Private Tales Scorched Earth

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Did she want separate rooms? Fife frowned. What a terrible notion! To sleep apart because he had kissed her! He had kissed her lots, it wasn't new nor was it a reason to send him to a whole other room. She shook her head.

Never, she signed firmly. A moment later her mind actually caught up and she blushed, a shock of red that gave her away in an instant. She was never as reserved or confident as he was. More catty, however, she turned and marched indignantly back to what would presumably be their shared room, flipped back the quilts, and laid down without blowing out the candle or looking back.

She couldn't speak and still she managed to always say too much. At least he had any consolation to any concerns about the content of their conversation and her feelings. Fife pulled the blankets up over her burning face.
 
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Raigryn grimaced, but his mind reached back into memories that still felt a little hazy. His entire power ran from emotions, his own and those he had taken.

He would never have been as devious as the Order as to think an Empath's power could have been stripped by taking them beyond the point of balance and into emptiness.

He remembered arguing with Fife over her training and what had followed. He felt a little warmth of his own as he left the tub. He stood and dripped dry for a few moments.

He dried himself thoroughly and combed his hair back so it didn't tangle overnight. He couldn't remember a time when it had been this long, particularly at the back. He found the nightshirt when he had dried off. They had more belongings to replace still. Raigryn wanted to stay on the move and packed lightly for a bit.

Raigryn followed after Fife. "Shift up," he said quietly with a smile as he moved the sheets to make himself room.
 
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Fife moved over to make room for him and her head emerged from beneath the top of the blanket. Lying facing his side, she watched him. The beds were narrow, clearly not intended for two, but neither had many of the other beds they had shared in the past been.

Not that she minded. She only took up a little space, wriggling up against his side and settling her head on his shoulder. Her thin arm reached across his body to hold him tightly.

The sound of his heart was faint but sure. It was calming. It was a reminder that though things might be complicated and difficult, he was still here. There was still the chance that things would be right again. This, like his apathy, was only temporary -- an obstacle that hurt now but would pass.
 
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Raigryn tilted his head, close to straining his neck, to place a kiss upon her head. She had always been so small beside him, but he hadn't felt her weight like this for some time.

There were some harsher corners to her, but she was still particularly small and light. He had to wonder if there was a touch of halfling in her bloodline somewhere.

"Sleep well."

He did.

He often didn't on an unfamiliar bed. He had always slept more easily under the stars than the first night at a new inn. Every new creek and footstep usually roused him. Tonight he rested easily.



Their room had a single window and it unfortunately faced east. Raigryn tried several times to hide from the dawn rays beneath the blanket but it didn't work.

When he started to wake he remembered that it wasn't a very early rise anyway. He didn't want to miss breakfast now his appetite was matched by his ability to keep food down.
 
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She did not sleep well often. Nights free of the plague of her nightmares were few and far between. Sometimes, however, those islands of respite came. Fife had not slept so well since before the Steel Coin, before they had departed from the library and its mysterious librarian. For one evening, she did not startle awake in a cold sweat, heart racing and mind scrambling in fear.

Fife only roused because Raigryn did. Her limbs felt heavy and her head was stuffed full of goose down. Sleeping -- actually sleeping -- through the night left her feeling sore and disoriented. She was not accustomed to it. Was she rested or was her body and mind desperately begging her to make up for years of neglect?

She turned to look groggily at Raigryn before lifting her tousled head from the pillow to squint at the window. It was well past dawn, beyond the usual hours she rose for the day. Raigryn was always slow in the mornings, and their day's itinerary was not laden with a thing that could not wait an hour or two more. Fife laid her head down and wriggled closer to her much warmer companion and dipped back into light dozing.

When Raigryn finally began to wake up for good, she reluctantly did the same. Fife sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. With a long, feline stretch, she padded over to the window to open it.

Outside, Oban was already busy and lively. After having ridden for weeks in the grand, open spaces of nature, town life seemed so… so noisy. She leaned out to look around and take in the view, then returned with a good morning whistle.

What first? she asked. She smiled and set off toward their saddlebags and their clothes. You lead, I follow. Always.
 
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Returning to bed and asking for them to bring up some cheese and bread was at the front of his mind, but he cast that motion aside.

He rolled his shoulders back and winced as something popped. He has always been on the move and so being sedentary for so long had taken a toll. Perhaps it was more accurate to say riding had taken the toll after his body had acquired a taste for sitting still.

"Breakfast. Well, we have missed breakfast. Food. Then we get some scribing tools and then I get a trim."

Raigryn gave her a few minutes to change before heading out after her.

"Oban is particularly safe. Even if there are some petty thieves around the worse districts you'd give them a shock," he explained. "But we need to get you a fitting for your scabbard at the belt. It's considered rude here to have a sword across your back."

"Or is that..." he grimaced in frustration and looked off to the middle distance. "...no, no that is here."
 
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Food was always an agreeable place to start. Having the order of the day established, she dressed appropriately. She chose not the boyish riding clothes she had been wearing since they'd made their escape. Rather, she withdrew a brown and green ensemble that fit her in a way that didn't try to mitigate the subtle curve of her form, but rather seemed cut to draw the eye to it.

She had untied her braid and had begun combing it out with her fingers when he trailed off. Fife turned back and watched him grappling with his memory. That hurt, picking at a wound that had barely scabbed over.

She reached out for the simple gesture of smiling and giving his arm a gentle squeeze. Don't worry. It's okay. Words said without sign or speech, but said nonetheless. She wasn't planning on wearing her sword out. If there was trouble, she was just as good with a knife these days. As emphasis to this reassurance, she hoisted her dagger from her pack, fastened it to her belt, and patted it with a mischievous grin.

Allowing him to dress with a measure of privacy, she took her comb and went to look in the mirror and enjoy its novelty as she combed and plaited it anew. She put on her hood to ward off the chill and (setting aside her pride) dragged a chair over to the mirror to stand up and see her full reflection in. It was odd, seeing what she looked like for herself. It certainly made her wonder more what Raigryn saw in her that she didn't.

Satisfied that she looked unlike her usual self, she hopped down to put the chair back and slip on her boots.
 
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Don't worry. It's okay. Words said without sign or speech
Raigryn gave a slow nod and smile in response. It was frustrating, but he knew this couldn't be a door he walked through. Dark on one side and a green garden on the other.

Downstairs there was little complaint about fetching some food for them. There was more of a raised eyebrow at their tardiness than fulfilling requests. It was quiet downstairs. Those here on business from other cities were probably off and at work already.

"Do you want to see if we can see the gryphon on our way around?" he asked Fife as he washed down his meal with a light ale. The staff had given him the names of some places to look for ink, quills and paper.

"I wouldn't mind the walk."
 
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Breakfast was a simple affair, though nothing was going to measure up to last night's dinner, ever. She tucked into her meal with her usual single-mindedness and only looked up when Raigryn spoke to her at the end of his own meal.

Fife nodded and smiled, also amiable to the idea of a good walk. She was more idle in the road than she was used to. A little trek to stretch her legs would be as good for her as for him. The prospect of seeing gryphons, of course, only added to its appeal.

She finished her find and drank the last of met mug's contents, then wiped her face and hopped up with an eager bounce in her steps. The weather was nice, they both were in good spirits, and they had escaped capture this far. It was going to be a lovely day of easy tasks and relaxation -- something they were sorely overdue for before she muddied it with talk.

That, however, was a problem for tonight's Fife. This morning's Fife laid down the coin for their meal and fell in place at Raigryn's side for a little promenade about Oban.
 
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Once they set out Raigryn flowed quite easily back into his old self. There were long pauses as he gathered his thoughts, but it was a side of him she hasn't seen for some time - other than the day before.

"...Things to note: it's rare to see women on their own. They're normally in a family group or with husbands. It's not exactly illegal, but frowned upon."

It wasn't perfect but given that she couldn't communicate with nine of ten residents it was safer to stay closer whilst she learned what the place was about anyway.

"The city has absolute fantastic, bustling markets. Now we can probably walk to sea walls too. There are amazing cliffs - which you cannot climb without looking like a spy - but we will definitely see riders there.

"We might not see many around or we...might see them everywhere..."

As they turned the corner the dispersed flow of people were pressed into one half of the street. The other half, in a pleasant sun trap, was a sleeping griffin.
 
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Listening to Raigryn heralded back to some of their very first adventures. He had more to say now than he had the last few weeks, which was refreshing and reassuring. She absorbed everything he said, but tried not to get caught smiling at him. She was happy. This was such a mundane thing, but she had only ever reached for normalcy.

Fife was not sure how she felt about it, not very worldly or traveled enough to know if her thoughts were progressive or conservative, but she was not keen on Oban's ideas about women. Easily bypassed for her, but not for others who might be less androgynous. A curiosity she could probe him about later. For now, she was happy to listen as he meandered along.

It was amusing that he warned her she couldn't climb anything -- as if she were going to go at the first opportunity. As for gryphons…

They rounded a corner and there one was. Fife came to a full stop, completely startled when it came into view. She gasped and staggered toward Raigryn to cling to his arm. Her heart sped and her breath faltered. It was real! An actual, real gryphon napping in the sun like an oversized cat. She made a feeble sound as her senses fled and pure excitement replaced them.
 
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"I guess right here will do. Sort of detracts from the whole splendour of the magnificent creature and the build up but yes, there is a cat bird," Raigryn said. He didn't even realised he spoken the direct translation of the sign.

The griffin had white feathers and dark bronze fur. It was the more common colouring you could see.

"They're supposed to be quite intelligent," he continued, leading them closer. Two men dressed in typical Allirian garb had already stopped to stare. "Just don't go too close."

He imagined that a startled Griffin could bite a few fingers off easily enough. Raigryn was watching her rather than the magnificent creature as they walked.
 
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She could hardly believe it! It was one thing to see one way off in the distance, naught but a smudge against the great blue sky, but it was something else to see the beast lounging about. Napping! A gryphon napping in the street!

The Allirians were not the only ones gawking. The girl from Elbion held tight to Raigryn’s arm, as if the thing might leap up and take a swipe at them like a riled tomcat -- and Fife believed it very well might at any moment.

There was no worry of her getting much closer. She was already lingering behind him as he drew her closer and was very glad when their progress stopped. She marveled at it from that distance. A nervous smile crept across her features and she spared Raigryn only a glance, a quick one.

It was a very beautiful thing, white like the prettiest pigeons and a tawny gold like a wild cat. Wverything about it was just as yhe stories described it, from the point of its beak to the tuft of hair at the tip of its tail. Her smile widened and she covered it with a hand, quite unable to hide her awe. A real gryphon! It was the stuff of fairy stories and books. Then again, magic was real and she used it, so was it really so strange to accept?

Somehow the living and breathing gryphon seemed much more fantastical than her simple existence. Fife finally pried her eyes away to look up at Raigryn.

How smart is it?
 
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"That is a good question," he said, rubbing his beard. "They say that the gryphon choose the human riders. I have seen very intelligent cats and birds in my time. Very stupid ones too."

The gryphon half opened an eye and Raigryn was certain it looked at him.

"I don't want to attract too much attention but we could try and ask one of the riders around the city?"
 
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Smart enough to choose its own rider? She glanced between Raigryn and the mythical beast, then jumped with a great shiver when it opened its eye and looked at them. It was exciting and wonderful and perhaps a dream she hadn't known she'd had come true, but it was also very intimidating.

Fife nodded, though gave his arm a subtle push to urge him along their way. She continued to look over the creature as they walked by, her eyes still wide with awe and her hands still bunched up in his sleeve. As always, she had a gnawing hunger for the unknown. Reminded of their unlucky past and being thrown into lessons feet first, however, she decided she wanted this knowledge from a safe distance.
 
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Raigryn might have laughed, but something made him feel that the gryphon wouldn't be pleased if it thought someone was laughing at it.

He led them on from there towards the markets. He was following the directions from the inn, but his feet seemed to remember some of these streets better than he did.

The market square was already bustling. Great streamers of all colours fluttered and snapped audibly in the wind. He didn't immediately see the layer she probably did. The world under the world, the hungry and desperate watching from the walls above or side alleys.

Raigryn saw a stand with writing tools, but he turned his head at the sound of an anvil. Swords were more exciting than quills.
 
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She watched the gryphon as long as she could before the crowd blocked it from her sight, and even then she continued to turn back and check on it until they were several street corners beyond it. Every time she would smile sheepishly up at Raigryn. She did not unlink her arm from his, though her hands did finally relax and smooth the wrinkled sleeve.

Oban was a very pretty city, and the market they made their way to was an example of commerce and diversity. Fife's senses were all quite busy taking it all in. There was chatter in many accents, the scent of sweat and spices and the sea mingled on the wind, and the stalls were brightly decorated to draw eyes to their variety of wares.

She did see the layer beneath almost immediately. It was second nature to look at a place like this and see opportunities and competition. Her gaze slid past the merchants and townsfolk to those who moved between. They were almost invisible, pushed out to the very edges of society to keep their dirty smudge from ruining the pretty market. But she saw them, knew their plight -- and knew that her pity didn't help them. Nor would it prevent their fingers from dipping into her pockets.

She caught sight the stand they were looking for, but she also noticed his head turning toward the sound of a hammer striking. Fide did a poor job of biting back her grin. She whistled his name rather than poke him to gently draw his focus down to her.

Writing first. Sword second. It was like assuring a child that they could have cake, but only after they ate their vegetables.
 
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"Alright, alright," he replied in a jovial tone. He had never been one to need finery in a sword or armour. He was a practical man and a battle mage whose abilities were not dampened by steel. He was comfortable with a wide range of weapons and armors and was happy with well forged and balanced steel.

Raigryn stood still for a few seconds, soaking in the atmosphere. There was a miz of scents from downwind. Another market square nearby was starting to cook a range of flavours.

It was not all he soaked up. There was emotion here of almost every aspect. A city was the perfect place to recover his aspects. The magic was like training for a long run. Each day you could run further and further. Not using his magic seriously for some time meant that his capacity for his power had atrophied as well.




"A full set?" the vendor repeated, looking suddenly pleased. It was a stand not well visited. There would be no more than a few hundred people who could read or write.

"Indeed, but I'm certain you can provide a modest discount. Especially given my luck. An old man deprived of my work by petty thieves and..."

"Yes, yes fine. Five off."

Raigryn laughed. The game of bartering with merchants was always amusing for a short time but quickly became tedious.

"Which case?" he asked Fife as he looked across the leather bags.
 
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Fife perused the writing utensils with a mild curiosity while Raigryn took care of business. She could have fumbled her way through it, but it was better that he had gotten to choose it all for himself. She was still new to writing and wouldn't have known what weight of paper he liked or if he had a preference for feather quills or metal nibs. She paid attention now, however, even if she appeared not to.

A voice in the din caught her attention. She turned to look back at the crowd with a furrowed brow, her dark eyes scanning for the source of it. She must have been mistaken; she thought she had recognized a voice but that was impossible.

When he turned to her for her input, Fife looked a little confused before realizing that he was asking her. She quickly looked over the choices. He had not seen her overthinking her options on her last forray into a market, but he got to see her panicked frown this time as she looked at the merchant's selection.

Fife's eyes lingered on a reddish one with leafy patterns, but ultimately pointed to one with simple tooled lines and stained a rich mahogany that was almost black. It was entirely different from his last one. She glanced up at Raigryn questioningly, clearly not very confident in her selection. Choices like these were still a recent addition to her life, and not as often flexed as her burgeoning language and expression.
 
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"That one will do just fine," he replied. "If you could add another inkwell actually..." he added to the stall owner.

Fife needed to spend some time writing and they would each need one of their own to avoid spilling ink on clean paper.

"Do you know anyone who might need a scribe?" he asked, hopefully.

"Not directly. Fillies Waarn has an office near the Eastern Bank and might need a another pair of hands. There is talk of war out in Cortos so lots of letters rising out. I'll get this all sent to your Inn."

Raigryn gave a slow nod. Going searching for work would be a task for another day. He didn't know many people around the city important enough to need much writing.

"Right then, time to confuse everyone by going from the ink seller to looking at swords?" he said to Fife. He looked about ten years younger when he let the mischief find a home in the corner of his eye.
 
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If he didn't like her choice, he didn't express it. He finished his business, inquired after work, and arranged for their things to be sent to the inn. It was the same professionalism she'd seen him conduct himself with dozens of times in dozens of cities and villages. Fife stole a glance up at him, relished in seeing him be himself again.

There was that laugh again and Fife looked over her shoulder once more. Her mouth drew down into a frown and her brows tangled over her searching eyes. There was no one in the crowd that she recognized, no way to pinpoint the source of a single laugh in a busy market.

She whipped her eyes back up to Raigryn when he spoke to her, once again startled from having her attention elsewhere. She nodded and smiled, piecing together what he'd last said to her.

There was a joke in there about which was mightier, the quill or the sword, but that wasn't a concept she could easily convey. Most of her jokes were left to ring in her own mind. It was still good to see him excited about something. She linked her arm with his once more and turned him toward the sound of the hammer and anvil, but allowed him to lead the way.
 
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Raigryn didn't know how good their steel was here. He often picked up swords that had been forged from cortosi steel. They had high quality alloys down in Cortos.

The sound of the anvil was enough to recognise the smith, but the sword and horseshoe sign hanging outside made it especially clear. They didn't have a name written; no one would have been able to read it.

Nhe wooden flaps were open but no merchanside was easily visible from the front, nor could he see anyone.

There was a small iron bell. Raigryn rang it. There were voices inside.

"We might have to wait if they are working iron," he said.

Were you watching the thieves? He asked in sign, having seen her distracted.
 
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They did not have to walk far. The sign denoting a smith was found easily enough. Raigryn rang the bell and Fife looked around. Her eyes kept scanning anxiously toward the crowd. She didn't understand how it was possible, yet her mind kept cycling back to that voice, that laugh. It scratched some memory that she couldn't quite place.

Her attention moved to Raigryn's hands as he signed, as attentive to that as he was to her. She shook her head and made a dismissive gesture.

I thought I heard someone. A stupid thing to say, since there were dozens of voices ringing around them.

There were voices inside the forge and that laugh. Fife's head snapped up and her hands curled into tight fists. A shiver ran through her as that memory was brushed once more.

A voice that was familiar yet strange. Fife scarcely breathed beside Raigryn, her eyes peering into the dark of the forge. The silhouettes of two men slowly manifested out of the shadows within, both moving toward the door at the front, and Fife watched and listened with eyes as round as dishes. Every hair on her body stood on end. There was no way that she could recognize anyone from a place she had not been. And yet...

The door opened and the first thing that caught her eye was a flash of coppery hair like fire. It hung in a long, straight tail from high atop his head, smooth and shimmery as polished metal. His tall, broad back was facing them as he made his farewells to the older man. It was the older one who noticed them standing there and both turned toward Fife and Raigryn.

She sucked in a sharp breath, still not having exhaled, and stared in disbelief at a face she did recognize.

And he was staring right back, the handsome, familiar smile draining from his face in an instant.

"Kid, is that you?" he asked.

Fife's heart leapt strangely. It was him! The breath shuddered out of her and she let go of Raigryn to run toward the tall young man who took two long strides to her as well. Her eyes stung in spite of her growing smile and joy bubbled over like a font in her chest. As soon as they reached each other, she threw her arms around his neck and he wrapped his around her small waist.

"I can't believe it! It is you!" he laughed, but his voice was thick. He kept his face in her shoulder as he picked Fife up and swung her side to side. "And look at how tall you've grown!"

Tall was an exaggeration that was better applied to himself, as he was taller than Raigryn and her feet were well off the ground. Fife kicked her legs in protest and he put her down, but only to hold her at arm's length.

Fife was grinning from ear to ear. She pointed at him, then spaced her hands parallel to one another and raised one higher and higher above the other. He was much taller than she remembered, though the difference between them was more or less the same. She then took the liberty of reaching up to tug at the sparse, vibrant beard he was clearly trying and failing to grow. She scrunched up her face and shook her head, expressing how she felt about it.

"Hey now, be nice. I'm working on it." He covered Fife's hands, having bent slightly for her to even reach it, and stared at her with a look of wonder that she was sharing. His face had changed, and yet she still saw the boy who had been a part of her small world once upon a time. Too long in his youth, he had grown into the awkward features that were now angular, chiseled planes. For being a ginger, his complexion was a lovely gold and his eyes were hazel, the earth tones more orange in contrast to the deep green like seaweed.

He glanced past her and straightened abruptly, sniffing and wiping at his eyes. "You've got someone with you?"

Fife followed his gaze. Smiling, she took his hand and waved to Raigryn with a whistle of his name. She tugged the ginger with her, and he made a quick farewell to the smith as he was pulled away.

This is Masselin, she told Raigryn, spelling his name as best she could guess it and making the mood sign for excitement. We were kids in Elbion. I know him. Brother.

Masselin was watching the exchange, and only spoke when Fife finished. He gestured between her and Raigryn.

"He can understand you?" Fife nodded and her brother grinned. "This is amazing, kid. I am so happy for you. This is… I'm sorry. Forgive my manners, sir." He finally reached his hand toward Raigryn in greeting. "I'm Masselin. The kid and I grew up together in Elbion. I brought her up like my own sister."

He ruffled her hair and Fife hissed in laughter as she shoved his hand away from her hair. She couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop looking at him, but looked to Raigryn as if awaiting his approval. Her eyes shone with happy tears and her mind was radiant with unbridled happiness. This was the closest thing to family as she would ever have, and she had never dared to dream of a moment where she got to introduce him to one of them.
 
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A truly exceptional artist could combine colours to make something new. Not by mixing them beyond their original shades, but in placing them to make something better.

It was like that for Raigryn's feelings. He knew it was a weird mix that slowly grew as the scene unfolded before him. Just as with a painting, he would need to look more closely to understand the constituent parts were. It was very strange to see her even slightly physically comfortable with anyone else, let alone a hug.

Her excitement was infectious. He grinned and shook his head in disbelief. Never had he expected to meet someone from her past and especially outside of Elbion.

I cannot believe it, he signed as the smith reached for his hand. Partly he had chosen sign to demonstrate that he could, but the young man looked a little nervous.

"Oh, no I'm not mute too," Raigryn said, shaking the offered hand. He had guessed what Masselin might have been thinking.

"I learned to sign at the same time as Fife. It's a pleasure to meet you Masselin."

He had so many questions that they all seemed to jam the flow between his thoughts and his mouth.
 
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"Fife?" Masselinwas grinning. "That's your name? Did you pick it? Fife… Very good. It suits you, short stuff." Masselin had always been the best at making everything a question that could be answered with a simple yes or no. Her head was stuck bobbing in confirmation, but she was too happy to care if she looked ridiculous.

Fife finally peeled her eyes away from Masselin long enough to look to Raigryn. She could not remember the last time she had smiled this much. Her mind tipped a little too hard into her joy, but she was too full of the emotion to rein it back. A flick of her fingers was all that was needed to tell Raigryn how she felt.

Raigryn, on the other hand, looked a little lost for words. Not that she could blame him.

"Forgive me, I still can't believe you're here. What are you doing in Oban? Do you live here now or are you passing through?" Masselin shook his head and put his arm around Fife's narrow shoulders. They both turned to Raigryn.
 
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