Private Tales A hunter in the streets

[Wren]

"What's the pay," Wren intoned, she didn't have her tankard on her so Marge had a moment of awkward looking about before going to search for it back in the bath house.

"Excuse me?" Baron blinked at her.
"The pay, what's the amount."
"More than fair, I assure you," he replied with mild surprise.
"I'm sure it is," the tone was less an agreement and more a command, "but I want to know the amount so I know what to expect taken out by Harreth for what we owe him and not a copper more."
"Well, a lady of arithmetic and finance I can appreciate," Baron gave a nervous laugh, "Twelve gold."
"Make it fifteen. There were about a hundred of that beast's thrall down there we had to take care of as well, not part of the original bounty. Consider it a bonus."

If the Baron didn't visibly pale under the light of the moon Wren would be a mule's aunt. Baron glanced from her to Rainer and back again, deciding they weren't nearly worth the trouble of arguing with. Especially not if they'd managed to slay the beast, "Very good, consider it settled. Fifteen gold."

"Pleasure doing business with you Baron."

The man smiled, caught between feeling cowed by Wren and relieved the job was done. He bid them goodnight and made a hasty exit.

Wren held her slate gaze until he was gone then turned a shit-eating grin to Rainer, "Looks like you weren't so lonely after all."

 

[Rainer]

By all accounts, when it came to accounting, Rainer was a push over in Wren's reflection. Given a similar circumstance, he would have taken the coin and been content towards it. 12 pieces of gold could get them a good deal of commerce. Weapon and armor repairs, saddle treatment, new clothes, and maybe a nice room at one of the high end Inns. Though admittedly, he had very little complaints regarding this establishment.

3 more gold could purchase ten more nights in the bathhouse.

Stretching out against the slats on the opposite side of the pool, he eyed Wren for a moment and graced her with a half-smile.

"Yeah, couldn't seem to really shake him. Good thing you showed up...I think he's intimidated by strong women." It was fairly clear that he was out of his element and out of expectations. After all, women weren't a common sight at the hot spring.

 

[Wren]

"Good," came the reply, "worked in our favor. Now," Wren approached the edge of the spring and gestured to him with her scarred hand, "avert your gaze while I get in. I'm still a goddamn lady."

One of arithmetic and finance, according to the Baron.

Wren and Rainer had see one another in various states of undress during their travels, though Wren had yet to see the man fully exposed and if he'd seen her then she'd not noticed. On her own part her burn scars were a source of mixed emotions and something she still actively struggled with. Wren had never been a vain person, but considering her memory of the event still came to her in fits and spurts, still roused her from a deep sleep into a terror-stricken panic, still brought a moment of shock every time she took her armor off.

Well...she'd not spent a lot of time outside of her armor just so she wouldn't have to look at it. They were like the bastard child of a regretful husband she was forced to raise out of unfortunate circumstance. She still didn't have the whole story (a story that didn't even feel like her own) but she'd forever live with the consequences of it.

Needless to say, Wren wasn't overtly self-conscious about them until someone was looking real close.

She waited for the man to do the gentlemanly thing before uncinching her towel and tossing it over the severed head. Slipping into the spring and submerging completely, she surfaced with a wide blink and a pass of her hands over her head to slick away the water.

"Gods above, can we find a place like this everywhere we stop."

Hotsprings were, apparently, amazing.

 

[Rainer]

He respected her enough to respect her wishes, though they had seen each other in variable states of clothing and non-clothing. But, he was a human once. Turning to look away as she dropped her towel, he caught just the flash of skin as she entered into the pool.

"I suspect not..." He replied as he turned back to look at her, running his hand along the water and rubbing through the stubble he had forgotten to shave in the bathhouse. "Though...sometimes small towns can surprise you." He took another drink and pushed off from the edge of the wooden slats, wading into the deeper parts of the pool with a lazy back and side stroke hybrid.

"I know of a town East of here, just north of the Savannah. Caradune...or Camaradune...something like that. Old dwarven settlement that was reclaimed by elf and human migrants. They have something similar to this, though it's much larger, warmed by the sun instead of the earth, and is lined with brickstone." He stopped somewhere in the middle, turning to move back towards his original position.

"In the Seret Mountains, there is a settlement of transposed north men. Or...they call themselves north men. In the reaches of their hills, the mountains level off and form these large pools where streams run through. It's not warmed like this, but they pair it with a sauna like here...and they consider the experience something of a spiritual cleanse."

 

[Wren]

Wren relaxed at the edge of the pool, water just cresting over her shoulders, head nodded back against the wall. She closed her eyes while Rainer spoke of distant cities, wondering if she had ever visited any place like this before. Her home of Loriden had not hotsprings but it had bath houses situated a level over the forges whose constantly burning fires heated the waters.

"Mm," said the half elf, "any leads on the next nest?"

"Here you are miss," Marge had reappeared with a fresh tankard of ale for Wren and a full pitcher, "I'll leave this here for you both, let me know if it goes empty." The woman's eyes scanned the various towels strewn about, one of which wadded over the severed head, "I'll bring fresh towels. Do yeh need anything else? Food perhaps?"

"Had my fill today," Wren replied as she turned to take up her drink, back now facing Rainer and arms folded over the lip of stone at the poolside.

 

[Rainer]

He had moved back to his side of the pool, grabbing the now empty tankard in anticipation of Marge's return for refills. He didn't expect a pitcher but it made sense, with the back and forth. Saved Marge time and prevented them from having to scream for it every time the suds ran out.

Wading back across, he felt the rocky bottom drop out towards the center of the pool as he crossed. It wasn't overly deep, not based on what he could see, but he wasn't exactly exploring at the moment. As he reached Wren's side of the hot spring, he reached across the wooden slats and pulled the pitcher to himself. "Already got your eyes on the next quarry..." He stated quietly as he filled the tankard with the dark stout.

Had her fill today and if she hadn't, the beer would serve as second meal. He took a sip and placed the tankard down, running his fingers along his mustache. Turning, the Vedymin rested his head against the slats. "North side of the Cairou, just at the mouth of the Gulf, there's rumors of a prominent fishing village and disappearances..." And other rumors of nighttime gatherings and the occult.

"Not necessarily a bounty but there is a significant fee for investigative services..."

 

[Wren]

"I don't have a mind to go hungry for a week again," words spoken over the rim of her tankard, narrowed gaze sliding sideways to eye him accusingly, "I like knowing the plan and keeping it out of pocket."

The whole map in his pocket for two days - yeah, he was never going to live that down. Or unlive, as it were. Rainer would learn (eventually, hopefully) that it was in his best interest to keep her clued in rather than hiding things and letting her get hangry.

Hangry with a plan was infinitely more safe for all parties concerned than hangry without.

 

[Rainer]

He was starting to appreciate the gravity of his error. And while he understood that she was upset about being left in the dark on the matter, he was only recently understanding the value of partnership.

"I'm sorry about the map. I've never really had a partner when it comes to this...sort of thing." He admitted, staring off towards a particularly unremarkable roof in the distance, above the horizon of the privacy fencing. He wasn't looking for pity from Wren but, perhaps, a bit of understanding would find its way into the conversation. Though he had to admit that her focus on this particular slight, and her general attitude, was an endearing part of her charm.

"There are other rumors about the town..." He abruptly switched back to future plans. "Midnight burnings, witch hunts, imprisoning and executing outsiders and travelers. Even more..." He turned to look towards her. "A significant fee comes with a rather uninviting circumstance."

 

[Wren]

Another guzzle. Wren had hit the point of the evening that sober wasn't her ideal state of mind.

"Sounds like a party," and younger Wren had always enjoyed a good, old-fashioned, complicated challenge. Her mother had called her restless. Her father had called her foolhardy. Mostly, Wren was three sheets of angst in the wind. A more level mind now had managed to tame the wily nature, somewhat, but the wanderlust was real and the bloodlust wasn't helping.

Her eyes meandered over to him again, the edge of her previous spite suddenly dulled to a hazey muddle of mischief, "Am I your first?"

Well that was a loaded question.

 

[Rainer]

First...first what?

That question felt almost playful, if not intentionally vague. He could only assume that she was referencing the comment about a partner, which the answer was simple. But complexity stemmed from the removal of a very specific set of restrictions.

"First partner? No..." He turned to face her, the impact of the stout not entirely absent on the softening of his expression. Even when sarcastic or jovial, his humor was dry and his brow was furrowed. Forever engendering confusion as to whether it was a joke or simply the way he worked. It wasn't the case now, even hinting at warm reply. "It's not uncommon for bounties to require multiple bounty hunters, often meeting in the midst of confrontation...bounties are shared and people part ways. But..."

He sighed heavily as he moved, lifting both arms to rest on the slats as he let his head fall back. Golden eyes cut away from the glow of the various sconces circling the spring. Instead, he inspected the stars. "You are my first persistent partner. And the only person I have ever changed."

 

[Wren]

Liquid warmth smothered a good deal of the pointy aspects of Wren's current mental state. From the inside and out.

Blah blah blah bounty partners. That wasn't what she had meant. Persistent partner and the - bingo (smirk broadening) only person he's ever changed.

"Does that make me your thrall?" another long sip.

 

[Rainer]

He shook his head and laughed, taking a long sip of his tankard. "Gods no. My power over you is on par with my ability to squeeze water from stone. Nonexistent." Tilting his head, he continued to look over the stars. With the enhanced eyesight of the Vedymin, it was even possible to spy meteor showers throughout the night. Despite the inability of the normal person to see this, it was like a constant shower.

Ever striking.

"Though we are bonded, as I'm sure you've noticed." He turned to look at her. "A great pain comes from separation. And was one of the many reasons for my solemn oath to never bring another Vedymin into this world."

 

[Wren]

Well that was a damned relief. Knowing he had no power of control over her seemed to settle comfortably into the same place where anxious knots liked to make their bed. Somewhere right between the lungs, burning behind the sternum. For once she didn't think him a liar.

"I hadn't noticed," Wren turned her gaze away, arms crossing over the slats for her chin to rest on.

In two months they'd traveled quite a bit, but she couldn't recall being so far away from him that it caused her pain. Perhaps a dubious amount of uncertainty during that time in the city of Cree where he'd stationed her high up in the top of the rookery to keep watch for a group of juvenile vampires that had been ransacking the townspeople. If anything, she'd concerned herself over the thought that maybe he'd put her up there to make a hasty exit and leave her behind.

And the idea of being left behind had never set well with Wren.

"Is that what happened to you and your creator?"

 

[Rainer]

Thinking about his creator wasn't an activity he often partook in. It brought up a mixture of emotions, largely dwelling in the realm of melancholy and anger. The beast had changed him for no reason other than to torment him, leaving him to drown, die, or change in the flooding waters of the Alliria Shallows. He carried little baggage with him after the change. But he felt hate for this individual, a thing not common even amidst his enemies.

"Yes." He whispered sharply. He turned to adjust, taking a similar posture against the slats as Wren. Drinking deeply of the mug, he played a dangerous game between remembrance and wallowing.

"I never knew my creator. And I spent a decade anguishing for it." He no longer felt the pain of separation though he had assumed it was simply going numb to it. That was, until Wren came along. "And now I'm the spitting image of a well adjusted individual."

He laughed against his hands, turning to inspect Wren. What skin was available to see, the scars on her body, the movement of the water around her. "Does it bother you...to not remember?"

 

[Wren]

Wren's general inclination was to give condolences, but she had a hard time doing so all things considered. The half-elf settled on a understanding grunt. If the pain was anything like crossing that bridge ... well, she'd be mindful not to stray too far while she was still learning the ropes. Anguish never looked good on anyone.

Her brow furrowed at his question, smirk vanishing in a blink. That was a proper nerve he'd struck, one that lead to a full host of strong emotions, the weakest of which being bothered.

Proverbial hackles flared just a twinge, "Of course it does," bare shoulders flexed as she shifted to take another drink. She'd been doing so well at this whole relaxation thing, it would be a pity to ruin it with a dumb, innocent question. More ale, more ale to wind her back down.

But not remembering things was a complicated quandary to deal with. Wren didn't presently know what she couldn't remember, so it was difficult to be too upset. What bothered her more was that she knew she was missing what felt to be a significant chunk of her life but had no real way of knowing.

 

[Rainer]

She wore her heart on her sleeve or, in this case, across her brow. He nodded and didn't press her further, settling back down with a cheek on this knuckles. The wound of amnesia was still fresh with her, something that could easily be remedied if she simply pressed the Vedymin hard enough. At least, that would be the quickest route to an answer. But it introduced a philosophical question that he had often pondered in the dead of night.

Alone, next to a candle with a window looking out into a dark world: To be told of a memory, would that be enough to restore it? Or would it simply be a tale of someone else, someone who no longer lived?

"I remember the warmth of fire and embers, the feel of the breeze and the smell of salt in the air..." He opened his eyes, looking back towards Wren, and then moved to inspect the tankard. "Sometimes when I feel or hear something, I get the impression that I had experienced it before."

Perhaps there were magical means to rectify the loss of memory. But he had never pursued it, deciding that the Path of the Vedymin required a clean slate. The hunger, the hunt, it demanded steps in the proper direction. There was no time to get caught on the things that no longer mattered. At least, those are the notions of which he convinced himself. It made their myopic life a bit easier to tolerate.

 

[Wren]

She drained her tankard, feeling the blush of faint drunkeness melt down those points again as the ale sank into her stomach and simmered through her blood in tune to the simmering of the hotspring. The morose that suddenly took her was jarring, brought on as she looked over at him and his head resting on his hands.

"I remember..." faint images, but not new ones, played in a haze before her mind's eye. Visions she'd dreamt of, ones that often haunted her musings when they wandered between long spaces of silence.

"...warm hands."

The hands of a man, ones that had seen plenty of work. Weathered but softened by shea butter wrappings applied late at night by firelight. Hands that had wrapped around her in warm embraces and knew her body the way a traveler knew a map. Hands that had kneaded at aching muscles, that had carved wooden figurines with skill, that had broken things in anger, that had been bloodied from a fight...

 

[Rainer]

It took him years to gather up the formations of memories that were tied back to his former life. Perhaps it was the abrupt separation from his creator, the trauma of how he had awoken in the storm, or maybe something else entirely. He was pleased to hear her reclaim these sensations so early in her life as a vampire.

"That's very impressive...these memories must have been very important to you." He admitted as he nudged the tankard forward and finished off the remainder of his beer. The rush was starting to resemble the feel of his cheeks, moments after taking that first drink amidst a blood drought. It was the sort of euphoria that came with a cessation of suffering.

Tilting the tankard back, it wobbled against the slats and came to a quiet stop. "It took me a long time to get to the point you're at. Maybe you will surpass me and find your way..." Perhaps she couldn't see it, not in their day to day interactions. But he cared for her far more than he let on, even in these moments of honesty with no maps to conceal. Cared enough to break an oath, to do the very thing he condemned his maker for. He hoped that whatever nurturing existed in their companionship and journeys might give her whatever it was she needed.

Whether that was to simply exist as he did, doing some modicum of good as he carved his way through the world, or if it was to remember her former life. There weren't enough Vedymin around to be forced into some adherence to unspoken dogma.

Lifting his finger to the pitcher of beer, he whispered quietly. "...lux..." The edge of his finger took on a warm glow as light bounced against the glass and darted through the stout, deflecting off the inner contours of the pitch. "Need a bit of light for a topic as dreary as this..."

 

[Wren]

And just like that, the hint of magic was enough to distract Wren from the weight of her oppressing memories and pull her out of what might've been a long night of shut-in depression. Wren wiped a hand over her face, blinking and inhaling sharply through her nose as the glow illuminated their immediate area.

"Gods, I forgot you could do that-" his magic wasn't a common thing and her own had waned in ability since her turning to the point that she hadn't tried it. What had once been much like a sixth sense, instilled into her since birth from her mother's people, had become a runaway dog. She kept trying to call it back, but damn if it wasn't stubborn.

Shifting, she reached for the glowing pitcher and poured herself a fresh serving.

"It's all flaming hammer with you and then you pull something like that out of your ass," a comment meant to playfully jab at him. The smirk had returned. Wren held it over a drink.

 

[Rainer]

His hand flexed and constricted into a fist as she grabbed the pitcher, retracting the light back into the center of his palm. "Oh there's a lot more where that came from..." He chuckled, not one to show off. But he had had a bit to drink and it seemed like proper distractions were in order.

Opening his hand, the lights transferred from one finger tip to all five as he laid his knuckles against the slats. "Maybe it's because I'm an oaf or maybe it's because we are limited in such ways...while I have no talent for higher magics, lower magics seem to be entirely within our skill set. And lux...it can imprint against just about anything."

Against the thralls and the Alukrah, he had transferred the power to the meteor hammer to create the flamming hammer she spoke of. But that was utility and this was anything but.

Turning his hand over, he pressed his finger against the slat and drew a symbol not unlike an '8' but turned sideways. "It only damages things that are weak to light. It cannot burn. But it can bring comfort." As many magics would. Drawing on the energies around them, as required by magical necessity, the transfer could draw in life.

 

[Wren]

She watched the display with intrigue, curious to this power of his and how it compared to what she knew.

"My mother's people are capable of magic. Not everyone, but some are powerful," shifting to face him more, left arm folding so left hand cradled the side of her head, right hand still leisurely held on to her tankard, "elementals mostly. Some healers. I used to be pretty good with nature magic."

Green and brown and gold traced the progress of the glow, brows lofting in some hint of regret, "Can't seem to use it anymore. Maybe that's the trade off. Memories over magic."

 

[Rainer]

He didn't need to tell her that he knew of her people and their capabilities. Or that she had been a devoted protector and ranger. He hadn't been aware of her proficiency with magic but the fact didn't surprise him. While she didn't seem to have full memories, her self awareness was far beyond his own.

Best he could muster was a certain resilience to the cold and and certain amount of vigor and stamina.

"Maybe...or maybe you just need time." Keeping his right arm on the slats, he turned and held his left hand out for her get a better view, hovering just about the warm spring water. The color seemed to resonate from the tip of his nails to the first bend in each finger."It can imprint against anything."

 

[Wren]

Quizzical, confused, Wren turned a knitted brow at him, "The hell are you saying?" and took another drink from her tankard.

 

[Rainer]

He had already mentioned the fact twice. He was starting to wonder if she knew what imprint meant. "Just...touch my fucking hand."

Maybe it was just the beer.

 

[Wren]

Wren indeed did not know what imprint meant. She thought she knew what it meant in the sense of a babe imprinting onto its mother. In the context of glowing fingertips? Not a damn thing.

The command raised a brow though. Wow. Well. The ale was both talking and listening. Hng.

Yes sir.

Wren set her tankard down and lifted her right hand to lay it over the top of his palm, fingertips pressing into his wrist. Hazy gaze stuck on him for a moment before sliiiiiding down along his chest and arm to the hand in question. Right, what was going on here?