There was a time when Mazikeen would have walked behind him, head bowed and face enshrouded in an act of what was once her fealty to him. And then, for a while, it was side-by-side, even though they both knew it was simply a trick of the light. For even then she bent to his desires willingly -- a blade wielded against those who stood between him and his elusive freedom. However, those things now felt a long time past, covered over like a scab upon a wound.

But now -- what of this, she wondered, and of the hand that she could feel pressing against the dip of her spine, a gesture that made Mazikeen's lips scowl behind her mask and made the lifeblood within her veins run hot with anger and indignation and deeply resented desire.

"I do not understand this creation," she then said thoughtfully, tilting her head slightly to one side to study his profile. "It seems to exist solely to steal its occupants from others."