Private Tales A hunter in the streets

[Rainer]

What...what was going on here?

That was his initial thought, but it wasn't regarding her gaze. It was the feeling he got from the nearness. It felt warm, like the glow of a fire or the way a chair is warmed to perfection when rested in front of a hearth. He might have also picked up a hint of something else, in immediate response to his firm command.

For a brief moment, he replayed the thrall question in his mind, making sure what he said was actually accurate. He was 99% sure it was the case.

Moving his hand up to her wrist, he looked down and wrapped his fingers around her forearm. The lux pressed into her skin, draining away from his fingers, as it formed a vibrant trail of light against her skin. Skin.

"Do...do you feel that?"

 

[Wren]

Wren stared, wondering if her eyes were falling out of focus or if the fuzzy feeling that suddenly overcame her at his touch was part of the magic. She watched his fingers skate across her skin and wrap along her wrist, leaving behind iridescent trails and a sensation of warmth.

Not just warmth of the touch, but warmth of the soul. Deeply imprinting beyond the surface. It spread across her forearm, suffused by the feeling of pulling a fur glove over a hand you hadn't realized was cold. She might've been more alarmed if she were less inebriated, presently Wren felt the chill of the air more pronounced now than ever and it wasn't even cold in Elbion. They'd arrived in the spring and it had been a balmy, sunny experienced since.

"Yeah," a quiet reply while she studied the phenomenon. The feeling continued to radiate from the contact, a warm blanket over exposed skin that she wanted to wrap herself in regardless of the fact that she was still near fully submerged in the hot spring waters.

Her soul still felt the chill.

Wren clasped his wrist with her own hand and lazily drew him closer, twisting her arm to press his hand against her upper sternum just below her neck. The effect was instant, like drawing into the radiating warmth of a lover under the blankets or an embrace of a beloved family member. It felt welcoming, begetting a sense of belonging. Wren closed her eyes and smiled, "It's nice."

 

[Rainer]

She pulled him closer but he didn't exactly put up much of a resistance. He normally wasn't a fan of heat, likely a result of his race prior to the change. It just didn't sit well with him. But this, it was something different. The crackle of a warm fire greeting him, as he knocked his boots free of snow, closing the door and locking the blizzard out for the time being.

It was difficult for him to perceive snow in any way negative, but in this moment, it was the only thing familiar that drew his thoughts.

His palm was planted firmly on chest, just south of her collarbone. With fingers curling upwards towards her neckline, the remainder of the lux drained from the center his hand - like blood draining from a body - and coursed over scarred and unscarred flesh alike. It was a trick, comforting as it was, but would need additional casting to activate once more. And he wasn't sure he'd have the focus for it at this point.

But that didn't seem right. He felt like he had more focus than he should have, given the amount of alcohol he had consumed. Fingers clasping around her shoulder, he closed the distance that remained, fighting the urge to control himself in reflection of such comforting familiarity..

He wondered if this was the true Vedymin connection. It had to be.

"It is."

 

[Wren]

If she felt the magic of the lux in her skin she couldn't say, the sensation of what the contact brought was overwhelming in proportion to the little trick. A candle flame compared to a roaring fire in a stacked stone hearth. Wren felt as though she'd been traveling for years abroad only to finally reach the doorway to that place from her memories she long ached for.

To step inside to the feeling of home.

Her head left the cradle of her other hand, following the course of his fingers at her shoulder. She wrapped her right hand around his forearm, following it up to the back of his hand and directing it to her neck and jaw. Nuzzling into it, utterly lost in this scintillation, she heard the clattering of noise from the bath house as Marge tidied up but could not be made to care.

Warm hands.

"Don't stop."

 

[Rainer]

It was a side of her he hadn't seen. The two months had passed and they had taken to drinks after big hunts, that was effectively a tradition. The bathhouse was a new component of the process but he assuredly wasn't going to blame hot water and the cleanse of a bath for what they were feeling. What he was feeling.

It was an odd thing to picture himself as something more than a husk, going through the motions of life. Every three days, he needed to feed. He had gone seven days only a few times and it was by the grace of temporary partners that he hadn't fallen into madness and utter despair. So every three days he finished a hunt. He killed something, collected coin, moved on to the next town to avoid attention. It was all just a rhythm developed over years on how to survive with this curse. But as Wren moved his hand against her neck and jaw, as he pressed his finger against her scarred skin and felt something far removed from indifference or simply bodily lust, he wondered if this was a curse at all.

He had no intent on stopping. He had every intent on pulling her to him, kissing her, and seeing just how different it would all feel. He'd even suffer a broken nose for it.

But just as there were mere inches that spanned the distance, the feel of her breath against his lips, the door swung open.

"Got ya some fresh towels and warm clothe-" She stopped and Rainer looked up. "Oh my, oh my I'm so sorry..." He exhaled and stepped back from Wren. It was far from a recoil but the interruption broke the connection as he pulled his hand away and leaned against the slats.

"Fuck..."

"I'm so sorry, I just have towels and fresh clothes..."

"Don't be sorry, Marge. Thank you. You can put the clothes right there." He pointed with one hand, rubbing his brow with the other.

Marge nodded nervously and set the clothes and towels down, all folded up proper. And then she scampered off nervously, shutting the door behind her.

 

[Wren]

There it was, the pain.

The suddenness of cold again just before home swallowed her whole. Wren made an involuntary sound, a gasp of mild heartbreak, if there were such a thing. She hovered there, left hand clinging to the side of the pool for grounding while her world spun back into the endless abyss.

Perhaps the drink was compounding the sensations, but Wren suddenly felt sick, mentally rattled, emotionally upended. Vulnerable. Weak.

Without a word she knocked aside her tankard and hoisted herself out of the pool. No care was given for her nakedness as she made directly for the pile of towels and clothes, gathering up a towel for herself and her clothing and heading straight for the women's entrance to the bath house.

 

[Rainer]

This time, he didn't need to spy to catch a flash of skin. And he had no drive to do so either. Not because there was suddenly some lack of desire, but more that it would have paled in comparison to what he just felt. The hot spring felt tepid now that she was gone and there was only silence. And the sound of the water trickling in from the spring.

Lifting himself out of the pool, he carried his towel and clothing back into the bathhouse. Getting dried off and dressed, he grabbed his armor and made his way out. The Baron was nowhere to be found.

"Mr..."
"Rain..." Rainer restated as he met Marge, leaving the bathhouse to head back towards the Inn.
"Right...Rain. Listen, I just wanted to apologize abou' all that. I know it's complicated..."
"Complicated?"
"Ya...just wanted to say sorry 'gain and that you two look good togever..."
"It's not like that, Marge."
"Right...cause it's complicated?"

Rainer nodded, understanding. Shaking his head, he looked towards the Inn. "Baron drop off any coin to Harreth?"
"Uhhh..." Marge looked dumb founded for a moment before nodding. "Right. Yah. Lots of jingle in that one. Harreth should have it."
"Good. Thanks." He trailed passed her and she nodded, heading towards the women's bath house.

 

[Wren]

"Miss?" Marge knocked gently on the women's door, pushing it open with a wince, "Miss? I'm so sorry for intruding, I swear I didn't mean to-"

She was expecting anger and found something else entirely. Wren was on the floor of the bath house, back against the closed door that lead out to the hot spring, elbows to knees, arms curled around her head. She hadn't bothered to wrap herself in the towel, both it and the clothes were on the floor next to her. Wren was just there, naked and covered in scars and clearly distraught.

"Oh darlin' ... is everything alright?" Marge approached, gingerly stooping down next to her and picking her clothes off the floor so they wouldn't get wet, "Was he angry?"
"No."
"Can...can I help at all? I feel so bad ... yeh two looked so romantic."
"Put your hand on my shoulder."
Marge blinked at this but nodded and did as she was asked, "Sure honey, I'm here."

Nothing. Nothing at all. There was no level of comfort that came from Rainer's touch to be found in this woman's despite the fact that Marge was desperately trying to comfort her.

"Do...do yeh want me to get yeh a separate room? I think we got one open down the hall."
"No."
"Some more ale then?"
"...yeah."
"Alright darlin, let me jes-" Marge looked around for her tankard and could not find it, "let me jes get that for yeh. Be right back."

Wren peeled herself open, inwardly still reeling from the abruptness of emotion but outwardly feeling a sense of level calm return. She shivered but it had nothing to do with feeling physically cold. By the time Marge returned Wren was dressed and had her armor in hand. She took the new tankard from the woman and downed the thing in one go. If she was going to deal with these fucked up mixture of feelings for the rest of the night, she might as well be drunk for it.

 

[Rainer]

He set the armor down next to the bar and placed his tankard against the top. Looking over the cracking wood counter, he didn't spy Harreth anywhere but the night was winding down. Maybe he was stowing away for a brief nap or pick-me-up.

"Ya here for 'at coin?" He grunted as he came out from the back room, where there was some sort of cooking fire and cauldron suspender above the flame. There was little in the way of food smells throughout the tavern which gave Rainer the suspicion that it was empty. Maybe it was just to keep the cold at bay.

"Yeah. Minus your fee, of course." Rainer replied, pushing the tankard forward.
"Al'right." Harreth replied as he filled the pewter cup with stout, dark as the night. Pushing off the foam with a wooden rod, he slapped it once against the counter and pushed the tankard back. Sliding the pouch forward, he crossed his arms. "Bit o shine to go with 'at noight cap."

"Appreciate it." Rainer replied coldly as he stowed the pouch undoubtedly in a pocket very near to where a map had been placed.

"The lass...she comin' in too?"
"I imagine she will at some point."
"Yer not gonna wait for 'er?"
"Why would I?" He responded, confused by the question. Harreth shrugged.
"Jus' seems the gentlemen thing ta do."
"It does...doesn't it." Lifting the mug in silent cheer, Rainer turned to make his way up the stairs and back to the room.

He wasn't a gentlemen. He was cold, just as he should be. It was everything he deserved.

 

[Wren]

Approximately ten minutes later Wren made her way in, armor bundled under her arm and the last drip of her tankard hitting her tongue. She walked with slow, calculated purpose - the sort of gait Rainer would recognize as drunk, just not quite yet to stumbling. The tankard hit the counter with a jarring sound and she waited with the look of someone who'd just witnessed the massacre, their brain spinning so fast to process it that it seemed to be inflicting a headache.

"Everything alroight?" Harreth gave her a raised brow.

"Fine," Wren answered in the tone that everyone and the uncle knew it wasn't.

"Gave yer coin to yer fellow, he already tucked in," a slow pour to fill her tankard again, "will yeh be staying another few nights or headin' out tomorrah?"

"Yeah," she replied, failing to answer either question and collecting her drink. Wren chugged it on the spot. Harreth looked impressed. He went to fill it again and Wren shook her head, pushing the tankard away, "I'm done. Where's-"

"Loo's over there, yeh can leave yer armor here. No one awake to bother it."


Another five minutes or so later the door to the room opened. Wren had to take a moment to collect herself in the open doorway, a hand against the door jamb to steady herself on moderately unsteady feet. She didn't immediately take notice of where in the room Rain was, given more to habit that the two of them mostly did their own thing when not actively involved with a hunt.

She stepped in finally, toeing the door shut behind her and moving over towards the hay pile in the corner. Armor and elven sword, now reclaimed, were tossed to the side before she turned and dropped herself into the hay.

 

[Rainer]

The tell-tale sound of whittling came from the desk as he rubbed the graphite against the top. He had laid his shirt across a board, running just beneath the window. The moonlight was particularly vibrant in the room, despite the orange glow of the candles at three of the four corners of the room. He was hunched in deep concentration of the drawing, making delicate etchings across the parchment. A scratch here, a scratch there.

Not unlike the broad face of his back and shoulders, covered in age old scars that were either lasting from his time before the change - or utterly devastating afterwards. Five parallel lines ran from his neck down to his left shoulder blade, a gash two inches thick ran parallel to his waist across the width of his back, and it appeared the scars were overlaid with the obvious tracks of a bull whips lashing.

17 if he could recall the number correctly.

"The hay is mine tonight." He looked over his shoulder at her, catching the flare of a drunken half elf warrior - padding about the room and plopping wherever she claimed. He couldn't recall who had the bed last when they had stayed in an Inn, but he felt he had earned a bit of discomfort to bring him back down to earth. Back to the place he had grown accustomed to.

Turning back to his drawing, he took a swig of his beer. "I see you misplaced your tankard..."

 

[Wren]

"The hell it is."

A mumbled reply from beneath the arm slung over her eyes, blocking out the exceptionally bright light of the moon. A grunt followed, the hand presently slung off the side of her head making a vague gesture, "It's around."

 

[Rainer]

Around. He'd wager maybe she had had enough to drink for the time being, though she wasn't nearly this intoxicated in the spring. He wondered how many drinks had been consumed in the past 20 minutes.

A better man might make a quiet promise to speak to Harreth about what a gentlemen might do when giving a goddamn lady more drinks than what was needed. But he wasn't a better man and he wasn't her keeper.

Clapping the book shut, he rebound the fold with leather and placed the graphite on the table. Scooting back, he stood up and pushed the chair towards the desk. As he approached the bed, he pressed on the heel of his shoes and kicked off the boots with a bit of clumsy grace. And then sat down on the edge of the bed.

Taking another swig of his beer, he let out an exaggerated sigh. "Ah yeah, this bed is way more comfortable than it looks." He looked over and patted the mattress. "Hell, this might actually be down...this place is full of surprises." He mused as he continued to exaggerate his interest in the mattress.

 

[Wren]

"You're full of shit."

 

[Rainer]

"Maybe..." He leaned back, feet planted on the cold wooden floor, and laid across the bed. Carefully, he placed the tankard on his stomach.

"You'll never know, though."

 

[Wren]

Wren rolled to her side, back facing the bed and head tucked into her arms.

There was a mumbled something that sounded indistinctly like fuck off. Maybe. Probably. It was a fairly common retort from her.

 

[Rainer]

He felt around a bit on the mattress, groping at the voids and working to push whatever material it was back together. He was fairly positive it wasn't down. Harreth seemed like a good guy but filling a mattress with down feather in an inn like this would have just been fiscally irresponsible.

"No. You fuck off." He said with a bit of a laugh, tilting his head up from the mattress as he took another swig of the drink. "You know, Wren...you're not sleeping on that pile of hay tonight...right?"

 

[Wren]

Too fucking late according to the silence from the hay pile.

 

[Rainer]

He sat up and eyed Wren, uncertain of whether he was hearing her breathing rate slow or if that was just snoring. Could have been either or both. Standing up, he moved to place his tankard on the desk and approached the 'sleeping wren.' Mentally shrugging at the obvious risks associated with his current plan of attack, he slid his hands beneath her to lift her up off the floor.

He imagined this act of carrying her from the hay to the bed would have been akin to carrying a rattling dragon egg, just waiting for the mother to realize it had been stolen.

 

[Wren]

There was a low, groaning rumble, a slight strain against his arms that seemed to melt away as that distant yet familiar warmth took over in his presence. No more protesting, head sunk against his chest, body limp and heavy.

 

[Rainer]

This was not exactly how he expected this to go. But it seemed like the evening and the evenings drinking, coupled with the bath and sauna, had done proper work for Wren.

Leaning over, he pulled the blanket across and uncovered the mattress. Gingerly setting her down, he tucked her in and moved around to blow out the candles. It was only when the orange of the flames went out that he realized how particularly beautifully framed Wren was, lying peaceful in the quaint glow of the moonlight with just her face peeking out from the woolen blanket. A passing cloud dulled the light, only to see it brighten as it moved on.

He decided he's stay up a bit longer. He needed to finish his drink and there was a drawing in the Vedymin entry that was suddenly in prime position for completion.

 

[Wren]

Surprisingly, Wren was the first to wake in the morning just at dawn. Or perhaps, given how direct the sunlight was upon her sleeping on the bed, not so surprisingly. A glance around found Rainer dug deep into the hay beneath a wool blanket, snoring lightly like usual. The pinching at her brow spoke of the only remnants left from a night of very heavy drinking.

She felt rested, physically, but somehow still drained emotionally.

Pushing quietly from the bed, Wren stood and stretched, looking around for where her armor had gotten to since Rainer had moved it from the hay. Found it over by the chair at the table he'd been hunched over and so she moved to started the process of suiting up only to find his book open on the table. It was an object of curiosity to her whenever it made its rare appearance after a successful hunt. Wren had never taken the time to read through it since he rarely left it out of his sight. Something about it being his new life's work - he valued it greatly.

Normally she wouldn't have bothered with it. Would have simply closed it and tied it shut like she watched him do so many times before. Except this time, as she moved to sit in the chair, she found herself staring at ... herself. A graphite rendition of herself, but a highly detailed one at that. She stood by what she said before: the man was quite good at this particular talent, but something about how much time it felt like went into the drawing hit her in an unexpected way.

Wren gently pulled the chair out and sat down, picking up the book just enough to catch the sunlight and see better. He seemed to have her likeness down perfectly, down to the shadows of the scars. She'd meant only to press the page flat with the tips of her fingers, trying to be careful, but he stirred and startled her. A fingertip dashed across the edge of the drawing, brushing graphite in smeared line.

Shit. Shit. Fuck.

She dropped the book and hooked it shut, tying it off and shoving it to the side. Rainer woke to find her pulling on her cuirass and buckling it in place. It was a quiet morning with very little spoken as they left the Inn and made way to the stables to collect their horses.

Before she knew it Elbion was growing distant on the road at their back.

 

[Rainer]

He had slept less than well. The bed of whatever it was was likely more comfortable than a pile of hay on wooden slats. But he had made that bed in all his stubbornness and he had slept in it. And now it was time to ride towards their next bounty.

They had gotten the horses ready and been on their way, offering proper payment for the kindness and hospitality provided to them by Harreth and Marge. Despite whatever interruptions and disruptions may have been had, they were hospitable to two wanderers in a time when suspicion and caution were always warranted. And for a roof over his head and the comfort of shelter, Rainer was always thankful.

Flicking the reins of the horse as they trotted down the path, Rainer looked towards Wren. Despite a full feeding and a rather eventful night of drinking, he was feeling out of sorts.

"Do you think we co-" He paused and opened his mouth; a whisper of agony escaped his teeth as he felt a cramp run through his body. From stomach to chest, it felt like like a vice grip that clamped down as quickly as it had left. He tilted forward against the horses back, trying to stabilize himself.

How long had it been? It must have been only a few months...it was too soon for this.

"Fuck..." He exclaimed as another wave of cramps passed through him, lingering for longer than the last. The pain caused a spasm in his legs as he heeled the horse, sending it into a dash. A few paces later, the horse flung Rainer from his saddle and sent him tumbling into the sharp bushes that lined the well worn path.

 

[Wren]

She'd been in the lead, given a heading and the name of their next destination, he'd seen fit to clue her in. Finally.

Was it too early to be annoyed? Not according to Wren. The sun was bright and though they'd fed and it was of no hinderance, it annoyed her all the same. The fact that he'd deigned to let her lead, like a tutor allowing a stubborn pupil to go in front, annoyed her. The scent of spring flowers on the air annoyed her. The fact that his horse was a lazy mule at the worst of times-

"Do you think we cou-"
"What," Wren said without looking back, "slow down? We're a pace above going backwards. We're not going to get there with only a day left. Not this time. So if you don't mind, get that shaggy mare moving and-"

Squeeeeeal went the mare as she sped by, causing Wren's horse to spook sideways.

There went Rainer, tumbling into the weeds.

"Gods above, did you drink the entire night after me? Yih-yih!" she spurred her horse forward, driving it to catch up to the mare in order to grab the rains. Captured, Wren tied her off and ponied her over to where Rainer had fallen off, looking down into the bushes, "Are you drunk?"

 

[Rainer]

He bared his fangs at her question, his fingers tightening as it clenched - like he was cradling a butterfly within his grasp and working desperately to not kill it. Rolling over on to his stomach, he pulled at the closest bush he could find. It so happened to be a robust blue berry, taking his grip and the pull with a bit of stamina, and allowing him to pull himself through the fresh earth.

"No..." He managed out, realizing that they had never discussed one of the most debilitating weaknesses of the Vedymin. He panicked, pressing about his armor as he looked for the book. It was all he could do to wrestle it from the pocket but as soon as he released it, his hand spasmed and flung the thing away.

He felt hopelessness drift about, like some sort of cherub just waiting to stick him. Rolling back over, he winced in the sight of the sun. "Bur...bury me." He breathed in heavy, no shade to be found. His fingers clawed into the ground, looking for the chill. He found himself mourning the moment their connection was broken.

"The sun..." With all that light, he felt it start to fade away. Reptilian brain took over as he turned over. Blanched skin formed on the edges of his sharp cheeks as his nails dug into the ground and he began dragging himself, searching endlessly for some modicum of shade.