That's Weird

"I don't want this," she says through gritted teeth. He shuts his eyes and clamps his hands over his ears as he curls into a ball in the corner of his cell. Great, he's not going to help her or himself. He doesn't even know what's happening either. Nobody knows what's going on. She's never heard about anything like this before, not that it's something anyone would want to talk about.

At least she doesn't feel sick anymore, miraculously. Maybe all she needed was for him to fall victim to the spell as well. But that doesn't change the fact that there's still something very wrong with her, and she'll find a way to fix it. She will. The only thing she can think of that could fix that would be to kill him, and she just stands there for a moment staring at his back. He looks small and fragile when he sits like that, his back completely exposed to any kind of attack if there had not been a wall of glass between them. She should let her mentor know about this. When it becomes obvious that he isn't going to turn around and that he won't remove his hands from his ears, she just wants to leave. She exhales a deep, shaky breath and knocks on the door.

It's odd to want to see someone she would usually never even look twice at. As soon as she's outside the triangle room, she wants to go back in, but she doesn't want to see him again. She hates that she's made to think of him this way, and hopes it changes soon. The monstrous infection that's running in her blood needs to go away. She needs to get rid of him. This is all she can think of on her way back to the surface. She's only pulled out of her train of thought when her mentor stops her on the bridge from the holding cells building to the living quarters. She squeezes her hand and receives a faint smile in return.

"I know somethings wrong, Kimle." It's said it so matter-of-factly that the only thing she sees fit to respond with is a nod. "We can talk about it at my place if you're interested. Not that you ever were much of a talker, but we can go about it like an interview. Like when you were a teenager." She nods again and clenches her teeth. However it's done, it's time to let someone who knows a deal about this kind of stuff dissect the situation. Still holding hands, they head to her mentor's apartment in the upper levels of the skyscraper with other distinguished retirees. There're all kinds of aristocrats, but very few hunters. Not many hunters live so long that they can retire peacefully. Her mentor's privileged, in many ways.

She uses her key card to activate the elevator, and it speeds up toward the floors without buttons. They reach the twenty-second floor and the young hunter withdraws her hand as they step off the elevator into the floor's entré. She only takes off her shoes, the big jacket stays on. Despite the high temperature in the next room, she pulls it closer around her, and the two of them sit down in the sofa. Her mentor reaches for her cheek to brush some hair out of her face. She must look like a rag that's been dragged through the mud. The image in her head makes her smile, but it looks the way she feels. Sad and a little confused. Her mentor jumps back onto her feet, clapping her hands together.

"I'll make us some tea. Think about what you wanna say in the meantime. Are you interested in some snacks? Sweet or salty?" She shakes her head, trying to force another smile, but she can't. Being reminded about the case is painful. She's trapped in her own mind, and she doesn't even know if she'll be able to do her job properly if this continues. After sitting alone for a few seconds, trying not to think about anything, especially not the dirty halfling in the basement of the prison facility, she gets up and walks over to the window.

The people on the bridges, hurrying between the different departments of the headquarter, look so small from up there. They're busy. Most of them have horns that are visible from this height, most of them with both horns intact. Straight or curled, long or short, and some in a color so dark it looks black if you're not looking closely. One of them has the same kind of horns as the halfling, one and a half horn, and they're moving towards this building. She looks away. It's not him, he can't get out of the prison. Her senses come back to her, and the pain in her side makes her aware that she's digging her fingers into the wound. Her mentor walks into the room with a tray covered in delicate porcelain, including a big bowl of popcorn. It grinds her gears that the old woman always thinks she's right. Even though in the end, most of the time, she's able to turn the events in her favor. They sit back down in the sofa and she's handed a cup of steaming flavored water.

"Chamomile," her mentor smiles, and she can't help but chuckle. It makes the worried wrinkle between her mentor's eyebrows disappear. "Now, let's get to the core of this. This is about what you told me before, isn't it? You said the horn was still in you when you passed out. You're sure about this?" Kimle hears the cup and plate rattle as she's pulled back into the core of the problem. She swallows, nodding but wanting to elaborate. However, no words come out of her mouth when she opens it.

"It's all right, you don't have to say anything yet. I just want to let you know one detail. The people who brought you in, all they did was keep the pressure on that wound and get you into the hospital. They didn't see anything out of the ordinary, or they would have reported it, for sure. And we went out to look for it. It's not there. It's possible that someone took it before we get there, but there weren't any signs of it. Now leaves us with your theory. But, sweetie, you know this. Horns don't dissolve like that." Kimle looks at her mentor from the corner of her eye and frowns.

"There's one more problem," she whispers. "The horn has done something. I think I'm bound by a 'sweetheart jinx'. How do we make it stop?" Her mentor leans back in her seat with a little whistling sound and puts down the teacup. Kimle does too and takes a deep breath. Her hands are trembling in her lap, and she wonders if the other woman can hear her heart beating its way out of her chest.

"You mean with the half, right? I see. Yes, that actually does make sense. You poor thing, it must be so hard for you! Here, I'll try to lift it." A tiny spark of hope lights in Kimle's chest. She almost dares to believe there's another way to stop this than to kill him. She frowns, the curse could be stronger than she thought. Why would she not want to kill him, if she got the chance? It's her job, she'd lose that if she ever spoke those words out loud in front of anyone else than her mentor. Has she gone completely mad already? She will get thrown out of headquarters and will have to live the rest of her life on the run like those filthy humans.

Her mentor realizes that her student is getting agitated, and pats her cheek gently. She then puts her hand on her forehead and darkness swallows her golden yellow eyes. A faint but noticeable flow of energy enters her system. Her scalp tingles with the energy, and there's a little bit of pain as her mentor scrapes a rune into her skin. The flow of energy cuts off abruptly, and Kimle opens her eyes, not remembering that she closed them. Nothing is different, she can still feel the soft yearning for the disgusting thing they're keeping under control in the holding cells. Her mentor is wearing an expression Kimle has never seen on her before. Utter confusion.

"That's weird..."