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∞ Ephias Sagine

Ephias crashed down the alleyway, water splashing up around his boots. His clothes were soaked through from the rain. His hair might have been too, were it not for the hood firmly pulled up over his head. As he ran his pump biscuit beat hard in his chest. Behind him, he could hear the voices of the soldiers in hot pursuit and he forced himself to go faster. Rocketing around a corner his feet nearly slipped out from beneath him. He threw out an arm to steady himself and his balance was restored. Physically at least. Mentally however, he was still reeling. He doubted he would recover any time soon.

After all, he had punched an officer in the face.

What... what had possessed him to do that? Clenching his jaw, Ephias silently berated himself as he ploughed down the street. It was not as though the situation had escalated beyond his control. There had still been a chance to save it, talk things over. But then that blueblood... Ephias ground his teeth. He had been goaded, he realised. She knew he was on the verge of snapping and all she had to do was give a little push. The worst part was how he actually fell for it. God, he felt like such an idiot. His only saving grace was that Wolly had not been around to see. Surely the aging sheep's pump biscuit would have given out from sheer shock.

Turning onto a residential street, Ephias was filled with regret. He had come to New Hemisect hoping to talk with Etsali about what had happened one week before at the Edification Centre library. The scene between Xandri and the drone had left him rattled. As much as he wanted answers, he could not ignore the potential danger. His days quickly turned sleepless, and his mind clouded. He knew he needed someone to talk to, if only to organise his thoughts. For some reason, Etsali was the first person who came to mind. It was impossible to see her now though. He would only lead the soldiers to her doorstep.

Following a tall hedge, Ephias rounded another corner. Suddenly he felt his feet slip across the wet concrete. Internally he cursed. The next thing he knew he was sprawled out across the street. His shears clattered beside him. Ignoring the pain from his wipe-out, he scrambled to his feet. The bruises would heal... provided he survived through this ordeal.

∞ Ephias Sagine

As he got to his feet, he felt a hand grip around his arm. s**t. Had his pursuers caught up to him that quickly? Bracing himself for a fight, Ephias reached for his shears, where they had landed on the pavement. His fingers only met gravel however. His captor had taken those too. Swallowing his panic, face stoic, he forced himself to meet the eyes of the one who held him.

It had been ages, but without a doubt, he recognised the tealblood. Memories of the caverns beneath Chittentown came rushing back.

The look Milieu gave him, made him shiver. Once more he prepared to fight. To his surprise however, the tealblood passed him his shears and took off running, hauling him along behind her. Ephias made no attempt to resist. He was unsure where she was headed, but for now at least, it seemed he had a potential ally. She led him away from the voices of his pursuers.

Wordlessly, the pair ducked into an alleyway. Ephias scanned their options. At the opposite end, was a couple of trashcans and a dumpster. In between on one side a set of steps led up to what was likely a service entrance. A ventilation shaft in the wall periodically let out a cloud of steam. Ephias made for the opposite end of the alley.

Taking Milieu with him, he nudged one of the trashcans aside, and slipped back behind the dumpster. Not exactly the most pleasant hiding space—he looked back apologetically at the tealblood—but it would conceal them better than anything else would. Hunkering down as best he could in the small space, Ephias held his breath and waited.

Sure enough, less than half a minute later he heard the sound of footsteps. They came to an abrupt stop and silence fell. Straining his sponge clots, he could make out faint whispering. It carried on for about ten seconds, and then he head the steady tromp-tromp-tromp of heavy boots over gravel. His pump biscuit pitched and unconsciously he squeezed Milieu's wrist.

“All clear,” a voice called out. From the sound of it, its owner could not have stood more than ten feet away. “Can we be done yet?” she asked.

The response came in a string of swearing.

There was a sigh. The greenblood continued down the alley and into the adjacent street. Pump biscuit in his throat, Ephias listened until the sound of her footsteps disappeared. At last he glanced back at Milieu.