar chorus of voices that guide her in the right direction.

Ahri turns her head only for a brief moment at the other’s question. However, she doesn’t see the point in answering. After all, whether the way ahead of them is long or short, what does it matter? Above the crowned trees, night is falling swiftly and with it the woods fill with all kinds of eerie noises.

With her fox paws carrying her swiftly and easily and her lithe form has little problems slipping through the thick undergrowth, she makes sure to slow every now and then to allow her companion to catch up.

Finally, she can feel the presence of the other spirit in their immediate vicinity. Despite her kind usually being solitary beings, she has met plenty of others in her lifetime. Still, this one feels different, malicious and dangerous. It makes her fur stand up and her nine tails fan out instinctively.

Deprived of an answer, he simply releases a quiet, mildly annoyed grunt before continuing to follow behind the fox-spirit in silence; though he is not in the least willing to put his complete trust in her, he is also well aware that he has few other choices at the moment. The entire situation makes his blood go hot within his nerves, but there is little else to be expected when interacting with spirits, however briefly.

With each step upon the path, the sky above them seems to darken further, bringing with it the myriad sounds of creatures from another realm, their cries and murmurs foreign to his ears. Hs fingers tighten further around the handle of his weapon, lest something dart from the shadows and attempt to snatch it off his belt. In some strange, twisted way, it is exciting—an illogical, dangerous place with threats around every corner, yet with nothing that can restrain him, nothing that can prevent him from truly showing his ferocity if need be.

At last, in the blink of an eye, the atmosphere changes—a sudden pressure in the air, a stinging scent upon the wind, the shift from the possibility of danger to a certainty. Halting in his tracks, he shifts his arm, and with the faint hiss of metal upon metal, his sabre is freed from its sheath, its gray, engraved blade hovering in the dark.

Satisfaction gleaming in her eyes, the Gumiho leaned forward and further into the other’s space, allowing the invisible fingers of her magic brush along the edges of his mind. Delicately, they feel for the memory the man is thinking of, without digging further into his conscious. She is a fox of her word after all.

Ahri closes her eyes, reliving the memory as though it was her own and not that of a stranger. Along with the life energy she draws forth, she devours the emotions and thoughts connected with this glimpse of the past until not a trace of it remains.

This sliver of nourishment is nowhere near enough to quench the hunger that always lurks within the depths of her being but she relishes it nevertheless.

“As you have upheld your part of the deal, I shall uphold mine.” She takes a step backwards, turning to direct her attention towards the woods behind her shrine instead. “Follow me.”

In a whirl of silk and cloth, her form changes, a smooth transition until in her stead a small, white fox stands before the stranger. Pointy nose twitching, she brushes past him. At the edge of the forest, she pauses, clearly waiting for him to follow.

The touch of her consciousness against his own, however gentle and faint, is enough to make him shudder both inwardly and outwardly, his muscles tensing and thoughts recoiling at the foreign intrusion. Whether it takes an instant or eternity, he does not know—but when he finally returns to the conscious world, he finds his mind strangely empty, unable to recollect anything of what he was just visualizing save that it was unimportant, and that it was taken by the fox-woman’s magic. 

His teeth bare and clench beneath the visor, eyes narrowing; no matter how irrelevant the memory might have been, the notion of having things plucked from his mind like baubles makes his blood boil. The purpose behind it, however, has not been forgotten, and so he restrains his anger, instead simply glowering at the woman and keeping silent as she affirms their agreement.

Her sudden transformation surprises him, but only briefly; it is hardly the most bizarre thing he has seen a spirit do, though most of their kind seem to prefer far more threatening, outlandish forms. Making no comment on the matter, he simply turns and trudges after her, hand still wrapped around the grip of his sword as he glances around at the surrounding forest, watching for any signs of ambush.

She watched curiously as the other seemed to contemplate her offer. Where she was considered a memory and the little life essence that was connected to it, was a cheap price for her help. It would be barely be enough to sate her hunger but she was an expert at being patient.

“No need to worry, stranger. All you need to do is focus on the memory in question and I will pick it from your conscious. You have my word that I will not dig deeper into your mind.”

Certainly, some would say that trusting the word of a spirit was a terrible idea but she had no need to lie. If she wanted to devour his soul fully, she would’ve attempted to do so when he’d first set foot on her mountain.

The smile that played around his lips held just the slightest hint of danger. “What do you say? Is your quest worth such a small sacrifice?”

Well, isn’t that convenient. He still does not trust her whatsoever, but the terms of the deal itself seem acceptable enough, and he is not without means of retaliation if the fox-spirit attempts to renege on the agreement.

“Very well.” He states simply, and without another word, he focuses his thoughts, bringing up a random memory from years before.

Dead of night, the sky starless and black as pitch. The streets of a city, buildings crowded together like boxes—the only sound the weak whistling of the air through cracks in the stone and wood.

Motion from the alleyway to the left—feet halt in place, hand shifts beneath cloak to the handle of the sword. A figure surfaces from within the shadows: hunched, dressed in patchwork rags, face covered by a dirty hood. Words come in a croaked, feeble voice: ‘Coin for a poor man?’ Spare some gold?’ Beneath the rags—the bulk of trained muscle, the sheen of metal. This is no beggar.

Three long steps taken towards the figure—and sure enough, it lunges forwards, a shortsword appearing from underneath the rags. From the side and behind, the footsteps of two others, the hissing of metal—an ambush. They chose poorly. 

The ‘beggar’ falls first: sabre arcs out of its sheath, cleaves through cloth and metal and flesh, exposes the organs beneath. The second man swings with an axe, hits only empty space; an instant later, his neck bursts in a fountain of blood. The third yells and charges, stabbing with a dagger, nicks the shoulder. Sting. Irritation. Contempt. Before he can withdraw, his throat is gripped; fingers close, and his neck shatters with a final gurgled cry.

A pause as the body crumbles to the ground—then footsteps resume, faster than before, down the street and out of sight. Too much noise; must leave now, avoid curious eyes. 

She’s not the slightest bit put off by his reaction to her touch, nor his harsh way of speaking to her. So far, she was thoroughly enjoy this encounter. It was a welcome change of her routine.

“Fox woman. What an impolite way of referring to a lady. Just because I live alone on a mountain, doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate manners.” The silk of her garments rustled as she continued to walk around him.

He wanted help to find another spirit, what an interesting request indeed. She pondered over the idea for a moment. It wasn’t that she had any particular loyalty to other of her kind.

“One memory. You choose which one you wish to give. In return, I will help you find whom you seek.”

A memory—so it seems that some of the rumors had a measure of truth after all. A simple enough price, but all the more suspicious because of that. There are many things in his mind that he would not tell a dying man, let alone a spirit inhabiting an Ionian forest. If he provides her with a memory of his, will not be an important one.

“And how exactly will you take this memory, 九尾の狐?” He briefly shifts into an Ionian dialect as he speaks, eyes narrowing slightly. At the same time, if there is any potential for her to take more than he is willing, that is a risk he is not willing to take.

A pearly light laugh fell form her lips, as she listened to the rumours he recounted. Oh, humans really were all too amusing with the stories they made up.

“I don’t see a reason why I would tell you. Wouldn’t that just ruin this reputation I have worked oh so hard to acquire.” The fox chuckled, gracefully slipping form her seat and landing soubdlessly in front of her. “If you know so much about me, shouldn’t you be scared?”

She reached up a hand, to brush along his shoulder, slowly moving to circle him in a way a predator would its prey. “You’ve come here because you want something, haven’t you? I can help you as long as you are willing to pay the price.”

An irritatingly coy answer, but truth be told, he did not expect anything else from her initial reply. He’ll just have to press her further, and see what honesty he can wrench from her by the end.

As her hand glides across his arm, he instinctively shifts away from her touch, pivoting on his heels to continue facing her with his eyes locked onto hers. “....What I want is not escape or ‘love,’ fox-woman.” He states, words slow and clear. “What I want is information: the location of another spirit that roams this region.” He falls silent for a moment, allowing his request to sink in, then resumes:

Ahri eyes the stranger, lazily stretching her arms, tails brushing along the edge of the roof. “You sound like you think you’re different from the other humans. Arrogance is never a good sight on a mortal.”

She swings her legs over the edge, her fox feet barely hidden by the growing shadows. “If you know enough to call me that, you should know the rules, human. If you seek out my shrine, you have to offer something. Or else you might never find your way home and I am the least terrifying beast that hunts in these mountains at night.”

“I know more than that.” He responds, flatly ignoring her initial remark. He did not come here to trade petty insults with a spirit, no matter how renowned they might be.

“I have heard that many of those who come to you, are never seen again.” He continues, heading angling downwards ever so slightly as he speaks. “That you eat mens’ hearts, and if you are hungry enough, their souls as well. That you seduce humans and rob them of their minds, leaving them to wander the forest until death.

Immediately, his arms wrap securely around her stomach, pulling her close so that he can place his chin upon her shoulder. Turning his head, he then plants a kiss on her cheek, right at the edge of her mouth.