Before going back to reprimanding Witch, Touch took in the newly developing grotesque scene before him. Watcher had grabbed the man by his hair and was forcing his mouth open, Collect was unbuttoning his pants, and his dear old brother was working his magic. Feeding both killers with the feeling of adrenaline and dopamine, and the old sag with constant life-threatening fear. It was a different kind of beautiful.
Interrupting Touch, the Witch tried to justify herself, "I apologize but the guards had sword tips soaked in poison I did not think of wha--"
Touch's hand flew to her throat faster than a Royal Guard's arrow would, "Of what? Of what to do?" He turned his head to face hers. Like a snake bite, he slowly released some of his energy into her veins. She knew what he was doing. He could see the pleading in her eyes. Azailee didn't need to control what she was feeling. It was painted across her face like a mural. Touch was dimly aware of the now quiet surroundings around him, Collect had zipped his pants back up. The old man was now on the ground, gurgling piss down his throat. Watcher was probably watching through Touch's eyes. And his dear brother was laughing at the old man. Touch turned his attention back to the owner of the throat he had in his hands. Witch was still pleading with her eyes, streaks of tears now roaming down her face. She knew what this was. It was a show of dominance, and she succumbed. He could probably let her go now, but where's the fun in that? He gripped her throat harder.
He leaned in close to her face, "You listen to me. No one else." He licked a still roaming tear off of her cheek, "If you disobey me again, I WILL kill you. And I WILL enjoy it." He threw her to the side and swept to pick the man from the floor.
"N-n-no, please, don't!" The old man struggled to stand without making contact with Touch's bare hands.
Touch laughed, "Don't what mongrel? Kill you? You're already dead! Now it's your choice, fast death? Or slow…? Just tell me what we all need to know."
The Witch stood slowly and intervened, "He won't talk. We tried everything."
Touch; still holding the man, stared at Witch, "Did we now?"
Witch shrugged and backed away.
Touch looked back to the man, and redirected his hold to the back of his head, grasping the already sore scalp. Releasing some of his darker energy, the man screamed.
"I'll tell you! Please!" The man was now sobbing.
Touch raised the pain levels by an inch and waited for the man to continue talking.
"She's in Alexandria!" The man wept, "She leaves sticks wherever she is! Sticks with cloth on them, that's all I know! Please just let me go!"
Touch thought for a moment, glanced at Witch with a questioning expression on his face, and then dropped the man. He was dead before he hit the floor.
Touch stepped over the floor's new souvenir to reach the backdoor. Opening it he walked back to their horses as he put his gloves back on to grab supplies for the night. His little ordeal with the witch took most of the daylight.
Azailee hurried next to him, "You should have killed that hag."
"Witch?"
"Yes."
Touch grabbed his bag from his horse and threw it across his back as he turned to walk into the body-ridden forest, "And why, should I have done that brother?"