The story so far:
He had no face, no features of any kind. She saw no ears, no hair, no nose, not even a mouth. With his armor fully removed, he stood before her a lithe figure on two legs with two arms and an egg-shaped head set upon a long neck. Elongated, narrow fingers set the last glove upon the neat pile of metallic plates and leather-like material.
Marshal’s skin moved as if liquid. Silver and charcoal glittered against the darker black background, like swirls of shimmering paint in constant motion. It shifted and rippled with each movement he made. What Renni had thought of as cat-like, she now realized was absolute fluid grace. He walked towards the door, his feet barely making a sound upon the floor, ripples rising up his legs and radiating across his back with each step.
Concepts of muscles, sinew, and bone flew from her mind as she watched him reach for the wall near the door and touch a hidden catch. A drawer flew open and from it he gracefully removed two strange looking items. Her eyes intent upon him, she did not see what they were until he returned and knelt beside her. Upon the bed, near the pile of armor, he placed the two items, identical to each other and unlike anything Renni had ever seen before.
She looked up confused into Marshal’s face, or rather where his face should have been. The swirls moved. “These for you,” he said, the fluid on his face rippling outward with each syllable as if a stone had been cast into a blackened pond.
She tore her eyes from him and focused upon the two items set beside her on the bed. Long, flat, and black, they reminded her of scimitars, though much smaller. Like Marshal, silver swirls decorated their surface. Unlike Marshal, the swirls seemed fixed and unmoving. Until she reached out to touch them.
They shifted, as her hand came within inches. As if reading her intent, the two strange items changed their shape, aligning what could be considered handles closer to her hands. They reformed, again resembling miniature scimitars. “To defend. To protect. For Shepherd,” he said.
Marshal reached out and gently took her hand in his. As with before, though far more intense without the armor, she felt warmth radiate from him, comforting rather than burning. His skin felt smooth and slick but not slimy. He placed her hand over the two black weapons. They changed shape, lengthening out into two dagger-like blades, simple and yet lethal looking.
“What you need, they will be.” She stared transfixed as they shifted again, this time combining their mass into one larger sword.
“I don’t know how…” she hesitated, unable to find the words racing about in her mind.
She looked up then, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you.” The words felt entirely inadequate.
“When healed, I teach.”