Private Tales There and Back Again

[Rainie]

Flickering shadows cast over the walls of a swaying, creaking quarters. Bits and baubles cluttered every horizontal surface. Statues, trinkets, and ornate boxes were all stuck to the crowded shelves with tacky putty to prevent them shifting as the ship rocked. With the curtains all drawn shut, only a swaying lantern hung from the ceiling provided any light.

A young woman sat at a cluttered desk, holding a letter in front of her. There was a globe on the corner of the desk, where a tricorne hat currently rested for the time being. Parchments, maps, and stacks upon stacks of letters also littered the work surface.

The woman herself was different from the one you’re likely thinking of. Freckles now dot her pale skin, and she wears a dark purple bandana around her frazzled, wavy hair. There’s a new scar almost completely hidden under her jaw, a silvery line drawn across her pulse point, a little more than two inches long. She also wore a new earring: a teardrop black pearl dangling from her chipped right ear.

The edges of the parchment in her fingers crinkled, the edge of one neatly manicured fingernail threatening to burst through the paper. Slowly, she set it down on the desk before her and smoothed it out again. Her vision had been far too blurred to make out the words for at least a full minute. The woman tried to take deep, even breaths as she willed her tears away.

Pirates do not weep. Probably.

Eventually, she stood from her seat and settled her shoulders into a regal line. A tricorne hat was replaced upon her head, and a bracing breath was taken. With purpose, she strode out of the Captain’s quarters and into the sunlight.

“Oh, first ma~te!” She sang brightly. “Set course for the nearest port-stone, darling. I’ve family business to attend to in Alliria.”

----

Her childhood home looked a little different these days. The remains of palisades still surrounded the slums. The carnage wrought by an undead army, orcs, and a dragon (of all things) had left scars on her hometown.

The woman picked her way towards the beginning of the docks, the air filled with the familiar scent of the marshlands around her. The wooden planks creaked under her boots, and she worried for a moment if the lumber was too rotted to hold her weight. Frowning, she decided to press on. Bow and quiver over her one shoulder, embroidered knapsack over the other, and a whip coiled on her hip, she stepped carefully around the ramshackle huts of the Areck slums.

As she traveled, she kept her head pointed down, relying on her wide tricorne hat to obscure her face. There wasn’t much to do about the hair. It was long, it was red, and she just couldn’t bring herself to change it much.

She set her strange, purplish eyes on the gates to the Outer City, where her parents had moved to when her and her brother had been teenagers. For a long moment, she paused, shifting her weight to one foot. Upon looking down at herself, she realized she couldn’t go home dressed like this. She was wearing a huge white shirt (stolen from her first mate) under a leather corset like a dress. It did very little to cover her, and even less to look the part of a respectable daughter. Her sturdy trousers were patched in several places. In fact, all her clothing looked fairly worn.

And of course, all her old clothes had either been traded away, used for scrap, or locked away in her quarters. On the ship. Over 1200 miles away. Because of course she wouldn't have thought about how she looked when she'd received a letter that said- Well...

She really was a complete idiot.

Well, time to try to find a clothing merchant and try to avoid any errant family members, or worse, old guildmates. The woman let out a big sigh and tried to decide where would be the best place to start.

 

[Faurosk]

Past the gates, the Outer City fared notably better than the slum beyond the wall. Whereas the Areck had always been left to squalor by the powers at large, there had been effort put into the Outer City's repair, stretching even into the time of this Captain's visit. A breeze carried the words of her first mate, spoken many miles away and unheeded just the same. "Y'shore yer wantin' to go to the Allir looky like that? Get strung up, leave me for cap'n?" Perhaps there's wisdom in the codger's words. Leave it to Muirin to be most helpful the day he's left behind.

Only a short walk elapsed before Lorraina saw her salvation. A modest, two-story house sat with its back towards the outer palisade. The domicile had fared well through the attacks, and a sign depicting a needle and thread swayed softly in the wind. The store's porch was shrouded by drapes of cloth that must have once been a beauty to behold, but years spent catching the elements and the eyes of passerby had lent the display a more rugged charm than had been intended.

Beyond the fabrics, a door sits open against a block of wood, and a fire crackles in the hearth.

 

[Rainie]

Without many options for trade in the Slums, the young woman decided to brave the Outer City market instead. After a brief, cordial discussion with the guards, she found herself wandering it. There was no way to keep her head down, exactly, as she needed to inspect the shop signs to find her quarry. Everything had changed so much in the years she'd spent away at sea. It was discomfiting to find her hometown so unfamiliar.

Eventually, she found a place that looked promising, and was far enough away from her own parents' shop to avoid anyone recognizing her. She inspected the faded drapery and sign for but a moment before ducking inside. The warmth greeted her, and she put on her friendliest smile.

"Hello?" She called out in her sweetest voice, hoping to endear herself to the shopkeep before they took in her admittedly rugged appearance.

 

[Faurosk]

Inside, she would find that the shop toes the line between 'home' and 'place of business' quite comfortably. A table had been set out with a variety of small fabric cuts, and the room's usual furnishings were all pushed to one side, lining a wall of the room like the waiting area at a guildhall. Near the fire, a pleasantly portly dog laid snoozing, their once-athletic build now plush with a life of ease and plentiful food.

The pirate's call did little to disturb the beast from its slumber, but it was answered shortly from her left where a set of stairs descended from the ceiling. "Hm? Yes, a moment," came an older woman's voice, accented in a way that sounds unplaceably un-Allirian. Seconds later, she walked down into sight, one hand gripping the ribbon-strewn banister.

She stood a good five inches taller than Rainie herself, and was build stockily enough to imply that tailoring was not always her trade. As she hit the bottom of the stares, a pair of greenish eyes gave the pirate a brief look-over.

"I will never understand the fashion of the youths," the tailor finally noted, as though to herself. "Those trousers are more patch than trouser. You, you are in dire need of my service."

 

[Rainie]

The young woman looked up at the shop's proprietor with chagrin. She shifted herself from foot to foot, feeling underdressed and a bit silly. In her defense, the trousers were her most comfortable pair, and there was a bit of a walk between the portal stone and the city.

An awkward chuckle covered her nervousness for the moment. There was something about this woman that seemed familiar. Perhaps it was because her mother had been a seamstress once, before the illness took her. But there was something else, something she couldn't quite put her finger on...

"Well, I am in your capable hands," She replied, a hint of joy in her voice, face still plastered with a smile. "I'm afraid I packed for travel, not entertaining or reunions. But I have coin if you have wares, Miss….?"

 

[Faurosk]

Rainie was then patted twice on the shoulder. Not out of camaraderie or support, it seemed, for the enigmatic shopkeep gave her hand a glance. "Ah, clearly not. You've brought the dust-road right in with you," she said, wiping her hand off on her own clothing.

"Missus Matilde Drewry," she then answered with pride, placing a fist on either hip. "You are in luck. My hands are not the only capable-set in this day."

Like that, she was off, marching over to the patches and swathes of fabric that had been set out for just such an occasion. One was plucked up and held wardingly at Rainie. Dropped just as quickly, another sample takes its place, then a third, and a fourth.

"What is the day? Reunion, or entertaining?"
Overhead, the next floor creaked.

 

[Rainie]

She flushed at the unsubtle wipe of travel dust on Missus Drewry's clothes, and cleared her throat in awkward apology. Her embarrassed smile turned contemplative at the name the older woman offered. It sounded familiar, too, but she just couldn't place it. Perhaps Mrs. Drewry was a local, or an old friend of her mother's. Brendalynn had had quite the extensive social circle, back in the day.

At that thought, coupled with Matilde's question, turned the young pirate's smile quite sad. "An... unfortunate reunion, I'm afraid. The sort you clean yourself up for...." She trailed off, cocking her head to the side and listening as movement came from overhead. Ah, the extra hands Mrs. Drewry mentioned. "Do you have anything in black? Just something simple."

Easily distracted, it was then that she noticed the dog, and perked up considerably. "Oh, hello," She called melodically to the sleeping lump. She took a few steps towards it, hoping it would wake and accept some pets. She was a big fan of dogs, and none were allowed on the ship. (Which was grounds for mutiny, if you asked her. Wasn't she the captain? Could you call it mutiny if it was against your own first mate?)

 

[Faurosk]

"Dogs're a baddun for luck," he said. "Not fit t'man the riggin's," he said... But this pup looked plenty capable! Well muscled beneath its flab and fur, it had the bearing of a fearsome guard and stalwart companion. Though cuddled up near the fire, his paws all bunched in one easily tied bouquet, the dog showed little of his wild heritage.

"Black?" Came the matron's voice, taking on a kinder tone. "Of course. I am... Sorry to hear it be needed." Short steps carried her to a door beneath the stairs, which opened to reveal an adjoining room storeroom or closet. At that size, the former word was far more apt.

"I have one, might work," she called from the back room as road-worn boots thudded down the first step.

"Bit big... We can adjust. Quick work, drawing in. Clever hands make it so." Steady legs trod downward, clad in a traveler's trouser. Unlike Rainie's, this man's must have been patched by an expert hand, for they showed little wear despite their years.

"Extra pay, and I can hurry it. Limited time, instant adjustment, very flashy!"

"Flashy," asked a man as he came fully into sight. He filled the stairs out well, though he was only a few inches taller than the Mrs. Drewry herself. "Peddling my services again?" He continued. "I have a job, I've told-"

Cunning eyes landed on their customer. The sort of eyes that knew trouble when they saw it, and a smile below that would walk into said trouble anyways. His lips parted over a long overdue greeting, and that's when he said it--

"Dustmop, seize her."
The dog raised his head, yawned, and laid down once more.

 

[Rainie]

Lorraina Night looked up at the newcomer who’d just joined them downstairs, and her smile froze in place as her heart picked up double time. All the little familiarities came together, finally forming a picture and making sense in her slow, slow brain. She wanted to smack herself in the forehead for her own stupidity, but she was luckily frozen at the moment, hand hovering midair over the dog’s - Nota’s - head.

Rainie, as Lorraina was called, remained still for far too long. Finally, she burst out a single bark of laughter and pressed a hand to her mouth to hide her wide grin.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” She exclaimed jovially, voice only trembling on the last word. Her mind was racing, and a thousand things she could say flashing through her mind like fireworks, and a hundred of them that she’d daydreamed of saying when this exact moment finally occurred. A thousand apologies, confessions, and imagined conversations zipped through her mind at light speed.

“I didn’t know you could grow a beard,” She said instead, smirk evident as she smoothed out her hair and crossed her arms over her stomach.

 

[Faurosk]

A strange phenomena played out that her mind could no longer ignore, given the mage's lack of motion. His clothing was moving, the threads writhing and turning over like perturbed serpents. The motion passed over him like a wave, rippling from where a hand rested on his left shoulder all the way down to his boots.

The nostalgic robes she'd known for him were vanishing, fast, subsumed beneath a traveler's rugged clothes. Within the moments it took for her to find her words, he was clad in a quilted doublet, a false book of spells and formulae hanging near his hip.

"Really, the beard's the first--? Alright, sure. It's good to see you, too." Subdued as ever by sass and a deadpan demeanor, Faurosk rolled his eyes. "Yes, plenty can change over a handful of years. Yes, I know I got handsome. I figure you were somehow draining the charm out of me, and now it's back to blooming."

Perplexed by this development and turn of conversation, Matilde returned to the main room with a dress folded over her arm. It was a dark and dour garment, fit with a long skirt and high neckline ill-suited to swashbuckling adventures. Faurosk failed to notice that significance.

Instead, he takes three strides closer to Rainie and squints down into her face. "The hat doesn't do much to shield your face, does it?" He queried, casually flicking the frontward cone of its brim upwards. "It suits you."

 

[Rainie]

Unfortunately, Mrs. Drewry’s re-entry went unnoticed by the shop’s current customer. She was too busy grinning up at Faurosk. Somehow, he’d gotten even weirder. Rainie couldn’t be more delighted. Internally, she was already planning a couple of jibes and jokes to sneak up on him with later.

“I’ve been told it looks rather fetching on me,” She primped with good humor, flicking a lock of red hair over her shoulder and batting her eyelashes. Then she took the hat off her own head and went up on her tiptoes to cram it on his, one hand on his shoulder for balance. A futile effort, for sure, as it was likely several sizes too small for a grown man.

“Looks even better on you, dear,” She teased. Then she met his eyes and smiled, eyes brimming with joy and fondness in equal measure. Still observing him, she rocked back on her heels and confessed, “It really is good to see you,” with genuine warmth.

He really did look ridiculous in her hat.

 

[Faurosk]

"Fetching? Fetching what, fleas?" It was the best quip he could ready before she was upon him. Perhaps surprisingly, a hand fell to her waist to add its support. Any slip or fall would be a dark mark on his mother's long-standing reputation, and that couldn't be allowed to pass. The hug that followed was less easily excused, especially considering how Rainie was hoisted off the ground like a sack of potatoes.

"Yes, yes, my company is infectious. Like a plague."

A polite throat-clearing from across the room drew Faurosk from his pleasant thoughtlessness, and the customer was deposited safely to the ground once more. "I will need your measure," Matilde cut in, short steps carrying her closer to the reunited duo. The dress was proffered, then unfurled.

Well made yet tailored to someone taller and broader than Rainie herself, it would take extensive adjustment to fit. Such a process may be cheaper than commissioning something custom, yes, but still quite time consuming. Thankfully, the transmuter an arm's length away could cut that from hours to minutes.

 

[Rainie]

A bubbling laugh was forced out of Rainie as she was hauled into a bear hug that lifted her off the floor. She squeezed back for all her archery muscles were worth, and was still giggling by the time she was set back on her feet.

Mrs. Drewry called her attention away from her wizard, and Rainie suddenly remembered, Oh, yeah, shopping. Still grinning ear-to-ear, the flushed pirate returned her focus to the kindly shopkeep who must be-

“Yes, of course, sorry about that, Mrs. Drewry,” She demurred with all the politeness she could muster (which was a considerable amount.) “I didn’t realize-” She glanced over at the man whose arms she still grasped and took a step back. Jerking a thumb in his direction, she amends, “Faurosk and I go way back.”

With that… sufficient? Explanation out of the way, she inspected the dress. It was nothing like anything Rainie would ever wear, too buttoned up and a bit plain. But it was well crafted, and exactly what she needed at the moment. She sent the woman a smile and nodded.

“Yes, that’s perfect. Where do you want me?” She asked with a tilt of her head, the picture of good manners and charm. On her best behavior. You know, for her, anyway.

 

[Faurosk]

Matilde withdrew a length of thick, colorful yarn from her pocket, unfurling it with a flick of her wrist. The cord had been tied at regular intervals, changing color at each knot. Before she could direct Rainie, Faurosk stepped in with a raise of one hand.

"Come, now. I'm not in so much of a hurry as to leave you with busywork, momma," he said, carefully extricating the dress from her grasp. Mrs. Drewry simply crossed her arms and huffed, her eyebrow furrowing.

"So keen to run out on me, but one red-haired lady being all it takes," she chided before casting a sympathetic glance at her customer. "He is a brilliant boy, but simple in such things. There was one woman, yes, took my child all across the Allir to-"

Although he'd crossed to the table of fabrics and begun marking the dress with a narrow stick of chalk, Faurosk had not, in fact, gone deaf. Point of fact, he interjected, "Momma, this is Rainie. I've told you about her."

One could see the memories dawn on her in that moment, a look of sympathetic embarrassment dawning on the seamstress's face. It lasted for all of one moment before being overthrown by a subdued smile.

"Was you, made my Rusky fight a dragon, ah?" The matron's words came with an outcast reach, a thumb and knuckle set to gently pinch Rainie by her cheek. The mage tried his best to offer a sympathetic glance, but the glint in his eyes said, "Someone's in trooouuuble."

 

[Rainie]

An unfamiliar hand was reaching towards her face and she nearly slapped it away before remembering where she was. Instead, she halted the reflexive movement of her hand and allowed the matronly pinch. With an embarrassed chuckle, she gently extricated herself from the woman’s grasp and scrambled for a moment, hand on her abused cheek.

“Oh, well, he got back in one piece, didn’t he? And it inspired the most wonderful epic, coming to taverns near you someday soon...” She rambled awkwardly. Her gaze whipped over to Faurosk, who was doing his damnedest to look innocent. The pirate, however, knew him better and could see straight through him.

Oh, that little sh-

So, she made a casual show of peering at the dress, curious and a bit confused as the wizard sketched out the measurements for the alteration. A slow look of scandalization dawned on her face and she said, with no small bit of drama:

“Well! While we did travel together for a while, I certainly don’t recall giving you my measurements to memorize... Rusky.”

Damn, she’d meant to keep the nickname in her back pocket. The temptation overcame her restraint, and in that she had nearly ruined the charade. The nickname was too funny to keep a completely straight face. A smirk was straining to break free, and her eyes glinted with barely-controlled mirth. Thankfully, even the keen eye of his mother was unfamiliar with her tells, so she was more likely to be at a disadvantage when it came to seeing Rainie’s little performance for what it was.

There was a twitch at the corner of her lips, on the side his mother wasn’t on.

 

[Faurosk]

The white marks his chalk left were regular insofar as measurements go. While some certainly fell in line with axiis one would measure a body by, they looked nothing like the lines or dashes a tailor would leave. Hell, they almost looked like runes, or glyphs, or- "Instant adjustment, very flashy!" Funny, this process didn't seem terribly instantaneous, and one wouldn't label the painstaking process of marking out each seam 'flashy.'

"You wouldn't recall, dearest. You were quite intoxicated at the time," Faurosk lied without so much as a crack in his focused facade. Gods, he must've practiced his deadpan since the last time they'd gone wit-to-wit! "Of course, your measurements've likely changed since then... But! This ought to be a simple enough spell, a partial animation requiring no more than two or three drams of--"

The mage paused for a moment, giving Lorraina a serious look. "Sorry, would you like me to slow that explanation down, or would you prefer to trust me?"

Matilde clapped her hands, claiming, "This is well in hands." With it being her turn to extricate from an uncomfortable situation, she toddled off toward the stairs with only a muttered explanation that, "I will fetch the kettle. It is bad fortune, taking reunion without tea."

What a prescriptive thought. It brought a smile to Faurosk's face, one he was quick to cast Rainie's way. "I don't suppose you or I could manage much more 'bad fortune.' If only I'd inherited her wisdom, hm?"

 

[Rainie]

Ooh, that bastard.

Wisely, the pirate remained silent, allowing the thorough assassination of her character to happen with grace. After a beat, Rainie crossed her arms and wandered over towards where Faurosk was working, casually keeping an eye on Mrs. Drewry as she made her way up the stairs. Casually leaning her whip-bearing hip against the work table, she replied to his comment with an airy:

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it,” that trailed off on its own.

Once the shop’s proprietor was out of sight, Rainie reeled back her fist and slammed it into the poor wizard in the shoulder. Not enough to hurt, but enough for him to ham it up if he was so inclined.

“You bastard!” She hissed under her breath. “I can’t believe you told your mother about me!” She kept shooting frantic glances towards the top of the stairs, ready to whip out the modest smile at a moment’s notice.

But her fury was flimsy; simply embarrassment concealed under an angry mask. In fact, she could barely hide her damn smile. After the barest moment of a glare, she let the rueful grin take over and gave him a disapproving shake of her head.

“I’d cry slander if anyone in this damned city would take me seriously,” She swore emptily.

With dignity, she swiped the hat precariously perched on his head and crammed it back onto her own.

 

[Faurosk]

It's a wonder that hat stayed balanced for as long as it had, and it was fortunately snatched back before a nod could send it toppling to the floor. For his part, Faurosk took his lump with grace, only recoiling slightly when her fist met his shoulder. Rainie would find herself fixed with a calculating gaze before, humming, he returned to marking the expansive fabric of the dress.

"You've gotten stronger," is the only answer her antics would earn while the task at hand remained unfinished. When he finally seemed satisfied with the chalk-stained state of her soon-to-be-bought garment, the mage propped his fists on either hip and fixed her with a smile that gave few hints to his actual feelings.

"Would you prefer I'd not spread our glorious tale, your eminence? Because you've put off that ballad for, say, twelve seasons." So he'd not seen a single penny from the royalties she'd promised! Feh, bards. Always over-promising and under-delivering. One of these days, he'll have to learn his lesson.

 

[Rainie]

The pirate’s brow almost furrowed into a frown at his lackluster reaction, but she smoothed it out easily into a more passive expression. Irreverently, she hopped up and sat on the work table, scooting far enough away to not disrupt Faurosk's work.

"I suppose it's fine," She relented with over-the-top indignation. "And I'll have you know, it's a lot of work to maintain a ship! Barely any time to compose ballads, especially when they turn themselves into epics without your permission." She idly allowed her left leg to sway from her undignified seat, narrowly missing Faurosk's own leg as he stood before the table.

There was a beat of silence before she spoke up again. "I'd say we should catch up, but your mother said something about you running out...? Apologies if I'm keeping you away from something." She swings her leg again, this time brushing his accidentally.

 

[Faurosk]

"The great work is never finished," he agreed, sounding almost glum. His own pursuits had a way of spiraling out on him. A journey through the mountains could become a do-good dragonslaying, a return to Elbion might turn into a realm-spanning adventure that brings him to blow with demons and mist alike. Sometimes- Sometimes, a trip to the tundra evolves into a protracted and quite embarrassing period of moonlighting as a poet.

Faurosk simply hummed past these thoughts, shaking his head. "You're not keeping me from anything important. If it puts your conscience at ease, we can say this makes up for that date I owe you."

The dress, briefly forgotten, is picked up and examined. In a room so full of elephants, it might just be time to address the first. "It's not happy times that brought you back to port, is it?"

 

[Rainie]

Well, that was a lot to unpack.

All at once, Rainie was barraged with a bit of quiet shock and no small amount of guilt and grief. She turned her gaze from her wizard's face and stared at the dour black dress instead. After a moment of thought, she shook her head once, sad smile still in place.

"No," She admits with uncharacteristic honesty. There was a long silence that neither of them sought to fill for a moment. Eventually, she continued, "My mother passed away, about a month back. I was at sea, so... I portaled back here to pay my respects and see my father."

 

[Faurosk]

The dress was eyed for that long moment before it's set down again. Rainie's wizard takes a half step inward, slowly wrapping his arms about her.

It wasn't the spine-realigning, floor-neglecting embrace they'd shared mere minutes before, but it was an embrace nonetheless, and it was important. He didn't offer any words of sympathy, for he couldn't begin to understand what she must have been going through. Instead, she felt a gentle pat on the back, and a murmur bridged the quiet once more.

"It's good you made it back." What more could be said?

 

[Rainie]

Upon being drawn into another embrace, Rainie tucked her head under Faurosk's chin and wrapped her arms around him. For a moment, she just allowed herself to enjoy the comfort of another person holding her, calloused fingers clutching the back of his doublet. After a beat, her grip relaxed into something more appropriate, and she took a deep breath. Finally, she leaned away enough to look at him, lips twitching at an attempt of a smile. Her hands drifted from his back, to his shoulders, then down his arms to rest at his elbows.

"It's quite alright. She was sick for a long time, you know?" She blinked slowly and looked away, back down to the dress, sitting limply on the table she perched on. Her hat was askew.

"I-" She stopped herself. "I'm glad to see you. Sorry I'm such a mess." Rainie gave him a rueful smile that didn't quite meet her eyes.

 

[Faurosk]

This sort of emotional maturity had never been either of their strongest skills, but one would find they did admirably with the tools provided. Faurosk parted from the hug, lingering close. A gentle hand tilts her hat back into place before coming to rest on her shoulder.

"That's not something to apologize for," he excused on her behalf. Then, taking in a shallow breath, he apologized.

"Sorry I was being such an ass." He hadn't known, not really. "My father's been afflicted with something similar. A-... Lingering sickness. So, if there's anything I can do for you, anything at all-"

He nodded toward the cozy room about them. The fire that crackled in its hearth, the familiar dog who'd perched his head up on his paws and watched them with one ear flopped carelessly inside-out.

"Consider our home yours."

 

[Rainie]

A chuckle started in her chest at that, and she couldn't help her smile. "Faurosk," she began dotingly, patronizing affection in her tone, "My parents' house is fifteen minutes that way." She pointed vaguely towards the door and to the left. It amused her to no end that they had been practically neighbors for most of their lives, then randomly met up in Elbion one day and promptly got Rainie possessed by a long-dead necromancer.

A booted foot tapped his shin. "But, thank you." She looked up at him, trying to convey just how genuinely grateful she was for him, his honesty, his comfort, his friendship, and-

"Now then," Rainie proclaimed in an undertone, slipping off the table and back to her feet. "Either your mother is very slow at tea-making, or she is being very polite right now." She cocked a hip and propped her fist on it, seemingly all back to business. As was her way.

"How do you do the dress-transmutey-thing? Do I need to put it on, or...?"