Private Tales Scorched Earth

[Fife]

Raigryn took her hand but he didn't move. He didn't act hurt and he didn't lash back. He only tugged at her hand and spoke softly, gently. He was so gentle with her.

Sharp, uneven breaths hitched in her chest as her facade began to crumble. The only tears she had ever shed in front of him had been restrained and subdued; she was too proud for it, even as they had drawn closer. There had been sniffles and the rare salty ring left on his shirt, but she had always retained a modicum of composure.

In the onslaught of her anger, however hurtful, he remained steady and patient. He should have been angry with her. He should have been disappointed that she couldn't rise above her own shortcomings to be there for him as he always was for her. She wanted him to reproach her for being a bitch when he was only helpful and kind. She wanted him to vilify her the way he had once begged to be vilified. She had thought she'd understood at the time, but she hadn't, and now she did. Now she did.

The dam of her emotions broke abruptly, violently. Fife made a valiant attempt to stifle it by putting her hand over her mouth and turning her face away, but there was too much inside of her, packed too tightly into a space that was far too small and fragile, and now it had burst.

All of her pride and pretenses were ripped away as she was drawn a step toward him. Her eyes screwed shut and her angular face drew back in an anguished grimace behind her hand. The first rasping sob shook her shoulders, breaking her silence like the shattering of glass, and she kept her eyes closed as if that might keep him from seeing her break, too.

She put her hand on his chest, her fist twisted up in his shirt, and her arm locked straight. Stay away from me. Fife shook her head, unable to sign but still trying to convey it. I'm no good. Stay away.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

A small part of himself, for a fleeting instant, wished he had more of the drug still in his system. He didn't feel what Fife felt. It was her feelings and he wouldn't take them from her, wouldn't even soften the edge with magic. That would be a betrayal.

He could still sense it, could still see it plain as day. It still hurt. He knew this wasn't his fault, but that he would never absolve himself of all blame.

Logically, he had been thinking of how to train her against the repercussions of her excessive use of Empathy. As a teacher he should have tried one now to settle herself in the balance point between the warning forces. She probably would have hit him. She didn't need him to be her teacher.

She gripped his tunic tightly. A balled up fist over his chest where he felt the tightness most acutely. His expression shifted quickly, never quite settling on a single emotion.

"I am here for you," he said quietly. He could have emphasised any word. He had not been there in any way for Fife for months. Placing both hands across her shoulders he gave no more than gentle encouragement to cross the span that had been opened between them.

 

[Fife]

He pulled gently and that was all it took. Her arm buckled and she gave up the distance. Though her mind roiled in its darker thoughts, this was all she wanted. She missed him. The same part of her that couldn't bear to be unfamiliar couldn't pull away from his embrace. It was the purest part of her but it was just as ugly as everything else.

Fife buried her face against his chest and cast out months of tears. She held on like he was trying to pry her away instead of holding her closer. Her side hurt from crying. Her eyes burned. Her chest felt like it had been scraped out and her body was left hollow, empty.

When she finally quieted, she unchecked her hands to wrap her arms around his waist. There was less of him, she remembered with a pang in her chest as her hands brushed together in the hollow of his back. She took more from him than she had allowed herself in a while, needing to feel some semblance of what they once were -- a small testament to the hope that he was right, they would be better.

All of it would be worth it as soon as he was better. Whatever had come before and whatever came after, it wouldn't have been for nothing.

Trying to piece her pride back together, Fife gently turned her face away from the wet spot she had made against his sternum. Her eyes were raw and bloodshot and the strawberry splotches across her cheeks had darkened the rings under her eyes to bruises. She brought a hand around to stubbornly wipe the tears from her face. She sniffed very quietly, as if she had any dignity left to spare.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

A myriad of stars tried to shine. Their colours still obscured by a haze of mist. At least he could see them now, could feel them. The Order of the Steel Coin had taken so much from them both. His world had been nothing but grey haze for months, to the point where he had barely felt anything when Fife had come to him. His memories were a jumble, but he knew she had visited several times.

Hazy memories had connected him to the arrogant, short-tempered youth he had been. Or perhaps it had simply stripped back some of the patience and wisdom that came with remembering your failures. He had gone charging off towards the stone. Now he felt a great anger towards the Order. He wanted to cross back through the stone and enact bloody vengeance upon them.

With a sigh, he let such delusions go. He brought a hand up to Fife's cheek, his thumb catching a tear she had missed.

Repeating words she had heard before was not going to help.

"You know, I could do with a beer," he announced. Literally and figuratively, they needed to put some distance between themselves and the events of the last few months,

 

[Fife]

Small gestures were enough. Fife tipped her head into his palm, something just as small that she hoped said just as much. He was still far away, but he'd remember everything soon enough. He'd remember every other time he'd brushed away stray tears. He'd remember why he'd comforted her and the bond they'd forged in those moments of vulnerability. He'd remember her. In the mental exhaustion in the wake of her emotions, it was easier to hold onto that.

It was also easier to smile. Me, too, she signed with a reluctant laugh. After smoothing out his shirt, took his hand and stepped back. They were both ready to go, and Fife was eager to leave this all behind.

She helped him get settled on Dusty before pulling herself up in front of him. He probably didn't need her there like he had a week ago, but the proximity was comforting. It was the same closeness for closeness' sake as walking with her hand in his, or sitting beside one another at the tavern so their shoulders brushed. It was the subtle reminder that she was there, that he was there, and neither of them were alone.

Turning Dusty Southeast toward the path that (she assumed) followed the coast to Oban, then looked over her shoulder at Raigryn in question.

Where to? She asked, a resilient grin growing. They might not have been in great shape and they might still have world-class assassins dogging them the rest of their lives, but there wasn't anyone else in the world she would have rather been a fugitive with.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

---

"I'm fine, I'm fine..." Raigryn said, waving at Fife. She had followed him out of the Inn. He didn't know if that was because she was worried he might have been ambushed or because she had heard him retching into the bushes.

"I had been enjoying that," he muttered about his lost dinner.

They had struck out South from the stone rather than following the more trodden path directly west. The first settlement they had crossed wasn't a place outsiders were welcome so they had followed the less travelled coastal road until they reached a more welcoming port town. They had found the promised beer, of which Raigryn had only enjoyed half a mug.

"I think its just...the last of that foul stuff...leaving me," Raigryn apologised weakly.

 

[Fife]

Fife had paused on the path in front of the inn, took one look at him, and understood. She'd followed him out of the same sense of overprotective fussiness that had kept him in a direct line of sight for the better part of two weeks now. They had had better days, but they had also had worse. The road away from the stone had been better than the road to it.

More or less. While she didn't like seeing Raigryn be miserable, she could recognize that he was speaking and acting more clearly. His mind wandered less and he held onto coherence easier. His unnecessary explanations of things she already understood was reminiscent of his maundering dialogues -- something she terribly missed.

He was, as far as she could tell, improving.

As was she. Using her Aspects at the Stone had lightened the load on her mind, and in the reprieve of that constant strain was less of the irregular swings of her mood. Both of them were slowly settling back toward something normal after their very different extremes.

You can try again later, she reassured him. Walking up to rub his back comfortingly, her hand lingered briefly before looping around his arm to offer support. It has been a long day. Do you want to rest?

She was hovering. Fife told herself that she should do that less as he felt better. Being out of the Steel Coin's order was… odd. Fife had thrived on regimen and occupation, even in the hands of enemies. Now beyond their reach, her days felt strangely empty. Fife didn't dare to even think the word bored, but Raigryn was suffering the constancy of her company. At least tonight she could haunt the stables while he rested in their room.

After so much forced distance, distancing herself again felt impossible. Her bruises had faded and her ribs were healing cleanly, but she still felt paranoid. She still startled from sleep thinking she was back in the caverns. She still felt a bracing moment of fear when he looked confused or far off, dreading the return of his apathy in spite of his apparent recovery. She still had not told him what she had done and swung between comfort and detachment as her guilt waxed and waned.

Small steps. For now, a simple choice for him and the opportunity for her to get out of his hair for more than ten minutes.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

He breathed slow and deep. It probably wasn't any of the potion. It was probably just upsetting his body's balance still. The situation was remarkably good at making him feel sorry for himself. Raigryn decided there was something worse in nausea than pain for making him feel fragile.

"I think what I would like...is to go and clean myself up at the well and then go back to that fire and try to finish my food."

It was rather perplexing to have his body trying to throw up at the same time as hitting him with a pang of hunger. They had probably tidied away the bowl of stew he had just ejected.

"The fire was nice, but maybe a little evening air to clear my head."

Raigryn stood up properly. His hands gave a faint tremble and then stilled. It was just the sudden shock.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

 

[Fife]

Maybe a little less coherent than she would have liked. Not to worry. The line of thought meandered, but it was a line nonetheless. Fife smiled thinly back and shook her head. He had no reason to be sorry. She did not want him to apologize to her. She wanted to do what was needed for him to feel comfortable, and wasn't afraid of it being a little ugly getting there.

Fife gently steered him toward the well, which, in a village this size, was nearby. She offered to support him and walked slowly. All the while, she remained at his side, vigilant and attentive. She drew a pail of water for him when they reached the well and patiently sat down at its edge to let him rest and conduct his business.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

He used both hands to cup water and bring it to his mouth. He rinsed and spat twice between drinking deeply. The night air quickly brought a frightful chill to his damp hands. He let that settle, breathed slowly from the gut until he felt a little better. Raigryn stood a little straighter on his own.

"I'd like to say that I feel much better after that," he said. Raigryn managed a light chuckle as he wiped clean water from his beard. He needed to get a trim and a haircut when they arrived at somewhere half civilised.

"I guess I feel a little better," he said. His hand signed a quick signal for her to walk alongside him. Some of those tactical signals had started coming back as more second nature as recent memories took their rightful place in his mind. Even if the warm stew and weak beer wasn't too appetising just yet, the fire would be pleasant.

 

[Fife]

With her arms crossed over her chest, she stared out over the rooftops at the distant flicker of stars as they hesitantly appeared in the dimming light of dusk, at the twin moons gliding one after the other in the wheel of the sky. The sounds of the small village were few and far between, growing quieter as night settled like a cool blanket over the shoulders of the earth.

Fife looked over her shoulder when he spoke again, only offering him a small smile. A little better? She'd take it. She fell into place walking beside him. A familiar place. Returning to the inn, she maintained a comfortable distance to give him a greater sense of independence. Even if she was still close enough to step in if he had overestimated himself.

The inn here was very quiet. Fife didn't have to fight to get them a pair of seats by the hearth. She took a stool and left Raigryn with the chair. It was nice by the fire, and she settled in to soak it up before going up to a very cold bed. Fife flashed him a contented smile.

He looked older in the warm light. Her smile got caught up in a rising feeling in her chest and her eyes quickly slid back to the fire. When they had first met, she'd thought he'd looked older, but knowing him and seeing him carry on had very soon banished the notion. Tonight, however -- tired and thin and overgrown -- he looked… Fragile? Like a stiff breeze would blow him over? Like it had been a while since she had considered that his years would be much fewer than hers?

Fife leaned over and touched his arm to get his attention before she signed.

Do you remember when we went to Belgrath? she asked. She took her time signing slowly, on account of his rusty understanding and the drowsy comfort of the fire. She bit her lip and smiled hopefully. After we saw the orcs? You were hurt and I was off balance.

A gross understatement. She'd been off balance for the first time in her life, feeling a strange war between Joy and Tranquility.

I recall the hearth where I waited for you. It was three of this one. So big. I had not seen a fire so big indoors. I was not thinking about it then, but I can remember it now.

She didn't know why she was bringing this up. Fife shook her head, admitting as much to him. She wasn't sure if that was something he'd even be able to recall. And yet, thinking of it eased the tightness in her chest. Sort of.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Raigryn sat in silence. He looked from her to the fireplace and back again. It started to seem as if he had zoned out from the conversation entirely.

"I like thinking about the hearth and the pies more than those orcs," he said. "Those were some angry orcs."

"I liked seeing Belgrath all over again through your eyes," he said, smiling fondly. It was a nice memory, marred only by the incredible pain of being carried down that mountain path after the ambush.

Is it the hearth that makes you think of Belgrath or waiting to find out if I'm going to come back?

"There are places I want to show you and you know...there are still places I want to see for the first time."

 

[Fife]

She didn't think he would answer, and a part of her was grateful. It was a silly thing to be on her mind. She could have thought instead of the yawning forges, the enormous hearth burning at the ball they had attended, or even the warm comfort of the Idemni communal tent on the cool desert nights.

Raigryn actually replied and, of course, he rolled with it. She nodded in agreement and simply made the emotional sign for extreme dislike with an annoyed flick of her hand. He was right; it was not exactly the highlight of their Belgrath trip. It had been the second time she'd followed him into trouble. Fife was beginning to think it was a Raigryn thing.

And that thought made her smile to herself. This was just the sort of trouble he would fall into. Fife reckoned it was better that at least now he wouldn't be fending off his foul luck on his own.

His quiet remark was more unexpected. Fife turned away from the fire. For a man whose life was built on his ability to sense and manipulate emotions, Raigryn rarely communicated his own. But he had offered her a few kernels of insight. Namely, that her unexpectedly entering his life had given him purpose and then happiness.

She forgot that sometimes. She forgot a lot of things.

Her answering smile was pure, unadulterated by sadness or regret or worry. She nodded.

I want to see it, she replied simply. All she wanted was to be with him, wherever that was or however that needed to be. She would wait for that feeling to come back to him. Even if it never did, she would stay, because his happiness gave her life meaning, too.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

The warmth that he felt from deep down was more than a match for the firelight across his skin. He had been afraid for her, afraid that she had been driven too far from who she had been by the Order.

He quietly reflected that he had been fearing the same thing she had. It had taken longer for him to work that out. They had never had anyone try to tear them apart, to tear them each away from who they were.

He smiled in turn. It didn't look forced at all. Raigryn didn't quite hold eye contact as he made it, distracted by the flickering fire, but it was much more natural than some of their recent interactions.

"I think...I might try and have one of their watery beers."

"Hey!" came a protest from behind the bar.

---

"Look," Raigryn hissed, pointing to the sky. One of the riders was visible high overhead.

He hadn't told Fife to go looking for them. It had been quite selfish really. Her sharp eyes would have spotted a Griffin rider long before his and he had wanted to be the one to show her.

"We must be close now."

 

[Fife]

The road to Oban was quiet. Not just in the sense that there was little excitement in the simple, easy way of things that went without a hitch, but also in the growing quiet of her mind. Every day they distanced themselves further from the stone and disappeared into anonymity. With every passing day, Fife felt safer, less paranoid. She was still careful and observant, but the fear and worry was leaving.

And every day she got back more of Raigryn. A smile here or a word there, the subtle bloom of the color aroundhis mind. She awaited that return like a farmer watching stormclouds gathering on the horizon, hopefully awaiting the rain that would come and end her drought.

Patient. She could be patient. Fife had not been there for him before, but she was unwavering now.

She held onto the things she needed to get off her chest, heavy weights that made it hard to breathe sometimes when her emotions tipped too far toward guilt and regret. She kept a polite distance, ever attentive but never crossing a line to take what hadn't been given. He was doing better and as he grew more independent again, Fife withdrew. She'd find a way to talk about what had happened. First, he had to remember. When he remembered, when what she had to say would have meaning, they would talk.

Her eyes had been on the rolling landscape, her thoughts far off, when he spoke. Fife turned with questioning eyes that widened in alarm as she followed the line of his arm. There was a moment where her heart jolted, fearing the Steel Coin and everything behind them.

Instead, she saw a bird. She huffed and glared back over her shoulder at him.

A bird? she asked. Her mouth was pressed into a thin, dour line. This wasn't a funny joke. Yet as her eyes tracked back to the bird, something seemed off. Frowning deeper, she narrowed her eyes, watched as the bird turned and--

Fife gasped, her throat hissing loudly, and she spun around on Socks' blanketed back.

A cat-bird! she signed hastily. Is that a cat-bird?! She shook her hands in giddy excitement. A griffin! Could it really be a griffin?

Let's go! Fife spun back around, taking up the pony's reins and turning him to prance a high-headed circle around Dusty, who looked as though couldn't have cared less.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"Come on, they might pass by for a look," Raigryn said. He turned Dusty towards the coastal cliffs and away from the main path. He led them on a gentle incline until they could see the gulf below. The Griffin rider was flying from east to west.

"Those far cliffs are Taagi Baari. The Stteppes are flat grasslands that extend halfway to Belgrath," he explained, turning to look to the east.

"See the big fortress sticking out into the gulf, into the water? That's Oban."

Raigryn couldn't remember if he had actually taken the time to explain the different between a gulf, a sea and an ocean. He definitely hadn't described a strait before.

"You can't see from here but there are farmlands beyond those woods ahead and then an afternoon's riding to the walls."

He hoped they would get there before they locked up the gates. He would rather not sleep beside the road for another night if they didn't have to.

The Griffin above was being riden. Even gliding they had to beat their wings, not being built for flight as well as an eagle. The creature banked out over the water making the rider visible as they surveyed the road from high above.

 

[Fife]

Fife and her pony eagerly rode alongside Raigryn and his hackney. She didn't mind that he used words she didn't know, couldn't be bothered to feel stupid as he explained the new geography and bodies of water. There was almost a full day's ride between them and the city, but that couldn't bother her either. Happiness and contentment glowed about her like a halo.

Griffins and dragons were real. Cities like Oban weren't just stories she overheard. The world had color and wonder in it again. If Raigryn was chasing the feeling of rediscovering the world through her, she was certainly delivering today.

She shielded her eyes from the glare of the morning sun to watch the griffin wheeling high overhead. Her sharp eyes made out the silhouette of the rider and she flashed an excited smile toward Raigryn.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Raigryn raised one hand to his brow and waved with the other. The Griffin rider did not wave back. Raigryn found himself oddly dissapointed by that.

He didn't even watch her smile, didn't want her to see him watching her too closely after what he had said at the inn a few nights before. As he found it easier to tap his own emotions, it was easier to sense hers coming through loud and clear.

They had found themselves in trouble because he had stuck his nose into other people's business. That would never stop, but he could at least temper himself. Especially when it involved using Empathy anywhere near the big cities. Country folk didn't know the difference between common college magic, high elven and blood rituals.

They stayed there and watched the Griffin until it was an indistinguishable black dot in the sky.

The woods were no bother. Despite being frequented by bandits that could use the trees to hide from the riders, there was no trouble on the main coastal road. The tree his the city from view until they emerged from the other side.

Oban was one of the most impressive human cities left. Perhaps, he thought, because the largest walls looked as if they were always in danger of toppling into the gulf.

"Look!" he hissed, pointing to the Griffmadár. Coloured steamers rippled in the wind and figures could be seen lingering at a platform. "That might be young riders getting ready to practise taking off?"

 

[Fife]

They watched together in silence until the rider and his mount disappeared into obscurity. It took a little while, their shadow growing smaller and smaller against the pale, late winter sky. The walk afterward felt horribly mundane -- something simple and common as she tried to imagine soaring far overhead. How far could one see from that high up? Atop the mountains of the Spine, she had felt as though she could see the entire world.

One more thing she couldn't quite fathom. Another itching curiosity laid to rest in the recesses of her mind.

The forest was quiet. Too quiet in a few places, but their passing was rather uneventful. A shame; she would have delighted in the opportunity for a fight.

Fife frowned. No. She wouldn't have. She shook the uninvited thought from her mind. As she burned her Aspects and returned her stores closer to a level she could comfortably manage, her moods felt clearer. There were some stray thoughts coming and going, but she knew what those were.

Something she wasn't ready to tell Raigryn. She stole a nervous glance ahead at his back. Would he think differently of her if he knew what she had done? Or was this another moment he'd be overwhelmingly understanding of her flaws?

Soon, she assured herself. A familiar crutch. I'll tell him soon.

They crossed the forest and emerged near midday. From there, Oban looked completely changed. Its pale city walls and spires rose up in the sunlight and the whole thing glowed like a star against the choppy gulf.

Once more, she attentively followed his direction, only this time she didn't fear the worst. People were on a high platform decorated with bright colors.

What is it? Fife asked. She assumed it had something to do with the aforementioned griffin riders, but she was luring out one of his notorious, lengthy explanations. The air between them had been too quiet. She missed him waxing on at length about nothing at all; Fife liked learning and liked the sound of his voice.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"You know, I can't remember what it's called," he laughed. "I know it begins with griff!"

It was hard to gauge size from here. The building at least gave some references for scale as a young griffin strode out towards the ledge. They had a little time. The sun was getting low, but the city gates were clearly still open.

"Does that one looks smaller than the one we saw in the air?" he mused out loud. It was hard to judge when the other had been a silhouette against a clear sky. He suddenly felt a flash of fear for the young rider that was probably on its back. This was not going to be such a fun story if they went plummeting from that height.

Instead they dropped from the ledge and the griffin's wings went wide. Beast and rider went gliding out over the strait together. Raigryn stopped holding his breath.

"Yes I think they're out training together," he explained.

They were close enough that he could reach out and rest a hand on her shoulder. Raigryn looked down at his own hand. Raigryn looked away before she could see his confusion. He had shown her precious little affection since they had left the Steel Coin outpost. It was something she had been bereft of for so many years and it hadn't even occurred to him.

 

[Fife]

She watched the young griffin walking out o to the platform. Gauging size from a distance was no easy feat. While she had been cursed with terrible silence, however, she had been blessed with keen eyesight. She could make out the shape of the rider before and, comparing it to the rider she saw boarding the Griffin on the platform, could tell that it was smaller. Both were smaller than the enormous eagles they had seen. Fife nodded, but didn't take her eyes away from the figures.

Raigryn's stroke of fear watching the pair take to the air was not mutual. Fife felt a giddy flutter of excitement in her chest as her mind tried to fathom the thrill of flight. She had sat at the edge of the cliffs around Indretar, had perched on walls and buildings in Elbion. She had felt the surge of adrenaline rushing from her feet to her chest at the prospect of falling. She had felt the strange bliss of weightlessness after jumping from a high place. Raigryn considered the risks, but her mind only imagined exhilaration.

A difference in them. One of many.

Watching the pair glide together, two bodies working expertly together as they wheeled over the rooftops and then the open water, her mind was wandering. His touch was as unexpected as ever. She stifled the instinct to grab his wrist and counter, both hers and someone else's, but her eyes quickly flicked to where his hand came to rest on his shoulder.

It's only Raigryn. An old affirmation she hadn't missed. Her mind felt jagged, and she closed it behind tight, resolute walls. She managed to smile as her hand calmly laid over his.

Socks shifted restlessly beneath her, raising his head indignantly to jostle Fife's reins. It pulled her out of Raigryn’s reach and his hand slid from her shoulder. Her hand chased his and she was glad her mind was closed tight and that he wasn't looking to see the disappointment creasing her brows. With a huff, she jingled the pony's reins -- all the reprimand she could give him. Brat.

There was no point lamenting a moment that had already passed. Fife sighed and turned Socks around in a circle and held her hand up for Raigryn to look at her.

Does Oban have warm baths? Even bath house girls are fine. No more cold water. She smiled playfully. She looked like a girl today (or as much as Fife ever looked like a girl) but she would suffer the embarrassment for a good hot bath. She imagined Raigryn was equally sick of her scrubbing him raw in freezing cold creeks in the frigid twilight hours.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"With the coin you have, I think we can afford to go to the nice quarter and stay somewhere they might pour out a warm bath in our rooms?" he asked.

"I was afraid the rider was going to come off the saddle then." He had been, in a way. It was just that he had been more concerned that the first nice thing he found to show Fife with his newfound faculties was a person being splattered across the rocks. He imagined a lot of the trainees didn't become Griffin Knights. That level of pragmatism sounded cruel when he thought about it.

A gentle nudge and they were off down towards the gate. It was a very gradual slope down from the woods. He could just catch the hint of chain mail on the guards meandering around a good wagon as they checked what was being driven into the city.

He realised he was going to be explaining that he was a scribe, but that he didn't have any of the tools of the trade as proof.

"If you wouldn't mind," he started to say. It was coin that she had earned from the assassins. She probably didn't like to have it referred to her own and to have him asking to borrow it. It simply felt polite to him.

"We should go and get some more scribing materials tomorrow. I'm sure I can find a little work and you can help but...we don't have to rush to find any. Work...that is."

 

[Fife]

The nice quarter of town? Fife had only stolen herself into the nicer parts of Elbion by the cover of night and less than a handful of times. Once she had been carried out by the back of her shirt and thrown back into the dirty streets of the lower city. She didn't even know what a nice place constituted. They'd stayed at plenty of places she thought were nice. Was it like those? Was it better?

Answers Fife was content to be surprised by. She'd allow him to shock her.

They set off down the hill toward the city walls, much to the pony's relief. Fife's attention slid along the wall, over the rooves that were still visible from this high up, and then at the... griffin thing as it became one of the few heights they could see. Eventually it, too, was hard to see over the wall.

Fife turned with brows high in question when Raigryn began to make a request. It took her a moment to understand why he was asking her. He usually made the choices and she was accustomed to following him. Why ask? It was something he had needed but that she hadn't felt comfortable getting for him. Fife had begun to shake her head and move her hands to a flick of confusion when it dawned on her.

Because it was money she had earned. He was asking if it was okay.

That struck her rather oddly. Fife blinked and looked absently toward the city walls. Gathering her wits, she shook her head more definitely.

You do not have to ask, she insisted. She pointed to his saddlebags. That is yours. I do not want it. Dirty money, upsetting. Use it.

Their small cache of wealth was stowed in four places for safekeeping, two of which were with him. She had not said outright it was his, but now she had, and there would be no arguing about it. She breezed past the statement and onto the next thought without giving him time to remark on it.

We have coin to last a while, but work is good for you. More than something for him to do, scribing was a way to ease back into the life he'd had before the Steel Coin. She smiled.

Rest tonight, things tomorrow. She perked up. Food tonight? Whatever ghosts had been in her eyes talking about the money was chased away by something bright and eager. Fife bit her lip. Promise you will show me good new food here?

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"I promise," he replied. "The food is good here, especially if you enjoy several courses of fish. In these places the area around the dock is usually the opposite end of town to where you want to be."

Raigryn had one hand off the reins and signed along with his words. It was rusty. Newer knowledge was still a touch more fuzzy than old. He was reminded of Fife desperately trying to act out her name, cornered in his room. It felt a world away from where they were now.

Her reaction was about what he expected, in regards to the coins. He only wished he'd been so thoughtful before asking.



There were some interesting discussions on the way into the city and the northern quarter. Their clothing and weapons clearly put some in mind that they could have been bandits. His more educated mannerisms and the fact that they both knew how to ride well were generally enough to pass by.

It was a world still governed by birthright. Few could read and write and not many more owned a horse. In much of the human world the concept of alliria, where tradespeople and merchants held positions of power was frankly revolutionary talk.

He found them a small inn where most at tables were clearly of a certain class. They even provided cutlery instead of expecting people to bring their own. Very fancy.

Raigryn had a nice bottle of wine on their table and was waiting for a fish stew starter. They even had a ceramic bath tub which had been dragged to their room. He could see one of the maids making trips up and down the stairs with a pale of steaming water.

"The nice quarter," he repeated with a big grin.

 

[Fife]

"The nice quarter."

He'd succeeded; she had been thoroughly shocked. Fife glared at him from under her dark lashes, but there was a grin beneath that look.

Raigryn had quite literally talked his way out of trouble and right into what he had very aptly described: the part of town that looked like the sound made by rubbing two gold coins together. Fife had not felt so out of place in a while. Amidst the fancy sirs and madams poised around the inn, she was unwashed and scrappy. They had place settings with a fork and a spoon, for gods' sake.

This reminds me of the dance, she said. Then she tipped her head to one side and, with a warning hike of her brow, tapped her fingers against her chin. A familiar ritual heralding the incoming tease a moment before her hands went to work.

Or our first time at Belgrath. At the tavern. When I was a "boy." How did the song go? Fife quietly whistled a few notes of the bawdy tune the dwarves had been singing -- the one he'd been familiar enough with to translate.

But that was all the more teasing she could manage. Fife snickered behind her hand, her fingers a thin veil to hide her smile as she looked aside. She shook her head and her amusement as she surveyed the room once more. She was reminded that Raigryn had once bent the ears of nobles and kings. He had known where to go, just what to expect and what to say. This was familiar, if not still less than he had once been very accustomed to.

I feel out of place here. She sighed, finally revealing the similarity of this moment and the others.

She had been out of place at the ball because she didn't feel like a noble's daughter out for a playful frolic on the dance floor, or even a girl at all. She had felt out of place in Belgrath because she was most definitely not a boy who wanted to be chummy with the lads and sing about busty women. Now she had more of a sense of self-identity than ever, but this place only underlined how wrong she felt sitting here like she was one of them. Not in a sickening, bad way, but it made her shift uncomfortably. Fife was not yet adjusted to the idea of being seen, especially if that exposed her to criticism. A character flaw, she supposed: her notorious pride.