Private Tales Never trust the shadows

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
"Coin, how very droll?" he laughed quietly.

"Whilst I could trade it for whatever I needed, my Lord is the one who owns these old treasures. He has no interest in metals."

Coming to a halt, he turned towards Anais. He drew his fingers through silver hair as he considered her offers.

Revealing that he didn't value coin meant that he was weakening his hand. Given the day Anais had been through, he didn't worry about that too much.

"What kind of trinkets?" he asked, "I can almost always be tempted by a story..."
 
Ana gave him a look of mingled incredulity and amusement as she stopped, her head tilting in indiscreet curiosity and her eyes following his fingers through his silvery strands. That he had no interest in coin only set him apart even further from most men, and once again she found herself surprised by him.

It wasn't often she was caught off guard. She was a gypsy, they were often a mouthy bunch, quick witted and rarely lost for words. And yet she tried to speak and could only let a breath of a laugh tumble out as she shook her head, brushing back a few loose tresses from her face.

"Droll.." she mimicked with a wide grin that showed her teeth. "I agree." she nodded. "I have many trinkets, and many stories. A trinket might make you wealthier, a story might make you wiser.." she shrugged, and her brow arched slowly.

"If you'd like a story, I'll share it with you by the fire. If you'd like a trinket, those are in my wagon. But I don't just let any random man go rummaging around in there." she smirked.
 
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"Ah now that is a rate conundrum," he offered with a smirk in turn. He held his chin in his hands as if in deep thought.

It wasn't the most difficult choice in his long life, but Fingal enjoyed acting for other people's benefit. He enjoyed a good game, which this had become one.

She had suffered tragedy, but the cwn allowed the problems of mortals to slip from his thoughts easily.

"Now I do so enjoy a good story, but I must insist that you give me some names so that I don't get paid in one I have already heard. Even if - I am sure - the telling would be well worth the experience alone. But, I do also enjoy a good rummage around in a strange woman's wagon. Very difficult indeed. "
 
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She couldn't help the quiet chuckle that snuck its way past her lips, though as soon as it had she pressed her fingertips to her mouth to halt the sound, her eyes glancing past him toward her camp. She shouldn't be laughing right now. Not after the day she'd had, nor after the loss they'd suffered and whilst Oliver was in pain. It simply felt wrong..

Her lips twisted, and she let out a more reserved huff of a laugh, shaking her head as she moved past him once more, her eyes falling once more to watch her feet.

"Hm.. Well I could tell you the story of the Wyvern, the Lupa and the Basilisk, that's a fun one." she tilted her head, glancing back at him with the lilt of a question in her tone.
 
Fingal followed her gaze towards the camp. Anais had a lot to let sink in. He didn't know whether she felt guilty for being away from the camp to barter over stories or because she didn't want to step back there and confront the grief. In his experience, no one dealt with hardship exactly the same as anyone else.

"That sounds like it could be a good story," he replied. "But I am keeping you in the dark and..." eyes strayed downwards briefly, "...in the cold."

"Come on," he said, continuing back towards the camp. As they went, he gathered up an armful of kindling. The trees just back from the edge of the river provided as good supply of dried out branches.

Fingal didn't go as far as the camp, picking out a patch of dry grass to stop at. Fingal set down the kindling in a rough pile. He muttered a word under his breath and flames burst from the centre of the stack. The fuel wouldn't last long, but it gave off plenty of warmth for the exchange. They were close enough that some from the camp might see the fire and come to question them, but he didn't want to provide his old song to a wide audience.

"So...do you want the tune in full first so you can learn it or to tell the story?"
 
Ana's lips twisted and her head dropped in a nod, the breathy laugh a silvery plume in the air. The damp shift dress did little to keep the cold air from burrowing to her bones.

The thought of hungry wolves and the tricks her mind played with the shadows kept her close to him as they walked to find a little spot closer to the camp. She smiled to herself as he set the kindling down here, whether he'd considered that she might not wish to return just yet, or whether he was just being bold enough to decide that they'd spend some more time alone, she wasn't sure, but either way she dropped to her knees just as the flames kicked up and the heat was instantly drawn to battle the cold on her pale skin.

Her brows rose in response to the cantrip, and for a moment she hesitated from getting comfortable. "I didn't realise that you possessed such gifts.." she said cautiously, setting the bloodied dress aside and shuffling a little closer to the warmth.

"I'd like to hear the song." she added, running her fingers through her damp waves in attempt to dry it off a little now that there was heat in the air.
 
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"I'd hardly given you cause to think I might possess such gifts," Fingal replied. He chuckled softly and waved his hand, causing the flames to die down a little.

"I've picked up a number of little tricks on my travels," he said. "You learn all kinds of secrets when you find interesting company for the road."

"I only know the chorus and I don't even know what the words mean," he warned. Fingal cleared his throat and sat upright.

He started the tune humming from the back of his throat, deep and resonant. The tune was slow and melancholy. It rose in volume until he reached the chorus where the tempo jumped and the key changed to sound hopeful as he sang words that had long lost their meaning.
 
"No, I suppose you hadn't.." she mused with a twist of her lips, her eyes following his hand as he waved it over the little fire. She wasn't sure whether she should feel afraid. She didn't, nor as wary as she knew she should, but whether it was the charm about him that piqued her curiosity or whether she was still in shock, she didn't know, and right now all she cared about was getting warm.

Her gaze flicked upward to his face as he mentioned interesting company.. "Yes you do." she agreed with a light smirk, and huddled over the fire to watch the flames as she listened.

The timbre of his voice seemed to resonate straight to her very bones, easing the tension in her muscles and soothing the raw pain that'd wracked her with tears only minutes ago. She tried to find meaning in the words, but couldn't. She tried to understand what the song meant by the way he sang it. Whatever it meant, it would have shaken tears from her had she any left to shed.

She breathed deeply and cleared her throat after a brief silence had fallen, the firelight warming her pale skin as she turned her face toward him again. "It's beautiful." she smiled. The song and his voice. She laughed awkwardly under her breath..

"Likely worth a story and a trinket, but a deal is a deal.." she grinned.

"Some years ago we were travelling the outskirts of the spine. There was something hunting us there, and something protecting us too. I saw it.. Molly did too. It was a creature as tall as a house, claws like short swords and antlers with sharp points. Before it could attack us, there were wolves who chased it off, and a woman with them. She told us that the wolves were Garou, and she shared their story with us. So I'll share it with you." she smiled, her hands splaying above the fire to soak in the heat.

"The story was of the Lupa, the Wyvern and the Basilisk. The three were known as the Triad.. They are not gods, nor men - but are said to be great beasts larger than all lands and oceans.. The Garou believe that it was these three who created the worlds together, and each had a very vital part to play in making it work.."

"The Lupa, the great wolf who creates and watches over the lands. The Wyvern, the great dragon who creates energy and changes and moves the lands that the Lupa created, and the Basilisk - the great serpent, who destroys things so that new may be created.."

"Lupa was so good at creating and taking good care of the world, but everything he created was either being changed by the Wyvern or destroyed by the Basilisk and so he grew more and more frustrated every day.. One day he went insane, and he dug and dug and dug until he came to the great fires in the very centre of the the world, and tricked the Wyvern and the Basilisk to fall into it. The Wyvern fell, but he took flight just before he hit the flames, and he took off into the skies and was safe. But the great Basilisk fell long into the depths and was trapped there, and he thrashed and roared so loud that it shook the mountains and rose up the seas..."

"The Basilisk was so angry that he could no longer destroy the great Wolf's world, that he opened his mouth and spilled out all of his darkness, and the demons climbed out of the pit and plagued the world with evil. And so Lupa and the Wyvern created the Garou, the strongest of warriors, and sent them to drag those dark beings back through the gauntlet, and save humanity from the Basilisks' destruction.." Anais smiled, and her head tilted as she fell into thought..

"Perhaps those Garou are still looking out for me.." she huffed a laugh.
 
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As tall as a house and with claws as long as short swords...

The language intruiged him, but he started to think that he was being given an exaggerated tale from their own travels.

The Garou however...

A community he barely knew of at all, let alone of their legends and lore. Fingal very noticeably leaned forwards. His golden eyes seemed to carry a light of their own, rather than simply reflecting the firelight.

He had heard many tales of creation and destruction. Gods that had left the world, some that had no form and still watched over, others - like this story - commonly taking the form of extreme versions of rare creatures.

"Thank you," he said earnestly, smiling. "I had not heard that story. They have to be quite rare for me not to have. I like the elegance that the Garou think a wolf creates the lands."

"Why would you say the G...Oh. The stray dog."

Fingal looked strained for a moment. It made bile rolise in his throat to call himself a stray to cover his mistake. He was glorious. Not a mangey stray.
 
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She smiled and replied to his thanks with a slight dip of her chin as she rubbed her hands together over the little fire, her hair starting to dry in loose waves of spun gold.

"Wolf." she corrected him quietly. She was more than certain of that, and her lips curled into a smile that seemed somewhat smug. She glanced around them, though she could see nothing outside of the ring of light cast by the fire, other than the fire further along the water's edge.

"It's fine though.. So long as you wish no harm on me I'm sure you're safe. I can protect you." she grinned with a laugh under her breath. Being female and trying to live a peaceful life whilst dancing for coin, Ana had been in her fair share of vulnerable situations, and so the notion of having wolves looking out for her was a comforting thought.
 
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"Good to know," mused Fingal. She had been quite ferocious when threatened, he hadn't expected such strength. Normally he was better at reading mortals.

"So a wolf?" he asked.

Fingal knew full well that he should have let it go there. Leave her weaving her experience with the Garou into what had happened. Pride could be a dangerous thing and his was as inflated as any fae's.

Fingal grinned as he canted his head to one side and watched her reaction carefully.

"You have a majestic protector who came to your aid, not some hungry mutt?"
 
The gypsy's face remained downcast and flickering with the warm glow of the fire, though her eyes - crushed emerald as the flames danced in them - rose to settle on his grin. An infections thing it was, and so as much as she tried to resist, her own grin grew until she had to allow a breathy laugh to tumble out.

"Fuck I sound ridiculous don't I?".. she answered with a shake of her head, her fingers sweeping back through her hair as a curtain of it fell over her face. Ana drew in a deep breath and tilted her head back to search the moonless sky.

Perhaps it really had just been some hungry animal waiting outside the camp, hoping one of them would wander into the darkness..

"Whatever it was, I owe it a lot." she huffed and her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "It was larger than a dog. That much i'm sure of." she smirked, looking over toward the fire in the distance, the voices of the others barely audible from here.

"Do you think they'll look for us?" she asked with a small frown. "Well.. For me.." she corrected.. "The last thing I want is for them to suffer because of something I've done."
 
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It was very difficult for Fingal to let credit go to some mysterious Garou legend. Larger than a dog, her saviour, definitely far more majestic than a dog like a wolf. By morning Fingal's memories would be filled with a slew of complements his imagination had attributed to Anais.

There were two key ways to undo a dangerous fae: using cold hard iron and manipulating their ego. Fingal had all but forgotten being flattened by a single blow to the gut from a common guard.

His gaze followed hers back to the camp. They had taken a blow, collectively. He imagined it wasn't the first, nor the last they would suffer.

"Their guard is unlikely to go riding out into the dark. If anything they'll set out at dawn, but they'll stick to the main road. I might backtrack and check there is nothing on our trail in the night," he said with a wry smile.
 
"Alone?" Ana's brow knit with concern and confusion. He'd already gone on ahead to ensure their path was safe, and now he was offering to go back. She couldn't help but wonder why he cared so much. He'd been a stranger who'd stumbled upon their camp whilst he walked alone in the dark, and it seemed that he had no set destination as here he was, still trundling along with them. Well, now he was running with them. He'd also taking a brutal punch to the gut simply for being with them.

Why was he still here? She thought it, but she wouldn't ask it in fear of sounding ungrateful and offending him. She rather enjoyed his company.

"You do that a lot, don't you?" she asked instead, glancing over him with a slow shake of her head. There was something about him that intrigued her, and yet something else niggled at the back of her mind. What normal man would willingly wander the roads and forests at night, knowing the sorts of creatures he might meet on his path? He knew it wasn't safe, and yet it didn't seem to deter him, because he was so sure that he didn't need protecting.

Why was he so sure?

"You don't have to put yourself at any further risk on our account. I'm sure we'll be setting off again at first light.."
 
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At risk?

Fingal raised a white eyebrow. Once again he was having to resist declaring quite how great he thought he was.

He self-moderated himself to a sly: "Well you didn't see me when I approached your camp?"

"I travel alone a lot and so I am quite good at not being noticed in the dark."

Fingal grinned and for just a moment there was a predatory aspect to his features. A trick of the flickering firelight and the shadows it cast.

"I won't take long," he explained. "If you're still awake I could tell you where I was travelling from, but I wouldn't take offence if you needed to get some sleep. It has been a difficult day."
 
Her lashes narrowed slightly, though it was more a look of curiosity than scrutiny. They hadn't noticed him, but they were human, but how he could evade the wolves and other creatures that roamed the forests she couldn't fathom. Whatever it was, it was either bravery or sheer dumb luck. She glanced back toward the little camp and sighed. Usually from this distance she'd have been able to hear laughter and music and songs, or at least the murmur of pleasant conversation. It was quiet and solemn, and her lips pursed in thought as she looked back at him.

"I.. don't think I could sleep. Perhaps I could come with you?" she asked. The last thing she wanted to face right now was reality, she couldn't sit amongst her grieving family and listen to silence and sniffles, nor could she bear anyone to speak to her about what had happened.

"I'm sure my great wolf could protect you too." she smirked weakly. "If you don't mind, of course.."
 
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Fingal tilted his head back and then sharply to one side. Her suggestion certainly surprised him. He had the look of a dog caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing.

There was no real suspicion in her tone. She ruined his chances of actually scouting out far from the caravan safely. On the other hand, he could continue the conversation with the most interesting person in the caravan.

"Very well, perhaps your Garou legend will watch over us both. You may...want to get a warmer shawl or cloak before we step too far from the fire," he said. Fingal stood up and kicked the largest branch out of the flames before scooping some detritus over the embers.
 
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Anais mirrored the way in which his head tilted, her lips curling in a playful sort of amusement. She'd noticed the little tendencies and idiosyncrasies in his movements and expressions, but they did nothing more than intrigue her further.

She had the feeling he was about to reject her offer, and she bit down on her lip, considering that she'd overstepped a boundary. She supposed he enjoyed his own company since he wandered alone, and here she was inviting herself along for a stroll in the dark... with a stranger. What in the Gods' names was she thinking?

Then he agreed and she smiled and immediately told herself that she was being ridiculous. "I'll get my cloak."

And so she did, her sturdy boots too, insisting that she needed a walk to clear her head when the others asked where she was going, and she returned quickly to find him before anyone could offer to accompany her. The cloak was a rich velvet, tan in colour with a white fur trim around the hood that she drew up over her still-damp hair. It wasn't made by any of the people, that was obvious.
 
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Fingal skirted the edge of the caravan. There were still people around the fire, they had passed through the extremes and into telling stories of the deceased. He kept an eye on Anais before circling around to meet her as she emerged from the camp.

He offered a nod before turning into the darkness. His eyes picked a clear path, rewalking the route that the wagons had been able to take between the trees. Nighttime was never as quiet as one might expect. An owl screeched, something sniffed through the brambles not far from where they walked.

"They didn't mind you taking a walk?" he asked quietly, knowing that she hadn't asked
 
For one who was so used to living amongst the wilds of the world, the night was not something she'd often explored. Once darkness fell, she and her family never strayed far from the ring of light cast by their fire and until last night, they'd remained safe that way. She was used to the sounds that night brought with it and the shadows that played tricks on the mind, but venturing into them had her on high alert, particularly following recent events.

Still, she felt herself ease when she could no longer hear their solemn voices and she let out a soft sigh of relief, having half expected someone to come calling after her. Instead she looked up at Fingal with a tight smile and a brief shake of her head in some sort of vague answer.

"How far do you intend on walking?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper as though afraid she might disturb something.
 
Someone would have disapproved. He was a stranger still. Taking a gut punch only went so far towards earning trust. They didn't understand that even as a fae of a minor order, he would never lower himself to some at droll as murdering common mortals in the dark.

Common, but definitely intriguing. Walking beside her drew attention to how small she was. Her stride length was short and her shawl barely came to his shoulder height. Yet she had been one of the first to lash out to defend their group.

"You know, I rarely think of that when I start walking," he said, turning his head. "Probably further than this, back to the road. We can turn back now if you would rather. I am just being over cautious. And wanting to stretch my legs."

"Did you need the air, to stretch your legs, or to see if I would genuinely walk out into the woods alone?" he asked, moonlight enough to show his grin.
 
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She kept her eyes on the dark path they walked as she laughed, her head shaking and sending a few blonde waves tumbling into her face. She swept them back behind her ear as she glanced up at him, catching the contours of the wolfish grin..

"No. I knew you'd walk out here alone. It was how you found us, after all.. I just.. I'm not ready to talk to them yet." she frowned, tugging her shawl a little more tightly around her. "No need to turn back just yet." she shrugged with a half smirk.

"Where did you say you were from again?" she asked to change the subject.
 
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"I don't believe I did say," he replied.

Fingal smiled back, but the expression looked forced when he glanced over his shoulder.

He was not immune to feeling some empathy for the plights of mortals. Fingal spent more time with them than many fae. Collecting their works of art, be they story, song or statue, be had come to appreciate them and what they could create.

"Far away," he said with conviction. "In truth I have been wandering for so long that I do not really see a single place as home any more. There is a place far to the south where I have family and I travel there from time to time. I think they see me as something of an outsider now," he said with pride.
 
"Hm.." Ana smiled fondly. "Then you truly are a gypsy." she said, her cheek dimpling with her smirk.

"Oliver took my mother in when she was young. She was pregnant and her father had cast her out onto the streets.." she let out a sharp huff of a laugh, though there was no mirth in it. "I think I was less than a month old when she left me there one day. So they raised me. All of them." she nodded. "We're all outsiders."

She was quiet for a moment, her mind on Marcus and her arms wrapping around ribs. "I should hand myself in." she said out of nowhere with a glance up at him. "If they see that as justice done, they won't look for them." she frowned.
 
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Being called a gypsy was certainly an insult in some circles, but he smiled for the context it was given in. Unlike her people, he no longer travelled with his pack. He was an outsider who roamed far and wide on his own. And he was quite content with that arrangement.

When she suggested going back, his reaction was far from sympathetic.

"Don't even think of doing something so stupid," he hissed. The night around them silenced by the harsh sound.

"There would be no justice. You would just be entertainment for them dangling on the noose. Your people simply won't be able to return to this town and if by some chance they really do give chase then we will deal with them."
 
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