A Hunter's Domain

ashe    Ashe rolled her eyes. ”No, I didn’t know that actually,” she muttered, keeping her eyes ahead of them. ”Mr. I-Hid-My-Magic-From-Ashe-For-Eleven-Years.” She knew why, of course, he’d explained it, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still sore that he found out about her magic before she ever found out about his. Prick. He very well could have been making whatever shit he got himself on from scratch, but she wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to rib him for anything. For a moment she wondered if he was still dabbling in things, remembering the time he came sliding into her room and raved about some new enchanted substance he’d gotten his hands on.    Ashe’s hand brushed against his and her heart stumbled. It was instinct to curl her gloved fingers away, to glance about the buildings around them with a jumpy wariness. Old habits and all that. While to anyone else simple gestures of affection were easy, where she could do it freely with others… with Kalt it was different, it would always be different. He’s dead, she reminded herself, forcing herself to relax. He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead. Master was dead.    The wolf girl turned her head to look up and Kalt, but what he said had her stopping dead in her tracks. Electricity flickered in a ripple from her chest and down her arms, down the rest of her, through her hair - a wild imitation of the rhythm of her heart. Revive the Guild? Was he fucking insane? Over a decade of torment for Northwind’s Guild of Assassins, and he wanted to revive it?    Her expression reflected her thoughts, eyes crackling with a lightning storm as she stared hard up at Silver Wing. ”Explain, Kalt,” she ground out, and said nothing more.