Private Tales Snakes in the Garden

[Ivar]

"Married?" The questioned was echoed with no small amount of bewilderment as he shook his head. "No."

That had never really been an option for him, not even really a consideration. Back home such things were common enough for most people, but Ivar was not most people. His father's crimes had been held against him even after his passing.

"My fathers exile meant most women did not want to approach me, much less marry me." He said with a shrug.

In his early twenties Ivar had traveled south a few times, laid with girls his face and even been taken in by a Nordenfiir woman who had taken a particular liking to him. Yet marriage had never been in the cards for someone like him.

It wouldn't have been fair.

"Your secret is safe with me." He told her. "I don't tend to talk to many strangers anyway."

Ivar did not realize the irony of that statement.

 

[Sylvian]

When Sylvian noticed the sound of bewilderment in his voice, she smiled. "It appears to be something humans put a lot of value in," the elf thought out loud. The idea of marriage was valued among the elves too, but due to their endlessly long life spans their concept of eternal love and loyalty was simply...different.

"That's not fair." A frown crossed Sylvian's pretty face and when the human pointed out his fathers excile and how it affected his personal life, she vehemently shook her head. "Oh, that's not fair at all," she repeated and looked around, as if searching for someone else to blame. "Well," the Avariel shrugged and gave him a pat on his large back. "I think you would make a splendid husband!" Her lips curled into a grin. "In fact, I would totally get married to you if I didn't," she paused for a moment, clearly searching for the right words.

"What do you humans call it? Swing the other way?" A look of mischief in her eyes gave away that Sylvian Sinderion had no qualms about her preferences and as they continued walking down the dark path, the Avariel lifted her head up high and gave a satisfied growl when Ivar confirmed that he wouldn't dare rat her identity out to evil-minded people.

At this point, the happy-go-lucky angel had almost forgotten about the deadly curse that was creeping up her veins and slowly but steadily closed in on her heart.

 

[Ivar]

Ivar looked at the woman for a second with a curious raised eyebrow.

Such things were not exactly uncommon in Kjos, but nobody really cared there. People were with whomever they thought it was best to be with. Marriage was a binding of families, of lineages that stretched back generations. Whether both participants were male or female had never particularly mattered.

Adoption was common within the city of Kjos, family being far more than blood. That was how his friend Braum had found his family, his parents having found him on the side of a mountain as a child. "We don't have a word for it at home."

He told her.

"But it is common enough." Though he knew of a few cultures were such things would be...frowned upon. "Here though..."

Ivar looked up towards the inner-city. "I would be careful with such things. I have found the Southlands rather...closed minded."

At least some of them anyway.

 

[Sylvian]

He looked curious, a tad bit confused perhaps, but not surprised. The humans did not seem to mind much, at least most of them and although Sylvian all but carried her heart on her sleeve, the elf had enjoyed a number of fulfilling experiences since leaving Thyasari.

“I think so,” said the white haired and, with a quick nod, approved of his statement. “It is almost forbidden where I am from, although the elders are beginning to loosen up.” The winged folk struggled in breeding and thus, any kind of action that might decrease a female’s ability to bear a child was frowned upon – not that Sylvian cared much. She could not have children anyways, at least not with a partner of her own choice.

“There are a great many things that we do not have at home, things that mortals do much differently.”

The woman paused for a moment, then continued. “It’s a matter of location. I have been to places that were quite welcoming, where people paid no heed to my race.” Memories of the past rolled into her mind and Sylvian’s blue eyes grew a little wider as she recollected the events of those days. “I once walked into an inn in Maraan where almost everybody wanted to keep me company and stay with me for the night,” she explained and put on a bedazzled expression.

“They were such a friendly, welcoming bunch! What was that wonderful place called again?” She looked up, then snapped her fingers. “Oh, right! A brothel!”

 

[Ivar]

Ivar let out a laugh. "A brothel, eh?"

A deep, throaty chuckle, echoed after the laughter, his head shaking for a few seconds as a smile lingered upon his face.

"We can probably find one of those here too, all different sorts really." The idea of Sylvian hanging out in a brothel was amusing, though he was sure that she had likely also been robbed blind six ways from Sunday.

That was something he'd found to be a universal truth; don't trust brothel workers.

His head shook. "It's not all bad down here, just mo-"

Ivar found the words dying on his tongue as they rounded the street corner and came upon the building that they had robbed yesterday. What he saw was enough to stun him, and hopefully quiet Sylvian down for a few moments.

Instead of the half frozen ruin they had left yesterday, the building now was a pile of burn rubble. Torched to the ground with flames that must have been hotter than the sun.

"Did...did your magic do that?" Ivar asked quietly.

 

[Sylvian]

“Ah, yes.” The elf almost swooned at the mere thought of it. He laughed and naturally Sylvian joined him, not understanding what’s so funny of course – sometimes, she wasn’t as bright as she looked. “That is a fantastic idea,” she quickly agreed to his suggestion.

Although Sylvian had been on the continents for a while now, the avariel carefully stayed away from larger settlements and spent little time in cities. As much as she wanted to, the danger of being caught by hunters was real and while she wasn’t as much of a coward as the rest of her people, Sylvian greatly valued her life – and she wasn’t going to gamble with it.

“Oh, I would love that! And once you see how kind and forthcoming the staff are, you will never want to leave!”

She clapped her hands together, and the rosy gleam on her cheeks made her appear all the more innocent. That innocence did not fade when Ivar’s words became dry in his throat and she followed his glance to see that the building they had robbed just a day earlier had been burned to ashes.

“Oh dear,” she gasped and gently shook her head. “I did not, I couldn’t.” Her affinity lay with the element of ice after all. Sylvian didn’t burn buildings to the ground, she merely froze them over.

Suddenly very aware of the situation, the white haired maiden pulled on Ivar’s sleeve and nudged him back around the corner. “I don’t think this is a good place for us to be at right now. Besides, what about going shopping?"

 

[Ivar]

Ivar froze for a few seconds until he felt the tug of Sylvian's hand on his sleeve.

In all honesty through their conversation he had forgotten about their plan to go shopping for new clothes, and during his distraction had simply lead them back towards the building. It was a point that now seemed rather moot, especially considering what had happened the night before.

As the winged elf drew him into an alleyway Ivar looked back towards the ruined building. A dozen guards stood around the site, some with faces as stern as stone and others chatting among themselves. "We still should."

He said with quiet agreement.

"But..." Lips thinned.

A feeling of unease settled in his stomach, a press of the unlikely. Paranoia built, and he couldn't help but wonder what in the fuck was going on. That building had been a frozen husk the day before, now it was a pile of cinders.

"Something is going on here." Ivar told his companion quietly.

 

[Sylvian]

The elf stood quiet. She did not like the way her companion reacted and although Sylvian always tried hard not to worry – especially not in her current predicament – a knot formed in her stomach when the avariel noticed the unease in his eyes.

“Maybe,” the female began and brushed a long strand of white hair out of her face. “Just maybe someone noticed that these guys were giving us trouble and, by the kindness of their hearts, killed them all to assist us.” Sylvian gave Ivar a weak smile. Besides, isn’t this what humans preached all the time? Altruism and benevolence?

He was staring blankly and Sylvian reached for his sleeve and began dragging him into the opposite direction, towards the busier streets of Alliria. “Lets go shopping after all, I’m sure we will be able to over hear some of the gossip while we are at it,” she suggested and pulled the hood deeply into her face.

“News like that spread like wildfire after all.”

 

[Ivar]

He glanced down towards the Mark that Sylvian was concealing.

If someone had killed everyone inside that building it would not in fact be helpful for them. Whatever had cursed the winged woman they had no knowledge of, and she had made it clear that going to the College was not something she wanted.

Lips thinned for a brief moment as he was about to argue, but when she mentioned the news spreading he knew that she was right. If there was one thing he had learned about the Southrons it was the fact that they liked to talk.

All of them. "Alright."

Ivar said with a nod of his head.

Within just a minute they found themselves down the street, a bustling market with open stalls and lines of clothes, food, and everything else one could ever imagine. Alliria was the greatest merchant city on Arethil, if one looked hard enough it was easy to find anything.

"Where do we start?" He asked, deferring to her expert opinion.

 

[Sylvian]

The streets of Alliria were filled to the brim with people. The citizens of the southern parts of the continent were still gloomy compared to what Sylvian was used to–that being her own, cheerful personality–but not as grim as Ivar tended to come across as.

“Over there,” she replied and pointed the tall man towards what appeared to be a boutique. Well, a clothing store. Nothing here really compared to the silken elven garments Sylvian was used to, but she figured that this was exactly the point they were trying to make anyways and such she led Ivar inside.

The owner of the small establishment was an elderly lady who eyed both of them with significant suspicion before allowing them in. Naturally, the couple stuck out like a sore thumb, and since they not only didn’t match the area but also each other, playing it cool was major in not being noticed and caught.

“I was looking for a long-sleeved dress,” she explained to the mortal woman. “It’s rather cold outside and I think my current one won’t do much longer.” She gave her a weak smile and pulled the cloak she was wearing tighter around her body.

 

[Ivar]

The old lady raised an eyebrow at the two, but nodded her head as she muttered something beneath her breath and walked away momentarily to search out a few clothes.

Ivar was not really paying attention to much of anything, instead leaning on a wooden post and listening to the nearby conversations.

Southerners were surprisingly liberal with how loud and where they spoke, and as he stood there he overheard about three conversations from passerbys. All of them mentioned the burnt out building, but one said something rather interesting.

The City Watch had found and arrested someone in the morning that supposedly had something to do with the fire.

As soon as he heard the words Ivar perked up slightly. "Might have a lead."

He told Sylvian as she was inspecting the dress that the old woman had brought along.