Private Tales A Day on the Port [CLOSED]

[Faurosk]

Faurosk sat at the bar of the Gull, and it was likely that Rainie would have heard him long before she saw him. His cheeks were rosy, and it was more than obvious that the half-drained tankard in his hand wasn't the first nor second drink he'd had that night.

"And so I says to him-- I said, "Sanctum? Damn near built 'em!"' The mage looked about at the two people who he'd managed to net into listening to a rambling story, glance flickering between their expressionless faces. He blinked twice, realizing that they'd completely missed the punchline of his not-quite expertly crafted joke. "You know, because, uhm... Arcane sanctums." When the two strangers' faces contorted ever so further in confusion, Faurosk decided to cut of any further attempt at explaining his brilliant humor, turning back to the bar and taking a large swig off of his tankard. "Eh, forget it. You need a couple'a college credits to get that one, I guess."

And so it was that the now plainly clad magi sat at the bar and continued drinking in silence, donned in the common clothing he'd had on when he met Rainie earlier that day. Nota was nowhere in sight, off sleeping in the room he'd rented earlier that night, leaving Faurosk wholly alone in a city that no longer seemed familiar to him.

Rainie

 

[Rainie]

Her head whipped toward the familiar voice at the other end of the bar. There he was! In all his slightly floppy glory. He hadn’t switched out of his mage robes, she noticed. And was a bit drunk. Utterly delighted, she skipped her way over.

“Well, hello stranger!” she chirped. She firmly inserted herself in between Faurosk and the person sitting innocently beside him. The poor bystander was suddenly imbalanced and then crowded with far too much red hair in their face. Rainie smiled, unperturbed. “I’m surprised you’re still here! It’s good to see you.”

Rainie suddenly found the barstool beside him unexpectedly vacated, so she happily took a seat at the bar. Belatedly, she noticed there was no puppy around, or even tucked under the wizard’s chair. She screwed up her mouth in disappointment and took another drink of her whiskey. Then she met the eyes of the man before her and suddenly remembered the insanity of the day she’d just had.

“So, uhhh….”

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

The magician didn't even need to look up to know it was Rainie at his side. Maybe it was the fact that his arcane sense was so keen to pick up on her aura as soon as she came near, or perhaps it was the nearly-strangled scent of lavender that accompanied or presence, or- as was more likely the case -it was the loud announcement of her arrival that she herself had made. Without hesitation, Faurosk turned to one of the pouches that hung on his multiple belts, prying the top open and producing a bottle from inside.

"Of course I'm still here- Had some shopping to do, 'n all, and I couldn't quite trust you'd see me again if I didn't wait up on you." He turned the bottle over twice in his hand as she sat down beside him, verifying that, yes, he did still have the dexterity required to uncork the damned thing. He cut off her trailing "uhh...", holding the bottle out to her across the half-silence. Its label was fresh and pristine, implying that the potion had been one of the things he'd picked up during his "shopping spree" earlier in the evening.

"This here's a tincture of sorts- some people would call it a 'mana potion', but that's the term used by laymen and id'jits." He nodded once to the bottle in emphasis, though the motion was a bit floppier than he'd intended it to be. "Take it. Should open your spirit to the astral just enough to top off your, eh, 'magical reserves'. That wight damned near drained you completely."

The mage shrugged his free shoulder nonchalantly, though the motion lagged behind just enough to be inelegant. "I'd've banished the fucker right outta you if the other one 'adn't stepped in."

 

[Rainie]

Rainie’s grin slowly spread over her face as Faurosk spoke in a slurred manner. It was rare that she was the less drunk out of two people. This could be fun.

She glanced down at the bottle he had offered her with her brow furrowed in confusion. After listening to his explanation, she shook her head.

“Oh, I’m no mage. Not a bit of magic in me. I’m just a bit, ehm,” she trailed off for a second, considering her own physical state. “Tired. Nothing a bit of rest can’t solve, surely.”

And beneath the surface, she was. Darkish circles stood out under her eyes, against her pale skin. Her shoulders, usually flung back and straight, were slumped with exhaustion. Only those who were very familiar with her would notice, and she was familiar with exactly no one.

“I have a room here tonight, so I will likely be able to rest fairly well. Barring any invasions of pirates or… well, whatever else may meander my way,” she said drolly. Then she perked up. “You ought to keep that potion for yourself. That display earlier was terrifying enough. Did you snag a kind of healing potion or something during your shopping?” Her eyes were fixed firmly on the arm that she was sure was injured earlier.

Eventually, she shook off the reminiscing of the day so far. She grew excited again and studied Faurosk’s face closely. “So, it’s been a while! Well, not today, I mean, but I mean in general…” She took a hasty swig of whiskey. “What made you leave Alliria? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” With that, she leaned towards him and waggled her eyebrows in a ridiculous manner.

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

The mage didn't want to protest her refusal of the potion, so he simply placed it on the bar in front of her. "Y'can take it or leave it, friend, but trust me when I say you're more magical than you give yourself credit for. I mean, everyone has some magic, but you-" he prodded a finger in her direction, hanging it in the air a few inches from her chest. "You've got something I've only seen a couple'a times. Called inspiration."

His head nodded off to his side, gesturing in the direction of the abandoned bottle. " 'Sides, 'tincture' means 'medicine in alcohol'. Might get you buzzed if that's enough persuasion for you." His gaze trailed downwards, and she might have assumed he was stealing a glance at her if his eyes didn't land on the bulk of bandages which were vaguely visible underneath his robes. "As for the wound, well... That's magical backlash. Part of the price of casting too much magic too quickly. And, ah..."

His downturned expression perked up into a small smirk before he straightened out his neck to look her in the eyes. "Only thing that can heal the First Rule's wounds is time, Rainie. Can't go cheating my way out of this one."

He sat back on his barstool, taking a long draw from his tankard and swallowing it in two gulps. He gave Rainie a tooth-gritting grin, choking down the not-quite-potent and not-quite-tasty drink in earnest. "As for why I left home, well, we can just say I had a question that needed answering. Came to Elbion, learned what they could teach me, and then quickly found out I'd need to sell my soul for them to tell me what I need to know. So, I left, and, ah... Well, the prov'rbial trail's gone cold, I'm afraid, so I came back here to see if an old friend of mine could lend me a hand."

He raked a hand back through his lengthy hair, pulling a few stray strands out of his face and pushing them back up along the left-handed part of his hair. He knew he really should get that cut when he found the time, but he also knew he wouldn't. "Got a lead again, finally... If it pans out, I'll probably be portal-stonin' my way to the Spine, and, if I find what I need, I'll be homeward bound in no time." He gave the redhead- who seemed just faintly cuter now that he was a bit off his arse -a short nod with partially lidded eyes, cocking his head off to one side. "And how about you, then, Rainie? And don't lie-- I'm not quite keen enough to pick up on it if y'do, right now."

Rainie

 

[Rainie]

For a long time, she was quiet, just considering. She mulled over what the mage could possibly mean by her abilities. Inspiration? Surely that couldn’t be magic. She was just charismatic and could sing war songs and… But he hadn’t heard her sing any war songs. She stared hard at him. And then she took another drink, draining her glass. She listened some more.

She looked down at his arm with a frown, and her glass was refilled without her knowledge. She wasn’t sure what to say. She really didn’t know much at all about magic. Sure, she’d had a few lovers capable in it, but she’d never truly endeavored to understand it herself.

It seemed… dangerous. As well as difficult. “Well, good for you for not selling your soul,” she mumbled at one point.

Rainie began giggling uncontrollably at the mage’s far too serious expression for such a drunk individual.

“That’s fair!” She chortled at the proclamation of his inability to detect a lie at the moment. “Well,” she considered for a moment. “I only left to seek adventure. I left my family, thinking they’d be fine… They’re not fine anymore. But I hope I’ll find a way to make them better while I’m out here.”

With that shockingly honest statement, she turned her forced smile back on him. “So, the Spine, huh? I hear it’s a bit cold up there. I’m not quite sure where I’m going next… I suppose I’ll know soon. I’ll probably head out of the city within the next few days. I’ll probably have stirred up enough trouble by then to warrant it,” she concluded with a self-deprecating laugh. “Stay safe, though.”

She took another drink of her potent alcohol and leaned down over the bar comfortably. “So,” she began out of nowhere, “do you remember when the pastry shop would throw out all the leftover stale goods? And there was that one worker who would take them and give them out to the children outside?”

Rainie and her brother had always been two of those children, vying for sweets. They’d both been poor, and greedy. She thought back to those simple times with a pang of sadness. Life was rarely so simple. If only she’d known to appreciate it while it had lasted.

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

The mage tried to hold concentration on his serious facade for as long as he could, but it fell away as soon as Rainie began giggling unabashedly, right into his face. A grin spread across his face as he sat back upright-ish on his stool, toothy and bright. The expression faltered just a moment as he reached a hand upwards to prod his own cheek, idly wondering when he'd last smiled like that. His attention quickly fell back to the bard, though, once he heard her start to answer his question.

Something about the sentiment of family falling in her absence strikes home with Faurosk, and his smile fades to a more serious expression once more. His head rocks off to the right in a gesture that was intended to be sharp, smirking just faintly. "Well, the gold we made today could be a step towards making things better for 'em, provided it's something so simple to solve. If not, well," he shrugs helplessly, smirk dropping to a half frown of understanding as he continues. "Then I guess we're in a similar predicament, old friend."

"As for the cold out east, well, let's just say that the elements aren't much of a foe to me. Not anymore, anyways..." He trailed off, leaving his comments on the Spine there. "Brevity is the sole of wit," or so he'd heard. Or so he thought he'd heard, anyhow.

He gave his hair a good rustle, trying to chase the tingling sensation running through the back of his head. The motion stuttered to a halt, though, when Rainie mentioned the old bakery down the road from his mother's shop. He hadn't thought of the place in years, but for a moment, he was wracked by an unplaceable feeling of nostalgia. A small smile cracked through his semi-serious facade once again, and he stared wistfully at the edge of the bar. "Yeah, I remember... I still prefer my pastries a little bit stale, to be honest. I can't handle 'em fresh anymore."

His thoughts flitted back to his childhood home, with all its crooked floorboards and creaky steps. He reminisced about his mother's shop, where she sold off the garments and accessories she'd poured hours of effort into just to scrounge up enough to get by. Then he remembered in a flash his father's shows, and a tear began to well at the corner of his eye. He knew then, in that crappy bar on the docks of Elbion, that all his father could do was the simplest of illusions and the most elementary of transmutation, but the love and the passion that he poured into his art was something that Faurosk could only wish to achieve.

The mage tried to be subtle about wiping the accumulating tear out of his lashes, making a show of itching his eye with a balled-up knuckle. Assured that the show of emotion was indeed gone, he spoke up again. "You know, Rainie, it, um." His voice caught momentarily in his throat, but he took a moment to steady himself before continuing. Still, his gaze was fixed down at the bar. "It means a lot that you remember my dad. He loved performing for us kids, you know?"

Faurosk balled up a fist and thumped it gently against the bar, chewing his lower lip momentarily. "And, ah... Alliria is a terrible place to raise a kid, but I miss it. I miss it so damned much."

Rainie

 

[Rainie]

Rainie had to lean in a bit to hear Faurosk's quiet words over the din of conversation surrounding them. She laughed and professed she also tended to eat pastries rather stale, if only because she liked to pack as many for the road as possible. Her head buzzed with memories, faded with time and tinged with new sadness. She remembered getting splinters from running around the old docks barefoot, and her and her brother pushing each other into the murky water below. She would come home with sticks, leaves and mud in her hair, and her mother would laughingly ask if they had had a good day.

She kept these memories close to her heart, even though they hurt. Her mother had trouble laughing through coughing fits these days. And her little brother, well... As far as she knew, he may be dead.

It seemed Faurosk was similarly affected by his own memories. She watched keenly as he rubbed at his reddened eyes, likely wiping away an unnoticed tear. She leaned in even closer unconsciously, most familiar with physical comfort than any other kind. He wouldn't look at her as he thanked her for remembering his father, and spoke about Alliria where they had both grown up.

Her rueful smile was easy to dredge up once more. "Of course I remember him!" She crowed. "He was fantastic! You're so lucky to have had him as a dad." Her eyes sought out his to show him her earnestness, hip bumping against his as she stood far to close as she was wont to do.

"And," she added, "I'll fight you about Alliria being a shitty place to raise a kid. Arek or not, I had a pretty great childhood. If there's anything I miss, it's the little skips, the water channels, just always being surrounded by water. You can't find that anywhere else," she sighed fondly. Not that she'd raise a kid there, for that matter. Or any kid. Anywhere. It wasn't in the cards.

She shook her head to clear it and looked critically at the tipsy wizard. "I'm thinking about heading up to bed. Do you have a room? I'll walk you up." She had no intention of going to bed yet. She would play and sing for maybe an hour before turning in. But Faurosk didn't know that.

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

The mage grew just a hair tenser when Rainie came closer, visibly recoiling just the smallest amount as she accidentally checked him with her hip. Drawn out of his reminiscing by the unexpected contact, he looked up at her once more, raking his hair out of his face and giving her a small, bright smile. "While I trust your fire-branded nature would compel you to throw down the gauntlet with me, I think I'll pass on the opportunity for now. Wouldn't be fair-- I mean, I'm not *nearly* drunk enough to lose."

He sat upright, snagging the forgotten potion off of the bar and flipping it over in his hand. The cork catches the seam of his glove at an odd angle, and his slowed reflexes barely allow him to catch. Realizing it may not be a good idea to attempt such feats of sleight of hand again, he grips the bottle a touch tighter and lowers his arm once more to his side.

Realizing that the few seconds of fumbling had passed in silence, Faurosk picked up the thought he'd abandoned moments before. "But if it's water you're after, hell, there are quite a few islands I know of that don't have aristocrats pissing on the poor." He raised the bottle once more, popping the cork off between his thumb and forefinger and swishing the contents for a moment.

"As for sleep, well, you can help yourself. I've got a room, and all, but if you're not going to take me up on this potent little concoction, I think it may just serve to keep me upright for another hour or two." He glanced down at the tincture in his grip, then back to her. In reality, he had more than enough energy left to banish his stupor. He was simply worried that trying to do so while already drunk may lead to some unwanted side effects that the potion may help to sidestep. "Offer still stands if you want it, but if not, it's bottoms up for me."

Rainie

 

[Rainie]

Her eyes followed the potion's bottle to Farousk's lips, gaze lingering intensely. She listened to the mage's final offer, and mulled the idea for a moment. After a second, she stole the bottle from the mage's hands with a quick movement. She downed a sip from the still-warm lip of the bottle, then returned it to Faurosk's warm palm.

She didn't feel much different. The little bit of ever-present fatigue lingered at the fringes of her mind. Well, that proved that. With a mental shrug, she sent a wink at the wizard and snatched up her lute to begin her performance for the night. She spent a long time getting the tempo right, melding in with the previous song, and incurring interest from the bar's patrons with the change in tune. Eventually, she had nearly everyone's attention. With a broad grin, she belted out an easy shanty:

"What will we do with a drunken sailor, what will we do with a drunken sailor?
What will we do with a drunken sailor, early in the morn-in?

Way-hay and up she rises, way-hay and up she rises,
Way-hay and up she rises, early in the morn-in!"

Several people were already clapping along, and a few were even singing. One patron was allowed to sing, "Shave his belly with a rusty razor," while Rainie played along. She joined in for the chorus again, and was happy to take on the next verse herself:

"Put him in a long boat til' he's sober, put him in a long boat til' he's sober,
Put him in a long boat til' he's sober, early in the morn-in!"

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

His face went slightly pinker as she snatched the bottle away from him, momentarily sobered by the thought she might just turn herself down the path of a caster, after all. When she shoved the bottle back into his hand, his voice caught in his throat as he was about to compliment her bravery; The bottle still sloshed with nine tenths of its fill.

"It doesn't work like tha--!" He turned from the bottle to the vaguely Rainie-shaped dust cloud that she'd left behind in her hurry to perform, cutting off the budding tirade he was about to fling. He glanced about for a moment, spotting where the bard was situating herself across the tavern. Realizing what she was planning to do, the mage gave a weak shrug and turned back to the bar, promptly turning the bottle's bottom to the ceiling and downing what remained of its contents.

The effect he felt wasn't quite immediate, but by the time he'd swallowed the last of the semi-viscous liquid, the magic of the potion had already begun its work on him. The tingling cold of power raced across his skin, filling the previously near-empty vessel of his arcane form halfway to the top with a raw sort of energy. He flexed his fingers experimentally, creaking the leather of his gloves as he turned his hands over to examine his palms. He pulled his left index finger close to its neighboring thumb, giving the faintest effort towards making a spark trail between the two. Immediately, a small sparkle of pale blue light arced over the empty space, trailing down to his palm in the form of unstable glitter that itself dissolved into fading, shimmering particles.

He heard vaguely over the cacophony of the tavern as Rainie began to pluck out a tune, ignoring the music for the time being to ball up his willpower into a mental fist of sorts. He drew on the experiences of the day to make this happen, pulling from the plethora of emotional stimuli he'd felt to give his spell form; the familiarity he'd had with Rainie earlier in the Gull, the shame he'd felt at Eilasandree's easy destruction of his own ward of light and good, and perhaps most of all, the hatred towards the prideful necromancer that he had been trying so hard to repress. All of these emotions coalesced at the center of his mind, honed by his conscious intention.

He let the spell loose, but nobody in the bar would be any the wiser. No fire emerged to fill the tavern, no fantastical sparkles cascaded from him to dazzle all onlookers with light, no tendrils of darkness undid someone else's hard work, and no runes of light fluttered about to cure him of his ails. In truth, this is what most casting was to him. A conscious, introspective effort.

The ball of will flowed throughout his body, through every cell and nerve, dispelling the sluggish feeling of drunkenness from every corner it hid in. Immediately, the mage felt sharper, tuning into the area around him for the first time in well over a minute. He caught Rainie's song once again, recognizing it immediately because, come on, who wouldn't?

He joined the festivities after the bard had finished her own verse, singing along with the chorus of other voices in a smooth baritone befitting the young man.

"Wei-hei, and up she rises! Wei-hei, and up she rises!
Wei-hei, and up she rises, Early in the morning!"

Rainie

 

[Rainie]

As soon as she finished her refrain, her eyes were drawn straight back to the wizard at the bar. Something had twanged, a faint snap of energy, at the edges of her notice. She smiled at the mage who joined in on her song. They would likely waken the sleeping drunks with the volume of their song at this point.

With renewed energy, she strummed her lute and danced in a circle, raising her voice above the crowd. They would hear her, and they would celebrate. She had gained a new contract, and possibly a new lover, and a new friend. She felt better than she had in ages.

Rainie smiled, red hair dancing around her twirling frame, music trilling from her fingertips as she sang.

[CLOSED]