Open Chronicles The Festival of Feathers

[Nico Valerus]

"Oh, the College?" He said with polite interest, listening intently. So he was a mage. Magic always added a bit of chaos and uncertainty into the equation whenever it was involved, especially crime. He had magic of his own, of course, but it wasn't quite the studied and organized type Elbion loved to instill in its youth. He eyed the gem, intrigued in what purpose it served, saying, "And you were one of the lucky few, I see."

His eye watched the magic with a keen gaze, his eyebrows raising in an impressed expression. "It's certainly a neat trick, no wonder Oban's so interested in having the College coming along. Nothing gets people more excited than a magic show, it practically enraptures them." He left the point to hang in the air for a moment, playing it off as him watching the magical griffin. Such a light show would certainly be a useful distraction, and most griffins would likely be grounded so as not to get in the magical depiction's way.

As the griffin dissipated, he continued, "I can understand that, myself. Dalriada is a beautiful kingdom, after all. The sights are simply lovely, so I hear." He gestured to the square nearby, filled with dancing Obanites dressed in illustrious - and expensive - clothing and jewelry, purses and pockets weighing heavy with coin. "The people here exude wealth, the epitome of grace and nobility. No doubt due to their wine and craftwork, I'm sure. It's sought after so much, in fact, even Alliria runs dry of its supply a few days after. I've been wanting to see both ever since I heard tell of the festival."

As he spoke, he stuffed the griffin feather behind one of his ears, a casual demeanor about him as if he were simply partaking in light small talk. If this thief was worth any of his salt - and judging from the subtle opening left in his words, he was - he would be able to pick up on his hints and go from there. Pickpocketing the distracted was a quick way of getting coin, and a distraction could easily open up an avenue for stealing a few valuable items from the stalls.

 

[Garrick Knight]

The elf paused at the display of the flying gryphon. Garrick assumed Nico Valerus was highlighting it's usefulness as a distraction. As correct as the elf was, it presented a certain problem for Garrick, namely that he had to be a part of the show. If he could get a double to perform his part perhaps he could get away with it, but otherwise any job relying on the show would also force Garrick to rely on, and thus trust, a business partner to acquire the goods.

Not something he was ready to do, at least not yet.

The elf took his hint well, neglecting to acknowledge Oban history and instead showing attention to the beauty of Dalriada, and the wealth of it's people.A conversation that might have piqued the attention of the guard, but was perfectly normal for a pair of tourists in the festival of feathers.

"I'll admit I haven't a chance to sample the wines." Garrick replied honestly. He'd only been in around an hour or so, and had spent most of the time sketching the square. "It certainly does keep Oban's coin flowing, but to me it's not the most interesting part of this city. Oban has it's wines, Belgrath it's armors, Elbion it's mages. Every great city carves it's niche, what's far more difficult is keeping it. I find the Oban Paladins by contrast, to be truly unique. Flying cavalry's a force any nation must respect, even those without the luxurious tastes of Alliria. I've heard rumor that the gryphons imprint on their paladins at birth, and each serves only a single master before it dies."

A unique Montcroix blend was probably more valuable than a gryphon egg, truth be told, but the logistics of it made it a less valuable target, at least by Garrick's mark. There were few with the coin to pay the wine's true value, and fewer still who truly appreciated it enough to pay it's worth. Finding the right buyer became a job in and of itself. By contrast any warlord, amateur monster hunter, or crime boss could see the value in a flying mount. Finding a buyer changed from a mission of it's own to selecting the highest bidder.

 

[Nico Valerus]

The human quickly brushed past the topic of a distraction, instead opting to engage with the other offers. The silent declination was disappointing, but it still revealed opportunities. Regardless of if he had a partner or not for the arcane show, it would still serve as ample time for quick bountiful thievery to take place. And, of course, it meant no need to share. He kept the idea in his back pocket, ready to use when the time arose.

At the mention of griffins, his face took on a fascinated facade, akin to one you'd see painted on a tourist. "Is that so? I must agree that the Paladins are truly a remarkable facet of Dalriada, one I wish I could meet. Unfortunately, I doubt that the eggs are out on display like the hatchlings, or anywhere that's public for that matter. Too fragile for big crowds, I imagine."

This thief was a bold one, no doubt. Stealing an egg? Such a task would be difficult, from the logistics of finding it to managing to smuggle it out without unwanted attention. "Griffin's are an incredibly rare species, the fact that they managed to breed enough for an entire force is impressive. I wonder how long it takes an egg to hatch?" Subtly, he relayed another concern: If an egg were to hatch before it found its buyer, then they would have problems. One would be an incredibly needy griffin, and the other would probably be an incredibly angry warlord.

It was a risk, a big one, that was more likely to backfire on them than it was to make them rich. There was a point, however. Wine like that made by the Montcroix often found its way into the homes of connoisseurs, people who knew enough about a drink's worth to not be swayed quite so easily into paying more than it would cost. Something like a warlord, however - of which there were far more - would likely be less experienced in the ebb and flow of trade, especially in something so rare beyond Dalriada. They'd be much more likely to accept a far higher price with some convincing. The risk was great, but the reward could be...

 

[Lottie Beaufort]

Lottie couldn't help laughing at his comment about her father. It was a surprised sound, and she had to look away from him to give herself time to bring the storm of emotions under check. Her father caring about her intelligence or anything about her for that matter? She thought not. It was a wound that still hurt. She had had to choose the wilds over her own father because he thought she was a possession rather than a person.

"Now you give my father too much credit, and a you have a lot to learn about the Kingdom of Dalradia," she admitted once she pushed the tide of memories back down. Of a lonely walk and a mans unwelcome hands and the horror that had filled her mind before her sisters had intervened. There was a sadness to the edge of her smile. His comment on whether or not his friend was her father however, did give her pause. If he was paying attention he might have even noticed her body stiffen, though she did try and keep her steps fluid as the dance drew to an end. What if it was her father? He was always looking for trade deals. Little would this man know that he was dancing with someone that her father would much rather receive in trade.

Once it was done she curtsied low and then took his arm to exit the dance floor.

"I should probably be finding my sis-"

Lottie didn't get to finish her sentence. As they were walking down the steps that led from the raised dancing platform back to where the bar area was with little seating area and music courtesy of Rob apparently - when the hell did he start playing an accordion?! - a rather drunk man attempted to also exit the floor in a similar manner. Unfortunately, he missed his step and went skidding down the steps, taking out one, two, three people and Lottie in the process. The pile ended up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh I am so sorry!" The man slurred, righting himself and trying to help the others he had injured. There were several mutterings as people hopped away - bruises, bumps - but Lottie had had the misfortune of being the last one hit and thus on the bottom when it had reached its destination at the bottom of the floor. She grimaced as he went to help her to her feet, going to take the hand, before a searing pain shot through her leg and she shook her head, she couldn't put weight on it. Her wrist also felt battered and stung, so she held it to her chest in the way Blanche had shown her.

"I think I've broken something," she admitted through gritted teeth. Several people were now shouting for a medic.

 

[Rob Cooke]

Rob had been carefully observing the scene. Something had happened, he didn’t exactly know what, but he could read body language at least. He quickly finished his song, putting away the accordion, as he stood, a drunk man fouled up his step on the stairs Lottie was on.

He was over quickly, examining the injury. “Probably a sprain.” He said. He carefully brought out a small bandage, applying it to the ankle in order stop swelling. In addition, he applied some healing magic. He did his best to hide it, only a keen eye paying attention would see it, and likely the recipient, but you win some, you lose some. It was enough magic to get it to stop hurting for a while and be able to get up and back a little bit to the point where they could be back at camp or at some ice.

“Elevate it, if you can, and try not to move it too much.” He stood, surveying the surrounding crowd while figuring out what to do next.

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

Tragedy struck, as they were leaving the square his new friend found herself on the bottom of a huge pile of humanity that was brought on by the drunk. He was apologetic and so Tzuriel shooed him away, not allowing himself to erupt on this man that just injured the girl he cared about.
Her wrist and ankle. He was more than a little familiar with first aid given his extensive road experience, and he knew that this had to get treatment as soon as possible, she claimed it was broken, and if that was so she couldn't be walking on it.

Still they had to move her and get her out of the walk way. The man who had been watching them approached and administered some basic first aid, and he even applied some healing magic. Tzuriel didn't think twice about the magic, it being a fairly common and useful skill to have on a caravan, but he was more wary of the man himself, up to now he did nothing but creep on them during their entire dance and play his instrument.
Though, removing his ego from the situation he reasoned that these two were familiar with each other, probably a relative or friend keeping an eye out for her safety, and that was something he could get behind, so he gave the stranger a courteous nod in greeting.
"I am Tzuriel, I would like to help the lady in any way I can, if that is permissible. She was my partner for the dance so I feel somewhat responsible for her safety."

People were calling for a doctor and Tzuriel scanned the crowd until one of his crew pushed his way past the ring of rubberneckers. Tzuriel was surprised to see him there, it was the captain of his trade ship, Ryado Eldemitri. He was unaware that he had been nearby.
"Ryado?!"
"M'Lord, there's a doctor in a stall not far from 'ere. If we're careful we can move the lady there. If ye both can move her I can clear the way for ye."
That was captain Eldemitri, always the cool head in a crisis and knowing exactly what to do.
Tzuriel nodded assent, "Good man, we'll follow you."

He looked at the stranger and then at Lottie, "Alright... The best way to carry you would be on our shoulders, you can't put any weight on your leg but it shouldn't be far. We can make any adjustments as we go if we need to."

 

[Lottie Beaufort]

Lottie gritted her teeth when Rob touched her injured leg, watching him with feral intensity, her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't trust many to lay their hands on her when she was hurt but Rob was a part of her little family and she trusted him with her life. Once he was done she shook her head a little and said in a very soft voice.

"Rob it really hurts," whilst she enjoyed the theatrics she never made a big deal of her injuries. The pain in her ankle was dulling but that in her wrist was getting a lot worse and it was already turning a horrible shade of black. Their moment alone was interrupted when her dance partner arrived and introduced himself and then another, apparently a compatriot of his, arrived too. So much fuss, so much attention. A feeling of claustrophobia was pressing down on her making her uncomfortable. A scene in such a public place around what had once been her peers was not what she needed right now. She just wanted to get back to the camp.

"Really, I'm fine," her voice louder this time so all three men could hear her. With her injured arm against her chest she attempted to push herself to her feet, but her injured ankle screamed at her and gave way. Bollocks. Wren was going to kill her.

 

[Rob Cooke]

He addressed the stranger, “Can you get her left? I’ll get her right, be careful.” The last two words were layered with some weight to them. He moved over to the right of her, laying a hand on her shoulder and speaking in a whisper, “You do need some actual medical attention, so work with me here.” As he spoke, he seeped in some more magic, focusing on dulling the pain so she could get on her feet and get over to the medical stall as soon as possible.

He spoke louder, addressing the crowd, “Don’t worry everyone! She’ll be fine, we are just going to get her checked out, please, carry on with your evening.” He took a moment before making any more motions to shift her onto his shoulders with the Tzuriel, waiting to see her reaction.

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

"Well, I did not see this midday going like this." He chuckled to himself as he gently lifted her on the strangers cue, supporting her left side. He had hoped they would have the chance for a drink with her at least, but he could tell some of his comments on her father struck a nerve, a mistake on his part. He assumed there was a good relationship there and he was wrong.

He made sure Lottie wasn't suffering too badly once they got her up, and made sure she wasn't on her injured leg. It looked bad, in spite of the magic the man was pouring into her. He truly felt guilty for what happened. He had his arm linked with hers and suddenly she was gone, carried away by a tide of falling flesh. Had he payed more attention he probably could have pulled her back in time.

He couldn't help himself, "I'm truly sorry this happened, Miss Lottie." He spoke her name quietly, remembering the sensitivity she used to introduce herself.

 

[Lottie Beaufort]

Lottie nodded slightly to Rob's words and gritted her teeth; his magic was at least alleviating the worst of the pain for now and she knew she needed a healer when all she wanted was her sisters and her hammock in camp. When they both lifted at once she managed to put some of her weight on her uninjured leg, but she still relied mostly on the two men to take most of the pressure. It was a good thing perhaps she hadn't gone with Blanche to try their hand at that chicken wing eating competition.

"It's not your fault, though I have a feeling you might be about to have the unfortunate experience of meeting my older sister for which I must too apologise," a grimace. Wren Kingsley was not a woman who took injuries to her sisters lightly, and she most certainly did not like strangers who had been dancing with them. It was also a subtle hint to Rob to go and fetch her when they had reached the healers.

It didn't take them too long to get there and the sentinel at the door held the door open for them to be greeted by the healer Lucien Saartre.

 

[Lucien Saartre]

Lucien wasn't too surprised when the first injured of the day walked through his door, though he was thankful to alleviate at least some of the boredom of the day.

"Ah, good morning my friends!" Lucien called out in an almost chipper tone, his face breaking out into a broad smile as they stepped into his shop. Inside they would find a rather dim little room, most of it decorated with shelves upon shelves of books.

Herbs and test tubes lay scattered about, and on the far wall was a diagram of what appeared to be a dissected human being drawn by hand.

In the middle of it all was a set of three tables, each one lined with a thin mattress that looked about as ratty as could be. He'd not had the money to replace them. "I see you have something wrong with your leg?"

His gaze briefly dropped to the womans crooked leg, the weight she was trying to keep off of it more than obvious to his eyes.

 

[Garrick Knight]

The elf was certainly probing Garrick for the job, his conversation hinted at the concern of logistics. A valid concern, but one Garrick had an answer for. Freezing, reversing, quickening time were all out of magic's reach, but healing magic had ways to slow or progress the natural healing processes of the body. Used on an egg, one could delay hatching for a week without any ill effects. At least, Garrick could on the robin's eggs he'd tested on back at Elbion.

"Eggs are interesting things. A sparrow's egg takes around two weeks to hatch, a dragon's can take a decade. Gryphon's take roughly a year, if my studies are to be believed." Garrick kept the conversation to typical tourist talk, thinking of a way to wring his ability to delay it's hatching. "Maturation is actually a big research topic for some Maester's at the academy. Strict time manipulation is theoretically impossible, but several cities, warlords, and nation states have provided funding to accelerate the natural growth processes of soldiers and war-beasts. With proper care and nutrition it's possible, but leads to some nasty scarring." Garrick replied, not directly mentioning the possibility of slowing growth. He seemed clever, he'd figure it out.

"I'd love to get a look at one, but like you've said, they're not exactly advertised. Especially with all the momma birds out on patrol for the festival." Garrick mentioned the stables would likely be empty. That probably meant more human guards than usual, but Garrick personally preferred to deal with tricking and obfuscating past guards vs wild beasts. Humans typically hunted with sight and sound, but animals had that devilish sense of smell too.

Nico Valerus

 

[Blanche Ponsonby]

Blanche had always been a lucky individual. Throughout her life, she had found herself in numerous death-defying circumstances and come out surprisingly unscathed. If fortune were to favour the brave, as it is said, then fortune must certainly favour those who act with reckless abandon. Blanche was such a person. As she sat on the aged horse, she glanced throughout the crowd and spotted her sister suddenly bearing down on her.

Fuck. Wren had clocked her. That meant trouble. For Blanche, that was. Wren always had a knack for turning up at precisely the moments Blanche did not want her to. It meant there was a lot of scolding, shouting, and the occasional heated exchanged. "My dearest sister Wren, everyb-" She did not, in fact, get the chance to greet her sister. Instead, the sudden outburst of magic that erupted from Wren had sent her horse into a panic. She sighed. She had to agree with her sister for once. Maybe she was too drunk to be doing this.

It mattered little. The joust itself was a competition between civilians, pitting them against seasoned and skilled jousters from across the land. It existed because people, like Blanche, got incredibly drunk, paid an entrance fee, and got suitably beaten. There was no way out of it now, she was in too deep.

Her horse hurtled towards the opponent, but the sudden speed and turbulence had upset Blanche and she found herself swaying and retching. As she drew closer towards her rival, she turned to the side and released an almost impossible amount of purpley-red vomit from her tiny mouth. However, it just so happened, she moved at an incredibly convenient time. The lance of the other rider passed by where Blanche's head had just been and, instead, her movement had brought her own lance hurtling into the path of the opponent. He fell, wood splintering and cracking across his armour. He did not get back up.

The organised stood, dumbfounded by what had happened, and reluctantly hailed Blanche as the winner of the bout. Her band of merry-men cheered, the words 'Blane, Blane, Blane' erupting from the part of the stands they had taken refuge in.

She was on top of the world. Or, more accurately, she would have been, if she hadn't have passed out upright on the saddle just after she'd been given her trophy.

 

[Wren Kingsley]

Wren’s green eyes widened in disbelief. Had her sister -really- just shouted her name out loud?! Wren tried not to look panicked, or react at all in fact, but she wanted to scream at her sister so badly. Her cheeks reddened furiously and her jaw clenched so hard that it hurt. Blanche was being a liability, and it could cost Wren much more than her sisters could ever imagine.

Still, enraged or not she could do nothing but watch in worry as her sister‘s horse rode forward in the joust, grimacing and closing her eyes tightly as Blanche, or ‘Blane’ projectile vomited everywhere. She couldn’t watch and she physically flinched as she heard the shattering of a lance. She felt sick. Then came chanting and her eyes snapped back open to see her passed out sister some how being hailed champion, and her opponent on the gravel. “What the actual fuck...” She growled, and returned to being pissed off. She was getting out of here.. “Those two can fend for themselves. I’m done.” She huffed, glancing at a man who was looking at her awkwardly. “WHAT?!”
Wren turned away from the lists and secured her hood to make her way back through the crowd toward the city gates. Another shit show of a festival.... “Have some fun they said..” she spat.

 

[Nico Valerus]

His eyebrow—eyebrows? It was unclear, given the sash—rose in accordance with the new information. "Is that so? Fascinating. I forget that the College has such a wide range of fields within its halls beyond typical magic." He nodded at the explanation, dismissing the urge to give a wry grin in favor of a mildly intrigued expression. "I can imagine the use behind that. There are quite a few applications with such a discovery, I can imagine it'd be a good source of profit for the school should they employ it."

It was a simple leap to imagine that, if an egg's maturation could be quickened, it could be slowed as well. That would make the issue of an accidental hatching less of a concern, though Nico would have to put some trust in the mage to actually be capable of such a task. Still, the mere potential of it working was enough for him to be interested. Plus, he could always pickpocket and steal some other things along the way.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I'd imagine the hatchery's well-staffed so as to not disturb the eggs with all the noise and bustle of the festival." Guards were an issue, one he could handle quite easily as well. Whereas a griffin wasn't easily subjected to roguish charms, guards most certainly were.

"Still, we at least get to marvel at their construction from the outside, yes? I've yet to see them, admittedly, but I'm sure they're just as beautiful as the rest of the city." If the plan to steal the eggs was agreed upon with no more pressing issues, as it appeared to be, then scoping out the site would be a needed next step. It'd also be valuable to ensure that there weren't any other uncooperative hopeful thieves with the same target in mind.

 

[Garrick Knight]

Nico's words reinforced Garrick's thoughts. The elf knew the game, and seemed to understand all the pieces. At least to the extent Garrick did. There would probably be a complication here or there, but that was half the fun. What was any job without a little excitement and chaos along the way?

"I suppose so." Garrick said with a bit of a shrug. "Still, we should take a look and see what we can. And along the way you really should introduce me to some of that wine that Oban seems so famous for." Garrick extended an invitation to case the hatchery, but also for Nico Valerus to show off his skills. The elf knew a smattering of Garrick's talents, from climbing rooftops to creating distractions to halting the eggs maturation, but Garrick knew little of the talents Nico provided.

The sky elf obviously knew the game, and understood the job, but he could still be any number of professions. Muscle? Safecracker? Climber? Fence? A demonstration of something would allow Garrick a better opportunity to plan the job, as well as what kind of a cut he'd likely demand.

 

[Lottie Beaufort]

Lottie hated the doctors. She always had. Being poked and prodded, jabbed with this and that. If she could help it she wouldn't go, but her parents had been sticklers about regular medical checks to ensure their daughters had a clean bill of health. Like a horse. The room they stepped into did not ease that childhood dislike - especially the picture on the wall. At the last second she seemed to almost slam on her one legged break and back peddle, but it was too late now. At least most of her worry was hidden beneath her mask, though the thin pull of her lips bracketed by white lines probably marked her distress.

"My wrist hurts more," it sounded pathetic and she reprimanded herself for being such a coward. She had faced a Minotaur for christssake. Slowly she released her injured hand which she had been holding to her chest and held it out in front of him to inspect. From her knuckles down to her mid forearm a bruise had spread in motley shades of black, purple and blue.

To alleviate the strain of her heroes from carrying her she hopped once and settled herself onto one of the tables, barely battering an eye at the mattress.

 

[Nico Valerus]

He grinned, replying swiftly, "I'd be glad to." He could tell the meaning behind the offer; the student wanted to gauge his abilities, see if the elf was as capable as his charm implied. After all, the elf had quite a good grasp of his partner's skills. Mage, able to climb up a wall, being a human, and being quite ambitious. Nico was more than happy to take him up on the offer.

The rogue patted the human on his shoulder, beginning to walk towards the markets. "Now, I think it's only fair I get a name," he added idly as they walked, his gaze still focused on weaving through the crowd. "It's a bit awkward referring to you as 'human,' I'm sure you can agree." He had given the human his name, after all.

Regardless of whether or not he received a name, Nico continued onward. Along the way, he idly siphoned some of the emotions dotted about the crowd. It was nothing they'd miss, just a little off of the bountiful sensations that lingered within their minds. A speck of Joy, a dash of Tranquility, a bit of Disgust and a touch of Desire. Perhaps some might have a small effect, but it was negligible to him.

The marketplace was bustling, a menagerie of stalls set up along the street touting a variety of products. Griffin feather trinkets hung from one, while ceramic statuettes decorated the top of another. He settled his eye on a rather beautiful construction of ceramic, depicting a griffin atop a rock. It was colored with an array of colors, each a beautiful and vivid visual. Something of that craftmanship would strike a fine price in Alliria.

He stepped up to the stall, his face painted with a disarmingly charming smile. "I must say, the craftsmanship here is simply radiant. Where did you learn?" He asked, leaning against the tabletop.

"Oh, you're too kind, sir." The merchant chuckled, drawing a hand to her mouth. "My mother taught me, actually. Of course, I like to think I innovated a bit," she added with a small laugh.

Nico scoffed, drumming his fingers on the table. "And you're as humble as you are beautiful, I see." He held up one of the statuettes — a different one to his mark — and marveled at it, saying, "The details are spectacular. How did you get the eyes like that? I'm a hobbyist myself, and the eyes always end up looking like gaping holes rather than things to see out of."

The girl laughed, immediately bounding off to a series of advice. Occasionally, he'd interject with a question or remark ("Was it that simple all along?", "A knife? That's genius, how didn't I think of that!" or "Are you sure you're not simply magic?" come to mind), his gaze captured by the explanation, and the duo devolved to laughter.

As she spoke, his arm continued to lean against the table, near the statuette he had laid eyes on earlier. With a small bit of Joy, the motion of taking it was a blur as it quickly disappearing amidst his cloak. "You're simply spectacular, madam. I had heard Oban was a land of beauty, but I didn't realize they meant the people as well," he flirted as the explanation came to a close, pulling away from the stall. "I wish you all the best, but I'm sure you have no need for it with skill such as yours. Still," he pulled the griffin feather from behind his ear, putting it behind hers, "that should do you quite well. Matches the outfit as well!"

Her response was littered with small bouts of giggles and flustered laughter, opting instead for a wave. "Have a lovely day, then!" She chimed as he walked away, back to his partner who he promptly led further through the marketplace.

Tapping into his Desire, he simply caused someone to fumble in their step, leading to their stumbling onto the stall. If she were to notice it had gone missing she'd think of that oddly clumsy man, who's body had currently landed at the site of the stolen statuette, and not the charming young elf curious about her skill.

Glancing to Garrick Knight, he said, "Anything you want to pick up along the way?" as though he simply had a charming conversation and nothing more.

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

He made sure she made it to the cot before finally stepping back and letting the doctor do his work. Concern was written all over his face for her and for a long moment he just stood to the side anxiously, trying to think of anything else he could possibly do for her.
Finally, to get his mind working on something else he turned to the stranger.
"I assume you're a friend or relative of hers?"
He bowed low with his head down, "My sincerest apologies, I was not attentive enough else this all could have been avoided. I am sorry that she was injured on my watch. If it's any consolation I can pay for whatever bills the treatment incurs."

It wasn't often he inclined his head to another man, but when he did it was usually to impress upon some lord or noble that he was a respectable person that can be trusted around their daughters. Not so this time, he was willing to accept whatever punishment or wrath was due to his negligence as an escort.

 

[Lucien Saartre]

He watched the woman as she slowly hobbled her way towards the table, clearly unimpressed by the way she tried to force her way on her own. "How did this happen?"

Lucien asked as he stepped forward and began to inspect her injuries.

With a gentle touched he grabbed her arm, though made sure not to pressure too much. He could already feel that the bone was likely broken, though from the bruising it could have been a strain as well.

Briefly he glanced back towards the other two.

"Would you be more comfortable if they waited outside?" He had often found that patients did not like being surrounded by others, particularly while being healed. As he turned back Charlotte would feel an odd prickle on her wrist.

A slight numbness would flow over her, some of the pain ebbing away.

 

[Rob Cooke]

He carefully assisted her along, and it wasn’t long before they reached the doctor and the the table.

He sighed. He had an awful feeling his night was only going to get more stressful. Her dance partner was quick in offering his apologies for the whole situation. The doctor also spoke, questioning how this happened.

He addressed the doctor first, “A drunk man fell on some stairs and she ended up at the bottom of the dog pile, pure bad luck.” He shifted his mask slightly, before continuing, now addressing Tzuriel, “I’m uh, her cousin. I don’t belive I introduced myself, just call me Rob.” He figured it would be fine to give out his actual name, as far as he knew there were no wanted posters for him yet. “As i said, it was purely bad luck, I saw what happened. If you do insist on compensating us, hash it out with Lottie.” He jabbed his thumb at her.

He walked over to Lottie, speaking in a low voice, “I’m going to check on your sister and Blane. Take care of yourself will you?” He turned back to Tzuriel. “If anything happens to her while I’m gone, I won’t be so forgiving.” He layered some weight behind the words, before quickly heading out the door to hear a response.

He was quickly back in the crowd, heading towards the Western quarter. Knowing Blanche, she needed the most urgent checking up on. However, he quickly ended up encountering Wren. Quick to gauge her body language, he quickly strode over and asked “What’s going on?”

 

[Wren Kingsley]

Wren could feel her cheeks and neck flushing with rage, it was a tell tale sign, one that told those who knew her to take a few steps back. She had to get this fucking feathered cloak off and hit something.. Then Rob Cooke stood in front of her, obstructing her view of the city gates. "What's going on?.." she snapped. "That LUNATIC of a sist-.. BROTHER is completely bladdered, crowd surfed her way to the arena, and entered the FUCKING JOUST!" she paused to catch her breath, her cheeks heating a little more, and she was drawing more unwanted attention. She looked around, there were high lords and ladies, and guards that she recognised everywhere, and so she tried to calm down..

Wren gathered herself and forced a strained smile, lowering her voice and acting as though she was having a very lovely conversation.. "She couldn't see a fucking hole in a ladder and she's causing puke spraying mayhem in the arena." she chuckled, appearing a little, unhinged? "And the piss head is shouting my name about - she's going to get me killed. And I'm leaving before I throttle her." she breathed, and had been about to push him out of her way before she stopped.

"Wait. Why aren't you with Lottie?.." she scowled at him "Yet another fucking person who can't do a thing that I ask!."

 

[Lottie Beaufort]

A small whine escaped her lips as he touched her wrist, her eyes momentarily shutting as the pain shot up to her elbow. She was vaguely aware of Rob telling her he was leaving and she was equal parts torn and glad; Lottie liked to keep a brave face and she was pretty sure she was about to be crying like a baby. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off now too and her body was entering a state of shock. At least the magic was keeping the edge off. So when Lucien mentioned about the others waiting outside she didn't hesitate in nodding, throwing Tzuriel an apologetic look.

"If you want to be of help, please keep my sister from storming in here when Rob brings her back," there was a genuine flicker of concern for the safety of all those in the vicinity when Wren heard about her injuries. She was going to be a furious tornado of rage. Literally, probably. Gods she hoped Blanche had behaved herself so she wasn't already in a foul mood.

When he too left she turned her attention back to Lucien and took a deep breath. Lottie just prayed he didn't ask her to take her mask off, her face was stamped across most posters in the city as a Missing Person.

"So, what's the diagnosis Doc?" a shaky smile.

 

[Rob Cooke]

He waited patiently as Wren went through her outburst. It was a perfectly acceptable reaction from what he was hearing. Once she finished, he gave her a few seconds to cool off before speaking.

“Lottie is fine.” He said, speaking softly. “The guy she was dancing with seemed reputable enough. She did hurt her ankle and wrist, but we both know at the end of the day we can take care of yourself.” He finished, taking a second to let her get out whatever she needed to get out, before continuing.

“Blanche, on contrary, is in no state to take care of herself.” He said, he figured this wasn’t the time for false names, besides, with the buzz of the crowd and the low voice he was speaking in it would be impossible to make out the words unless you were close. “We need to go back there and pick her up and drop her off at camp, then we can swing around at check on Lottie.”

He let some time pass before finishing, “Just remember that Blanche is your sister, and as much as it sucks, you need to look out for eachother, besides, you can throttle them when they wake up this way.”

 

[Wren Kingsley]

Wren's mind had never been the same since she'd been incarcerated in her teens. Six months in a pitch black and silent box could render even the strongest of people insane, and the fear of it fuelled her anger more. She had attempted to kill the Prince of Dalriada before fleeing the city for good, and she'd take death before going back to that hole. She couldn't calm down "I can't believe I trusted her when there's games and alcohol." she muttered to herself and huffed. At least she had someone to direct her conversation at, she'd been talking to herself most of the day.

Wren's brow furrowed at him as he spoke of the man that Lottie had been dancing with, and she reached to grab him by the collar "You let her get hurt?!" - of course, it was Rob's fault. Lottie had always got away with that little bit more, she was the baby, and Wren had struggled to accept that she'd grown up. "No." she told him firmly "Blanche is on her own, if you want to help her you go right ahead, but if she starts yelling my name around, or if I start a fight out here, it's straight to the fucking noose." she let him go, and straightened herself out again, her hands brushing down her feathered cloak as she pocketed that coin purse she'd given him earlier. He'd failed to do his job and so why should he get any perks!?

"Now...." she cleared her throat, and there was the sickly sweet smile again. "I will return to the square to collect my dearest sibling and we will meet you back at camp. Agreed? Yes, wonderful." she curtsied.

Rob Cooke