Private Tales There and Back Again

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Confused, she tilted her head to the side. When was she ever hard on herself? What a strange thing to say. Rainie huffed a ghost of a laugh and just nodded.

"See you tomorrow, my dear." She replied softly. She set her bag down and rummaged around for a moment before withdrawing an iron key on a braided cord. Then she hauled the knapsack over her shoulder and took a final bracing breath. "Well, once more unto the breach!" With a shaky grin and a customary wink, Rainie turned on her heel and headed over to the faded blue shop.

Stepping onto the porch, she paused. She really, really didn't want to do this. How could she face her father after- Well, everything and, now...

She stood there, motionless, for all of five seconds. Then, she forced her shoulders to relax, put a smile on her face, and unlocked the door.

"Papa? Papa, I'm home..."

The door closed gently behind her.
 
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Across the street, an interloper looked away. He looked anywhere but before him. Turning, he began to pace back down the alley, looping a hand through his belt.

The truth is, he'd lied about their path's convergence, and Rainie had been too kind to call him on it. The Inner City was a trek and a half in an opposite direction to his earlier pointing. The truer truth is, he didn't mind the walk. His thumb flicked across the pommel of a dagger, sheathed protectively behind that false spellbook on his hip. Its scabbard was lined with runes, protective glyphs...

He'd been called to work on stone, but stone was a steadfast thing. Grounded, pragmatic; It demanded the same from its shaper.
Faurosk thanked the Gods for the long walk ahead of him. He thanked them for the time to think, to reconsider, and to cool down.
 
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The evening passed as expected. Rainie and her father went to visit Brendalynn's grave together. It was a small plot, the marker was rather basic, nothing like the woman who'd raised her. Rainie's mother had been so full of life, before the illness took her. Her laughter had been loud enough to make the glasses in the cupboard rattle, and her singing voice caused neighbors to look at each other in fond exasperation and shake their heads.

To think, all that was left of that life was a bit of stone with a name carved into it.

Meinhard, on the other hand, was doing as well as he could. He told her that he'd gotten an apprenticeship at the blacksmith's. He also told her that he was moving out, selling the house for cheap.

It made sense. The blacksmith had offered him an apartment above the smithy. And the house, well... It was meant for a family. And to a new family it would go. He'd already offered it to a young couple in the slums. They would move in at the end of the month.

She spent a whole ten minutes before bed running her fingers across the notches carved into the corner of one wall upstairs. Above each notch was a letter. L, then A, then L again, on and on until they stopped. The last L was just slightly above Rainie's eyeline. The last A was a little bit higher.

---

That morning had found Rainie fuzzy-headed and immeasurably tired. Her feet, back, and shoulders were more sore than her walk from the portal stone prompted. Groaning in misery, she dressed in some of her mom's old pieces she liked to dress Rainie up in whenever she'd visit. Looking into her mirror, she noted with some satisfaction that some of her tattoo could be seen in this dress. She also noted, with less satisfaction, that her eyes were still puffy and red.

But she put on a smile and went downstairs to see her father off to work.

The house was rather empty, as most of the furniture had been sold off or moved. All of her mother's things had been packed up into chests. The whole house felt barren, and dead. Rainie spent some time trying to fill the silence, humming and stomping about, going up and down the stairs. She sorely missed her lute, which had been sadly forgotten, left on her bed on the ship. She still had so much time to kill before either her father came home or Faurosk came to fetch her.

Eventually, she gave up and had a nap on the sofa in front of the fireplace.
 
Down the road (and a little to the right), a mage was ferociously scrubbing his hands in a barrel of rainwater. Chalk-like grayness clung to the skin of his fingers, relenting only under the pressures of force and time. The day before, Faurosk had been kneading granite like clay, reshaping lines of strata and molding a statue with nothing but his bare hands and an understanding of the esoteric.

"You should have worn gloves," his mother had advised some three hours after the job was already done. Despite hindsight's clarity, the wizard's only regret was the soreness he'd be feeling throughout the next day. It's difficult enough to feel what shape stone wants to take without adding a layer of cotton or leather to the mix.

After a half an hour spent over the barrel and two more walking Matilde around the market, Faurosk was ready for an afternoon spent collapsed someplace. He inclined his head toward the midday sun, calculated its angle off the Outer City's palisade,
and cursed under his breath.

It was with more haste than he would have preferred that the wizard got himself ready for his noontime appointment. With barely enough time to properly dress himself and pat Nota farewell, he was out the door.

Minutes later, a polite knock came at the Night's residence, and a man more used to hiking than running was nearly doubled over on the porch.
 
Rainie awoke from her light doze at the noise and gave a mighty stretch, the kind that forced squeaks from your lungs. She slumped back down and tried to figure out what had woken her. She very nearly decided it wasn't important and turned over to go back to sleep. And then she remembered: Oh, right, she was expecting company.

Lurching to her feet, she peered out the shop window with a twitch of the curtain. There, she found the familiar figure of her wizard nearly having an asthma attack on the front porch. Smiling to herself, she stepped back and hummed a little tune while running her fingers through her hair. Just like that, her bedhead was gone and her loose curls were perfect once more. Clearing her throat, she unlocked the door and swung it open.

With her best simper, she teased, "Oh, is this a delivery? Where do I sign for your package?" With that, she leered at him and attempted to wiggle her eyebrows. And then promptly burst out laughing. "I'm so sorry," She apologized. "That one was awful! Good morning, come on in." She stepped back and opened the door wide for him.
 
It took him some time to straighten out, but when he did, Faurosk seemed thoroughly unimpressed. He tried to speak on the general unimpressiveness of her sinker of a line, but his lungs could only conjure the sound of two deflated sausage casings catching the wind. Wordlessly, he stepped in past her and made for the sofa she'd been dozing on, practically falling back onto it and reclining quite comfortably.

"I'm not interrupting anything important, am I," he managed after a lengthy inhalation. It didn't sound an awful lot like a question, and the squint leveled Rainie's way would confirm that suspicion. "If the dragon resting on my lower back isn't signature enough, I dread what else you'd write."

He probed a hand behind himself, scratching at the tattoo they'd both earned after a night of ill-advised revelry. Then again, they had helped slay a dragon... Perhaps some celebration had been in order.

"You're not sorry," her wizard finally surmised, letting his suspicious staring falter to a somewhat more friendly smile.
 
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A laugh issued from the bard again as she closed the door. "Not really," She agreed easily as she meandered to the back of the couch. She propped her elbows on the back of it and leaned over to peer down at Faurosk. He looked a little flushed, to say the least. Her brow furrowed slightly and she asked, "Did you run here?"

Speaking of tattoos, Faurosk could now she her newest piece, thanks to her little off the shoulder number. Black lines formed the image of waves tossed about in a storm, and an unlucky ship caught within them. It was simple, but elegant, and managed to hide the tattoo's true purpose.

If his eye were keen enough, he may be able to spot several runes of protection concealed within the design. The purpose for several of them just seemed to make her harder to hurt, like a dormant ward. Another protected her from magic meant to trace or scry upon her. But there was one that may stand out, for it was a ward against necromancy. Specifically, ensuring no one could ever use her body after her death to make her undead.

"You catch your breath, I must run upstairs and get my purse." With a smile, she was gone, humming as went.
 
His head fell back against the couch, and he fixed her with an amused smirk. "Have you ever known me to run?" It was a deflection, plain as day, but a clever one. The only times she'd seen him pick up the pace had been to avoid danger, and that was more 'mad-dashing' than 'running'.

"No, I-... Something... Breathtaking..."

He shook his head in stark denial, waving her off as she went. Outrageous, that she'd been exploring his talent in the arcane arts, yet he hadn't stolen an ounce of her wit for terrible pick-up lines. "Off with you, witch! Allow me my rest."

And rest Faurosk did, nearly melting down into that sofa as Rainie ran off to fetch her purse. Goodness knows what mischief she'd actually planned to get into up there, but if he hadn't the mind for such speculation. Not then, half starved for oxygen, glancing about a nearly barren home.
 
On the floor above, Rainie could be heard humming and shuffling a few things around. And then, suddenly, there was only humming, no footsteps. She trotted back down the stairs a moment after, familiar black shoes on her feet and coin purse in her hands. The purse was open, and being picked through.

"Oh, would you like a diamond? I've several of them, and I've heard they can be used for spell components." She offered distractedly as she dug around in the leather bag. Finally, with a victorious ah-ha! a clear stone the size of a newborn's fist was freed from the pouch, then offered for Faurosk's inspection. It was nicely cut, and was more than likely a priceless treasure to the previous owner... whoever that poor sod was.

"That's the biggest one, I believe. You can keep it, if you want."
 
One eye cracked open to inspect the diamond. Then the other did the same. Finally, the wizard righted himself and sat forward on the sofa, placing his face level with the offered gemstone. Neither of his hands reach for it.

"Clever illusion," he stated after a few seconds of silent contemplation. She'd been a kind and considerate person for as long as he'd known her, but that had always been buried under a layer or three of rakish incorrigibility. Niceness is one thing, but such incredible charity is another league entirely.

Only after his touchless judgment had been passed did Faurosk raise a finger, carefully poking at the diamond to verify its foregone falseness.
 
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"Ooh, I hadn't thought of that," She muttered as Faurosk's finger impacted the very real diamond. "Do you think that would work on merchants?" Perhaps if she wanted to be run out of town. With pitchforks. Probably.

With Faurosk sitting upright again, much of the sofa's real estate had been freed up. Swiftly, she stole a seat for herself and crossed her legs comfortably. She held up the diamond where it could refract the light of the low fire in the hearth. "I have, oh... eight of them left? They used to number fifteen, but I've been trying to sell them off." With a rueful smirk, she decided to explain, "My... A patron wanted me to collect them, for - ah. For a spell. I couldn't go through with it, so-" she gestured vaguely with the most expensive rock you could ask for, "-diamonds."

She held out the stone again, wordlessly urging the wizard to take it.
 
Faurosk eyed the diamond for three seconds longer before taking it, casually palming the priceless stone into a pouch at his hip. "Alright, how many people's ire does this turn on me? Your patron, the previous owner, the people they've both paid off..."

His hands worked through a series of complicated motions at his side, and with a grunt of concentration on the mage's part, the flap of the diamond-holding pouch seemed to melt and fuse itself shut. Sure, the leather barrier wouldn't stop someone who knew what they were looking for, but it would certainly deter some cutpurse from biting off more than they could handle.

"Fifteen sounds... Excessive. What was this 'patron' trying to do, have themself killed by the unspoken?" How long had it been since that emperor got himself obliterated by The Herald? More importantly, would anybody learn a lesson from his downfall? That last bit seemed unlikely, and the wizard sniffed. "Thank you. I'll... I'll try to put it to good use."

What else is there to say when a friend hands you a stone worth more than your childhood home and the seven houses nearest?
 
The pirate smiled and settled comfortably into the sofa, resting her eyes for a moment. "Mm, owner was long dead; buried with it. I also had it double checked for any surprises. The good news is, nothing magical about it aside from its potential..." She trailed off for a beat, covering up a big yawn with one hand.

"As for my... patron. I haven't heard from her in a few years now." Finally, Rainie opened her eyes and met his significantly. Surely he would clue into who she spoke of. "And... that's exactly what she was attempting to do, albiet unknowingly. T'was what inspired my research, which led to-" she wiggled her fingers vaguely, "-all this."

Furrowing her brow, she eyed a rectangular patch of wall that held the paler silhouette of the art that had once hung there. Now gone, sold off or stored away. There were several similar markings upon nearly every wall. Once a decorated home full of life, now an empty house.

After a moment, she decided to explain what had happened, without her usual ambiguity. "During the pandemonium, with all the mist and demons, she made a mistake. Nearly got herself killed again, and transferred her soul into the body of another lich. They recovered her body, and told me they would need 30,000 gold worth of diamonds to bring her back. They... wanted my help. Asked me to transfer my soul into her body, use her power to separate their souls and... Well, it seemed needlessly complicated, and I didn't ask too many questions." She gave a sarcastic snort of amusement and rolled her eyes to cover up her shame.

There was another pause as she took a breath. "And then I got ahold of a textbook from your old school, somehow. Started reading up on the laws. And I realized... Well. That fourth one gets a little tricky." She carefully didn't mention that she would have been the only truly living thing in the room when said ritual occurred.

"I haven't heard from her since." Rainie finished with a lazy shrug.
 
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Faurosk stared not at the bare walls, but the ceiling. The diamond felt hot in his pocket as
a single thought ran through his head, following the arching path of logic to it's natural conclusion.

"Sounds like you left at the right time," he understated, sounding relieved. Rainie had never been some lamb to be lead to slaughter- not by any means -but it's still pleasant to hear that his friend had the right instincts for self preservation. The mage leaned forward then, seemingly recovered from his pointless sprint. Her new tattoos were met with a thoughtful glance, and subsequently, an approving nod.

"Clever. How many of those seven 'lost' diamonds went into these?" He reached out, poking her twice on the arm. It must be difficult to track down a stone once it's been sacrificed for an enchantment, and he was left to ponder the possibilities. "Keeping yourself safe would've been a much better use than-... Well, than getting tangled up in all that soul business."

That word, 'soul,' dawned with a grimace. Something that's so personal, so powerful, yet so unquantifiable? It drove a furrow through his reason-driven brow.
 
Feeling lighter, having finally gotten the full story off her chest, she looked down at her arm at the poke. "Ah," She hummed. "Four. One of them was the size of that one," She gestured to his now-sealed leather pouch on his belt. "And another one was even bigger." Even to her weak senses, the magic emanating from the ink on her skin was decently powerful. The witch who'd done it had come highly recommended, at least in her current circle.

"Well then, now that you're recovered from your exercise, shall we go get something to eat? I nearly napped through lunch." With a grunt, she stood from her relaxed slump and stretched her arms up over her head. With a sigh, she lowered her arms and cocked a hip, looking down at him and wishing she could smooth away what looked to be a brooding furrow between is brows.
 
With a raise of his eyebrows and a mighty gust of air to buzz his lips, he rose. "Yes, let's. I nearly started doing calculations, there. Calculations." Faurosk shuddered at the thought, starting toward the door. One way or another, her wish had come true.

"The Raven's not terribly far. Let's consider it my treat." The wizard patted his hip-pouch illustratively, glancing back to Rainie to give her a definitively goofy look. Like that, he was back out into the street, holding the door open at his back. "So you chance back into my life, reeking of the sea and wearing a three-cornered hat. Something tells me there's quite the story there." How a thief and self-taught magician becomes a sailor, he could only begin to guess.
 
Chuckling under her breath at his silly look, she retrieved her cloak, whip, and house key from a peg beside the door. The cloak was pinned about her shoulders, and the whip found its place on her belt. "It is quite the tale, I assure you." She agreed as she joined him outside. After closing the door and locking up, she tucked the key into her corset, allowing the braided cord to dangle from the top uncaringly.

"But you've already slogged through listening to me monologue once already." She told him as she claimed her spot alongside him, a place she hadn't occupied in several years. Looking up at him with a grin, she held out a hand for his elbow. "I believe that means it's my turn to listen to your lovely voice," She flirted shamelessly. "What have you been up to? Surely not playing seamster this whole time, as you said you were only passing through."
 
Her unabashed flirtation was met with a facetious look of disgust, but his elbow was given regardless. It seems some Allirians still understand courtesy. "If you keep talking like that, I might start thinking you mean something by it," Faurosk warned, and off they went.

"Where to even start... I spent nearly a year in the north, out in Eretejva," he began, then blew out a sigh. "It was dreadful, to start, but I don't regret it. The tundra taught me plenty, and it was kind enough to let me leave alive. Though... Well, my survival is more a witch's fault than my own. Sigrith. You'd like her." Rainie was fixed with a sidelong glance, then, the wizard squinting down past his eyelashes. "Maybe you'd like her too much... Yeah, you can't meet." It had been decided.

"Since then, I've mostly traveled wherever my services are needed. If you've heard about a winsome wizard anywhere west of the Spine and east of Elbion, odds are, you've found your man." His boasting ended as it always did, with a sobering return to reality. Faurosk shook his head, giving Rainie a tight smile. "It's been exhausting, honestly. It's nice, helping people, but I only have company for so long these days. As soon as I'm past the palisade and back into the country, the roads get lonely again."
 
At his warning, her stomach sank for the briefest second. But then, his words registered and a smirk appeared across her face. Well, if he insisted. Surely he'd get the hint eventually, right? Flirtation was usually just a game to her, but this time there were stakes involved. And she aimed to win.

She listened raptly to his description, blinking innocently up at him when a squint was pointed her way. Rainie got a thoughtful look when he finished, recalling something she'd wondered about the day before. Wordlessly, she crossed something off her mental list.

"Well," She drawled. "Surely you had Nota with you, yes? Or has he actually been languishing in your mother's shop all these years, as he appears to have been?" This was followed by a self-deprecating laugh. "I can't believe I stumbled into her shop," She noted with mirth. "It was nice to meet her. I can see now where you got your charm." Much like her wizard, she also couldn't tell for sure whether she truly liked Rainie or not.
 
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Faurosk shook his head. He scratched at his beard, considering his past while failing to spot any of the countless hints being laid in the present. "I brought him here after that business with the mists. Too many close calls." He'd saved the mutts life once before, but there's no guarantee he could do it again. Besides, for all the service he had given, Nota deserved a peaceful retirement...

The fact that he'd helped keep the wizard's parents safe during the attacks across Alliria was incidental, but delightful.

"Charms, though...? Funny word choice, but I'll let it stand. You know, she couldn't seem to talk about anyone but you last night," he confessed, hoping to put the bard's mind at ease. "Then in the market this morning, every minute was another, 'what should I get when we cook for her,' 'do you need flowers,' 'let us get you flowers'... Absolute nightmare. It's impressive, the effects you have on people," Faurosk concluded sorrowfully.

He then looked at Rainie, remembered the diamond in his pocket, and smirked apologetically. "Maybe I should've listened to that bit about the flowers, huh?"
 
Whilst staring straight ahead, Rainie's eyes widened and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from collapsing into victorious giggles. Internally, she reminded herself to play it cool and calm. She took a quick breath and put on her most alluring, breathy drawl.

"Welllll," She said slowly, flipping her hair over her shoulder nonchalantly. "If you did that, I may start thinking you mean something by it." Abruptly, she stopped right in her tracks.

"Wait a second, the Raven's Rest, right?" Oh, that was far too many R's for one sentence. She grimaced. "We nearly passed it, you oaf," She scolded laughingly. With undue strength for such a lithe form, the bard hauled Faurosk backwards all of two steps to find the entrance they sought. Slipping away once again, she headed for the door, but stopped expectantly before it, checking to make sure he was indeed following.
 
Despite being tugged and manhandled, the wizard remained thoughtfully silent. He eyed the door of the Raven's Rest, then the bard beside it. Stepping up, he gripped the door by its handle and hauled it open, nodding for her to enter first.

"Would it be so awful if we meant what we said?" An honest question, paired with a kind smile. "It might not fit that game we used to play, but maybe that's alright." Maybe it was just the way she'd flipped her hair, or how that drawl suited her voice so well... Sure, he could tease as well as anyone, but when it came to flirtation, why not cut to the heart of it?
 
At his sudden brazenness, she paused mid-step over the threshold as he held the door open for her. She turned wide, lavender eyes towards him and took in his sweet smile, his honest face. All at once, all those imagined conversations raced through her head once again. So many things she wished she could say, if she was ever given the chance to. Her heart raced in her chest, despite her deep desire to look calm and collected. Thankfully, she had a lot of practice, and the shocked expression faded fairly quickly. However, if one was keen enough, one could catch the light flush rising beneath her faint freckles.

And then she realized how close they were standing in the doorway. Her gaze darted quickly downward, then back to his eyes as rapidly as possible, blinking almost in confusion. Her mouth opened, then closed again. She swallowed, and then with confidence she didn't quite feel, she smiled sweetly and asked, "Whoever said it was a game?" Almost on it's own volition, one hand drifted over and trailed the back of her fingers up the arm that wasn't holding the door open for her.

And that was about as brave as she was capable of, at least for one day. Hastily, Rainie turned away in a whirlwind of red hair and stepped inside, surveying the interior of the tavern. Her gaze fell on an empty table against a wall and she made a beeline towards it. In the process, she nearly bumped into another patron and had to give them a brisk apology. By the time she'd secured her own seat (against the wall, facing the door), she was smiling unconcernedly with her chin resting on her folded hands, the picture of feigned ease.
 
Keen or not, it proved difficult to miss the fluster he'd cast her way. Faurosk wondered if he'd struck some sort of nerve buried under her flirtatious veneer. It was only a few minutes since she'd told him about her split with a certain 'patron,' and the bard had only returned to Alliria under duress. Perhaps he'd pushed too far?

The brief contact of Rainie's hand on his arm gave him confidence to the contrary, and her words only assured him further. The mage breathed out a laugh and watched as she retreated across the tavern, almost throwing another patron aside in her haste. Yes, it seemed he had pushed their boundaries, but not past a breaking point... A comfort zone, though? Most certainly. Swallowing at the feeling of a lump in his throat, he paced into the Raven's Rest and made, carefully, for the no longer empty table.

Rainie had plenty of time to compose herself by the time he took a seat across from her, his back to the door. This did not spare her from further teasing, though, as he leaned forwards and squinted through the low light of the bar. "Your freckles have come back in force. Reminds me of our trek around Crobhear lake... Hadn't the winds stolen your sunhat?"
 
The bard watched her wizard advance towards her table with an uncaring smile, crossing her ankles under her chair and swinging them a few times as she waited. Once he took his own seat, however, she was subjected to his teasing and cringed in embarrassment. Covering her cheeks and nose with her hands, she recoiled and muttered, "Urgh, don't remind me... It's so bright on the ship, I can barely do anything to stop them coming back." Hands still over her face, she glared at him and huffed a sharp sigh through her nose.

"What you ought to do is invent a spell to stop freckles. Why haven't you done that yet, hm?" This was grumbled beneath folded hands covering her face. After a moment, her hands smoothed over the planes of her cheeks and cupped her face instead, elbows still propped on the table. She uncrossed her ankles and sent a toe his way, finding his shin in a gentle nudge. "So, how did the damaged masonry job go? All well, I'd hope."
 
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