Staring deep into the twisting flames, Faramund let his mind wonder. Now that the immediate threat had been dealt with, the big knight could finally take some time for himself. Merrycourt stirred quietly by his side, her gaze lackadaisical as it drifted from Bebin to Demiex and back again. Though she would never admit to such a thing, Faramund could tell she was worried. The turbaned knight's wounds were healing well enough, true, but the flesh was easier to mend than the mind.
To make matters worse, the loch was a dangerous place to take a dip at the best of times. Spend too long there and the waters would consume you, Faramund had been told. Whether that was right or wrong, true or false, he couldn't say. He had never been there himself, after all; a consequence of being a talentless heathen. Merrycourt had only been half-joking in that regard.
Probing at his chest, the dawnling pushed past the dark thoughts in his mind to brush the spot where the lightning bolt had struck him. "Something wrong?" Merrycourt asked, brushing a lock of fiery red hair away from her eyes as she turned them on Faramund. "No," he replied gruffly, letting his hand fall. "No," his sister-sworn echoed, her tone gently mocking, warmer than the flame lapping at their boots. "Are you always so stoic when you get to thinking?" Letting the question sink in, Faramund resisted the urge to return her look, doing his best to force down a smile.
"No," he said again, making Merrycourt laugh.
"Glad to hear it," she said, her brows lifting as Bebin returned to them from the glassy planes. "Good of you to finally join us." Merrycourt welcomed him, though, from the dazed look on the dark-skinned warrior's face, Bebin didn't seem to hear her. Faramund nodded at his brother-knight, before crossing his arms over his chest.
"Anything new?" The dusker asked.
Thinking it prudent to let Merrycourt do the talking, Fara settled down as the two knights traded words. A poorly-veiled chastisement followed. Faramund sat up again. "We all make mistakes, Bebin," the big knight responded, pressing to his feet as an aged scroll materialized in his hand. "What's done is done." When Bebin asked him if he had found anything, the dawnling nodded. "This," he raised the scroll, "And these." Delving beneath his tunic's neckline, Faramund pulled out the medallions from earlier.
The silver chains caught the firelight as they span and pulled at the fist binding them, jingly softly in the wind. "Not sure what to make of the jewellery. Pulled all but the last of these off of the sentries we retired. As for the scroll... well, I found that amongst the mage's belongings, in a secret compartment sewn into the lining of his pack. Or at least I assume it was his pack." There remained the possibility it could've belonged to one of the other watchers or perhaps to another member of their band that wasn't here. Faramund had his doubts, however.
"I-... we've taken a look, but it might be wise if you cast your eyes over it. Who knows, might be you find something we missed. Half the thing's complete gibberish. As for the other half..." Stepping around the fire, Faramund extended the coiled parchment to Bebin, his face set in stone. "Best if you read it for yourself."
Bebin Theros
To make matters worse, the loch was a dangerous place to take a dip at the best of times. Spend too long there and the waters would consume you, Faramund had been told. Whether that was right or wrong, true or false, he couldn't say. He had never been there himself, after all; a consequence of being a talentless heathen. Merrycourt had only been half-joking in that regard.
Probing at his chest, the dawnling pushed past the dark thoughts in his mind to brush the spot where the lightning bolt had struck him. "Something wrong?" Merrycourt asked, brushing a lock of fiery red hair away from her eyes as she turned them on Faramund. "No," he replied gruffly, letting his hand fall. "No," his sister-sworn echoed, her tone gently mocking, warmer than the flame lapping at their boots. "Are you always so stoic when you get to thinking?" Letting the question sink in, Faramund resisted the urge to return her look, doing his best to force down a smile.
"No," he said again, making Merrycourt laugh.
"Glad to hear it," she said, her brows lifting as Bebin returned to them from the glassy planes. "Good of you to finally join us." Merrycourt welcomed him, though, from the dazed look on the dark-skinned warrior's face, Bebin didn't seem to hear her. Faramund nodded at his brother-knight, before crossing his arms over his chest.
"Anything new?" The dusker asked.
Thinking it prudent to let Merrycourt do the talking, Fara settled down as the two knights traded words. A poorly-veiled chastisement followed. Faramund sat up again. "We all make mistakes, Bebin," the big knight responded, pressing to his feet as an aged scroll materialized in his hand. "What's done is done." When Bebin asked him if he had found anything, the dawnling nodded. "This," he raised the scroll, "And these." Delving beneath his tunic's neckline, Faramund pulled out the medallions from earlier.
The silver chains caught the firelight as they span and pulled at the fist binding them, jingly softly in the wind. "Not sure what to make of the jewellery. Pulled all but the last of these off of the sentries we retired. As for the scroll... well, I found that amongst the mage's belongings, in a secret compartment sewn into the lining of his pack. Or at least I assume it was his pack." There remained the possibility it could've belonged to one of the other watchers or perhaps to another member of their band that wasn't here. Faramund had his doubts, however.
"I-... we've taken a look, but it might be wise if you cast your eyes over it. Who knows, might be you find something we missed. Half the thing's complete gibberish. As for the other half..." Stepping around the fire, Faramund extended the coiled parchment to Bebin, his face set in stone. "Best if you read it for yourself."
Bebin Theros
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