Private Tales Scorched Earth

[Raigryn Vayd]

I am sorry, I won't do that again, he signed to Fife. I should correct him...

With a wash of guilt, Raigryn didn't. Masselin had leapt wholeheartedly into his story and was Raigryn was fascinated at the insight into her past. It would be so deep into her past that she probably hadn't heard it herself.

Raigryn offered a polite laugh, but he didn't guffaw. If that dissapointed Masselin, then he would accept the consequences of causing offence to Fife's old friend.

It wasn't just for Fife's benefit. Whilst the outcome of the story amused him, it carried him away to the place she had come from.

Back before she had been alone on the streets she had been adopted by a group to learn her trade. And she had already been fascinated by birds. Brave, too, as gulls could bite quite hard.

"That was a very good story, thank you Masselin," he said.

Sorry. You always loved birds? He asked.

He had a smattering of questions for both of them: how much longer had Fife known the others? Who had been the best pick pocket? Had any of them ever suspected her abilities?

They were too many to discuss over a polite meal. Perhaps later, by a fire and with whisky in hand.

"You were the leader of this little gang?" Raigryn asked, shifting the focus back to Masselin for the moment.

 

[Fife]

Perhaps she was being a little harsh with him when he wasn't entirely himself yet, Fife reasoned. Raigryn's guilt was a wash of colors that couldn't quite mute his amusement, but it was there nonetheless. The look she gave him was exasperated, but not as glowering as the look she had given Masselin.

Fife responded with a gesture of uncertainty. I do not remember much. Not about birds. Then, biting her lip, she gave an indicator of dismissal. Do not be sorry. He is happy.

Masselin was exceedingly happy. That he had something funny to share for those bleak, challenging days was a miracle. Fife certainly couldn't look back and summon many amusing tales. Respite and moments of peace, sure. A few instances of awe and beauty, maybe. But not happiness -- not like this.

They had all been together in his memories. He had been gone before all the bad had happened.

Her brother laughed when asked if he had been the leader, and even Fife smirked and gave her head a gentle shake.

"Definitely not. That was Nara. We were close in age but she was far and away more responsible. I knew her before the both of us were turned out onto the streets, and taking the little ones under our wing was her idea. I was only good for running messages for a few bits a day, but she was always finding odd jobs to keep us all fed and clothed." He smiled toward Fife. "How is Nara these days?"

Fife was sipping from her wine when he turned to her. She finished her drink and set it down with a pinched smile.

I do not know how to tell him. I do not know, she told Raigryn. She met his eye across the table. She left. After Masselin. I do not know where she went. Gone. I was alone, after.

It left him with the difficult task of breaking bad news for her. She wished she could have said it herself so he wouldn't have to. Fife felt a familiar flash of frustration. Damn her bad luck. She wanted to laugh and tell funny stories. She wanted to have had a better life that she could tell amusing anecdotes from. Wanting it couldn't change it, however.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

She didn't kick him under the table, which was a good sign as far as he was concerned. Her old friend seemed so enthusiastic about seeing her again and telling these stories. It would have been easy for him to draw a line under his past and turn his back on it, to have avoided Fife earlier that day.

Raigryn found himself thankful that there had been anyone in Fife's life back in those early years. Her childhood had been so far removed from his own that it was hard to picture. Her lessons had been completely different, but there had been people to give them.

"Fife says she does not no," Raigryn said in a far more somber tone. "Some time after you left, Nara left. Fife does not know where."

Fife hadn't wanted to put that across and neither did he. They could all make idle speculation that she might have her own wealthy family in another town, but the odds were astonishingly low. It was far more likely she'd seen the wrong side of the guards, or the blade of another gang in a back street.

"I do not suppose you have had chance to run into many from those days," he said as much as he asked.

 

[Fife]

Hearing Raigryn say it out loud somehow made the ugly reality feel more real. Her eyes slid to Masselin, whose smile had faded. He looked from Raigryn to Fife, slow to process what he had been conveyed. He cleared his throat and looked down at his plate. She did the same.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Masselin recovered well, smiling and shaking his head to answer Raigryn. "All the more reason to cherish this one. I do not wish to revisit the life we unfortunately shared, but it is good to see you grown and well, Fife. I am glad you have found a companion who has gone to such great lengths to understand you. It sounds as though you've made quite a life for yourself: learning magic, becoming literate, and exploring… Very exciting. You've become quite an interesting person."

He really had no idea.

"What sort of magic are you learning?"

He had a mischievous, lopsided grin. Fife glanced across to Raigryn, then looked at the table between them. What could she show him that didn't give away their Sympathomancy?

After a moment, Fife lifted a hand. There was a giddy flutter in her stomach as she did her best to redirect Desire from herself to the tray of dinner rolls in front of her. Her hair and clothes became buoyant, as if she were being submerged in water, but managed to catch three odd rolls, and they wobbled upward for a few magical seconds before dropping back to the pile. Her hair and tunic settled about her once more.

"Oh my! How splendid!" Romelia exclaimed with a delighted clap of her hands.

The smile she flashed Raigryn was rather proud, but shadowed by something other. Her heart was racing from the borrowed Aspects and she leveled her breathing. Fife put away the dark, warm thoughts she had invoked to channel her Empathy.

It was as much a demonstration for Raigryn as it was for Masselin and Romelia. She had worked hard in his absence; that was evident in that he had not taught her a scrap of Desire before. The catalyst for her growth had been vicious and unpleasant, but she had come away stronger nonetheless. Like a weed, she was always growing, indignant and determined in even the most inhospitable soil.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

He watched careful as she dipped into her power. If she was going to show jade it was unfortunately recognisable as one of the key abilities of an Empath.

Her hair floated up before the magic truly took hold. Raigryn's eyebrows rose up before he could hide his surprise. The last thing he wanted to do was to walk into a situation where they had to explain being apart for months.

She hadn't been able to draw from Desire before. Drawing and using that Aspect was typically one of the last lessons. There was a sensitivity about teaching its use, even if Desire was a part of many feelings. Even longing for a favourite dish from one's home had a streak of the aspect through it.

"Now that is really quite advanced, given the level of training she had received," Raigryn expressed to Romelia with pride. Questions could come later. He flashed Fife a smile before turning his attention to Masselin.

"So, what is life like for you now?" He asked, trying to give Fife a little space from the attention.

 

[Fife]

Raigryn's surprise hit her… strangely. He sounded proud, and while Fife was also proud of her thriving repertoire of magic, the experience which had borne it colored her with shame. Fortunately, conversation briskly moved forward, and Fife was not afforded long to dwell on the regrets she carried close to the vest.

"Advanced?" Romelia echoed with a look to her son, who was looking very impressed as well. With both of them marveling at her for levitating a few rolls, she couldn't help wondering how awestruck they would have been to see Raigryn use his Empathy. She made a pretty sundog at the edge of a cloud while he could have painted the entire sky at dusk. An entertaining thought, but wishful thinking; she didn't think Raigryn was yet up to a performance and she would not put him in thr awkward position of declining.

Raigryn politely shifted the focus back toward Masselin, who confidently and seamlessly picked up the reins.

"Me? I took up my father's trade as a blacksmith and farrier," he began. "He had a contract with the cavalry for many years, and I had helped on much of his work in the last decade as his successor. The same contract was extended to me when he passed on three years ago and the forge became mine. That is to say, I tend to the shoes and even some minor veterinary care of the cavalry's horses."

He smiled at Fife, for whom the clarification had been made. She wasn't confused about what he was explaining, but, lowering the wine she'd been sipping from, nodded and smiled back in understanding.

"The cavalry keeps busy for the better part of half the week. The other half I see to my usual clientele. Most of the work I can do here, but I often travel." He turned to Fife. "Do you have horses?" She nodded far more eagerly. "So you have learned to ride? Excellent."

I like horses, she told Raigryn. Obviously he was well aware of that, but she meant for the sentiment to be passed along. Tell him about Dusty. Fife whistled the pony's name over the sign for horse, since she had never bothered to make a named sign for either of their steeds. She was very proud of the pony -- one of the very first things Raigryn had given her and (quite easily) the one she took the best care of.

Romelia was observing the conversation with an idle, wide-eyed curiosity, but Masselin's gaze was focused in on Fife's hands. His curiosity was a playful light and he glowed with a warm happiness that bubbled up like champagne. Fife wasn't trying to pry, but his feelings were as bold and saturated as his smile and coppery hair. His smile was infectious. Basking in the sunshine of his mind, her nerves settled down.

The wine was probably helping as well. A maid came by and startled Fife when she leaned in to refill her glass.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Before they were captured, Raigryn had started to become so accustomed to their free communication that he had started to forget that it was still such a limitation for her. Fife couldn't freely join the conversation with the others.

A bit more wine and she would want to be more open and expressive, he was sure. A bit more wine than that and she would probably be falling asleep. She was not large enough to put away much wine.

"Fife has a pony, called Dusty. I think she might like him more than me," he said. Some memories were like a thread tying the panels of your life together. Seeing Fife caring for her pony each day was very much like that.

"I was once..." Raigryn caught himself. He was about to talk about his time with the Prince's cavalry in the western wars.

"...thought of as quite an accomplished rider."

 

[Fife]

"I think she might like him more than me."

Fife snickered and shook her head in disagreement. He wasn't wrong, however. Both man and pony were impatient and headstrong. Perhaps that was a trend. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Either way, Fife liking her grumpy pony was only good news for Raigryn.

She watched his correction over the rim of her glass. The others did not seem to notice, or at least gave no outward signs of noticing. Fife still frowned and set down her glass promptly to take offense at the past tense.

You are still a good rider, she said sternly, stringing together some roundabout signs. Fife was adamant, trying to cover up the odd twist in her ribs. He was still getting back on his feet; he would catch back up to where he had been before soon enough. If he wasn't going to be understanding of his need for patience, then she was.

"Oh my. It appears that the lady disagrees," Romelia chuckled. "Whether you are being sincere or modest, Fife will have the benefit of a good teacher." She nodded assuredly. "I do not know how you can bear to travel so. I do not think I could ride for a full day anymore! I am glad to let the young folk take my place."

Yeah right, she thought. Like Raigryn was ever going to be content with a settled life. Fife flashed him a warm smile. She understood, and because she did, she again shook her head in disagreement. His wandering curiosity was an important part of who he was. He would be sticking his nose into someone else's business until the day he died, and she was pretty damn sure of that. And, of course, where he went, she went.

Plus, he still had a lot of the world to show her. She was looking forward to that.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"We've been travelling quite a lot recently," Raigryn said. "I've been trying to show Fife some of the places I've been to over the years, like the dwarven city of Belgrath. We've stayed in one place or another for a good long stay before.

"I suspect we will be staying in Oban for some time," he said, looking to Fife. He felt older and more frail after what had they had been through. He was still determined to show Fife some of the sights he had promised once he had regained some of his strength.

"We generally do some work as scribes to stay afloat wherever we go," he added, fishing for opportunities a little obviously.

 

[Fife]

Romelia hissed, a sound of distaste. At the mention of scribing, however, she perked up.

"Well I am confident you will find plenty of work. Oban, you know, is a very busy trade city, even in these winter months, and there are always people coming and going. I might also put out a word with several of my friends. Oh! I am having lunch with my mother and Muira Ysreff tomorrow, and neither of those old bats can read or write a wink. They can, however, talk, and quite a lot. I shall put their gossiping to good use for you, my dears."

Romelia laid a friendly hand on Fife's forearm. Her eyes followed the gesture as it drew near and she continued to stare at the hand briefly before looking up and doing her best to smile. She nodded and signed thank you. Which immediately prompted Romelia to look to Raigryn for a translation.

"How novel," she laughed. She copied the gesture and Fife nodded. Close enough.

"Have you ever been to tea, Fife?" Fife lowered her cutlery and raised her brows at Romelia in very clear confusion before shaking her head no. "That is easily remedied. Masselin's sister, Yvain, would be delighted to meet you. You must come -- that is, if Raigryn can spare you for an afternoon this week. We could take the air and walk the castle gardens. And you mustn't refuse on account of your wardrobe; my girls left plenty behind when they were married, and Lila and Ellen can have something taken in for you in a day. Winnie was always very small, though not nearly as small as you. Oh, and Aima had a blue dress that would look remarkable with your complexion."

She had no clue who Winnie and Aima were, but she smiled and nodded obediently. Romelia was absolutely glowing, and Fife wasn't going to be the one to take the wind out of her sails. She began to make plans about women and dresses she had (obviously) never heard of. Fife kept nodding and sipping her wine and went along with it.

Masselin shook his head and his attention settled on Raigryn while Romelia did her best to persuade Fife away for feminine escapades.

"If you are planning to stay in Oban for a while, I must invite the two of you to stay with us. An inn can be a great expense over an extended period and I would like to see you and Fife put up comfortably while you are here." One corner of his mouth curled up in mischief. "Before you think of refusing, I must warn you that my mother will not be easily dissuaded when she makes the same offer over dessert. She is very used to getting her way, as nobles are."

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"Oh, you have no need to put out the word in our behalf!" Raigryn protested. He did not put much effort into making it seem genuine. Regardless of whether it was the intended outcome, he made it politely clear he would be grateful for work thrown their way.

High society was a game he hadn't played much recently. A game of not saying what you mean. The ever-growing merchant classes had been his main source of income in more recent years.

I don't think I can get you out of this! Raigryn signed to her, trying to keep his expression neutral. He didn't know what Masselin's sisters would be like. Fife hadn't spent much time with other women since their time with the Idemni. They were certainly not the embodiment of femininity that could be expected in parts of Oban high society. It would be a nice change for her. It would definitely be a change for her.

"It wouldn't be fair for us to impose," Raigryn said to Masselin. This time he was more genuine in his response. Whatever coin it could save, he was content with himself and Fife having some space and privacy to themselves.

 

[Fife]

Couldn't help her? More like wouldn't! Fife resolved that maybe he did deserve to sleep on his own after all. He had summarily thrown her to a rabid wolf and stood at a safe distance to watch her encounter with it. The betrayal this evening was quite evident, though harmless.

She was, however, in a delightful mood. Raigryn was happy, Masselin and Romelia were beyond happy, and Fife was slowly getting back into the same pleasant mood after her mental stumble. The pleasantries were augmented by the wine making her very warm and fuzzy, and more food than she could swing a stick at. Romelia continued to pull Fife in on plans for this or that, only briefly pausing to look to Fife and ask if she would join her. She nodded, eager to please and not wanting to let her down.

Masselin shook his head. "You would not be imposing. This home once housed almost a dozen people, and my mother has been suffering an empty nest which I have yet to fill back up. Plus, it sounds as though you will have cause to visit us often during your visit to Oban." But he resumed his meal without any further pressing. "Should you change your mind, the offer remains open."

He threw a covert glance to the two women before leaning in surreptitiously.

"You are still going to share some of those stories about Fife, though?"

Raigryn did not get a chance to answer.

"What are you two conspiring about?" Romelia asked. Masselin sat up straight and flashed her a handsome smile.

"I was just telling Raigryn that we are going to have to find something in common to entertain while you ladies are off on so many adventures. I don't want him to be bored in Fife's absence."

---

A glass of wine later, Fife was starting to flag. They had finished their dinner -- complete with an almond and vanilla pudding thing for dessert -- and retired to the sitting room for drinks and talking. Romelia and Masselin were still going strong, clearly far more accustomed to staying up after nightfall, but Fife knew that if she was starting to wear out, then Raigryn must also be getting tired as well.

Plus she was more than a little drunk. Romelia's wine didn't hold any punches. It had been so deceiving, sweet and smooth. She had thought she was safe, drinking something more akin to juice than the coarse beverages she had occasionally partaken of in random taverns across the world.

Wrong. How Romelia had drunk so much more than her and still looked so capable and steady was baffling Fife.

As a happy roll of laughter quieted down, Fife's attention settled on Raigryn. All eyes were on her as her hands lifted from her lap. They offered Fife the same attention as if she were speaking on her own.

We should go home, she told him. Then, with cheeks flushed a constant pink, she smiled warmly. This had been a good night. She was happy to leave off here and pick it up again in two days when Romelia's plans would bring them back. A bed was calling on the other end of a leisurely through the brisk evening air.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

It was always the standing up. It wasn't the wine. It was standing up and walking into a different room. It had some magical power to really make you feel the alchocol.

Eating food, he had thought he had carefully moderated his wine. It was a reminder of a period of time that was a haze occupying a space in his memories. He was starting to think it was a relief for him, one that Fife couldn't share.

A few times during the evening he remembered that scrap of paper. Even if he couldn't remember much of that time, he knew he hadn't been offered much wine and that he was still recovering.

Still, a stumble down the front stairs was amusing enough to Masselin and Romelia. She had to be dissuaded from making one of the household staff accompany them on their walk.

"So...we like wine more than dwarven ale then?" he said, frowning as his feet betrayed him. They didn't know the way home on their own and were rudely interrupting his thoughts to ask for directions.

Raigryn wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew in a deep breath, hoping the cold air would bring a touch of sobriety.

"What did you think of the offer of staying with 'em?" he picked out, from the many offers and bargains the Lady of the house had maneuvered them through.

 

[Fife]

An intoxicated stumble home was new. Fife was grateful for the arm looped around her shoulders, both as something to help steady her and as something to hang onto him.

She nodded in agreement. Yes. Wine was much better than dwarven ale. She couldn't drink much more, but she felt like she got to participate longer, holding her apparent otherness at bay for a little while longer. His second question was not as easily answered.

Fife set them on the path home, still a strong navigator when she was inebriated, and gave the invitation a long pondering.

R o o m s, she said, emphasizing the part of the spelling that made that offer a plural. Signing while drunk was a little harder. It did not flow quite as naturally. But Romelia had said the word plural every time, which meant Fife and Raigryn sleeping apart for propriety.

More days here. After, go there? A compromise. They spent all their time together. A little stint of separate rooms wouldn't be so bad, would it?

She took a moment to pause in the light of a brazier. Capturing his hand to keep his arm around her, she turned in his embrace to stand closer to him, front to front. Was he always this tall? Was his face always so far away from hers?

You are in trouble. Fife's stern pout did not last long. She smiled, but she was clearly up to no good. You-- She walked two fingers up his chest before tapping his sternum and pointing up at him. -- are lucky. I am happy. I do not want to sleep alone.

Fife gave him a look that she had not given him in a long time. Or, perhaps, it only felt like a long time to her. Her hand settled over his once more and she stepped back, putting air between them while keeping the leading hand on her shoulder. She tugged him along down the street, a little more ambition in her short strides.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"I didn't tell any stories..." he started to protest. That look brought it to a sharp end. He tried to mentally replay the night. She had called on Desire to demonstrate her magic, but it was too long ago to still be clouding her judgement.

They had never really talked about capturing and using that Aspect. It was both an easier and more difficult conversation because her their relationship. No, this was just Fife and a good helping of liquid confidence.

A while flurry of emotions followed that look. They flowed from him without restraint. He let Fife draw him along for a few strides. She was forced the tug on his hand until he sped up to draw alongside her.

The grin on his face washed away some of the years that the months long stupor had put upon him.

They couldn't reach the inn quickly enough. When they drew up alongside the warmly lit windows he tugged back on her hand, making her turn to face him. Raigryn loomed tall over her, his hand settling on her waist.

The door hand turned behind Fife. He stopped whatever he had been planning. Raigryn made an exaggerated show of smoothing out his expression. He looked stern, imperious, for the journey across the open inn. Just a short journey left.

 

[Fife]

It was one thing for Fife to tease him. Obviously things were easier to be confident about when she was the one in control of the sway of her emotions. But as they arrived at the inn, Raigryn pulled Fife to a stop and spun her around. The world swam. Her heart ticked nervously and she held her breath as his hand fell to her waist to pull her closer. This was very different. She had no control over his actions, and no control over the wild flutter in her stomach.

The look he gave her was probably just a reflection of her own, but it made her legs even more unsteady. It was a look she had not seen in a while.

The door opening behind her was almost a relief. Fife stepped back, not doing a very good job at seeming inconspicuous. It was her turn to follow Raigryn on the final march through the inn's hall. She returned to his side when they reached the steps, however, no more confident in her own ability to traverse them alone than his.

She was snickering in her soft, airy way by the time they reached the top. It called back several unsteady trips up stairs, leaning heavily on the rail while Raigryn did his best not to make fun of her (too much). It made a new memory, leaned in under his arm as the mismatched pair navigated the steps unsteadily together.

She was well gone, the walk having done little to sober her up and only making her more silly as she grew tired. Fife fiddled with the lock, inserting the key upside down before righting it. Their rooms were chilly and Fife quickly closed and locked the door behind them. She fumbled around in the dark to find his hand and pulled him toward their shared bedroom. He definitely wasn't sleeping alone tonight for his treason, if only because Fife wanted to soak up his body heat.

But it was a bit more than that. A hush fell over her mind, and her emotions quieted to the low, subtle hues of blue that had chased her home. It was no longer warmth like candle wax and sunshine. Rather, it was as deep and resounding as the sea. Fife's hands beckoned him to follow, to come closer, and her mind invited him to wade into the shallows of the floodgates she opened.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Raigryn followed. His feelings had been a live work of art in progress, not a finished painting. Colours had danced and shifted, telling a different story. Not bound by the rigors of sober sensibilities.

He reached out for her hand, finding an anchor in that simple contact. It was dark in here. The hubbub of the Inn below a quiet rumble through the floor. That painting finally found form in the focus that came from stripping away distractions.

Her hand was already cold in his own. He grasped it tightly. There was a difference between removing the shields around his mind and deliberately opening up his feelings to hers. The feedback loop closed between two empathic minds. Raigryn drew her hand up to his lips, but instead of kissing her fingers he gently nipped at her skin.

There was no need for any light for her to sense his smile. Raigryn took in a breath. And he waited. She did not need to speak or to sign to let him know what she wanted. That was what he wanted. For her to make that expression. Not a railroad he set out for Fife to follow. She could be bold when she wanted to.

 

[Fife]

He was playful, but his reciprocation was a question. Always. He came to the threshold and asked to be invited in. That had been intimidating at first -- still was a little -- but Fife knew that she could trust him, that her invitation could be withdrawn at any point and he would not be angry with her.

A grace she might need. Reason fleetingly answered, warning her that she had shied away from this once already in these rooms, and for good reason. She didn't want to take advantage of his ignorance or his unsteady state of mind. She did not want to look back at this with regret. She did not want him to think less of her.

Loneliness and that terrible ache for what they had had before came in much louder. It was an acute agony, having him so close yet so far from her. It would be easy to pull him across the threshold and pretend like they were the same. So easy. Her hesitation and worry were as evident as her desire and longing. It was complicated. It was simple.

In her mind, the moment she took to consider her course of action lasted forever. In reality, it was only a few seconds before Fife's free hand traversed the darkness to find his chest. It followed the curve of his shoulder and cupped the back of his neck. A gentle pressure drew his head down toward her and Fife lifted up on her toes to meet him halfway. Her body pressed gently against his and her lips effortlessly found his in the dark, his freshly trimmed whiskers tickling her nose and cheek.

One more night, she told herself. One more night and then she would tell him.

 

[Fife]

(cough)​

Her one more night was over.

Fife opened her eyes to the glare of the morning sun. She squinted against its light with a loathsome scowl and rolled over, wriggling under the blanket to hide her face against Raigryn's side. She had a mild hangover and she could feel the thrum of her heartbeat between her sensitive eyes. Romelia's wine hadn't seemed that strong when she'd been drinking it. Scooting closer to Raigryn, she stretched her arm across his torso to borrow his warmth while she slept in a little longer.

Her arm met skin. Lying there with her eyes closed and thinking about that, she realized that the leg coiled around his was also against skin. As was her belly.

Her eyes opened suddenly and she very quickly took stock of her state of undress. And Raigryn's. No, no, no no no! She tried not to wake him as she unraveled herself from his embrace and her mind frantically ran through the evening before. Sure enough, she remembered plenty. Mostly she remembered decisions her wine had made that, at the time, had felt harmless. Today they felt like gross violations of Raigryn’s trust.

I won't leave you alone. Never again.

She felt like she had cheated at a game and he hadn't suspected a thing. If she didn't feel so damn guilty, she could have gotten away with it. But she was guilty. She hadn't meant to complicate this any worse than it already was.

Great work, Fife, she silently scolded herself as she stepped out from under the blankets. It was fucking frigid in the room; they had had no fire and no bed warmer -- aside from their drunken shenanigans. She looked around the floor for their discarded clothing and quietly started to dress herself. A moment later she paused to look down at herself and sigh. A bath in the basin on the vanity was going to take courage, but it was necessary.

She let Raigryn sleep. She vaguely recalled his indecision on how he wanted to be awakened this morning, but she figured that if her head hurt, then he was going to wake up miserable. It wasn't like she was going to follow through with his other suggestion.

Instead, she sat at the desk in the other room and quietly scratched at the paper she had hidden. After a very frustrating hour, she crumpled it up and stuffed it in her pocket to go check on Raigryn. The sun was well above the city rooftops. Hangover or not, he would not sleep much longer, and she didn't want him to wake up alone. Fife sat down gently beside him and reached over to rub his shoulder.

Raigryn? Good morning, she whistled, the notes as sweet as the birds outside their window.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"Hmnph, you're up," he said, decided to speak the obvious.

He opened his eyes. He very quickly scrunched them shut.

How much wine?

He hadn't even drunk that much. The problem was that he had been stone cold sober but for Steel Coin poisons for a few months. That, and he wasn't getting younger.

The throbbing behind his eyes wasn't going to stop any time soon. Food would help. Raigryn slowly sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist.

"Good morning Fife," he said softly.

He knew what he had done. He knew full well she had asked for a stay until they had this confession she was struggling to put to paper. He had violated that.

He wouldn't apologise. Not yet, anyway. Right now it seemed that the worst thing he could do was make this even more of a thing than it might already be. She was struggling. Raigryn still felt a sharp pang of guilt.

"Think we can get some food downstairs," he said as he rose.

 

[Fife]

Feeling awkward wasn't exactly new between them, but she still didn't like it. There was always something to wriggle its way in and steal the open comfort they periodically shared. He sat up and she politely turned her face away, color warming her cheeks. She didn't look back until he was moving as if to stand. Fife placed a hand on his shoulder and shook her head

Rest. I can get it. She was still stalling as much as fussing. Fife smiled and stood up. Hide from the sun.

Much more bossy with her growing sense of independence, she did not give him the option to argue. She ignored any protests he might raise and quickly crossed into the other room to get her jacket and boots and conveniently ran away from Raigryn.

Fife returned a little while later with two bowls and one mug of coffee. She held the bowls with her sleeves pulled over her hands to protect her from their heat. The handle of the mug disappeared into one of the sleeves. Setting their breakfast down on the table, she peered through the doorway to check on Raigryn and whistled his name. It was cool this morning, so she opted to keep the jacket on.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Raigryn didn't have the will to argue against her, particularly when he really did want a few more minutes before dealing with sunlight and verticality.

Whilst Fife was downstairs he took his time to get dressed. Every movement was slow and deliberate. It amused him to think that he had been in this state from the poison and now he had voluntarily returned to this state by drinking some himself.

"That is very kind of you," he said, after looking up to her and past her to the bowls.

"How is your head feeling?" he asked. If she signed 'fine' he was going to feel just a little bit of resentment.

 

[Fife]

He did not need to thank her, but that went without saying. She simply nodded, a catch-all gesture. When asked if she was hungover, she wobbled her hand.

My eyes hurt. Not much. She thought a little camaraderie in their mutual suffering, though unequal, would be more reassuring; if the 20-something was having a rough go, then perhaps the 40-something could feel a little less miserable.

She waited to watch him stand, making sure he was good to walk without a shoulder to lean on. Fife wasn't in a hurry. Breakfast was still hot, an porridge with some kind of dried berries in it. It smelled a little sweet and spiced. She cupped the bowl loosely to warm her hands and didn't begin eating until he was seated. Only then did she push the coffee toward him like some kind of peace offering.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

He tried not to give away that it pleased him to know that she was suffering just a little. Romelia kept some particularly drinkable wine in her cellar. He assumed she had a cellar anyway.

Raigryn reached out to take the cup. He reached beyond the cup to her hand. It was cheating, but he made contact with a gentle brush against the outside of her knuckles. Anything to resume a little connection. A little normality.

He didn't feel like eating, but he knew that it would make him feel better to get something inside him.

"Were they dropping the sword and scabbard off today?" he asked her. He needed a little break after a few sppns of porridge. His stomach wasn't bothering him at least; he hadn't drunk that much.

 

[Fife]

She didn't shy away from his touch. Rather, her fingers unfurled gently to meet his palm, a comfort as simple as his own.

Fife watched his progress like a hawk, as diligent in her care today as always. He was still recovering, and while she was finally more optimistic that he was getting back to normal, she had seen him stumble and relapse. She silently reckoned the bites he took and matched his pace. When his hand came down for a rest, Fife glanced up.

A question she liked. It had a simple answer. She nodded.

Writing box came. Very nice. You will like it.

Poking in a couple of quick bites, Fife hopped out of her chair and crossed the room to the desk. She returned with a quill, the inkwell, and a piece of parchment, which she arranged to the left of her bowl but well away from any potential porridge spills. She opened the ink, dipped the quill, and wrote.

I have been practising. I'm not very fast yet and I don't know how to use comas. My spelling is probobly bad too. Sorry.

Fife sat up and turned the page around for him with a sheepish smile. Her growth under Lawrence's thumb had not all been bad. Mostly it was bad, but like the rest of her life before Raigryn, she tried to find the small ingots of good that would sustain her.