Private Tales For King and Country

[Yvaine]

Yvaine's brow dipped at Cyrian's words. The request was simple, but it carried a weight that made her stomach tighten. She didn’t want to be apart from Faulkin—not when they were both so caught in the aftermath of the chaos that had followed them here. But she wouldn't leave the child here, knowing the fear she'd feel if she woke here alone.

Her gaze flickered to Faulkin. She could see the unease in his eyes, the same worry she felt mirrored in him. But they both knew the child needed her attention now.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Yvaine forced herself to nod, her voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in her chest. “I’ll be fine,” she said softly, though she wasn’t sure if she was convincing herself or him. She reached out, her fingers brushing his hand for a moment.

"Be careful on your way back."

With a deep breath, she moved to the side, sitting on a nearby chair, her eyes never leaving the child. She clasped her hands tightly together in her lap, her fingers trembling as she forced herself to stay still. "Please... do what you can," she whispered to Cyrian, her voice barely above a breath.

 

[Faulkin]

There was a stern look in his eye. He was not exactly impeded, but his instinct to lay claim presented itself plainly upon his features. Claim upon the child. Claim upon Yvaine. But then again, it was only instinct, and his stern eye studied the man before them, questioning the authority in his tone without so much as an audible breath.

"I'll be fine,"

His hand reached to hers just so as her fingers brushed against his.

He knew. Yes of course. This man was trusted by the others. But after everything that had happened, to be parted from Yvaine now, so soon after they'd found some solace... it felt like the tearing of his own soul in two.

I'll be fine.

Her words echoed in his mind, and he turned his eyes to her with a smile.

"Be careful on your way back."

"I'll begin getting the others ready... we'll be leaving soon," he smiled at her, affording only a quick glance to Cyrian before he departed, but as he left his eyes fell to Yvaine one last time.

---

Cyrian only returned the Captain's stalwart gaze as he presented it. He could sense the tension in him, he could sense the tension in all of them - such was the state of this city. It had always been this way, ever since he'd arrived. He was used to it. But he did not challenge him.

Tall and wide as he was, he was no fighter... not anymore.

He gave him a nod as he offered his final glance, and as he left he turned his attention only for a moment to Yvaine, and said, "what you see here, you must not speak of."

There had been a consistently harsh expression upon him, up until he turned his attention to the sickly girl laid before him. Again, he looked at her passively, but in his eyes there was a gentleness, and he said, "it is no natural ailment that afflicts her. What I must do may startle her... I will need you - she will need you, if she becomes afraid... but what I do is only to help her."

He turned away then, and fetched a tome from a tabletop nearby. As he flipped the pages, little sparks of light seemed to ignite, and then disappear as quickly as they had come.

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine's gaze lingered on Faulkin as he left, her chest tightening with every step he took away from her. She knew he worried as much for her as she did for him. When his eyes met hers one last time before he disappeared into the rain, she gave him the smallest of nods, a silent promise that she would stay safe.

She turned her attention back to Cyrian, her brow knitting as his words registered.

'What you see here, you must not speak of.'

Her expression shifted to confusion. Yvaine nodded sharply in agreement but couldn’t shake the unease that settled in her chest.

As Cyrian turned to the girl, Yvaine noted a flicker of tenderness breaking through his otherwise stern exterior. She pulled a stool to sit beside the child, her hand moving instinctively to stroke through her damp hair, murmuring soothing words even as her mind raced.

"What do you mean? What is it?" she asked, her voice strained, laced with the worry that had been clawing at her since the fever had taken hold. The sickness had felt unnatural, something dark and sinister, as if it had been plucked from the same shadows that had been chasing them.

Her golden eyes followed the man as he retrieved the tome, widening as sparks of light danced into existence and fizzled away with each turn of the aged pages, the faint glow illuminating his weathered face.

Yvaine’s breath caught as she felt the thrum of energy in the room, a strange vibration that seemed to resonate in her very blood. It was subtle yet undeniable, and her fingers paused mid-stroke through the child’s hair.

“You…” she began, her voice trembling slightly before dropping to a whisper. “You're a mage?”

The words felt strange on her tongue, almost forbidden. Her mind churned with questions, but her chest tightened with a new worry. "Will it hurt her?" she asked quickly.

Her eyes darted to the child’s pale face, her small chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Whatever doubts or fears she held, she swallowed them down.

 

[Faulkin]

He turned to her as a cloud of smoke enveloped his face and the glow inside his pipe faded. A pair of spectacles had somehow found their way onto his face, unseen before just now. He gave a look over them at her, an approving look, having hoped she would need little explanation.

"Yes, I am familiar with the arcane arts..." his eyes dipped between the pages again, "a thing seldom tolerated in this city it seems. The guards have long been under orders to capture any sorcerers in the city."

His search through the tome came to a halt and he set his hand gently upon the page.

"And some years ago, something happened in the south, soon after that this illness began, and its gotten worse in recent months... as though fueled by something. Its stronger, and now..." He set the tome down on the table near the girl, and set two fingers upon her forehead, "and now it comes for our children."

"This will not hurt... but it might be frightening."

Setting his fingers upon her forehead unveiled an unsettling truth. Now visible were dark, wispy tendrils that reached out from some unseen nether and wrapped themselves around the girl in various places, like the binds of a prisoner. They were not seemingly tangible, as when Cyrian removed his hand and turned to gather something up, he passed through one without any bother. Upon the girl's forehead, a small, luminous rune in the shape of a slowly spinning seal persisted after his touch.

"Left to its devices, this curse would..." he paused, his back straightening some, and his awareness of who his patient was quickly rebound in his thoughts, stifling his words, "... not be good."

---

Yvaine ​