He scrubbed at his chest, his arms, his face, feeling the tacky resistance of drying blood giving way beneath his fingers. The metal in his body seemed to help repel the gore, responding with gentle warmth as he cleansed himself.
"I've seen battlefield carnage before," Boarstaff's voice came from the stream's edge. "But never carried so... casually."
Sebastian looked up to find the warchief standing alone at the water's edge, his expression troubled beneath his usual composure. The guards who had followed Sebastian had withdrawn to a respectful distance, leaving them in relative privacy.
"It was evidence," Sebastian replied, still somewhat confused by their reactions. "Proof of how close the threat had come."
"Evidence doesn't require a severed head," Boarstaff countered, though his tone held more curiosity than accusation. "The scout's brass components or a signaling device would have sufficed."
Sebastian frowned as he scrubbed blood from his hair. "My father respects directness. A displayed body at the border, a severed head brought to your council, these are messages that require no interpretation."
"Messages that reminded everyone exactly what you are," Boarstaff observed, his voice quieter now. "What your nature remains despite your transformation."
Sebastian stilled in the water, understanding. "The blood disturbed them."
"Not just the blood." Boarstaff crouched at the stream's edge, close enough for conversation but maintaining careful distance. "The way you carried it. As if tearing off a head with your bare hands was nothing. As if you felt nothing about it."
"Should I have felt something?" Sebastian asked with genuine curiosity. "He was a threat. I eliminated him."
"Most would feel something. Regret. Distaste. Necessity, perhaps, but tempered with acknowledgment of taking a life." Boarstaff studied him with unnerving intensity. "You appeared to feel nothing beyond satisfaction at acquiring a useful trophy."
Sebastian considered this as he continued washing blood from his body. His father's training had been designed specifically to filter emotional responses, to process everything into something regulated. Some patterns remained ingrained, despite everything that had changed.
"My father's training taught us to view death as strategic outcome rather than emotional event," he said finally. "I've killed hundreds. Displayed bodies as warnings. Participated in ceremonies that... processed others." He met Boarstaff's gaze directly. "My body has changed, but it will take longer to erase two centuries of conditioning."
Boarstaff seemed to consider this, his expression thoughtful as he watched Sebastian emerge from the stream, water streaming from skin now clean of blood. "You've shown restraint here. Controlled hunger. Demonstrated careful consideration in most matters." He paused. "Yet today you revealed something else entirely."
"I revealed what I am," Sebastian replied simply. "What I remain regardless of all that's changed. Predator. Killer. Weapon forged over centuries."
"And is that all you are?" Boarstaff asked, his voice dropping lower. "All you choose to be?"
The question struck Sebastian unexpectedly deep. He felt something unfamiliar stir within him. "No," he admitted. "Not anymore. Not with you."
Something shifted in Boarstaff's expression, the wariness giving way to something more complex. He extended his hand, offering Sebastian a bundle of clothing. "Here. You'll need these before returning."
Sebastian took the offered pants, but hesitated on the shirt, examining it for a moment before setting it aside.
"You're not going to put on the shirt?" Boarstaff asked, his voice carefully neutral.
Sebastian looked up, meeting Boarstaff's gaze with unexpected directness. "Do you want me to?"
Boarstaff hesitated, then slowly shook his head. "No," he admitted, his voice dropping lower. "I enjoy seeing you. When you're not covered in blood, that is."
A slow smirk spread across Sebastian's face, his brass-tipped fingers lingering on the pants. "I enjoy when you look," he replied, the simple statement carrying heat that had nothing to do with his former noble training. As he pulled on the pants, water still streaming from his bare chest, his gaze remained on Boarstaff's face, watching the subtle shifts in his expression.
"They fear me now," Sebastian observed as he fastened the pants. "More than before."
"With good reason," Boarstaff replied.
"And you?" Sebastian asked, meeting Boarstaff's gaze directly. "Do you fear me now?"
Boarstaff didn't answer immediately, his expression thoughtful as he studied Sebastian's features. "I respect what you are," he said finally. "What you're capable of. And I recognize that your choice to direct that capacity toward our protection rather than our destruction matters more than any physical change."
Something unfamiliar stirred within Sebastian, an emotion his father's improvements would have carefully regulated away. Not hunger, not calculation, but something deeper. Something that had awakened alongside the changes in his physical form.
"The council will need details," Boarstaff continued, gesturing toward the settlement. "Everything you learned about the scout's presence, the search patterns, your brother's proximity."
Sebastian nodded, understanding that the conversation's more personal aspects had concluded for now. They had rolesto fulfill, duties to their respective positions that transcended whatever grew between them in quiet moments.
