Silence befell the pair. Percival could only stare at Mayme— each second felt like a thousand years. He took in each trait he seemed to have missed prior. Her canine teeth were just a little larger than normal folk's. Her skin was so pale it might as well have been translucent, it had been those damned freckles that tricked him before. Even her eyes gave it away. One a common brown, but the other that pale blue-periwinkle that nearly melted into the sclera itself, a signature of Sangmont’s monsters.

Percival could feel his blood boil and the pent up rage build in pressure. Mayme must have seen it too, she stammered a bunch of unintelligible sounds before she finally spat out frantically, “I-I'm half human, I'm human, please– please don’t be mad at me, I—”

Speaking was a mistake. It only served to stir the man to life with righteous indignation. He silently stomped his way over to the shaking young woman, who could only manage a few pathetic steps back before he reached her. All it took was one hardy slap of her hands for her gun to go clattering against the cobblestone as it skittered out of her reach.

“I’m a human–” She tried to insist a little louder and a little more hysterically.

She couldn't get another word past her lips before he shoved her. She stumbled and caught herself against the wall of one of the houses. It scraped her palms, but she didn’t react to it.

“Wait–”

Percival reached to his hip for his axe, only for his fingers to brush the fabric of his garb. He realised he had left his weapon buried in a monster's carcass. He scoffed, but it did not stop him. He grabbed her hair, the action earned a short lived scream from her before he slammed her head into the wall. Then again. Again. Her legs gave out and he let her go. She crumpled to the cold, hard ground like a discarded piece of trash.

A red and black fuzz strangled her vision as she struggled to form a proper thought. The only thing she could think was that she was hurting; not even in words, but in a more primal way that offered no solution. She reached for her head. Her hair was damp, and when she pulled back it was revealed she was bleeding quite heavily. The pinhole in her vision allowed her to see that, even if just barely. Her already laboured breathing grew harsher and quickened— she slowly raised her eyes to look at the man that towered over her. His face wrinkled in disdain and his lip was curled in disgust, but something about him shifted when their eyes met.

He saw it… Innocences.

Her eyes were just as big and innocent as they were every other time he had looked upon her. Tears fell down her cheeks to her lips that were reddened by a little bit of blood. She must have bit them at some point during the ordeal. Percival spent what felt like aeons just staring before he knelt down to her level, he just had to look at her. In particular, those damned lips. Puffy, red, and parted just a little bit. He grabbed her face so hard the flesh of her cheeks bubbled around his fingers and he craned her neck so he could see the state of her face. She did not speak, nor did she scream. She just let out a tiny whimper and a croak as her eyes drifted away from him. Pathetic. This was what the great nobles of Sangmont had become? A crumpled heap on the streets, whimpering like a whore?

“Look at me,” he demanded. She complied, though he did not notice because he was not watching her eyes.

Without thinking about it, he brought his free hand to his mouth, snagging the glove’s leather with his teeth and pulling it off. Blood had pooled at his fingertips from his encounter with that awful beast May—

No, he could not call this thing by that name.

That awful beast this leech had killed. He slid his thumb over her lower lip. He could feel her breath against his skin, how soft she was, how wet, how hot… She was pathetic, weak, completely at his mercy. His imagination danced with possibilities. Would she bother to stop him? All he could have to do is threaten to kill her if she resisted. If. He doubted she would. She just let him play with her mouth, even as he slipped his thumb past her lips and grazed her teeth.

Her teeth.

Sharp fangs, though smaller than a true leech’s, were still clearly from those damned vampiric things she hailed from. Little daggers obscured behind those supple lips. What was he thinking? She was little more than an animal. A monstrous core obscured by the body of a woman. She needed to be put down, indulging in anything more would be akin to bestiality in his mind.

He was better than that. 

How dare she try to tempt him with that expression, that face, that subservience. She was a temptress, a strumpet. She wanted to rile him up, that was clear as day to him, and worst yet it was working.

“P…Percy,” she barely squeaked out, making his gaze leave that little mouth of hers and once more look her in the eyes. Those big, stupid, innocent eyes that still stared at him as he had instructed. One pale and cold like those damned monsters of Sangmont, and the other warm and… human. Specks of gold simmered within her iris as it reflected Percival back at himself.

He felt sick. His guts twisted inside him. He knew the feeling, confliction. Conflation on a level he had never felt before. When he purged Sangmont all those years ago he only ever faced warriors. Of course the meek women and children were slaughtered too, but that never fell on him. Perhaps he was too prideful for that and that’s why he was only sent to kill those who’d fight back. Perhaps this case was special since he had to deal with that very human eye looking up at him. Or perhaps he had just grown soft and weak since the massacre. He rejected those possibilities. No, there was a real excuse. He was sure. He was better than to be swayed by a whisper of a stupid nickname and big watery eyes. He wasn’t a weak man, either. He was just going to spare her because being half leech meant another full one lived. She would lead the way, he’d kill whichever parent of hers was tainted, then he’d deal with what to do with this half-blooded freak and the degenerate that mated with such an animal after. He threw her to the ground with enough force to wind her as he stood back up.

”Get up.” He growled. His voice was low and didn’t even sound like words. His lips were peeled back in a permanent sneer.

Mayme, who was still a quaking pile gasping on the ground, just stared up at him with wide eyes.

He grabbed the crook of her arm and tugged and yelled, “I said up!”

She yelped and struggled to get her footing, but managed to stand if only because he was, in part, holding her up. “Percy…?” was the only thing she could think to ask. She swallowed hard, but the fear in the back of her throat would not leave. There was a loud ringing in her ears that made the world around her spin. She had some idea why he hadn’t just beaten her to death in the streets, from the pungent taste of his sweat and blood that lingered in her mouth, but she didn't like that prospect any better. She wasn't so naive as to think he was sparing her, even with her jumbled thoughts. No. There was no doubt in her mind he intended to commit an outrage against her first. He probably just wanted to find somewhere less gore riddled and more private first. She did not have the capacity to keep her blubbering at bay any longer.

“You’re an abomination of Sangmont. Your horrid kind heals fast, stop fussing.” He let go of her and let her stand on her own. She could have been mistaken for petrified if it weren't for her unsteady swaying from side to side. Frankly, the only reason she could manage even that was the adrenaline pumping through her. He collected both his and her weapons from the carnage then turned to her and said, “Now, you’re going to be a good girl and do as I say, right? We’re leaving. Come on.”

Mayme tried to steady her breath, but hiccups and sharp sobs still laced themselves throughout. She nodded slightly first, but it made the world spin even faster. She shut her eyes tight, however that made her feel worse. Her mind played the horrific future she foresaw on the back of her eyelids. She didn’t want to see it, or think about it. She already knew she'd have to endure it so the preemptive premonitions only prolonged that suffering. She didn't want to make it worse for herself. Knowing she didn’t have any other options was torture enough. She would play this hand she was dealt, no matter how awful. She would placate him, make herself seem like a person— or, at the very least, not worth it for him to kill. Even still, it was going to be Hell. She wrapped her arms around her body— it was one last embrace of what was once hers. She hated the situation, but, as frazzled as she was, she was as ready as she could be.

 Through her sobs she said, “Yes, Percy.” The words were bitter on her tongue. “Please, please keep me safe from the beasts still,” If the last words were bitter, those were putrid. Putrid was fitting; rotten, but they still sounded sickly sweet. “Please keep me safe, Percy.”

He scrunched his entire face at the request, but spat out a sharp, “Fine.”

”Thank you.”

Percival stormed onwards, Mayme tried to take a step forwards, but her pounding head pain reverberated through her whole body. Her vision was still little more than a pinhole that vibrated with each squeeze of her racing heart. She stumbled and her legs collapsed out from under her. The loose rocks and grime on the ground bit into her knees and hands.  Her whole world spinned rapidly now, it swirled in her eyes and ears. Her stomach lurched. She thought she heard Percival say something, but whatever his words were they were eclipsed by her wrenching and the sloshing sound of vomit hitting the pavement. It burned her throat, but it was less bitter than the words she had spoken to Percival.

She had to do better, she told herself. She didn’t want to be hit again and she could feel his presence looming over her. She struggled to her feet once more. She had to. But her vision blinked away. She felt cold, though she could feel sweat drip down her brow. The fuzz that took her sight slowly overtook her limbs and mind as the adrenaline evaporated.

No… She couldn't faint. She couldn't let him have unfettered access to her body. She had to stay awake and aware. She had to be able to speak, to plead his nickname in the sweetest voice she could. She had to remain a person. She had to push on.

She managed a few steps more, in the direction she thought she remembered Percival being in, then just like her eyes, everything stopped working. She lost consciousness before she hit the ground.