Private Tales Through the Mists

[Thren]

Oh Thren was entirely serious.

In his mind the equation for this situation was entirely simple. They were trapped in this tiny room together, they had nothing to do, and generally speaking he was bad at conversation. They had no dice or cards, and thus that really left them one thing and one thing alone to do.

At least that he could think of. It helped that they were both sitting at the edge of death. The mad-men on the ship, the Kivren in the distance, not to mention her illness.

It was all there, lingering, waiting. Thren knew it, she knew it, but to him that was all just a part of the fun. "So you're saying you're leaning towards my latter suggestion?"

Thren mused with that same cocky smile.

 

[Keyleth]

When it came down to it, Keyleth was genuinely unsure of how to continue.

He made it seem entirely too simple, that they could just ignore everything happening around them. Maybe he could, but she knew that her own mind would be distracted.

Or maybe she was looking at it all wrong.

She bit the inside of her cheek, considering him.

Even if it was for just a few hours, he was offering her the chance to immerse herself in something other than the misery of what had unfolded in Minaris. She was dying, after all. There was no guarantee that she'd survive until they reached landfall. That wasn't even taking into account the fact that she had not been touched in years. At least, not in an intimate fashion.

She clicked her tongue.

"And if I am?"

 

[Thren]

Thren offered her that same smirk.

It was an expression that held no hint of mockery, no slice of anything negative. It was only pure confidence, dashed with just a hint of mirth. His fingers unfurled for a moment, a breath filled his lungs, and then slowly he stood from his chair.

Just beyond he could still hear the rumblings of the waves, the sound of the sirens, the distant screamings of madmen. He knew that they would all be drowned out, that they would all fall away. That was the point of this, it was why he had offered it, why he'd taken them down this path.

He smiled, stepping forward towards her as he reached out and gently cupped her chin in his palm.

"Then you should know something." His tone was more serious this time, rougher, an edge to it that hadn't been there before.

 

[Keyleth]

As sunlight reached the plagued vessel, an eery silence settled over the world.

A ray of light spilled through the glass window, falling across Keyleth's face while she slept. Slowly, her tired eyes fluttered open and she glanced around her surroundings. The fever was still running rampant and it took nearly all her strength just to muster the will to lift her head from the pillow. Which she noted was oddly... firm... and warm.

Confused, she glanced to the side.

Laying next to her was a sleeping Thren. His bare torso was exposed, while a blanket covered his form from the waist down. She'd apparently fallen asleep on his chest.

A frightful flurry of emotions rushed through her at once as she took in the sight of him. Everything that had happened was fuzzy, and she wasn't sure how she felt about what happened.

Eventually, she settled on contentment.

There was nothing that said she couldn't indulge herself, and that was exactly what she'd done while on the cusp of death's embrace. She was more surprised that she'd woken up at all.

Her body ached, both from the injuries on her shoulder and along her side... and from the night she'd spent with the mainlander.

Their situation was in direct contrast with the events that had unfolded outside the safety of the cabin where they'd hunkered down. She'd woken up peacefully next to a shockingly handsome man... while she couldn't hear anyone else moving throughout the ship.

Were they the only ones left?

Her eyes, a little glassy from fever, roamed over the man's peaceful features as he slept. He looked completely different in this state and she felt drawn to him, though she was quick to push that emotion back. This was not the time for such frivolous things.

 

[Thren]

Thren had never had trouble sleeping through war. He'd managed to pass out during sieges, battles, and even a few ambushes. The Mercenary was at home in combat as a farmer was in the field.

It helped that the night before had been filled with...strenuous activity, though it helped that it had not all come from him. Still, as Keyleth correctly assessed he slept like a rock. Even her movements half atop him did not seem to make him stir, and it was something else entirely that awoke him.

Not the sound of fighting, nor the winds howling by the window.

No, it was the scraping of Larik's claws on the deck, and a slight whine from his throat. The Barbarians eyes popped open, lips thinning as he recognized The Hounds plea for fresh water.

Lips thinned for a moment as he found his head hazy from sleep, the Barbarian attempting to move his hand only to find it pinned by the woman beside him. For a moment he glanced to his left, then smiled, the pinned palm drifting to the Curve of Keyleth's chest with no indication of shame at all.

His fingers kneaded as he spoke. "Good Morning."

A smirk sat on his face.

"Told you we'd make it through the night." It was impossible to tell if he was referring to the poison that had been coursing through her, or the Sirens that had probably killed the rest of the crew.

 

[Keyleth]

"So you did." Keyleth murmured, rather surprised to find her voice hoarse.

She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the pale locks out of her eyes and then she laid back onto the bed, resting next to Thren now instead of partially on top of him. Pain lanced up through her side from the movement and she took a sharp intake of breath, gritting her teeth together.

"Thank you... for keeping me alive." She murmured in a low voice, strained with fatigue and discomfort.

 

[Thren]

His hand became even more pinned as she moved, but Thren didn't seem to mind. "Don't thank me yet."

The Barbarian said, though oddly there was amusement in his tone.

"We might not make it off this ship." As always Thren seemed oddly optimistic in the face of death. Though whether that was because of the night before or his own attitude towards life was difficult to tell.

"We'll have to see." He mused as his other hand came up to prop up his head. "If any of the crew is left."

Otherwise they were probably fucked. "Or failing that, if we see any land nearby."

 

[Keyleth]

She eyed him briefly with the faintest hint of a smirk on her lips.

"You managed to survive one shipwreck... can't imagine that you'll have too hard of a time pulling that stunt a second time." She answered in kind.

It was impossible for her to ignore the feel of his arm pinned beneath her back, the warmth soaking into her flesh. The closeness of him should have made her uncomfortable, but it didn't.

Instead, she found it almost comforting.

The smirk on her lips turned to something closer resembling a smile.

 

[Thren]

"I suppose we'll see." The Barbarian said in consideration, still projecting that same air of calm confidence that had been there for the first minute they'd met.

Perhaps it was because he did not mind the thought of death. In his own culture death was not something to run from, it was to be embraced, even sought after. Under certain circumstances anyway. When fighting for the right people, when standing besides those who would die for you.

Briefly he glanced at Keyleth, lips thinning for a moment in consideration.

A second later his fingers once again came together in a gentle knead of her breast, his smile once again breaking out on his face as his immense strength began to move her. His arm shifted beneath her practically pulling the woman atop himself, knowing in her fatigued state there wasn't much she could do to resist.

"But we'll never learn laying here." There was a firm smack of his other hand on Keyleth's rear. "So up we must go."

He sincerely expected to get smacked in the face.

Thren knew exactly what kind of woman Keyleth was, who she was, how she was supposed to be treated. Yet he would never follow the rules of that world, never bend to the ways of the nobles. No. He was outlandish, he was a free spirit and always would be.

So he urged her on his own way, pushing her fatigue away, even if they might face death outside the door of this cabin.

 

[Keyleth]

Under any other circumstances, with any other man, Keyleth likely would have throttled them on the spot. But then again... She wouldn't have woken up next to just any other man. The mainlander had wriggled his way beneath her skin and earned her respect, in some strange way.

He reminded her of a man long lost to her -- someone she'd treasured beyond life itself. Thren brought with him the levity and casualness that had been utterly absent from her life since before the birth of her daughter. She felt a sharp pang in her chest at the memories, but she couldn't force herself to be angry with Thren.

Instead, she scowled mockingly at him as she was pulled closer.

She was in no condition to go wandering around a potentially enemy infested ship, but there wasn't much choice. She needed to find her feet and get this boat to shore.

"... I'll pretend you didn't just do that." She muttered to him, trying to slide off of him to land on the other side of the bed so she could stand.

 

[Thren]

Thren only offered a smirk in response, pulling himself out of the bed after Keyleth.

A moment passed a she simply stood there and waited a moment, his lips thinning ever so slightly as he tried to listen for any sort of noise outside the cabin door or on the decks below. When no sound greeted him the Barbarian shifted, grabbing his armor from the floor and quickly getting dressed.

They had to do this right.

Sirens generally did not care much for the ships themselves. They tended to take the crew and then leave everything else to the wayside. What use did a mermaid have for a ship? Not like they needed it to traverse the seas.

It took only a few moment for Thren to be fully dressed, his knives sliding into place behind the small of his back. Larik stood up from his place on the floor, clearly more than ready to get out of the small and growingly hot room.

 

[Keyleth]

While Thren was able to get dressed quickly, Keyleth's flagging physical condition slowed her efforts considerably. Cinching her armor down over the injury on her side was agonizing enough to elicit a sharp hiss through her teeth as she tried to silence a yelp. She clutched at a nearby support beam to steady herself and catch her breath, gasping far heavier than she should have been.

Just the simple act of standing was enough to make her light headed, the edges of her vision dimming and brilliant spots of black filling her field of view.

Her weapon was not in the room with her, since Thren had carried her into the quarters. Relying so heavily on the man left her with a potent sting of chagrin, but she was willing to admit that she needed his help.

Especially if she wanted to survive another day.

Sweat now beaded on her forehead, her energy almost expended from the effort of getting into her armor... Let alone fighting in it. Still, she was in no place to rest.

All she could do was press ever onward.

"Let's get this done. Our list of problems is not getting any smaller." She growled through her grit teeth, forcing herself to stand up straight.

 

[Thren]

He watched her, amusement gone.

It was more than obvious that she was still weak, likely barely able to stand and having to force herself to move more than just a few inches. For a moment the Barbarian considered venturing onto the ship with just Larik, but an extra set of eyes would be important here.

Plus, the sailors respected her, not him. If any of them were still alive she would likely need her to get them to snap back into reality. "Stay behind me."

He told her firmly.

"Larik will watch your back." The Hound stood from his place on the ground, his ears picking up the sound of his name and the gesture of guarding that Thren had taught him long ago.

They needed to be careful.

Drawing one of his daggers the Barbarian stepped towards the door, pulling the chair he'd placed beneath the lock away and pulling it open.

 

[Keyleth]

As the door swung open, the grisly scene from the previous night's horrors came into view. Mangled corpses were scattered throughout the narrow corridor, weapons littered the floor, long forgotten.

Keyleth grimaced and shuffled forward to grab a bloodied short sword that had been discarded. Shortly after, she managed to find a broken spear that she could use to help her walk.

She met Thren's gaze and gave him a small nod of reassurance.

The simple act of carrying a weapon restored her confidence considerably.

None of the men here were alive, their bodies pale and unmoving. The floorboards were sticky with coagulating blood, the air humid and thick.

The ship itself was eerily still and quiet, though she could hear the sail flapping in the wind above deck.

"Skies above... Did anyone survive..." She murmured, taking in the sight of the dead sailors with a grim expression.

Losing men was never easy and each death weighed heavily on her soul, though she'd learned how to keep the pain from rendering her powerless long ago.

Instead, it gave her a driving purpose.

She shook her head and followed along after Thren, not wanting to slow the mainlander down any further.

 

[Thren]

"Perhaps not." He said quietly, taking another turn to the left and peering down the hall.

Lips thinned.

"No." Thren finally answered. "No, I don't think so."

The words did not hit him hard, not as hard as they might strike her. These men were not his, they were hers in a way though. Her countrymen, the people that surrounded her and could have maybe one day supported her. Now they were all dead.

For Thren, it just meant they were stuck on this damned ship with no way off.

He was not a sailor. He did not know how to operate a vessel like this. They could drift for weeks, months with no way of feeding themselves or even trying to survive. His stomach dropped, and for the first time in all of this The Barbarian couldn't help but feel a tad helpless.

For a moment he paused, then glanced back towards Keyleth. "This is...unfortunate."

The humor was lossed from his tone.

 

[Keyleth]

Keyleth took a deep breath, and donned the mask. It's how she'd come to describe suppressing her emotions while making decisions as a regent of the Minrasan throne.

This was something she could deal with.

While the mainlander may have been out of his element, Keyleth was coming into one that she'd carved for herself in a world of men. Her expression hardened and she stamped the blunt end of the broken staff against the wooden floor to mark when she'd made up her mind.

It was easier to move through the pain when she had a plan, when there was something to work towards.

"First, we need to bury these men at sea. We don't know how far we've drifted yet, and it could be some time before we make landfall. The risk of disease is far too high for us to leave them on board." She took another breath, then started to make her way towards the stairs that would lead up to the deck of the ship.

"I would be a poor islander if I did not know how to sail or navigate, Mainlander. Worry not... I will get us to shore." She said confidently, no hint of uncertainty or trepidation in her tone.

 

[Thren]

He perked an eyebrow. "If you say so."

Clearly, Thren was not entirely sure about all of this. He couldn't help but remember when he'd drifted through the fog, when he'd been lost and crashed at sea. In truth, the idea of not knowing how to sail did not bother him, and in fact he was not scared of death.

Yet the idea of not knowing where he was going? That, That bothered him more than he could say.

Keyleth seemed confident though, and that was enough to at least ensure he did not become melancholy. There was hope to be had just yet. A whistle passed his lips, and Larik quickly followed Keyleth up the stairs.

"I'll move the bodies." He told her grimly. "Stay with Larik."

Thren still wasn't entirely sure they were alone.

 

[Keyleth]

It was touching that Thren had the hound guarding her. She was well aware of how profound the bond was between the pair, and she was genuinely surprised that he'd let the beast out of his sight just to protect her.

After tucking the short sword into her belt, she flashed a smile to Thren and dipped her head in acknowledgement.

"If you find my spear and shield, could you bring them to me after you're finished?" She asked him quietly, bracing a hand against the railing before she started to climb.


The sea breeze washed over her face and she inhaled deeply, basking in soft warmth of the morning sun that managed to pierce through the grey mists. Fresh air did wonders to reinvigorate her and she took a few moments to catch her breath. The stench of blood mixed with the salty wind, but the deck seemed clear of bodies.

Those men must have been taken by the sirens.

Frowning, Keyleth bowed her head and murmured a quick prayer to the ancient gods of the seas to watch over their souls.

The mists had turned the men against one a other and driven them mad while the sirens ravaged those that hadn't been afflicted... How had she and the Mainlander survived, she couldn't help but wonder.

The swirling miasma felt sinister, but she could almost sense it recoiling away from her.

"Interesting..."

 

[Thren]

It took Thren some time, but eventually he managed to gather all of the bodies on the ship and see them overboard.

By the end of it all he felt sore, mostly because dragging more than a dozen bodies was...tiresome, even for somebody of his stature. Still, he eventually managed to find Keyleth on the top deck, his lips thinning as he approached her. "Your weapons are against the cabin."

He gestured towards the room where they had spent their...adventurous night.

"There was no one left alive." Thren commented quietly. "Whatever magics ensnared them did its job well."

Whether it was the mist or the Sirens.

For a moment Thren paused, then spoke. "I've never liked the sea."

Too vast, too unknowing.

 

[Keyleth]

The silver-haired woman turned her gaze to Thren's, tilting her head back ever so slightly to properly meet his eyes.

"There are plenty of reasons to not like the ocean. The tides can be a fickle mistress and the depths are an unfathomable menace." She said in a low, understanding tone.

Her voice held no trace of pity, but she did sympathize with the man. This was a difficult situation for an individual such as himself.

"However, not everything that comes from the sea is so vile as the sirens that attacked us." She added rather cryptically, her eyes had a distant look in them.

"Perhaps you'll get to see one some day?" She said, smiling faintly as she went to collect her weapons.

Though she paused mid step and canted her head to the side.

The sails snapped in the wind, wood creaked, and the water splashed against the hull of the ship -- all expected sounds of sailing, but there was something else lingering just on the edge of what she could hear.

She could feel the mists writhe around her, reaching around her towards Thren. The malice she could sense was nearly palpable and she whirled around, nearly stumbling to her feet as her wound screamed in agony from the sudden change in direction.

"Get away from the railing!" She shouted, voice straining.

 

[Thren]

Thren was clearly half lost in thought by the time Keyleth yelled at him, his lips thinning and his gaze wandering across the sea that yelled all around him.

It was the seas that disturbed him. The Barbarian had always been a creature of land, moving from battle to battle, siege to siege. Traveling on the ocean was...unsettling to say the least, and the truth of it was that this environment made him uncomfortable. He could not just run here, he could not just walk away.

He was stuck.

When Keyleth screamed Thren took an immediate step back, Larik quickly hopping behind Keyleth as if seeking her protection.

"What?" The Barbarian called as he took three quick steps back, his feet carrying him to her side in a near instant. "What is it?"

Sirens?

More death?

 

[Keyleth]

One hand tightly gripped the broken spear that she was still using as a walking stick, while the other lightly pressed against the Barbarian's chest to guide him around behind her to stand next to Larik.

Her pale eyes were wide, staring out over the water, though her hand stayed pressed against Thren's chest, as if protecting him from some unseen threat.

Around them, the mists swirled in anger, though she sensed them backing away from the Mainlander.

"Stay with me... We're not out of this yet." She whispered. "The sirens are gone but... The mists are calling... Something else."

 

[Thren]

A frown touched his lips. "Else?"

What the hell did that even mean? Abruptly Thren realized that he hated magic...well, rather the magic that he did not understand. His lips thinned, and gently he reached up and grasped Keyleth's wrist.

"What else?" He asked, not letting her go but also not pulling her palm away from his chest. "Kraken? Dragon? Ogres?"

Thren was of course attempting to pull the threat into something he understood, something that he could actually wrap his mind around. He was no mage, no sorcerer. He could only understand things that he had seen, things that he'd fought and faced on the battlefield.

The mist itself? Magic that could not be touched or seen?

It was too far out for him. Too much for him to grasp in that moment.

 

[Keyleth]

The fear that Thren felt was clear as day to her and she understood the dread all too well, fighting to keep her own discomfort at bay. This was something she could counter... But it would likely leave her too weak to sail the ship, or even stand.

Over head, the sails dropped on their masts as the wind vanished. An oppressive silence filling the air in its place, followed shortly after by nefarious whispers.

Keyleth could hear them... But she couldn't make out the words, though she knew that her companion was the intended target.

"Don't listen to anything you hear that isn't my voice. No matter what it says or what it promises." She urged him, reluctantly pulling her hand away from his broad chest.

She reached for the short sword at her waist and pressed the blade to her bare palm after pulling off her leather gloves. It had been decades since she'd drawn on this reservoir that had been left to her, and she wasn't sure how much she could use without killing herself.

Steeling her nerves, she dragged the sharp edge across her skin and opened her palm. She gasped as the blade bit into her flesh, blood seeping between her fingers to patter against the deck.

The mist coalesced over the ship, blotting out the sun and casting them into near darkness.

The whispers grew more insistent, urging Thren to commit heinous acts. To jump from the ship. The butcher the hound, the woman. To give into his base desires, whatever those may be. Promises of wealth and power were uttered over and over, frantic to have the man listen.

Dipping her fingers in her blood, Keyleth started to swiftly sketch out strange markings onto the deck of the ship in a circle around Thren. She muttered in a strange language under her breath and her eyes glowed a faint blue in the darkness.

 

[Thren]

Thren stayed still.

There was no other way to describe it. The words rang in his head, sang to him, called to him. They urged him to murder, to kill, to give in to that urge that always lay beneath the surface. They tried to drive him, push him, force him to do something that to most would lay within his nature.

He had been a killer all of his life. A mercenary, a soldier for sale.

Over his lifetime he had killed hundred, perhaps even thousands. Years and years had been spent fighting and killing. It was what he was good at, what he was best at.

Yet when the voices called to him, when they told him to kill, when they told him to slit Keyleth's throat and take her corpse...he didn't answer. Instead his eyes snapped shut, his lips thinned, but that was all. The Barbarian resisted, the soldier pulled back. He simply stood still.

Like a man within a storm, he forced himself to stay in place.

Thren never said a word, never tried to fight outwardly. He only listened to what Keyleth had told him to do, only did what he knew would allow him to remain steady.

A tightness grew in his chest, he felt then air leave his lungs.

But still he remained where he stood.