Private Tales A man, his food, and the barkeep.

[Septimus]

The door creaked open on partially rusted hinges. Humidity was a way of life this close to the marshlands of Blackwood, and it worked it's way into the iron of many of the poorer settlements. To hear a rusty door was like hearing a bird call, or horse clop - it was simply another background noise that said life was going as it had always gone.

A murky interior greeted milky eyes, torches struggling against the soupy air, flickering in the breeze that managed to rasp it's way through the loosened window panes. Winter chill was settling in, and a pair of hearths were blazing to try and keep the cold away, but it did little more than remind you of how cold you really were.

Fires were useless when your building was so porous it just let all the heat straight outside. Thankfully, he often wore furs with his chain, leather and plate.

Approaching the barkeep, he dropped a few coin onto the countertop for roast bird and immediately stalked away to a darkened corner. He had been through once or twice, but he didn't recognize the barkeep. But he'd spied the tavern wench, and she knew just what he'd want - some of the roast goose they managed to poach out here.

It wasn't good, but food was food.

Easing his armored bulk into a seat that immediately protested against his weight, he settled in and waited for his food to be brought. When it was, the new barkeep scowled at him as he set down the plate, and then left behind a dirty spoon. Staring down at Septimus, he waited to see what the blind knight would do, and was surprised when he went straight for the fork on the plate.

"I can see." His voice rasped from his throat like fetid air escaping a freshly opened tomb. Pulling a bracer back, he took some of his chain and started using the steel to scrape the grime off the fork he'd been brought. "It's disrespectful to give your customers soiled utensils." He didn't even bother to look up, just lifted his helmet enough to take a forkful of meat and slip it beneath the covering. After a moment - and with the barkeep leaving to return to his counter - he snuffed out the torches in his corner of the room and removed his helmet. Food was food, and he still very much needed to eat. But so too did everyone else.

 

[Rose]

Rose watched the bar from a dark corner. Cause she was edgy like that. At least, it made it feel edgy to have her back protected and the dark corner of the tavern draped over her lap as she sipped at a cup of luke warm milk.


The girl was really nothing special amongst the crowd, just perhaps a touch too young and a touch too sickly looking to be out on her own. She sat there with confidence that dismissed any such thoughts. She had been on her own for so long, she no longer felt naughty or out of place to be somewhere so... seedy as a village tavern.

Not that such distinctions mattered anymore. She was what she was. And as always, she was short on money. She watched Septimus from across the bar, particularly interested in his... well, lets be blunt here. Fucked up eyes. As far as she was, she didn’t hear his words. But she did make the same assumption as the barkeep that gave him a dirty spoon.

He was blind.

And big. And scary. But she was what she was, and she was starting to understand just what sort of people she stood a chance against. The disabled being one.

When he snuffed out the torches, it seemed like a pure invitation. The girl knocked back her milk and stood, walking towards him with silent steps. With what only could be magic, she took the seat besides him without making a sound. Around her the shadows subtly coiled and quivered, absorbing her motions and giving cover to the bits of her that sat entirely in the dark.

She looked straight ahead, nonchalant in her attempt not to catch the other patron’s gaze. A pale hand snaked out, thin figures quivering towards where a coin pouch should lay.

 

[Septimus]

He continued to eat, careful as could be. Most knew to leave him alone, as he was a well known quantity in Blackwood. Though, his nickname perpetuated the wrong idea - that he was, actually, blind. But there wasn't anything he could do about his eyes, nor anything he could do to improve on that name.

Appearances counted for everything with nicknames, and he was rather unfortunate in that regard. With his helmet off, his short black hair was visibly greying, and his once youthful features were now dirty and sallow from what was likely poor nutrition.

His eyes flickered to the whispering shadows around him, sensing, rather than seeing, that something was off. Blackwood hungered, and it's unquiet souls made a macabre dance through the dark in the hopes of coaxing others into death's embrace.

"When the dark whispers your name," he mutters, "don't be surprised when the light turns it's gaze to you."

 

[Rose]

Rose pulled a face, her brows furrowing at such an odd collection of words. After all, he couldn’t see her. I mean, sure. The other patrons could. And if they came close enough and looked down they’d see the way her lower body practically dissipated out of sight under the cover of the shadows she manipulated.

But him? Couldn’t see her. So what an oddly accurate collection of words for a blind man to say. Still, she had put in the effort and she was halfway to another tankard of milk, so she slipt her fingers into his cloak and turned them too into whisps of shadows that were equally hard to register the presence of.

You see, it all helped that he was already in the dark. Rose could only make use of the shadows around her. She could not create any on her own. It wasn’t until she regestered the presence of a coin purse that her fingers slowly crept back into existence as something solid again. She held her breath, waiting for the sensation to grow familiar to the man, before giving an ever so small tug to wrap her fingers around the purse fully.


Only once it was fully in her grasp could she call upon the shadows to dematerialize both her fingers and the pouch into its presence once again.


Pick pocketing to the extreme. But it tended to work for her.

 

[Septimus]

He was quite comfortable where he was, but with the girl at his side he was more inclined to see what she was going for. Once it was clear, though, he continued to eat, unhurried and relaxed. "Remove the hand," he says, before she got far enough to actually relieve him of the coin he carried, "or I'll remove it for you."

The sword at his hip wasn't the only weapon on his person, but it was the one he went for most often. A simple, efficient cut and she'd have a nice stump for a hand. She wasn't the first one to try, and she wouldn't be the last - it's why he wasn't bothered by it anymore.

But what he was bothered by was the magic that she was obviously using. How many had fallen prey to her particular talents? A curiosity, little more.

Milky eyes settled on the girl, and he continued to eat.

 

[Rose]

Rose squeaked, startling right out of the shadows and bashing into his side as she jerked back from him. What little color she had had in her features drained right out of sight, her heart pounding rapidly in her chest as she continued to reel back and practically off the chair.


“What the! How did you- what did you-“ Her eyes were wide with fear, past times she got caught training her well and good to avoid this very thing.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t- you had lint! I didn’t- I’m sorry!” She stood, chair scrapping as she prepared to flew the whole establishment to avoid any further reprimandation.

 

[Septimus]

Continuing to stare at her, eating quietly, he moved like an automaton set to repeat a set cycle of actions. "I can see." He replied, with the dry voice of a man well used to assumptions. "That's quite some magic you've got." He remarked, before she stood, seeming intent on making her way out of his sight and likely out of the establishment.

But as hurried and sharp as her actions were, he was still calm, keeping his poise as the fork sank into the meat and lifted it up to his thin lips. It disappeared, came out clean, and he chewed slowly while watching her as a raven eyes a carriage passing it by - curious, intense, but still maintaining a hint of a disinterest.

"Have a good night."

 

[Rose]

Rose froze in confusion, resmebling a wild deer caught in a hunter’s sights as she tried to understand the threat’s next move.

What’s next? Lashing out? The sword! Calling for aid. The stocks. Rose had seen a bit of it all, but it was his calm demeanour that threw her for a loop.

A trick?

Morbid curiosity kept her rooted in place. “Wh-What? You can?” Warmth flooded back into her cheeks, the girl squirming in embarrassment. “I didn’t- I didn’t know. You don’t look like- How many fingers am I holding up?” She challenged, her tone suspicious.

She lifted a hand but raised no fingers, her brows furrowed and lips catching into a frustrated pout.

 

[Septimus]

"Yes, you didn't know." He replies, as though that much was painfully obvious. He didn't let his gaze waver from hers, even as she raised her fist to him. Cute, but stupid. "But you're lucky you have any fingers to pretend you're holding up."

The more she spoke, the more he wished he'd cut her hand off. "Taking from the blind..." He shook his head, clucking his tongue.

"For shame, young lady."

 

[Rose]

Her expression crumbled, true shame flooding her features at his words. “I saaaaaid I’m sooooorry.” She rubbed at her neck, genuine guilt contorting in her gut.

She looked around after a moment, a sense of nerves and jitters overcoming her just as quickly. “You’re not.... gonna tell anyone, right?” She asked, her voice growing tight. Cause in truth she liked this little village. She liked the people and she liked the milk (Though she said that about every place, every time.) It was late and she didn’t even know where the next town was.

Rose was in no spirits to wander if she didn’t have to. Call it a six sense, but she cautiously took back up the seat besides him, hoping...

he wouldnt report her and she could stay. She was so looking forward to sneaking into someone’s room and sleeping under their bed tonight. The dregs of a fire were a welcome change to the usual cold.

 

[Septimus]

"I'm of no mind to report you for a theft you didn't complete." He replies, as if that should be obvious. If she had completed it, he'd have likely just killed her and taken the coin back. At the very least, she'd have been crippled - well, with her magic, he could have made the attempt. Reporting someone got you little more than a sense of satisfaction that someone else would handle the problem.

But you didn't have the same guarantee as if you'd taken care of it yourself. "Why? Are you afraid they'll run you out of town? Lock you up in a cell for a night?" Those weren't the worst outcomes he'd ever heard of.

 

[Rose]

“Preeeeety much,” she confirmed, slumping unto the counter as she did so. The relaxed into a puddle of trust besides him, her tense looks gone and the distance between them dashed. She laid against the counter for a moment, stretching out comfortably, before she propped her head up on her hand and took to studying him instead.

“What’s wrong with your eyes? You sick too?”

 

[Septimus]

"Then perhaps don't steal and you won't have to worry about that." He replies, continuing to eat slowly. After a moment's consideration, he offered the fork - and the piece of game on it - out to her to eat. "In a way." It was both truth and lie in three little words.

He'd heard of more important three word sentences that contained both truth and lie. "I assume you're just learning to harness your powers, hence why you're basically a street urchin."

 

[Rose]

She stared at the fork, dread swirling in her eyes.

"In a way..." She answered back, forcing her hand to go out and accept the offering. Rose had learned that refusing brought up more questions than not. And those questions were much more of a pain to deal with than putting a bite down.

The game passed her tongue, and while her brain could identify that the flavors were mildly appealing, it did nothing for her. Mentally, at least. She still wasn't sure on the physical. It went down like sandpaper, reminding her how desperately thirsty she was. She handed it back, swallowing compulsively. "Thanks."

She scooted forward, peering into his glass eagerly. "Is that milk?" The hope in her tone was barely restrained.

 

[Septimus]

He could tell it was a chore for her to swallow it down, he just couldn't tell why. Looking down to his glass, his lifted his eyes back to her and shook his head. "No, it's not." He replies, figuring the dark was playing tricks on her eyes. "It's ale."

Ale didn't quit ruin his stomach the way water sometimes did, so it was the safer option.

"It'll warm your gut, that's about it."

 

[Rose]

Rose crinkled her nose, pushing it right back to him. "Bleh," was all she had to say on that.

She watched him watching her for a moment, then broke out into a warm grin. "I'm Rose by the way," she introduced, already taking a liking to the man. Not only did he not tell on her, but he tolerated her to boot. Perfect makings for a future friend, if you asked her.

She did a makeshift curtsy on the chair, the ragged ends of a once well made dress peaking out of the ends of her cloak. Even those fabrics looked expensive, if not seriously weather worn and dirty. Rose cared none the less for her appearance. Her hair clearly hadn't been brushed in weeks. And there was something dried up and dark on one of the curls.

 

[Septimus]

The armored, shadowed figure merely grunted dismissively to her curtsy. Or, rather, her attempt at one. Frowning, he took a moment to down the last of the duck and then grabbed his helmet. It was lifted up from the table and settled onto his head, and once it was secured, he leaned forward. There was no mistaking the clover painted onto the faceplate.

"I'm the Gorgon." A nickname won by his personality, often compared favorably to that of a stone.