Private Tales A hunter in the streets

[Rainer]

They had taken the ride from Keep to Bur'Tyga in relative silence. A thin veneer stood over their purpose and the query. It gave a form of beauty to the landscape around them, shielded in the twilight. An observation that was otherwise spoiled by the knowledge that fortnight candlelight and torchlight dissonance hung about as nothing more than senseless ambitions, masquerading about as developing traditions. A part of Rain understood it; the part that had pressed his nose into the bindings of College property manuscripts, seeking to understand the thing he might have once been. Human.

There was nothing of Arethil, between continent and stone, that could be considered forgiving. Creatures lurked in the deep and shallow alike, with not more than the viewing distance of a thick and clinging fog to separate those one might consider innocent from the thing that preyed upon them. It was understandable to find comfort and family in community, even if that community clung to one another against the grip of a spear. Or a torch. Or a bucket of fuel, splashed against the base of bonfire to the sound of children dancing and singing nursery rhymes. And soon enough, the rhymes would fade away, pushed from the foreground by the the sounds of billowing flames and someone paying the ultimate price for being different.

Bur'tyga was unique and familiar, all in one breath. It was no different than other communities, twisted against one another to solidify some sense of solidarity amidst the people who were left. Though, Rain wondered, whether Wren would agree. They were here for something but no once along the job board were they asked to save the world or change these people.

"Keep a hold of that feeling..." He uttered as he flicked the reins and clicked his tongue, wrapped suddenly in a cold and somber disposition, born from introspection. "It might serve you well tonight." As he approached, he noticed that whatever sentry may have served the a town was absent; they were either off for the night, on break, or in the middle of a switch.

Hopping off the horse, he wrapped the reins around the exterior hitching post and nodded towards the town. His words were hushed. "Best we go on foot to avoid attention..." As best as possible. He pulled up the cowl of his cloak and waited for Wren.​

 

[Wren]

If Rainer had expressed any of his very deep and colorful thoughts on the world or inherent depravity or heroism of their purpose, Wren would have snorted. Perhaps in the beginning she'd tried to romanticize this beast she was with a silver lining of chivalry and duty, but anymore she was beginning to see the silver lining to be mica dust. What was it they said? A gilded turd was still shit in the end.

There was nothing glamorous about what they were or did, regardless of the state or intent of their deeds.

Her gaze narrowed on the silhouette of the town, a putrid taste rising at the back of her throat in tandem with the fresh ache of the mark on her chest. She sniffed at his suggestion and dismounted without a word, unassured that moving in on foot was any better than at the back of a horse. The townsfolk knew them now and knew they'd kept company with the idol of their spite. She wasn't expecting a warm welcome any way they cut it.

But Rainer knew best, or so she liked to think.

Wren settled into stride alongside him, pawing absently at the plate over the mark on her sternum, "I'm not a fan of going in blind," she admitted to him as they closed in on the village, "this whole mission is fucked. Tell me you've got some kind of plan in mind."

 

[Rainer]

~
The conclusion for their trip to Bur'Tyga could have gone worse, though the outcome was less than ideal. After making their way into the depths of the old coastal town, following an odd introduction to the Duke of Chains, his daughter, and the demon kept trapped in the basement, the duo dispatched the false minister with assistance from the demonic presence that was now hitching a ride on Wren's person in the form of a branding on her sternum.

After that, the whole establishment toppled over itself like a house of cards, kicked down by a sudden gust of wind. By accounts of the towns people, the Presbyter instantly shifted dispositions, both from a mental and physical perspective. It was said that within hours of the Ministers exorcism, the Presbyter sat down on a bench in town center and never stood back up. With the rising of the sun, her statuesque prominence had turned into a windthrown pile of ash. Or, so that was the rumor. And like a row of lanterns flickering on to reveal the true state of the town, the true nature of the town had been revealed in the form of rabble and near political upheaval.

Someone took the lead, a nameless person with a pitchfork followed by rows of weak minded men adorned with more pitchforks. It was a sight not uncommon to Wren and Rain, having just been at the business end of something similar in the apple orchard south of Bur'Tyga. By request, or coercion, they traveled with the band to the top of the hill where the Duke of Chains resided. However, when Rain and Wren entered the Keep, the Duke and his servant were dead and warm and Cassandra was on a rampage that could not be stopped. Through clinched lips and curses, the young girl who had been turned far too early in life, promised to burn Bur'tyga to the ground.

Despite Wren's obvious qualms with the circumstance, Orobas compelled the duo to end the girls life or suffer further demonic disposition. Rain, given the weight of the circumstance and the guilt he carried for Wren's current predicament, took it upon himself to complete the act.

The towns people were not satisfied and despite the assistance from the duo, chased them through town by firelight. Having killed their horses, Rain and Wren were forced to take to harbor where a vessel was attempting to port. With the help of a barber surgeon, who went by Terzine and sported a robust set of mutton chops, the duo escaped the town in a vessel under contract with the Erca'Ryt trading company. It was presently in route to Dornoch to trade precious medals, previously stored in the heart of the Seret Mountains.

~

"It will be several days, pending the winds, before we make port." Terzine stated quietly, fumbling idly a one of the stamped brass buttons on his leather vest. A flagon hung from his neck and a bandolier of vials hung in a row on a pouch, strapped to his shoulder. He was a pale man with an aquiline nose and piercing brown eyes.

"We may have to make a stop before then. For supplies." Rain replied as they stood outside what he assumed would be their accommodations. He wasn't sure on Wren's experience with seafaring but for Rain's recollection, a hammock tied between struts was approaching luxury for a vessel like this.

"Course. That...run...likely didn't afford you much time to stop by the market." He smiled knowingly. "We also require supplies that were not acquired in Bur'tyga. But not to worry, the Gulf has many small towns on course to Dornoch. Now..." He motioned to the door. "Get some rest. It's been a trying day." He looked to Wren and nodded, seemingly inspected her for a moment, before coupling his hands behind his back and taking the wooden stairs back up to the deck.​

 

[Wren]

Silence had become the woman along their journey to escaping the so-called prosecution of the people they'd just saved. Though she kept pace with Rainer as they fled, part of her had wished to take that entire village and burn it to the ground. To see those people suffer - truly suffer for their crimes of ignorance and mortality. She couldn't get the image of the young girl's body limp and bloodless out of her head.

It set her blood to boiling so hot it felt she might spew flames upon the next person to elicit a word from her. So she did not speak.

Dismissed to resting, Wren's hard gaze bore right back at Terzine and dared him to try. He didn't and she couldn't decide if she was grateful for his modicum of intelligence or angrier for the missed opportunity. Her hand pressed at the doorway to let herself in. Sleep didn't feel like the answer to her needs, in fact the prospect of sleep made her nerves fray.

They were met with hammocks strung between support beams with a few dozing occupants already. Wren walked by them all toward the darkest corner in the back and promptly claimed it for her own.

 

[Rainer]

Wren was mad, that was obvious. She hadn't taken the time to speak even a handful of words since they left the Keep and escaped to the vessel. Nor had she taken a moment to even address Terzine. All of which was, admittedly, understandable given the turn of events.

Rain didn't feel like talking, either. Though his wasn't out of anger. It was out of guilt and out of a modicum of sadness - it wasn't particularly easy to take a child's life, even if that child may have been an immortal being that could have slaughtered hundreds. Perhaps those hundreds deserved it. But it wasn't his call - murder was murder.

Rather than finding a hammock to lay in, and promptly removing his armor to go to sleep, he instead found a beam near Wren to sit against. There was an eerie quiet in the holding area, a mix of swinging hammocks and groaning wood, complimented by the occasional crash of waves against the bow and the loud snore of a drunken sailor. In other circumstance, the moments might have been peaceful. But rather than finding peace and rest, he instead found the grooves and scars of his hand, lit by moonlight shining through the portholes.

Grooves and scars that could grip a sword. Grooves and scars and trenches, where blood could collect. Cassandra.​

 

[Wren]

Rainer's steps closing in and settling at a nearby beam was enough to rankle her temper. Reflexively Wren felt her lip prick and a hiss of discontent well up in the back of her throat, but she bit down on the instinct and bristled in silence.

Though she had spent very little time with the new voice in her head, Wren noted how very, very quiet it had gone. Having known how outspoken the demon was before when released from the confines of its prior prison, she found its current reticence somewhat unsettling. Was it gone? Had the death of the presbyter and the Count and his daughter been enough?

A gauntlet lifted absently to touch at her breastplate, though she wasn't able to make contact with the area of her sternum that had so badly stung in that hidden room. Wren's head thunked against the wall behind her as she loosed a heavy, gruff sigh and closed her eyes. Sleep came ... surprisingly quick.

 

[Rainer]

Marigold and yellow bands of light reflected across the nearly still waters of the Gulf of Liad as the sun began to rise. In the distance, terns flew over low elevations, occasionally diving into the blue water. Moments later, they'd spring back up with small red fish trapped in their beaks. Rain had assumed they were following some underwater predator, chasing the small prey fish into groups for easy picking. He envied that existence - it seemed simple.

"Early riser..." The barber surgeon whispered as he approached quietly, resting his hands across the wooden railing. Rain immediately noted his long, boney fingers.

"Never really settled down." Rain replied, shifting his attention back to the seabirds, dancing and darting in the sky. Terzine replied with nothing more than a knowing ah. "Thank you for harboring us."

Terzine waved him off and smiled. "Was not my decision. The captain commanded it. Seemed he knew of the turmoil in Bur'tyga far before we got to port."

"Hmm." Rain replied, having been equipped with similar notions prior to arriving at Bur'tyga as well. "Well I would like to thank him, if the opportunity arises."

"I suspect it won't. He has taken to bed and will likely not be well until after Dornoch. Speaking of which, we will make port at Darnhesh within a days time. A small humble town..." He smiled. "Simple coastal locale with not much to do for your profession, but its a good spot for tuna and trade."

 

[Wren]

For the most part, Wren slept in a dreamless void. Exhaustion of the mind and body weighed heavily into those slumbering hours, driven into their lull by the rocking of the ship and the snoring of the sailors in their hammocks. A rhythmic tapping sounded from somewhere among the dozing bodies - someone's bobble swinging on its hook with each passing swell of current, only to fall back again against the wooden pole.

Swell.

Tap-tap.

Swell.

Tap-tap.

For hours, quieting as they drifted along stiller river waters, then picking up again through the churn of a river bend.

It was in the dawn hours that Wren first stirred. Pulled from the void by the inkling of Rainer's movement. Without having to see or hear or even know he was departing from close proximity she knew, as if innately, that he'd left. Enough of a discomfort at the base level of her brain to jolt her awake, briefly, and watch his figure go. Yet once she remembered where they were, Wren pressed that niggling worry away and let herself drift off once more.

Only this time it was not the fathomless nothingness she returned to, but a sea of broken memories from a life she could not remember.

A town. A cottage. A small farm. A home.

Once again the sensation of a babe in her arms, suckling at her breast. The warmth of joy and love suffused in her chest.

The silhouette of a man, the giggle of a child.

Two little ones whose faces she could not see, running and laughing and chirping along a worn path ahead of her. One had wheaten blond hair, long and gilt in the sun, the other short and shorn hair the color of freshly tilled earth.

Fire. Chaos. Panic.




Rainer's quiet conversation in the waking hours of dawn were suddenly intersected by a blood-curdling scream from below deck.

 

[Rainer]

The scream seemed to permeate through the boards of the deck, overcoming the sound of chop and the dancing calls of terns in the distance. Before Rain could fully understand what was happening, Terzine was gone. As he turned, Rain could see the grey and black plumage of his receding hair line, cropped against unnaturally pale skin, and the hard collar of his barber surgeons uniform.

Rain quickly turned and followed him below deck.

Terzine busted through the door to the sleeping quarters to find it mostly empty. The hammocks were still swinging and the sound of those who had been asleep could be heard out in the hull and keel, where the smell of prepared food was wafting. But in the corner, there was something else. The glint of steel, the whimpering of one of the crewman, and the grimace of something that at the time, appeared to be otherworldly.

"Wren..." Rain uttered as he walked passed Terzine, trying his best to take on a disarming tone. "Put the sword down."
"Not the actions of a welcomed guest." Terzine replied, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Blood spilled in the belly of a ship is bad luck." He looked over to Rain, who was lifting his hand.

Rain formed a gesture with his hand, rolling his pinky and ring finger into his palm. The thumb, index, and middle fingered were splayed outwards as a yellow energy seemed emanate outward. A calming aura poured out with the intent of settling Wren down from what Rain could only expect was a bad dream at best, and the complications of that mark at worst.

"Calm down Wren...you are with friends."​

 

[Wren]

Wren's hulking armored shadow did not immediately seem to recognize the new presence of Terzine and Rain in the room. The man she held against the bulwark of the ship was trembling in the only way a merchant sailor who'd never seen a day of battle could. His feet were a good foot off the ground and his eyes were round with terror.

Three things glinted in the darkened sleeping quarters: Wren's silver sword against the man's neck, the point of her fangs within her beastly grimace, and the reddened glow of her eyes like an ember refusing to die out.

The first response came at her name and the command given by Rainer. Something that should have been enough given what effect his direct commands had upon her before, but now only seemed to engender annoyance. Wren's head twisted toward him and her jaw yawned open to loose a guttural hiss, the fire within her eyes brightening.

All of it, however, began to fade immediately following his spell. The dark aura surrounding her figure diminished to allow the dull gleam of her armor to show through; the glow of her eyes smoldered back to the abyss like a fire dieing to reveal the hazel tones beneath; the beastly nature of her face was gone like smoke in the wind.

Wren blinked and released a cold breath, looking faintly startled and sleep-addled as if she'd only just been jostled awake. The whimper of the man in her grasp quickly drew her attention and she looked upon him with shock, withdrawing her sword and dropping him immediately. Wren's mouth dropped open again, but this time in disbelief and confusion.

"I-" she could not find the words. The last thing she remembered was watching Rainer leave the chamber before falling back to sleep. Even the dreams encountered had evaporated from memory.

"Rain, I didn't-" Wren began, all sense of anger with him gone and replaced by confusion, "I swear it wasn't me."

 

[Rainer]

There were many emotions and facades he had seen adorning Wren. Anger and frustration were the most common, most often pointed towards him or the situation. Other times, she could be relaxed or caring, usually during unusual circumstances that, upon future introspection, were moments worth celebrating given the atypical nature. He could even recall seeing her confused, typically associated with something he was babbling about or some theory he had - or something he had left unspoken. But that generally petered out back to frustration - full circle.

But one thing he had only seen a handful of times, if that, was Wren while she was scared or vulnerable. Her gleaming armor, a beacon in this dark hull, was as much a physical armament as it was a representation of something much deeper. Spiritual. Vulnerable was not a place Wren often went.

"Wren...I know." He said, dropping his hand as he slowly approached. "I know that wasn't you." She had codes, certain rules, even if they weren't spoken. He was certain that not attacking a supposed innocent person while they slept was one of those rules. And beyond that, Wren wasn't one to lie - even when that lie could be helpful. "But for the moment..." His hand reached out to her and for a fleeting moment, his desire to embrace her and assure her that this was his fault and that he would take care of everything - it was almost overwhelming. But instead, it dropped and opened, asking for her sword. "I need you to give me your sword. Until the nightmare passes."

Terzine cleared his throat. "Might I impede for a just a moment. I presume that this sort of...fit...is not something to which you are accustomed? I would like to help, if you might allow me. After all, I am a barber surgeon."

"She doesn't need surgery." Rain replied, defensively, without turning away from Wren.
"Nor does she need a haircut." Terzine replied. "But her ailment seems to be more an affliction of the spirit. I will trust you on the vessel further if you would but return me the same courtesy."​

 

[Wren]

The look of disturbed concern persisted on her face even as Rain issued calm words her way. She felt like a dog gone rabid - disconnected from the hideous actions, possessed of something beyond her control or awareness. Trying to make sense of it all, the effort pulled her inward from Rain and her mind wandered to the far reaches of her deeper misgivings. He'd find no opposition to the claiming of her sword, or any weapon on her person for that matter - of which there were many.

As for the barber surgeon? She wasn't sure what he was getting at, but his words drew her back from the depths and her gaze switched from Terzine back to Rain with intense uncertainty.

Should they tell him?

 

[Rainer]

Rain took the sword from her hand and leaned against one of the struts that connected the base of the boat to the ceiling of the sleeping area. The sconces of firelight flickered as the ship shifted in the chop. As the sword came to rest, his hand moved to her shoulder pauldron. If he was upset with what had happened, he concealed it well. In his golden eyes, her concern was reflected back at her.

"Come..." Terzine uttered quietly, as he turned to take a seat on a small stool near a still hammock. "Speak to me of Bur'tyga and what happened there. We have made port there many times and never have I seen the place in such a state. Did you meet with the Duke..." Terzine lifted a glove to chest level and snapped his fingers multiple times. "By the Gods, what was his name...he went by the Duke of Chains, yes?"​

 

[Wren]

Something within her flickered at the Duke's moniker. Wren's face visibly twitched, a sudden shadow of a disgusted, silent snarl.

"He was a bloody vampire," she answered Terzine without any hesitation. If Rainer had wanted to keep the town's sordid story under wraps, well, there wasn't much hope for it now.

"And so was the fucking Minister-" and then it all came spilling back up, forcing through the netting of calm woven over her psyche and bursting through. Wren suddenly remembered she was angry and not just that she was angry but that she was morally wounded by Cassandra's fate - "and the little girl!"

She swore in elvish, beginning to find the confines of the boat far too small for the very big emotions she was feeling. "I need to get off this ship," Wren moved in an attempt to push past Rain, "get me off this ship Rainer!"

 

[Rainer]

Before Wren could stand to push passed Rain, Terzine abruptly stood up. There was a sudden weight to the room, as if the gravity had shifted and suddenly everything weighed far beyond it's encumbrance. And the sconces continued to burn but the ambience dimmed, like a fog had pressed it's way through the port windows.

"Yes. He was a vampire which by my estimation, means he is no more?" Terzine's eyes shined in a reflection that felt unnatural. "Good. I never much cared for his holier than thou attitude. Nor did I care for the girl. Do you know how many people she's killed? Count the nails in this ship and you won't even come close."

"What the fuck is this?" Rain replied as he stood up. And immediately he struggled to keep himself up beyond a crouch.

"As I said, you are among friends. And honesty begets honesty." He turned from looking at Rain back to Wren. "Now, you have dumped the coal, as it were. Please continue - tell me what ails you beyond the memory of that place."

 

[Wren]

Wren felt the slithering at her sternum. A reminder of the mark there and the being it represented. She reflexively had to stop herself from lifting a hand to press at the spot on her breastplate - not that it would have done her any good regardless, but it was a bit like tonguing a mouth ulcer. Couldn't be helped.

Her own gaze narrowed and darkened upon Terzine and his sudden overabundance of presence. Something ... something about him ...

Such melodramatics.

The thought that filtered through her mind was not her own, but the scathing hiss of Orobas. Wren's left hand shifted to Rainer's near arm and gripped him tightly as she felt the compulsion from the demon within to hold on to her secret. To lie.

"You don't understand," she said to Terzine, brow deeply furrowed, "that girl was turned against her will far too young. It made a beast of her. What happened to her was a tragedy - we should never have had to kill her."

 

[Rainer]

"And metal is but ore until fashioned into a blade. Does that make the weapon any less of a weapon?" Terzine replied curtly, though his expression was far from indifferent. He seemed to show empathy towards the circumstance.

"That's not what she means." Rain replied, acutely feeling the hand gripping his arm. He didn't turn to acknowledge - he couldn't quite make out where Terzine stood in this conversation. But what he did know was that the man was far from what he appeared. He felt a need to be defensive.

"I understood what she meant..." Terzine replied as he turned, setting his satchel down on a barrel next to him. Bumbling through the package, he extracted a glass bulb that was filled with a red fluid. He jostled it a bit as mica deflected within, giving it the impression of a mystical red slurry. "I consider myself a healer, above all else. As we are defined by what we choose to do, not what we have done. If you take this..." He held it up, cork still pressed into the neck of the vile, and looked towards Wren. "You will be unburdened, temporarily, without muddling the mind. It will give you the chance to speak freely without repercussion."

He paused and thought. "Consider it a key to that which fetters you."​

 

[Wren]

Wren's grip on Rainer's arm tightened further, but whether it was out of desperation for the influence presently impressing itself upon her or the seeded anger she felt in her own defense it wasn't clear.

"No," she growled at Terzine, "my mind has been addled enough."

 

[Rainer]

Rain didn't know enough about what was going on to make an informed decision. In that circumstance, he was stalwart in being entirely on Wren's side. It was her choice and no one else's.

"Yes, it has." Terzine sighed and stood up, approaching the duo. He kept his distance, admittedly put off by the defensive posture of Rain who, given the chance, was likely to strike. Instead of offering the vile once more, he turned it back over and fed it back into his satchel. "You are carrying something now, aren't you? It's not the first time I have seen it, that look in the dark."

He looked towards Rain. "Likely won't be the last for you, either. Mind the sword while you are on board. We will make port for Darnhesh tomorrow. We will find another more...secluded area for you to rest on the vessel in the mean time and thereafter until this passes. Please do let me know if you change your mind about the treatment."

He smiled once more and the veil of weight and energy dropped as he let out a breath he had seemed to be holding. Turning, he headed back up towards deck.​

 

[Wren]

As soon as Terzine's figure disappeared from sight, Wren tore from Rainer's side and hastily strode off the length of the dark room wheezing from the sting on her sternum. Her hands clutched at the neckline of her chestplate, tugging at it beneath a wince.

"Stop-" the single syllable hissed through her teeth, "stop. STOP."

Turning then upon reaching the limit of the space, it felt far to close to the limit of her self control and in a moment of introspective rage she roared and punched a nearby wooden beam. It shattered under her furious strength and buckled with a groan. With luck, it was not a load-bearing structure.

Temper temper ... someone might think you're some kind of-

"Shut up!"

monster.

 

[Rainer]

Rain didn't allow her the space as he followed her, even approaching close enough to almost get winged by the swing against the beam. Just as she told whatever she could hear to Shut up, he grabbed her. Slipping his hands into the space that separate the plate armor from the shoulder pauldrons, he gripped the breast plate with a firm enough grip that she'd have to hit him to release it.

"Wren." It wasn't a yell but it was something approaching stern, the sort of voice a sire would use to reach into the mind of a vampire they had changed. But on top of that, his voice was encumbered with the magic of stillness, the spell used originally to settle her and attempt to save the life of a seemingly innocent boatmen.

"Wren, listen to me. You are more than this thing that has bound itself to you. You carry it, not the other way around. You can control this, I know that. But you need to slow down." He couldn't hear the voice, but he could feel her mind. Like a heart fluttering after a run, her thoughts were muddied and unhinged. He attempted to intervene, to subtly remind her to not dwell on the bad, but on the lives they have saved through their difficult work. Like bringing an end to ancient vampire, likely rampaging once through Elbion. "Come back to me."

Part of him wanted nothing but to return to the apple orchard, to find a place where they weren't hunted for what they were, where they could live off the laurels of trying to make good of something unfortunate. But he blocked it out, tried his best to block out the suggestion to Wren, as he could only assume the memory would remind her of the unfortunate hangover that followed.​

 

[Wren]

The instant she became entrapped by Rainer's grip on her armor Wren's face shifted once more into that beastly, demonic visage; jaw yawning open in a snarl that bared all the deadly points of her many fangs. Black pooled over the hazel of her irises and swirled vehemently under the lull of the spell in his voice.

For several moments she stood, strained into his grasp, balancing along the edge of control and the desire to rip the man's jugular open. As he spoke, the edge of her aggression dulled and the command of her sire took hold. Savagery waning, she heaved an anxious and worrying sigh while blinking away the blackness of her eyes...

...and pushed out thick tears as she began to cry.

Wren's hands reached up to cling at his forearms, head bowing - whether to hide the shame of her lack of emotional control or simply due to the exhaustion of it all it was difficult to say.

"I can't stay on this ship," she said again, voice strained, "these people aren't safe. I'm the monster now."

 

[Rainer]

For a fleeting moment, he felt as if he was gripping a tornado. Ensnared in his fingers, it threatened to rip him to pieces. Rain felt, just for that moment, that the link between sire and vampire had weakened so impressively in the face of demonic possession, that it was but a wafer-thin thing blowing in the tempest of her fleeting control, soon to be severed with the flick of steel or the slash of angry hands. This Orobas was beyond them both and he was starting to realize that she was right. They couldn't stay on this ship.

"No." He stated quietly. He wasn't visibly shaken by the event but that wasn't because of anything beyond a fierce determination to conceal it from her. As he felt his grip loosen on her armor, one hand drifted up along her jaw line before finding a place on the back of her neck.

Tilting forward, he pressed a kiss against the crown of her hairline. "You are no monster, Wren. Far from it." Retracting, he pushed her head upward and away from whatever place of shame she lingered, as he made eye contact with her. "But you are right. We can't stay on this ship. We will make our own way after Darnhesh. I will fix this."

He wasn't sure how, especially knowing how close she was to needing to be put in the earth. But there had to be something they could do.​

 

[Wren]

The dam had apparently broken along with the rest of her emotional control. Wren could not stop the gushing tears presently flooding her eyes and dribbling down her cheeks like too much water in a glass already full. Rain's presence and touch was soothing as it ever had been, but it felt diluted when compared to how it had felt once before. Something was smothering their connection.

For now, though, her own familiarity with him was winning out. In spite of how much ire he could easily draw from Wren, he was still her source of comfort and security in trying times because so far as she could remember, there was no one else.

"That man," Wren's sodden gaze met his own, "don't let him near me again. He doesn't like him."

 

[Rainer]

"Ok." There was no arguments to be had over it. There was something awry about Terzine and while Rain was fairly confident that he wasn't an enemy, things didn't seem above board. Though, admittedly, Rainer wasn't particularly happy to hear about Orobas having any say over the things Wren did. "But I'll need to speak with him to figure out where we can stay for the time being. Until Darnhesh. He mentioned somewhere secluded."

He moved his hand, shifting tears away from her cheek with the back of his nails. "You need rest. We need to sleep." And she was going to find her strength away from the water, on and in the solid ground, and away from whatever was bringing this being to the surface.

At least, that was his hope.​