Private Tales The Last Resort

[Draedamyr]

Draedamyr let out an exasperated sigh, but it was directed at the serving girl. Rather than continue to have her drag it across the floorboards he pushed open the door and lifted the other side.

When she turned away he called out: "No, you get the other side please."

The elf was shaking his head as he backed into the room, clearing annoyed by the girl.

"I'm assuming the noise woke you?" he asked as he turned towards Seska. His smile managed to look tentative. Once again he found himself unsure of himself. Tousled hair and crumpled clothes if anything only endeared him to her more.

Draedamyr felt a little uncertain of himself being in her room again. An object evoked feelings depending on intent, on how it was used. A stick on the ground was nothing, one being waved with menace could bring fear. A bed was just for sleeping and recovery. But her murmured offer of sharing it had changed how it was viewed.

"Thought you would appreciate a hot bath?" he offered.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her dress, to no avail. She didn't even attempt to do anything with her hair, which would require brushing out - quite probably painfully - to make look presentable. The detestable girl from the day before came into sight, and the Sidhe schooled her face to stillness. It was a monumental effort.

"It didn't waken me," she lied, a brittle smile on her face. She could see the tub being lugged into the room, and marveled that they did not have a room for it. But, then, this was not a very large town at all. It didn't matter. She imagined that she must stink, and it was with dawning horror that she realized she must have smelled as such the day before. Weeks in bed without bathing... And the memory of sitting side by side the night before, if a bit hazy around the edges, came back to haunt her then, too.

She shook her head. Not important. What was done was done, and there was no changing it.

"Why, are you offering to give me a...." she began without even thinking, and then halted mid sentence. Her face turned as red as a tomato, and she looked away suddenly. For obvious reasons. "I mean, why, is it because I...I mean..." She ran out of words. And suddenly recalled who else was in the room, and the shades of red deepened even further until she thought she might die of mortification.

 

[Draedamyr]

There wasn't usually much colour to his own cheeks, but his skin managed to fetch some. Fortunately he had mentally played out some possible conversations that would follow. Although in none of them had Seska started to phrase the question quite like that.

"I merely thought you would appreciate some warm water," he replied. It was definitely going to be warm, not hot. There was some cold water already but it would need a few more buckets of that before the big pan of boiling water was added. Perhaps it would barely even reach tepid.

The maid seemed to remember that she had several more trips to make up and down the stairs and left.

Draedamyr, deciding that the subject of bathing was best left behind, continued.

"Would you like some food whilst she finishes?" he asked.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She had to wait a minute to compose herself, steering away from the awkward attempt at indecent humor. What the hell has gotten into me? Silliness, apparently, and she forced that aside ruthlessly, along with the bundle of emotions it was tied around.

"I can make the water hot," she said...then thought about what she had said, trying to make sure it couldn't be misconstrued. "With magic," she continued after some thought. It would not require a great deal of strength to do such a minor feat, plus she preferred her water like she preferred her food.

"A little something to break my fast would be acceptable," she said carefully, looking up finally. Faint red still stained her cheeks, but at least she didn't look like a sunset anymore.

 

[Draedamyr]

One eyebrow climbed towards his hairline ever so slowly. No hint of humour graced the expression beneath it as he accused: "You're doing that deliberately now aren't you?"

He grinned very briefly as he turned towards the door. Draedamyr's faced tended to give very little away, but a small break told a large story.

"They have some cooked eggs and fresh, warm bread downstairs," he offered. He tried to think of satiating that desire and keeping the bath out of mind.

"Are you coming downstairs or would you like me to bring some up?"

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"No," she exclaimed quickly. After a drawn out moment, though, she shook her head. "Yes. I mean...I don't know," she finished, looking genuinely contrite even though he had already turned his back in her. What a damned mess. She wasn't a girl, fresh off her mother's apron strings, to be so flustered over so little.

Haul back on those reins, she advised herself inwardly.. With some efforts, she regained her outward serenity, even if the effect was somewhat spoiled by her disheveled state. The obnoxious maid came up the stairs and dumped a bucket of water, the second such, and left again, casting curious glances at the elf and the 'halfling'.

Seska very nearly made a face at her behind her back. Serene, tranquil like a lake on the surface.

Seizing the power within her, she began to weld order from chaos as was her way. "I will be down after a bit. Too long in a bed," and too much to drink, she added to that. And sleeping in a dress, among a myriad number of other things.

She directed flows of fire into the tub, into the water sloshing around inside. Even as the maid came back, it was beginning to steam as she applied a measured amount of magic into it.

"If you keep standing there I am going to start believing you want to watch, though." The mock severity in her tone sounded odd coming from such a small woman, with her high pitched voice to boot.

 

[Draedamyr]

When she said it, that which he had taken some lengths to push out of mind - out at least to the edges of it - slid straight back in. The elf turned to look over his shoulder.

The second eyebrow had joined the first. He opened his mouth yet there was no witty retort in there. He closed his mouth before managing to say very little.

"Right. Well." He pointed at the door and took half a step towards it. Something needed to break before that open honesty from the previous night would return to fill the space between them.

"I don't think being leered at will give the most relaxing start to the day so I'll go and wait downstairs."

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

The point had not been to make the man speechless, and she had nothing to say for a moment. There was something there in his eyes she had not seen before. She did not understand it, but then it seemed she had forgotten much of the dance between people. Individuals, not United by a mission, but by some far less well defined.

Was that what this was, then? Some new, something fragile that had grown between them in so short a time, indefinable. Baffling to her, and likely to him as well.

"Yes," she said, and seemed to struggle to find words. "Right, then. See that you do." The uncouth maid came in again, dumping another bucket. There was more than enough water in the tub now, and the steam wafting off the tub, the scent of soap on the air, was enticing. Very enticing. Such things as this were rare, what with her wandering lifestyle.

"I will be down in a little while," she said, then made to begin undressing.

 

[Draedamyr]

He drummed his fingers across the table. Draedamyr had come downstairs and occupied the same one they had been at the night before. He idly poked at his scrambled eggs with a fork. Only a few bites had been taken from the chunk of bread on the table.

There was nothing wrong with the food. Any idiot could cook some eggs in a pan with a sprinkling of salt and make a passable meal. Instead he was lost in thought.

It was common to his species. Particular those as lucky to have survived as many centuries as himself. Once he had spent a week considering the beauty in a thousand year old sculpture. Another time he had sat in silence for days contemplating a suitable counter to a Dafnouthi defence. He had been the first to come up with one, but apparently they hadn't thought to name the sword technique after him.

This wasn't so profound. He couldn't recall a time his mind had been so easily distracted by the imagination of bare flesh in water. Draedamyr decided to order a glass of wine to try and help him stave off feeling vaguely disappointed with himself.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

The warmth was as wonderful as it always was, and she indulged herself in a soak, heat penetrating every aching join until she felt she was going to melt, become part of the water she sat in. The grime of weeks in bed and still more weeks on the road before that would take time to penetrate, after all. Right?

As luxurious as it was, she could not make Draedmyr wait forever downstairs. After a few minutes relaxing, she went to the work at hand with a soft, regretful sigh. Soap, smelling faintly of lavender, was applied to a cloth, and she vigorously scrubbed at her flesh, the water she used to sluice herself down with becoming distinctly less than clear, especially after lathering her hair and rinsing that out. She was surprised a damned squirrel had not swum free of that rat nest, and she cringed at the thought of brushing it out.

After a time, she stepped from the tub, naked form gleaming wet and a shade paler than before. The damnable maid had at least remembered to bring a towel up, and she dried herself with that, cool air of the room pebbling her skin as she went to stand in front of the mirror, picking up a brush and, after checking to make sure it was clean, going to work there.

The image in the mirror was...not pleasant. She paused in the act of brushing, tugging knots out of her hair painfully, to regard herself with disgust. Mottled flesh, the bruises nearly faded away from her adventure with the demons, greeted her. The thin, almost invisible lines of scars criss-crossed her torso and limbs. She was sure if someone looked closely enough, they would find them on her face, too.

Such a long life to collect such a bounty of trophies from.

For a moment, she thought of the look in Draedmyr's eyes, and cringed inwardly at the imagined rejection upon seeing....seeing this. Not a youthful body, but a scarred up and disfigured one. Oh, sure, it was all aesthetic - most of the scars were older than any of the cities on this world were. But...for some reason, it made her feel insecure.

Since when do I care what a man thinks? It had been literally a thousand years or more since she could recall having the regard of another in any capacity beyond a working one. People found out what she was, how old she was, or any of a number of other things...and they shied away, shrank back. Forever a stranger. It was more than a mantra, it was a truth too deep to escape.

She resumed pulling knots from silvery hair, wincing whenever a particularly stubborn one arose. Her thoughts circling around in her head, like a puppy chasing its tail. Disbelief at any caring at all leading into disbelief that he was still here, rolling neatly into a tangled web of emotions and perceptions that she couldn't have unraveled had she tried that then gave way to self doubt and fear of the hurt to come...that rolled back into disbelief again.

What a mess.

~~~~~~~

She came down into the common room, wearing the same dress she had before, albeit clean. Magic was a wonderful thing, and the ability to swiftly dry things was wonderful.

It felt amazing to be clean again, she thought to herself as she approached his table with alert eyes, adjusting the dress about her hips as she went. Everything was, if not in perfect order now, then at least a good facsimile of it. She had tied the flow of silver at the back of her head with a piece of rawhide so that it hung long and straight down her back, and was held back from her eyes. The faintest whiff of lavender danced about her as she came up to the man that had saved her life.

"I was always told you shouldn't play with your food," she quipped as she came up from behind him, fiddling with her skirts. "I hope you saved some for me?"

 

[Draedamyr]

His smile was warm as he looked over his shoulder. Draedamyr raised an arm towards the innkeeper. The man paused clearing a glass, one he had been glaring at as if he could shame it to cleanliness. Leaving the glass behind on the bar he turned back into the kitchen.

"Told them to leave some warm in the pan for you," he explained. By contrast, his own were probably quite cold and still not finished.

"I bet that feels better," he remarked. He pushed back the chair opposite himself with his toe. "You look a bit more yourself," he added.

There was a little more colour to her. Not the rainbow of colours that had spread across her skin. Seska had cursed their magical laws, but perhaps the cost of magic in this world was one of the defenses against dictators causing the kind of carnage.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She stood there, fiddling with her skirt a bit longer, looking into his steady gaze. A faint flush to her cheeks, and then she was shaking her head and mumbling something unintelligible. "Felt good to just sit in some hot, soapy water," she admitted as she reached the offered chair, setting herself up into it. "I quite like them, but...I travel a lot. Not always a good idea to boil a creek for a bath," she finished.

She pondered on the observation. More herself, did she? The thing about that was that she did not really have any idea who that person was, anymore. A construct made from failures and guilt, spun around a core of disregard for most of the younger races? Whatever it was, this one chance encounter with an old elf had sent her careening a different way.

She had been a ghost, briefly interacting with the world here and there before becoming ethereal again. But...

She shook her head. "I could have stayed in that tub for quite a while longer, but...well, it had been nearly a month since my last real bath before all of the...the troubles we faced." She tried to scoot the chair closer to the table, annoyed as always at the height difference. A plate had been brought out of the back, an egg and some bread still warm, butter melting into it. She noted that his looked like it had been scooted from one side of the plate to the other, like a fussy toddler might have done.

Or someone with a lot on their mind.

"Is something troubling you, Draedmyr?" she asked, picking up a fork and taking a taste of breakfast, looking at him while chewing slowly.

 

[Draedamyr]

Draedamyr pondered briefly how he was supposed to skirt around the fact that nothing serious was troubling. That he was distracted by something quite so...simple. His mind was a mesh of threads, but something as simple as lust could apparently scatter any attempt at coherent thought. It was both slightly shaming and entirely refreshing at the same time.

He canted his head to one side, lifting his fork from the plate.

"Nothing troubling, no regrets for anything said yesterday should that worry you. Just obviously still...letting that settle in a little?" It was half true and it certainly sounded better than being mentally stuck in the mental image of the scene back in her room.

"Perhaps I should have waited until you had woken and eaten so you could have soaked all day," he mused. "After food we should go check the stables actually."

Draedamyr hated to bring the reminder of her lost companion to the table, but it was a practical matter they needed to address.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She had to think for a moment to recall her exact words from the night before, and she colored faintly at it. It had seemed innocent enough at the time, but she could certainly see where his mind had gone. Strangely, the embarrassment had little to to with the thoughts he doubtless had had of her. It was more to do with being perhaps a bit too...forward.

She covered the moment in taking up a chunk of bread and taking a bite of it.

And then she realised it could have been any manner of things they had spoken of the day before. The conversation had been long and deep, touching on all manner of things. What did it say of her own thoughts, that the first thing to come into question would be a half uttered line delivered in a room, too much wine in her and sleep descending upon her like the crack of doom?

She cleared her throat. "I am glad nothing said was regretted," she said, color fading. "Sometimes it takes a bit to digest things," she added. There was more than one meaning to that statement and she meant both of them.

She finished the meager breakfast - not meager because a lack was on offer, but because she seldom ate much. She drank water this morning, mostly to help clear away the last aftereffects of the nights wine.

"I would not have been able to allow myself such a luxury," she noted. It was not that she had anything pressing to do, or anywhere urgent to be...but, there had been times when she had. It was good to not allow one to become slovenly just because you could.

She closed her eyes at the mention of the stables, memories stirring. It hurt, still, but something dulled the pain a little. She sat in silence for a moment, then shook her head as if dislodging something unpleasant.

"Yes, we should," she finally said. Evenly, and without any sadness at all. "Best to be about it, then," she finished, and pushed herself back from the table, slipping to the floor.

 

[Draedamyr]

Despite having left part of his breakfast Draedamyr stood too. Despite having nearly an entire millennia behind him he wasn't entirely sure what to say now. He had been on more solid footing stood before the many faced demon. There had been just two options on that hill.

Fortunately age did bring some wisdom. A little more time would probably cross the divide between the previous day and this. Allow them to gather thoughts. As long as no plans had changed they would be travelling together for a little time. It wasn't something they would be short of.

Besides, a walk in the morning sun and retrieving mounts from the stable would bring no drama.



"Only one horse I can let go, sorry."

Draedamyr chewed on the inside of his cheek. Apparently there was no movement on the subject. He was willing to sell them a fit and healthy stallion at a price he could afford.

"Well...I don't mind walking on to the next town," Draedamyr offered.

"Nah," replied the man, "Colonel is a big lad, he can carry a skinny elf and a halfling at the same time." He turned a shoulder away from them to rub the nose of a tall, grey stallion who seemed more interested in his pockets.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"Not a halfling," she said with the weary tone of someone who had to say this, and many other things, every time she dealt with humans. The next suggestion was always elfin girl-child, or some other such drivel. She wasn't having any of it today,

The damned horse was very much a horse, so tall as to dwarf the woman who now approached. She had a fondness for the creatures that vastly predated Nightwind, and as she approached she clicked her tongue. The grey tossed its head a moment, dropping it low enough to look at the tiny woman who made that noise. She stroked its smooth nose as though it were her own animal already.

"I, for one, do mind walking to the next town." It was a statement of fact. She had spent plenty of time walking from place to place, even when she had a horse. Sometimes it was just not practical.

They would have had a little easier time in a larger settlement, but then the prices would be higher as well. She was as familiar with he at the value of the animals they sought, and the value of coin in general. It struck her then that she had not paid for a single thing since this whole ordeal went down. She had a coin purse that had miraculously not been lost.

So it was that she dug her purse out of her pocket. The thing weighed, well, nothing. She loosened the strings and reached into it delicately.

 

[Draedamyr]

"We can take turns. It would feel rather wrong to ride beside you walking the entire way after what you have been through," Draedamyr said.

"Well, and..." Draedamyr's glare stopped whatever suggestion the stable owner might have put forward next. It was a well-honed look. He couldn't must the sheer terror that the many-faced demon had chilled blood with, but he had always been able to threaten intent with his eyes.

The horse was left in the stables to collect later that day once Seska had paid. Something he would mention as they left.

"Thank you for paying," he politely remarked. "I would not have minded. A good bounty was collected not long before we met. I hope the horse looked well. To be honest, I do not really know them all that well. 'Colonel' is going to have to change though."

He preferred the city. Cobblestones under his own feet. The bustle of people around him.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"Do not cut the fool," she said reproach fully. "I do not bite and that animal wouldn't notice my weight on it's back at all."

She did not understand his reluctance. She had ridden double many times through her long life, and this reticence was baffling to her. She looked surreptitiously upon the elf, curiosity alive and well within her eyes. Another time, she might ask.

She laughed brightly at his comment about the animal. "The man does not know horseflesh very well. Look at the conformity in the hindquarters, the breadth and depth of his chest," she said, walking alongside the animal, stroking its flank. "Pusterum, that shall be his name." She looked to Draedmyr, a grin on her lips. She loved horses, and it showed. "It means 'respite' in a language I can barely recall."

A magnificent animal. They had basically stolen it, which was fine by her. "Do not worry about my money. I seldom spend any. I have not stayed under a roof for so long in ages; I do not require food."

 

[Draedamyr]

Draedamyr felt a soft tug of sorrow. Her memory of events might have become hazy, but he recalled every second when she had lost control. He could recall the pitch of her voice as she pulled the trees apart.

It was a brief pull, his feelings snapping back quickly. More restrained now than they had been. Like a spring given too much of a yank.

"I like the name," he replied. She might not have needed food, but perhaps she didn't need to face her pain entirely alone. After a moment of deliberation he briefly reached around her back and squeezed the far shoulder.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

I like the name. Echoes down the halls of time. Nightwind. More memories, centuries old, swirled around that name, half remembered at best.

She stiffened at the contact, understanding immediately what it was for. Some small part of herself loathed herself for finding such joy. The body of the last had barely had time to cool, at least in the memories of her heart. She had managed to push them aside, perhaps as a product of the growing thing that the man offering the gesture of...compassion?...had stirred in her. Made it too easy to forget the wounds of the heart that had not had any time to heal at all.

The horse whickered softly as she leaned her head into his flank, face turned away from her companion while she tried to master herself again. Too much emotion, she was showing too much of herself to the world. It was a mistake, and she knew it to be so.

 

[Draedamyr]

Draedamyr's hand fell from her shoulder. It hovered a few inches from her back. He watched as each of his fingers in turn folded into his palm before he let his arm fall back to his side.

He did not know what her reaction meant. He did know that he didn't want to press the matter. Particularly now. If his mind was a tangled knot then he couldn't imagine how difficult it was for Seska to sift through her own after all this time.

They needed some supplies for the road. Bed rolls, saddle bags and fresh water for a start. For now, he remained in stoic silence, leaving her this moment.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

It was a struggle to regain control. She had literal millennia of practice at keeping her emotions hidden beneath the surface, of putting forward a facade of serenity, of control. These things were needed when a situation needed to be handled; her diminutive form made her easy to dismiss, to ignore. Seeming control and force of personality were the only things that made anyone pay attention.

She did not want to look weak in front if this man, either. It was not out of fear of being taken advantage of; he could have easily done that dozens of times over the last weeks. She lifted her head and swallowed the hurt, turning to present a smile to him as she patted Respite's flank affectionately. It was a touch brittle, and the wet trails from her eyes couldn't be disguised, but it was the best she could muster.

"I am sure there are other needful things to gather," she said, proud of how smooth and steady her voice sounded. The pain was well hidden. In truth, it hurt far less than before...but it would be a long time before she could forget.

Respite might grant her exactly what she had named him...and the elfin swordsman might offer her more shelter from the wounds of the heart by mere companionship, as if it could be dismissed as merely conpanionship.

"Shall we?" She looked to him, eyes bright, the ghosts of the past swimming deep in their depths, out of sight.

 

[Draedamyr]

Part of him felt that there was something he should be saying. Perhaps some piece of advice that would make everything better. He knew first hand how long the pain of loss could last. It was a personal thing, your pain to own.

Seska had been through more than he could imagine. Draedamyr doubted he had any advice that she hadn't already considered. All he had to offer was acceptance and his company. Maybe that was enough.

"We shall. Though I am leaning on you to remember everything. I am a rather spoiled man of the city and tend to forget the basics for a few nights under the stars," he replied. Once more he managed a smile. She wouldn't know how few people were offered such a common expression from the stern elf.

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

She didn't believe that the elf was buying the deceit that she was fine, that everything was fine...and yet, she continued to play the part like an actress in a play. Everyone knew it was all a lie, but they played along anyway. It seemed that much of life could be boiled down to simply that: playing along with your role, and pretending that everyone else was not doing the same.

"I have a few tricks that make this easier for me than you," she replied. She did not require provisions beyond water, and even that was not anywhere near as dire a need for her as for him. "I...do not have anything left, other than this," she offered, and held up the coin purse on this long strings. With practiced ease, she threaded them together and hung it from her neck, tucking the washleather purse between her breasts, out of sight.

She knew exactly what he was doing. Giving her a purpose, something to focus on. Silently, inwardly, she blessed the man for the kindness. Knowing what he was about did not change its efficacy. The list of sundry items - sparing in number due to the requirement that they carry it all with them - played themselves out in her head.

"Do not lean to hard, m'Lord, for I am not sure I could support you overlong," she said as she took up the halter of the horse.

 

[Draedamyr]

Draedamyr chuckled softly, an almost musical sound. It was a long time since he had been left with nothing. No family, no home, no possessions. It wasn't that which tickled his humour. It was hard to find humour in crawling back up with grim determination, spilling blood on the way.

Just like Seska he was not the same person as that version of himself. Unlike her, he would have done it all the same way again if he had the option. Much of it, anyway.

He found humour in recalling how useless he had been the first time he had tried to pack for a trip on the road.

"Bear in mind that I have a habit of considering wine as essential and forgetting fresh water," he said as they led the horse away.

He looked up at their new mount. The horse already seemed to have an understanding with Seska.

"We could both ride together some of the way," he said, before immediately regretting it.