Private Tales First Tour of Duty

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
The command from Quellchrist only reminded Aristeia that these flames were very real, and not the slow moving destruction they took form in one's dream. She had forgotten herself, carried away with an ancient anger that was kept in embers deep in the pit of her being. She had forgotten herself, just like her father had. The daughter of a king that refused to ever learn her name. Aristeia pressed in her heel out of spite, not lifting her boot to walk away until she heard that satisfying crack of her ribs breaking.

She had been clean and presentable at the start of the day, but now as the foreign Dreamwalker stalked towards the Commander and the way out, she was caked in soot and ash. The top half of her face was heavily caked in ash, both eyes striking as she narrowly slipped past the burning support beam that the lutterme protected her from potential burns. When she had arrived before him, her wrist flicked upwards to send something hanging from a chain within his reach.

"Do you recognise this emblem?" It had been dropped during their fight, and her good eye narrowly caught it falling from the neck of the woman, something that had not been previously around her neck back at the prison. "The other guy has one too." Adrenaline coursed through her veins, leaving her hungry for more. She had come alive in that building, as if she had been starved from the front lines for some time.

And now, she had felt a tug come from the Commander. Her head tilted, masking the surprise that threatened to break through as Aristeia turned her head to see the two crooks sputtering from the smoke, about to bolt the very chance they got.

They were coherent and weak from the lack of oxygen, and then suddenly unresponsive as they both fell in a heap a few feet from the burning structure.

She was alive.

Relief washed over her, hands letting go of the lutterme fashioned daggers to pull down the cloth from her face and let it shrink back to below her jaw. No, she would keep this quiet for now. The smug smile that stretched her lips caused by her call to power was easily mistaken for watching other reinforcements taking the two criminals, dragging the sleeping bodies back to the very transport wagon herself and Alyx stood at.


Alyxander Quellchrist
 
Alyxander crossed his arms as Aristeia reemerged from the burning building, the third eye that had appeared on his forehead slowly sliding shut and fading until it resembled little more than a tattoo once more. Every time that the Commander thought he was getting the gist of the woman's personality, she surprised him again. The display she'd put on against the criminals in that building was powerful, to be sure, but it was also excessive.

His gaze followed the pair of them as they limed harmlessly from the pungent smoke billowing from the collapsing structure, and as they collapsed onto the ground from the smog in their lungs and the wounds on their flesh, Quellchrist slowly moved his eyes to Aristeia, raising an almost accusatory brow, as though he expected an explanation for the brutality he'd witnessed.

Then, a sigh. Alyx's arms unfurled, one reaching out to brush a patch of smoldering ember off of her shoulder. "You could have ended that as soon as I intervened, which is what my orders were." He muttered in reprimand, biting his cheek as he looked back at the pair again, now being loaded back into the wagon where they belonged. Alyx shouted at the reinforcements, "Check them for the key to the cage before you lock it! I'd bet the woman has it!"

She'd been slung over his shoulder in the prison. It would have been difficult, but not impossible for her to reach his satchel from there while feigning unconsciousness.

Returning his attention to Darke, he continued, "Yes, she was an absolute cunt, but we're here to capture criminals, not torture them. I saw that last little push against her ribcage. I understand your rage, but you must control it if you're to be accepted here, Aristeia..." A shout from behind them from another soldier confirmed that the key had been found on the woman, and Alyx shook his head with a sigh. "...But then look at me, pickpocketed and running after escapees like I'm fresh out of training. Suppose I'm no better."

It wouldn't do to go after the others now. No, they'd be careful. He'd give them time, let them think they'd escaped...

Crews had arrived to deal with the fires and help the wounded. The entire street would be cordoned off in a few minutes. Alyx took one last look around before nodding back to the wagon. "Come on, I think we both need a drink. I can run the emblem by my contact." He paused, looking back at her one last time. "You do drink, don't you?"

Aristeia Darke
 
Aristeia met his serious tone with a steel gaze, listening to what he had to say but showing no real apology for going against his orders. There would be bumps in the road ahead for the foreigner, especially after being conditioned to steer from strict orders and structure, but Aris respected Quellchrist enough to not test his patience... too much. "I had time."

With ashen hands, she wiped at her face to best clear the sweat that only smudged the dark remnants of the smoke across her visage. Her nostrils burned with the sting of burning wood, turning her head to watch the reinforcements arrive to assist in getting the fire under control. Word got round that everyone had been evacuated from all nearby buildings, but the hunt called for her to keep investigating. There was information for them to find, to chase down the real intentions at play here. Her mind was ready; attentive in the words being spoken around them now.

She just did not expect the Commander to call her first day on the job so soon.

Aristeia whipped her head round to fix him with a puzzled expression. "I can... yes..." Suspicion hung heavily on her voice, giving her cadence a touch of softness in her apprehensive reply. "You drink freely here, I take it?"

In the Dreamlands, alcohol was consumed when comrades fell. Her infantry days had been filled with nights of several cups, but those nights turned into never ending work as she was assigned to stealth missions. Still, Aris found time to drink to those in her previous unit.

"Who are we drinking to?"

Alyxander Quellchrist
 
Quellchrist gave her a funny look, as though he wasn't entirely certain what she meant by 'freely'. It made a bit more sense when she asked who they were tipping one back in honor of. Of course, her culture was different. So much about her was.

"We drink to getting out alive, to fighting again tomorrow, to the people who lost their homes today..." The smoke around them shrouded the ruined buildings that the fire had spread to, not all of them shops. Families stood on the sides of the road, embracing, crying, in despair. He couldn't blame them. The Commander nodded toward the cage with their prisoners. "We even drink to the families of this rabble, having to watch their loved ones waste their lives in depravity."

Aristeia, despite her proclaimed experience in battle, was a recruit. That status was the only reason that Alyxander let her get off with a figurative slap on the wrist. If she didn't keep her anger in check around other soldiers, around other commanders, questions were going to be asked, far more probing than any that had come from his lips. He wouldn't be there to help her forever, and not all ears would believe her story.

At the same time, Quellchrist didn't blame her. Nor did he speak another word until she'd rejoined him on the wagon. They would stop on the way to the Roost and drop their two friends off, of course. He wasn't about to risk another escape on his name. Once Darke was settled in, he cracked the reigns and steered around the barriers now placed on the road to venture toward the Dungeon.

"Look..." He finally sighed. "I understand. Where you're from, you're powerful, among the best I'm sure. You've had countless hours of practice at what you do. You probably don't work directly under somebody." Her title was 'Recruit', but she wasn't really. To expect her to act as if she was still wet behind the ears was foolish. The wagon turned a bend towards a much wider and bustling main road, the looming walls of the dungeon now visible, as was the intricate architecture of the Jewelled Palace, glowing in the midday sun.

"...But I need to be able to trust you like you're trusting me. If my recruit starts acting out and going against my orders, then people are going to start pointing fingers at me." They slow to a crawl behind a slow-moving double-wagon, and Alyx turns his head to peer over at her. "I want to help you, but we have to be a team."

Aristeia Darke
 
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Reactions: Aristeia Darke
Perhaps she had been too absorbed in her way of things. She should not draw much attention towards herself, not when she was still not in full power, and that meant molding herself into this position expected of her. Aristeia turned her head to meet the Commander's gaze, holding it for a haunting moment before nodding solemnly. "You are right. Things are different here." Given the birthright Aristeia had in her home world, it did not give her the same graces here. No one knew her, not even recalling the Guardian in their nightmares that donned the intricate and decorated armour she had shown up in at dawn.

"I keep believing things are temporary, and that my power will return to me fully by the end of the day so that I may be out of your hair." Her gaze was set straight ahead, watching the slow rolling of the wagon in front of them. "Although if my powers do return, I still have questions of how I became stuck here. What that means for the future... if I become stuck again..." Now Aris could see the appeal of a drink at this time, but it would take away to sanctity of the gesture.

The Guardian was never accustomed to being subjected to work with another. Even in her elite legion, they always operated separately unless the situation called for a banding of their lethality. Capturing and interrogation, how many times had Aristeia chewed the others out simply due to them unable to find common ground and setting aside their differences? She was used to the discord and egos of such a team that Alyxander Quellchrist was someone she never expected to respect so easily.

"What if I do not want to return?" The truth in her voice was heavy despite her hushed tone, staring blankly ahead. "A lifetime of war... and no matter what my father thinks, one day I will be inheriting a kingdom so fractured and broken... one day... the dam will break and we either succeed or cease to exist." Guilt was gnawing at her chest, cutting at her airways so softly she almost forgot it was a normal function to breathe. Aristeia exhaled, heavily emptying the weight from her lungs, but hesitation threatened every beating of her heart.

"And if I stay... does this Matriarchy expect me to serve them?"
 
Alyxander merely gave a shrug at her words. The questions she asked were not those he was capable of answering; He knew nothing of her home, of her father or the hierarchy of her Kingdom. Such topics were one she didn't seem prepared to broach. "I don't know. I can't say what lies in your future, Aris. While I'm likely the closest person to you in this world, I am a stranger to you in your own." As much as he'd learned, every moment he spent with the woman only raised more questions.

Finally, the clogged traffic of the road began to speed up, as whatever blockage that had formed ahead of them was cleared. Quellchrist cracked the reins to get them up to speed again, watching the white-haired girl from the side of his vision as they approached the dungeon. "As for the Matriarchy... nobody is making you do anything. They wish for you to be a soldier because they sense your prowess, but nothing is stopping you from retiring and becoming a socialite." A smirk forms on the corner of his lips. "Though somehow I get the idea that's not your style.

The transfer went about as smoothly as it could have gone. They'd caught a dangerous criminal in the vile-tongued woman, but the fact that they were missing four other prisoners earned Alyxander a stern talking to, one he graciously spared Aristeia from by having her hang back with the wagon. Ultimately, the keys had been stolen from him, not her. It was his fault for getting careless.

The orders were given thusly: The pair of them were to be paired up again tomorrow to hunt for the remaining runaways, and then Aristeia was to report back alone to Alyxander's superior.

Quellchrist had expected the first part of the order, but the second portion made him quirk a brow. To what end would having his trainee receiving a solo debriefing serve? He knew better than to open his mouth and ask, most likely they wanted an unbiased report on his aptitude for training recruits. Maybe they were looking to throw a demotion his way? He wouldn't put it past them, he supposed.


Alyxander was relatively silent as the two of them rode the now empty wagon away from the center of the city to the place he'd called The Roost. The Roost was indeed an inn and a tavern, but it was also far more than that: The old building served as a hub for those he'd built the strongest rapport with in his unit; a hub for Alyx and his most trusted comrades. It was also where some of them lived when they didn't feel like staying in the barracks, Alyxander included.

"It's you and me again tomorrow" He finally sighed. "Gotta try and round up the rest of our buddies. Job like that, I think I need that drink I mentioned." He offered with a small smile.

Taking a route down a side street that skirted the east side of the city, the hustle and bustle of Dornoch waned to a trickle of pedestrians on one side of the street. It was at the end of this street, nestled against the city wall at a dead end that looked almost untouched by man or woman in years, that The Roost sat. It certainly looked to have been an inn or tavern at one point, but now the only signage on it was the depiction of a gold-scaled dragon painted on the front door and a sturdy-looking lookout post built onto the roof.

"This is it. Come on, let's go get something to take the edge off." Quellchrist would dismount the cart, and beckon her to follow as he pushed the door open and led her inside The Roost. The main room indeed looked like a repurposed tavern, tables dotted the large hall, covered in weapons, documents, maps, and other more personal items belonging to the men operating from the building, with one or two clear for drinking. There was a warm fire glowing from a particularly clean side of the room, along with a large couch and a small collection of books. It was clear that people were living here, and the whole building smelled of armor.

"I bought this place with some money pooled together from some of my men. We use it to unwind when we don't want to be surrounded by 'duty'." He held back a bitter laugh. "Sometimes, living with all of your comrades can be a little maddening. So we figured it couldn't hurt to have a place to get away from all that when we need it."

Aristeia Darke
 
She was awarded a few moments to herself once the Commander went to deal with the prisoners; Aristeia staring blankly at her boots that were propped onto the front to the transport wagon. Alyx was right, she would not take up a lifestyle of a socialite, not when she was fashioned into this warrior from another land despite what she was born into. As she stared and became lost to the world, she did not register the Commander's return until the wagon was moving once more and he spoke up.

Aristeia sat up straighter at the mention of the job for tomorrow, trying to downplay her enthusiasm. This was more in line of the work she did in her homeland, but she had promised him she would be obedient and not challenge his orders. If Quellchrist gave the command for her to go with her instincts she would, but for now she nodded solemnly.

Alyxander Quellchrist said:
"This is it. Come on, let's go get something to take the edge off."
Click to expand...

Brows deepened their furrow as her gaze fell on the terrible exterior of the so called place he invited her for a drink. To Aristeia, she questioned just how much smoke he had breathed in or whether she should be wary of his intentions, if her lutterme was enough to keep any life threatening wounds should the Commander reveal his sinister side.

She had not expected it to house others and himself, an establishment bought with his own coin.

Although her distaste for the exterior barely left her features, she followed him to the entrance and listened to his explanation. "Men you say. Is this some sort of haven from the Matriarchy?" Came her witty comment, a brow lifting in humour as she cast a sidelong glance his way. "In the Dreamlands, you either slept on your cot with fifty others in the same tent, or you commit your life being a sentry." Aristeia almost felt a homesick pang at the memory, remembering her cot that was not suited for comfort and a tiresome day at the frontlines, so much that she opted to bounce around several sentry posts.

"So does the yearly income of a Commander not cover the costs of fixing the outside of this place?" Her eyes took in the interior, the warmth and home this place was made into. She could see the appeal of such an idea, having seen many soldiers size up one another back home and butt heads. Aristeia herself felt that, but she was a different kind of fight. Where one may stop after a couple of blows, Aris always made sure anyone would think twice about taking out their anger on her.


Alyxander Quellchrist
 
She wasn't the first person to express distaste for the exterior of the Roost, but that was by design. Most anyone who came across it would assume it was a run-down, sleazy, or even abandoned tavern that housed nothing but degeneracy and vermin. Certainly, it wasn't the type of establishment any self-respecting member of Dornoch's elite would find themselves willfully approaching. It lent his little haven a degree of solitude, just the way he liked it.

Obviously, he spent much more time caring for the interior of the building, and Aristeia seemed to relax a bit once she was in the warmth of the main room, an atmosphere far more welcoming. Alyxander met her comment with a smirk, stepping around the old bar that lined the back wall, which held shelves of bottles on it. "You make it sound so rebellious." He chuckles, finding a long bottle full of a lavender-colored liquid, shaking it just a tad before placing it on the bar.

He was going to catch a little bit of flak from the others for bringing a random woman into The Roost, breaking some of their own rules, but he knew they wouldn't do anything to jeopardize her. Of course, then the questions of 'why are you bending over backward for some strange, foreign woman' would come about, and Alyxander would say something poetic about chivalry or the like.

They would all know he just wanted something to do with himself.

Alyx pulled the armor off of his chest slowly, setting it aside and rolling his arms to stretch his stiff shoulders, his eyes following his visitor as she looked around. "I take care of my own. That means keeping their mind fresh, as well as their body. Sometimes you need some comfort and normalcy." Limbered up a bit, he retrieves a few drinking glasses from underneath the bar and uncorks the wine, pouring both of them a healthy dose of relaxation.

"And after the day we've had, I'd say a strong drink and a warm bed would do wonders for the both of us." Granted her room at the barracks was far nicer than most. She could always go back if she wished, he supposed.

Aristeia Darke
 
Aristeia made a face at the idea of the bed she was given back at the barracks. The stares she got from the other women, the kind that put her off the wrong way and the strangeness of this city. There was no separation of men and women in her home world, everyone was given the same job unless they were given a higher rank.

She knew she could not refuse the assigned room, but she was still uneasy in Dornoch. In fact, the idea of her sleeping in this world was met with such disconnections, she barely slept a wink the past few nights she was sequestered to a room at an inn that was in much better form than The Roost.

"I will not say no to a drink." Perhaps if it were potent enough, it could aide her in sleep. There was also that soft buzz of her magic returning, but not enough to send her home if that was what she wished for. If she was able to put those two crooks to sleep after they exited the burning building, then theoretically, she could have an easier time sleeping regardless.

"Although I think the both of us would benefit from a bath before retiring for the night. I know it cannot just be myself carrying that stench of smoke." She could only imagine the soot and ash that clung to her and smeared across her peach and ivory complexion that was not covered by her lutterme.

Alyxander Quellchrist
 
She didn't have to ask twice-- Alyxander slid her the drink he'd poured with a smile, having hoped she'd be willing to share at least one with him. Not because he felt entitled to it, so much as he felt she deserved it after her performance, outburst aside. "Good, because I already poured you one." He chuckled. "And we have a bath here. I'll give you the rundown of the place in a bit."

Lords above he needed one too. His heavy armor didn't do many favors for him in the heat of a fire, and he must have been sweating buckets. Thankfully he had some spare clothes stashed away upstairs, or he'd have to wear the reeking garments tomorrow, and he didn't look forward to being the center of that kind of attention. Alyxander raised the glass to Aris, offering her a smile. "To your first day in the books, and a damned fine job, Aristeia."

Quellchrist brought the glass to his lips and took some of the fine elven wine into his mouth, letting it wash the insides of his cheeks before swallowing. It was the good, strong stuff that always took the edge off of his aches and pains, which only grew with every month he continued serving in Dornoch. Exhaling, he leaned back against the wall behind him, a content, soft grin settling onto his face.

"Delicious, isn't it? Fal'Addas makes this brew..." He pauses, realizing she would have no idea where that is. "It's the capital of the Falwood, a massive land of forests far to the Southeast of here. Homeland of the elves. They rarely come up this far, so this wine in particular is for special occasions."

Aristeia Darke
 
Aristeia enjoyed the wine more than she thought she would when her nose picked up the initial scent of it. Quellchrist said it was a special occasion, and she wondered if that meant the wine held a far more superior taste than others. It certainly was a better taste than what she procured in her time in the Dreamlands.

"Not bad..." She praised the drink by lifting the glass at eye level and admired the colouring of the wine. "I imagine this to be the quality served to the wealthy and royalty..." Aristeia left the castle before she was old enough to try the wine and mead served at public engagements she was forced to attend, selling the lie that she was a beloved only heir.

Aristeia lowered the glass and leaned against the countertop, staring at the rim where the dim light caught it just so. "Something is troubling me... that emblem. I feel as if I have seen it before..." Her eyes flicked upwards to meet Alyxander's, one grey eye and the other clouded and damage with the visible scar that ran over brow, flesh, and sclera. It was disturbing at first, but the Commander was polite enough to not bring it up. Not that she would mind now, but she still felt as if her trued identity needed to be kept to herself. That meant the origin of the scar.

"I wish I was at full strength. I know I can find it again, walk some dreams and piece it together..." She learned that time went differently here in the Waking Realm, and Aristeia was counting on the slowed passing time in the Dreamlands to acquire what she needed. "It may take days at this rate... I... put those crooks to sleep." Her admission did not disguise the pride that glimmered in her eye as she tipped her glass at her lips and slowly sipped at the wine.

Alyxander Quellchrist
 
The emblem... Aristeia had expressed concern about it before, but Alyxander hadn't thought much of it beyond promising to run it past the others to see if it matched any known organizations in town. At that time, he'd thought of it as little more than a passing interest, but now she claimed to recognize it to some extent. That brought with it an entire new host of implications.

"But for you to recognize it... you'd have had to see it in the world you come from, right?" Quellchrist asked with a raised brow, taking another long sip of the wine. It really was remarkable stuff, hopefully, another elven trader stopped by with a restock soon-- One or two bottles always conveniently got lost in the importing process. "I suppose it wouldn't be crazy to imagine that you're not the only one who crossed through into this world. If you could do it, why not somebody else?"

That, of course, would lead them to the question of who their mystery guest was. She seemed to have some idea buried in the back of her head, out of her reach. If the emblem did come from her world, his contacts would know nothing about it.

"Or... are you implying you've seen it in the dreams of somebody here? You haven't made me privy to the exact nature of your abilities, aside from beating the tar out of local gangsters, of course." He added to temper her once-again swelling pride. Those two she'd fought were not serious threats to somebody of her ability, and she knew it. It made her actions unnecessary. "Of course, no better time to open up than over a few drinks."

She'd told him very little, and while he understood her desire to keep her cards close to her chest, he needed more than that if he was going to help her.

Aristeia Darke
 
Aris dropped her gaze to her glass, her hands dirty from having to fight in the burning down building. Of course, she could not certainly be the first to cross realms and reside in the Waking Realm. If they had ties to those in the Dreamland, then it would have been quite some time since they visited home. There were at least five occasions a year before she left home to join the Legion, where she would be dressed up and paraded around for the people to see. She had been a sign of hope before the wars took their toll, and the people stopped attending the royal showcase.

"So if this theory is right, then there is a way for me to return home." Surely now she would have been recorded as a deserter, but she knew those that knew of her identity would lobby to have her recorded as deceased. A chance to give her a better life. "I apologise for my secrecy... I could not be sure throughout the day if it was worth sharing anything."

Perhaps she would indeed need the assistance of a drink to loosen her tongue, to get her comfortable with the idea of revealing secrets of what she was capable of. She could hold her liquor, a night or two where she in the past drank to each soul that died on the front lines. When she could see the bottom of her flask, she would obtain more mead or wine or ale to finish the list. Except, when she worked alone, she kept to decent meal times and often could work through the headache that often came the next morning.

Today, she had not.

After her third drink, Aristeia had succumbed to the joys of drinking on an empty stomach, especially something much stronger than the cheap stuff she could get her hands on in her world.

"I blame you for this." The silver haired Guardian groaned from where she stretched across the lounge found elsewhere in the room. Her hair had been tugged from it's knot and her hand raking through the tangled locks absentmindedly. Should she cut it? The last time she had hacked through the thick hair with a dull knife, but now that it had grown out, it was hard to tell she did such an awful job. "How do I know you are not in league with those prisoners? A conductor before the orchestra and guiding them through the arrangement?"

Despite the mellowing she felt by the effects of the wine, Aristeia was certain she could put up a decent fight with the Commander if he tried anything.

"Getting me to spill my secrets and getting me comfortable... I am suspicious of you, Alyxander." Here she opened her eyes, her pale irises shifting to find him in the room and fixing him with a narrowed stare.


Alyxander Quellchrist
 
The two of them had talked and drank for what seemed like only minutes, but even idle conversation had the capability of making time pass quickly, and before Alyxander had even realized they'd consumed so much, two bottles of the elven wine were left empty on the bar. Jerrok was going to give him hell for that, but what was done was done.

Despite the spirits that passed her lips, Aristeia had continued to dance around the topic of her origins, of her true capabilities. Quellchrist understood the hesitation; while they had been through much together, they had only truly known one another for a day. The commander was under no illusion that the Dreamwalker would grow to trust him so quickly and easily, even with liquid courage.

He'd only just finally gotten out the last of his armor, tossing his last scrap of protection onto the table with a loud, clumsy thunk when Aristeia piped up from the sofa that she'd meandered over to lay on, belligerently throwing accusations of ill-intent at him as he frees his own long hair from its ties. Alyx heard himself laughing obnoxiously at her claims, though he hadn't meant to do it so obviously, nor did he know why he found it so funny.

Elven wine. The good stuff indeed.

"You're drunk." He slurred, walking over to the lounge and looking down over the back of the couch at her as he leaned on it with both hands, his hair nearly touching her with its length, usually hidden with pins and tucked into his armor. "What do you think, I'm trying to sleep with you?" He tossed back to her. "Why the fuck would I go through a burning building and make myself look like an idiot in front of my boss for that? You're pretty, but don't flatter yourself too much, Aris."

Leaving the couch, he walked around it to sit down on the rug in front of the fireplace, still chuckling to himself over her incendiary words. "Or you think I'm after your spooky dream powers, the ones you haven't told me dick about? You must be from a different fuckin' world if you think all this would be the easiest way to go about setting you up, girlie."

Aristeia Darke
 
"What do you think, I'm trying to sleep with you?"

Aristeia snorted, earning him a drunken smile as she turned her head to peer up at the ceiling. "Sleeping with the likes of you is not a thought I would come to naturally." She was curious of such an act, but it was not what she thought he would attempt with her either. "What if you were in league with those prisoners, heard about the lost princess and the soldier that showed up one day with the same scars the princess endured from a failed hunting trip?"

Saints and gods could not steady her vision, the world slowly swirling before her and so she pulled herself to sit up and lean back against the lounge chair. "Why are you so curious as to what I am capable of doing? Am I a foreign weapon you have been tasked with learning to wield for the benefit of this place? For the powers that run this city?" A Commander, a male one in this female oriented city, and perhaps under strict instruction. She did have to wait for three days, imprisoned to a small room above a tavern with two meals a day. She lived in her armour for that many days, and that reminder made her remember the bath Alyxander had mentioned.

"No... no more talk... just..." She pinched the bridge of her nose and grumbled softly. "I need a bath. I need to think."

Alyxander Quellchrist
 
Quellchrist wasn't sure if the alcohol had brought out a more suspicious nature in her, or if it had just made her stupid. Alyxander gracefully ignored the comment about sleeping with him, having meant nothing of the comment anyways, and instead focused on her ludicrous questions. "Why the hell would I have asked you all of these questions if I knew you were a damned princess? What's that matter to me?"

Wonderful, now she was giving him answers, when she could barely string a coherent sentence together. He could unpack her little princess-turned-soldier story later when she was in any condition to clarify what she'd stated. Alyx leaned back as she sat up and held back his incredulous laughter. "And then what, spent the day chasing planted criminals and nearly burning to death to learn what you can do? For who? The Matriarchy? I don't know if you've noticed this, Miss Darke, but I'm a bit too over-equipped below the waist to climb much higher on the ladder here than I already am."

But she was right about one thing, it wouldn't do them any good to sit and argue when neither of them could think clearly. They had plenty of time tomorrow to talk through her concerns, after they'd bathed and rested. Alyxander nodded, and stepped back, gesturing for her to follow him upstairs.

There were two staircases, one leading up and into a hallway that connected all of the rooms on the upper level, and one that descended into a currently darkened cellar. Alyx stomped up the former, keeping one hand on the wooden panels on the wall to steady himself. "There's seven rooms up here, some smaller than others. You can have the one on the far end, it's unoccupied. There's a nice bed and a dresser for your clothes, but if you need more than that you'll have to procure it yourself."

Quellchrist waved a hand towards a ladder resting against the wall at the end of the hallway, leading up into a hatch in the ceiling. "Bath is up there, a nice basin and some clean towels, should be everything you need. Just make sure you have the window closed and the curtains pulled, sometimes we get birds."

Aristeia Darke
 
Aristeia protested as Alyxander had begun to stagger over to where he could direct her towards a bath, but she mustered enough stability to stand on her feet and follow him, bracing herself heavily against the stairwell as they ascended the stairs. It was unusual for her face to be expressive in her sober state, but now Aristeia's brows furrowed so deeply with doubt seeing the ladder. Of course, the only thing stopping her from getting that bath was a ladder.

She moved past him, doing her best to make it there without stumbling on her boots. Aristeia lifted a foot, mounting the bottom of the ladder and paused. Her head turned to look at Alyxander, frowning now. All suspicion, all doubt, had melted away on her face to reveal the weariness she had been carrying for some time.

"I have a birth right... but I couldn't watch others fight for it and die while I sat in a castle." He had asked of her to tell him of her abilities, anything that could help him help her down the line. "But I was on the frontlines... I saw what my birth right was up against... and there is no chance to stop it from happening. If I leave my home, I abandon the people that spent their entire lives fighting..." Her hand came up to grip the ladder and slowly lifted herself to put her weight on her foot, her strength undisturbed by the amount of wine she had enjoyed. "I have enjoyed this tangent of being in the Waking Realm, but I cannot be comfortable in sharing freely information about myself... because I do not want to be reminded of the guilt. We are going to lose."

Alyxander Quellchrist
 
Alyx stood at the other end of the hallway, watching her as she approached the ladder in a huff. He'd been cordial, but his irk at the fact she'd had the audacity to accuse him of acting against her after the day they'd had was still simmering in his mind. He hadn't thought her the blatantly ungrateful type, but even now she shot him back a look of suspicion as she climbed the bottom rung of the ladder.

Then, it was gone.

Whatever vestiges of uncertainty the wine had brought to the surface, Aristeia seemed to suddenly let go of them. She told him of her upbringing, of being a child of privilege who refused to let others fight on her behalf, of warring to protect her home, and of fear now that she was no longer there to continue that battle.

And Quellchrist too felt his frustration slip away. No, it wasn't right to blame her for being difficult. That she would spill her guts and answer any and all of his questions was too much to expect, and with how close they'd become associated in such a short amount of time it would have been far stranger if she wasn't wary of him.

Uncrossing his arms and letting them fall to his sides, Alyxander let out a small sigh and crossed the hallway to meet her at the ladder. "Wait. I don't want you to fall." He mutters, raising his hands to carefully hold her sides, planting his own drunken feet firmly to provide some measure of support on her wobbly ascent. She climbs another rung, and his hands move down just a tad, careful not to wander anywhere that might cause a scuffle.

"I don't know what brought you here, Aristeia. I don't know how to send you back." He spoke, his slur lessened as he chose his words carefully. "All that I can do is help you in my own way. It's clear enough to me that you have a destiny far beyond my own. So I'll be here while you have need of me."

Once again, he found himself a spectator of a much greater story, one that he had no place in.

Aristeia Darke
 
Aristeia could not help but stiffen at his touch. Of course, it was not that she didn't expect it, but more so be suddenly aware of the soft touch. She had been used to years and years of combat and roughness that this...

It felt wrong.

She scrambled down, playing into her instability due to her state, and leaned herself beside the rise of the ladder.

Aristeia's head drooped, but perhaps this conversation was meant to be had, like he had asked of her.

"No one would miss me back home. I have been missing for some days or weeks... time is an odd thjng between the realms.. I would have been reported dead or deser-- no, dead. The last obligation I was carrying out was off the books." She was replaceable. It hurt to recall such words said in her presence, that she deserved some sort of care and thought, but not on those battlefields. Everyone was equal. Everyone can be replaced.

What could not be replaced was the power she had been born with.

"Remind me... I have told you that I am the heir of the Dreamlands?" She winced, unable to recall what information she had trusted in sharing. "We have responsibilities with this blood. Not everyone that resides in the Dreamlands can walk through the dreams of those in the Waking Realm. They would need sacrifice. I was born under a prophecy, and the king thought raising me to be his heir was a waste of time.

So he forbid anyone bless me with a name. To not bear his name if I am fated to die."

Aristeia glanced up, finding Quellchrist's face before groaning and sinking to the floor, her back dragging against the wall. The alcohol was bearing all its weight upon her now.

Alyxander Quellchrist
 
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Alyxander stepped back as she decided against her mission of ascending the ladder, whether due to her drunken state or the fact he'd needed to help her, he couldn't say for certain. Not that it mattered, when the words from her lips were infinitely more concerning.

He'd gathered that her tale was a somber one from what little he'd been able to pull from her thus far, but only now did he understand the weight that must have been placed upon her shoulders. She'd let slip that she was royalty serving in a war, but the details were more downtrodden; A father who did not care for her and a home that saw her as little more than a walking prophecy, her fate already decided.

Alyx felt his lips curl into a small frown, and he turned his back to the wall, sinking to sit on the floor beside her with a heavy sigh deflating his chest. "You know..." He looked over at her. "My father was a drunken swindler who only cared about me as long as I could help him make some easy money for more beer. I was absolutely nothing. Nothing but a rat in the streets." Arguably a polar opposite in terms of upbringing, but somehow he found kinship in her story.

Alyx continued. "When he finally got busted I was taken in by Dornoch, and they gave me the choice of either being alone or serving in the military. I started training when I was only ten, and this has been the only thing I've ever known since. In a way, we've both had our paths chosen for us, haven't we?" He cracked the smallest of smiles, nudging her with his shoulder. "Only difference is that you're trying to get back, and I want nothing more than to get out."

Quellchrist clammed up a bit, having not intended to be so blunt with his inner conflict. He laid back for a moment, staring down the empty hall with muddled thoughts. Eventually he nudged her again, pushing back up to his feet..

"Alright then. Second door on the left, you can use my bath." The Commander's room was the only with private bathing implements, and he'd planned on using them while she took the other, but it could wait. "I'll stay out here and put the booze away, but don't take forever, yeah? My bed is in there and I'd like to crash soon."

Aristeia Darke
 
Aristeia remained on the floor, pesky moments of unstable drunkenness keeping her from moving to her feet anytime soon. She simply rested her head against the wall and narrowed her eyes at his offer and urgency for sleep.

"I'll use this one. Just... need a minute to collect myself." Aristeia closed her eyes and exhaled deeply before her face scrunched with unease.

"Alyxander... Is it wrong of me to want to stay here? To not be on the front lines fighting against corrupted dreams?" She opened her good eye, lifting her brows in innocent question. No one would blame her if they found out. She had no friends or family. The only thing that tied her to her home was her title, and even that was worthless now. "If I stayed here, not just in Dornoch, but in the Waking Realm... is that selfish and unfair of me?"

He surely would understand her, right? Two soldiers wishing to be free of their duty. Aristeia held no real loyalty to this city, and if she were to stay, then she would love to travel beyond these parts.

Perhaps she could finally find a worthy home.

"I think I am too drunk to bathe." Eyes closed once more as she groaned, comfortable in her seat against the wall. She should sleep it off, attempt to climb this ladder in the morning and hope that she could secure spare clothes before being on duty again. Her lutterme needed a good clean, reeking of the smoke she had fought in.

Ever so slowly, Aristeia clumsily got to her feet. With the assistance of the steady wall and her hands reaching for the ladder, the frowning face of Aristeia Darke pierced the Commander with a look.

"I think I can take you on in a fight."


Alyxander Quellchrist
 
Alyxander shook his head slightly, not at any particular part of her question, but at the notion she presented as a whole. Perhaps it was the wine addling his mind, but he didn't see any fault in wishing to escape. In fact, it was a desire the two of them shared.

"I can't throw stones. I've admitted to you that I don't want to be here." It should have brought him the greatest of shame to say such a thing aloud, that he wanted to abandon his duty and forsake his soldiers. That's why it hurt him all the more when he felt nothing of the sort. "From what you've told me, your home hasn't shown you much in the way of respect. To be viewed as an inevitability more than a person is no way to live."

Alyxander watched her as she slowly, clumsily rose to her feet, still under a fog of intoxication that wouldn't lift until morning. "I think it only natural that you don't wish to return to that. As foreign as this realm is to you, there is no Aristeia Prophecy here. Your name, and your fate, are yours and yours alone."

Quellchrist didn't understand her world, how it connected to this one... but he did believe what he said.

Then, after steadying herself, the young woman turned herself around and glared down at him in another sudden change of her mood. This time, Alyx only smiled. Darke was a dangerous woman when she was drunk, that much he'd learned well.

"You're wrong."

Aristeia Darke
 
Aristeia stared a moment longer before a smile tugged at her lips. She waited for her vision to steady before slowly walking his way, her intentions unknown until she stood before him and lowered her voice. "You doubt me. Why? All you have seen of me in combat is against those prisoners. That is not all that I am." Her eyes stared at him for a few moments, the clouded and scarred eye appearing as if it could see past the trauma, staring right into him.

"You... you smell of smoke." Her mind switched again, lifting her sleeve to her nose for her to get a whiff of her state also. Her very pores clung to the scent of smoke, and that made her scrunch her face in distaste. "My clothes need a bath." Perhaps a walk back to the barracks would sober her up and allow her to secure extra clothing to change into while her current attire dried after thorough washing and cleansing. "I need a bath." Her inebriated state caused much confusion in her mind. Aristeia was at odds with what to do, but she certainly would do well to remember refusing to drink with her Commander in the future.

The next look she gave him was unspoken. He wanted out, away from these duties he did not entirely choose for himself. Aristeia was here now, avoiding the inevitable of her forseen death that would ruin her kingdom. No heir meant no death, no demise of her kingdom... isn't that how it worked?

"So... what would it take to make the Commander leave his post? To put Dornoch behind him and see this world you were born into?"


Alyxander Quellchrist
 
Quellchrist could only look up at her with a bemused look as her thoughts continued to cycle repetitiously. It seemed as though she couldn't maintain much focus with a bit of good wine running through her veins, but he supposed it was better than he'd seen some people handle their liquor. Regardless, her insistence on pressing her challenge towards him was merely met with a shrug and a chuckle.

"Well, I certainly hope not. It'll take more than that fancy garment of yours to get the upper hand on me." He drew out his words tauntingly, but the grin on his face spoke that he wasn't taking this argument too seriously. "Besides, a bit presumptuous to think I've shown you everything I can do isn't it?"

Before Aristeia could argue much further, her attentions seemed to shift once again, this time back to her smell, earning a roll of her Commander's eyes. "I gave you easy access to a bath and you said no, quit whining, would you?" He brought his hands behind him to the wall to pull himself up onto his feet, shaking off the brief disorientation. If he wasn't drunk, he probably would have paused and thought long and hard about answering her final question.

But he was drunk, and he was far too honest when the right kind of liquid passed his lips.

"Hell, I don't know... I don't have anything outside the damned city. This is all I know how to do, Aris." He grumbled, pushing open a door to the left of her and stumbling into his room, a rather tidy quarters with a rug on the floor, a neat bed, and accolades and medals hung up on a plaque on the wall. "Met a girl once, out on duty. Real nice lass, from the land of dragons, if you can believe it. Thought maybe she'd whisk me away, but one night and she was done with me."

Alyx sat on the edge of his bed, pulling at his undershirt and tossing it aside with a grunt of exertion; he'd little doubt that Airsteia had seen a shirtless man before, and he thought nothing of the act. It wasn't uncommon among soldiers, anyway.

"Sometimes I wonder if this is all I'm destined to do. Everything always leads back here, after all." Rolling his neck, Alyx stands and waves her in, walking towards the door. "If you want a bath so bad then get your pale ass in here and take one, quit being difficult. I'll wait out by the fire."

Aristeia Darke
 
Even in her inebriated state, Aristeia was able to lean in the doorway and listen to the Commander spill truth from his lips, and come to feel kindred spirits with him. Of course, she made it out from the only life she knew, but she had no choice at that time. Her face kept a stony outlook, even when he surprised her and spoke of a woman he met.

Her expression only soured when he got up and quickly changed the subject, inviting her in as he tried to make his way out, but Aristeia lifted a hand to press against his chest to keep him still while she looked up into his eyes. "I left my destiny twice. Although leaving my homelands was an accident I am still trying to figure out, I am not about to let this opportunity leave me. I would like to explore the Waking Realm, you know? And that means I will not be tied down to this city." She perked a brow at him, probably giving him a good moment to see her face dirty from the smoke and ash covering her fair complexion. She really needed a good wash, but her drunken state had taken the reins of her autonomy. "I saw a map of your world on my first day here. In that tavern the powers that be stuck me in for three days. Once I get myself the things I need, I will be gone. Just like that."

Her hand fell now, her figure falling back onto the steady force that was the door frame and sighed, casting her gaze out to look for the bath he promised and then made a face. "I don't have a change of clothes." If she was going to clean herself, she was not about to put the dirty cloths she wore back on to sleep in.



Alyxander Quellchrist
 
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