Ascension - Book Eight - Man x Man

Chapter 18

It had been better, at least I thought it had until I saw the small city we stayed in. "I have a feeling we are only ending because of me."

Once more he smirks, "You're a hard worker but you ain't much for lasting, I'm afraid. I remember learning about lycans as a boy, not much taught on it in school, but doesn't quite feel right working a man to the bone given the way creation found you. Though I must admit, you put on a good act. With all them scars, I figured you'd be a tougher fellow than you are. Not that I don't appreciate your help."

Not sure if I should be offended or not, I decide to let it slide for I was feeling quite low on myself already for the creation of the breed. Running a hand through my hair, I snag one of the dirty pale towels and wipe off the salt and sweat from my face. "I'll admit I've not known much for hardship when it comes to physical labor." Did war count? We walked endlessly but my tacks weren't quite physical. 

Mentally and emotionally, my debt was paid. But physically? Tracing the rag over my exposed, scarred arms I exhale slowly as my lips pull down. I supposed the universe had taken its pound of flesh in other methods. Still, I found myself feeling humbled by the hours of labor. How my husband managed to look at me after what my father put him through baffled me. 

"Where are you from? I've never quite heard an accent like yours. Sounds... Russian?" His words catch me off guard. 

"Romania," I respond before instantly regretting it by the puzzled look on his face. Romania was a dead continent, I was too young to be from there though lycans could be immortal nobody in this time would understand that. My breed was extinct until only recently. "The accent at least, I've been occupying France for quite some time. The accent just stuck with my family, I suppose." I consider my dialect and wonder if I should work on softening it for when I wanted to remain hidden, much as I'd clung to my heritage I had never felt more distant from it. Seeing my home melting away into the dark woods had crushed my sense of urgency to return there. 

Romanian was a mixture of multiple different languages such as French, Spanish with a hint of Slavic roots. The thought brings just a hint of a smile back to my face as I envision my warlord struggling to conquer the language due to its complexity and accent, an English man had difficulty mastering the full scale when Russian was concerned. Much as Victor might have been attempting to help him learn, it had eluded him for the most part and it brought me great amusement in how much that irritated him to do poorly at something.

One of the few things my warlord wasn't good at. I decide when I get home I would attempt to teach him again, I'm sure that would please him. The thought causes the smile to fade as quickly as it appeared, I so desperately wanted to be home.

"I know that look. Thinking of a girl?" He gestures to my ring with a tilt of his head. 

I eye the band from my first marriage to the lycan, the small rooftop affair. Verando as a woman, the very notion made me chuckle. "You might say that." He certainly could be sensitive as a stereotypical woman though I had found the men in my life were much more emotionally unstable. Women tended to frighten me more than anything, I couldn't quite tell what they were thinking. "I'm just ready to be back home."

"Me too. 'Fraid I'll be going on a bit longer than you though, friend."  We both glance towards the stairs as the crew shamble down in the midst of grumbles about mandatory broadcast. Pressing a crusted over button on the shabby control panel, our less than humble captain pulls down a small monitor and fumbles lazily for the remote. 

"What's going on?" My companion asks through a yawn. I can't help but eye the bowl of simple stew passed my direction from the mistress of the vessel. The older woman was impressively adept at making something from nothing given the small portion sizes and less than quality meats. Yet, the flavor was brought on with the tender care of a woman trying to manage for her makeshift family.