Fate - First Reply Stopping by the Woods

[Colsund]

​

Early summer rains had turned the road to mud, and the continued passage of traders and farmers taking their stock to market had turned it to muck. Despite the partial sun, it clung to the boots, boasting of another few days of hard travel until it was actually capable of drying. The lagging gait of his courser telling him it had been a good idea to walk alongside it, the reins on his hand to lead it.

Ahead and behind him, the small caravan of mercenaries strode into town as such caravans often did; in a winding, staggered line of haggard and tired travelers. Somewhere up ahead the Commander was off to find accommodations for the night, and the others had their own needs to see to. Usually that meant ale, or a blacksmith. They'd need to shelter here a month at least to get their equipment back to fighting trim.

Many of the towns they came to in the aftermath of battle were so similar that you could forget where you were but for the name of the place where you'd just fought. But not this one. He realized immediately that this woodland town was crisscrossed by canals and nearly overgrown with flowers, ivy and lichen. Needing to find a stable, he broke off from the group, knowing his armor would be safe with the rest of the carriages.

His sword was kept on his person, and his muddy gambeson would need to be patched and cleaned. "C'mon boy," he mutters to the pale horse at his side, "let's find you a place to rest." Giving it's flank a pat, he let out a breath that made his shoulder's slump. At least the stone roads meant he didn't need to fear his boots coming off in the mire.

"You earned it."

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

Across the way of the stables, behind a corner of some shabbily cobbled building, a small child wept.

»There, this is much better, is it not? « a woman's voice followed soon.
The kid, teary-eyed nodded before hobbling off back to his friends, one of which held a dark brown ball.

The woman stood up, she was as a white as snow, her skin pristine and hear pearlescent, yet her eyes as black as the void, glistening red against the sunlight.
Most of her alien visage was covered up by a long pale hooded cloak.

The children would resume playing as if nothing had transpired at all. Though rowdiness always leads to unpleasantness sooner or later.
But for, the witch had to retreat.

 

[Colsund]

Towns were filled with many sounds, the most common of which was children. Sometimes it was fear, or playfulness, or just excitement, but their shrill tones were almost ubiquitous whether you were in a backwater village or mercantile hub. It was easy to tune them out, as one might tune out the babble of the brook next to your home.

This town, though, he was unfamiliar with. But as children were ubiquitous, so too were those who hid beneath cloaks. You learned to look but not to linger, and as he passed this one he spared the curious look and then went on his way.

Before, of course, his mind processed that something wasn't quite right. Like a misheard word, he stopped and turned his head, attempting to ascertain what had arrested his attention. Tightening his grip on the reins, he frowned deeply, gaunt eyes sharpening as if they could cut an answer from the air.

The horse, briefly unsettled, was calmed by a stroke of his hand, and he after a moment he went back to walking, deciding the better part of curiosity was knowing that not all answers need found.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

The gaze of the woman was as if she has known, knew and would know. It was the kind of gaze that tended to sting sharply behind one's temple.
With no distinct pupil to focus on, it was unclear where she even gazed.

Walking past she stopped, not gazing back the woman adressed the man with the horse.
» Young sir, do you perhaps know of a nearby tavern or inn?«

 

[Colsund]

His steed shook it's head, whining as it threatened to spook. Frowning, he pat it, taking a few steps aside so that he could get clear of the rode. He did so without preamble or apology, as one might avoid a puddle on an otherwise dry street.

"Just got here," he replies tersely, doing his best to calm the beast, "...so no." His voice, a faint baritone, was still young, but there was no missing the tension in it.

The sooner the hooded figure got on her way the better off everyone would be.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

She caressed the rim of her hood with both her arms, straightening the fabric at the bottom. A decent level of fear-respect came with the territory of being a cutter-witch.
»Well perhaps we may meet again then, «

The witch pulled down the hood over her face, taking a stroll eslewhere.