Open Chronicles Waning Daylight

[Lyssia D'avore]

Lyssia watched in stupified silence as the unseen thing did its grisly work, but rather than being grateful for the intervention by the strangers, she was furious. Even as the one crashed int oa table, sendign crockery flying and smashing against the floor, ale flying through the air every bit as often as wine and splintering wood, the ruckus really took off.

"Stop!" She tried to pull someone away from another, yanking on their arm as effectively as if she were trying to pull a building down. They shook her off without even looking, and her pale features flushed with blood as anger grew out of control. "Stop, quit making a mess," she snapped at another.

This was out of hand, and completely beyond her ability to deal with. She tried to catch the arm of the woman that had healed her earlier, but before she could, someone else grabbed her and tossed her back. "Unhand me, you foul-" she began to snarl at whoever it was...

...and then found herself on the floor, her whole world rocking. She hurt everywhere, and the thug that had struck her was tossing the remnants of a chair aside. Sickening pain twisted through her guts as she tried to rise, and her arm moved in an unnatural manner. Unable to support her weight, she fell to the floor over the top of that twisted, broken arm with a shriek of pain that was enough to make the one that had struck her with the chair back off, looking at the sprawled form of an unarmed woman on the floor with dawning realization that he was in a serious bit of trouble now.

The innkeeper stuck her head in the door, eyes wide, and then ducked back into the back. It was clear she wasn't going to deal with this, just as the sound of the Guards and their bells ringing echoed out in the street. This melee was not going to go on for very long at all.

 

[Jonathan Burr]

“I’m not trying to lock you away.” Jonathan said gently. “You just need to learn to live with one another. I can help you manage it so she’s not so frightened...” But his gentle words fell on deaf ears. To his surprise the woman flew at the men and began attacking them. He got up off the stool with a muttered curse. “Little help here?” He growled at Hob, who was chuckling mercilessly.

Little kitten has claws! He laughed.

Jonathan swore and saw the barmaid thrown to the ground by a thug hitting her with a chair. As if it couldn’t get any worse his apprentice burst in and began laying into them.

“For fuck’s sake she started the damn brawl!” Jon barked at Varys. “Pin her! We’ve got to get that one calmed down!” He knelt down and grabbed the barmaid by her good arm, trying to haul her to her feet. “Alright you’ve had your laugh!”

Hob flicked an ear forward and got up, grabbing the remains of a chair and clocking one of the men across the face. It looked as though bits of furniture were possessed and attacking them. Only Lyssia, Varys and Jon could see the pooka happily laying into them.

Varys
Lyssia D'avore
Rämna Sisters

 

[Rämna Sisters]

Melody willingly submitted to the chaos of the brawl. When she was fighting she didn’t have to think about anything other than dodging fists and who she should hit next. Was this an immature reaction to her emotions? Absolutely. Was she winning? Also yes.

She was able to move quickly, ducking under the large arms that came at her with clumsy strength. The more sensible patrons had moved far away, but those in the immediate group she’d attacked were defending themselves. A hairy fist shot towards her, and she pushed grabbed the wrist, pulled it aside, and with her other hand snapped the offending elbow back the wrong way.

She grinned impishly at the pained howl and was not ready for the heavy blow to her back when a heavyset individual fell into her. He’d been hit with a chair that had seemed to levitate on its own, and his elbow rested rather firmly against Melody’s spine.

She stumbled forwards, momentarily winded and looked about long enough to see Jon lifting the small woman... girl? Woman. Girl. Small woman. Lifting the small woman in the air, more furniture being tossed about, and a man with a bow that seemed far too clean to have been in the tavern a moment ago.

Most of the men who’d been jeering at them moments ago were on the floor, but one had made to leave. Melody started for him.

 

[Varys]

To say the situation was deteriorating faster than could be salvaged was an understatement. While in any other circumstance Varys would have found Jonathan and Hob's starkly differing responses to the predicament they were in somewhat amusing, Jon's authoritative bark of an order towards Varys told him that he was quite legitimately concerned.

Wait, had he heard him correctly? 'Pin her'? Her as in the one who was absolutely decimating those burly drunk fellows? Apparently Jonathan was already in the market for a new apprentice, if he was so willing to send his current one to peril so readily. His grip on his bow tightened his body reflexively ducking low as Hob did his part to participate in his own... special way,

"Yeah. Okay boss, you're buying me a new bow, and fitting the doctor bills."

Bringing both of his hands to grip his bow at one end, he winds back and hurls it at the fleeing man. The old wood splintered as it made contact, breaking over his back and causing him to curl up and howl in renewed pain.

"Shiyz!" He murmured under his breath as he sprung towards the woman at the epicenter of the calamity.
"Was really hoping it wouldn't actually break..." For somebody brewing such carnage around her, she really seemed quite calm. If his surroundings weren't so hectic, he'd have taken a moment to consider how eerie that was.

Bending his knees and springing forward using all the power he could muster, he reaches outwards in an attempt to bring the enraged girl to the ground beneath him. He only hoped Jonathan had thought of a plan beyond that. Varys wasn't the most physically strong man in the world.


Jonathan Burr
Rämna Sisters
Lyssia D'avore

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

Being picked up in that way was not precisely gentle, and for the moment Lyssia was not entirely whole of body, either. The world greyed out as the pain in her injured arm surged to new heights. The only thing she could do was mewl in pain, her legs unable to support her.

She very nearly fainted right there.

It was only through herculean effort that she managed to retain consciousness. Things became clearer after a few moments, the sensation of something running down her arm forcing her to look. A bit of pink-white bone poked through the flesh of her forearm, blood running in a thin rivulet to drip on the floor.

"How am I going to clean this mess up now," she said aloud, not entirely understanding her own circumstances. Shock, perhaps; a broken bone was far from a minor injury.

Outside, the sound of the Royals finally arriving was clear. The guards carried swords, of course, but for domestic purposes they trusted to iron-banded quarterstaves. "You lot best stop this now, you hear?" came the authoritative voice of on of the guards, probably more than some run-of-the-mill grunt. Inside, they could not see what was going on outside, but they could hear it. Most of the hooligans out there submited quietly to the authority of the Dynast because the alternative was too horrifying to contemplate.

One of them must have decided the odds were more in his favor, though; the sound of a brief scuffle was followed by a man staggering back through the door clutching his head while blood streamed down the side of his face. A moment later, the guard who was responsible for this stepped into the doorway, quarterstaff at the ready. He fixed his eye on the struck man, and then scanned the bedlam of the room. "In the name of the Dynast and Her Law, I demand you all cease at once," he said in a tone of voice that brooked no argument. The natives of the city immediately stopped what they were doing, careless of those who were not that continued to beat them. That beating was far less severe than the corporal punishment the Dynasty was fond of using as a main measure of controlling crime.

 

[Jonathan Burr]

“It’s okay, don’t worry about the mess.” Jon told Lyssia, wincing at the bone. He couldn’t mend this. She needed a real healer. “Just be still, alright? That arm’s in a bad way. We’ll have to get that healed.” He winced as he saw Varys tackle the girl. Well, he hoped she had the good sense to stay down.

Hob was having a grand old time. He picked up one of the men and hurled him through a window out into the street. He was smashing furniture and kicking men off balance.

Unfortunately the loud crack of a quarter staff that heralded the guard wasn’t about to control the situation. “Hob! Get us out of here!” Jon snapped out. In that moment the conduit between the two became clear. Anyone sensitive to magic could see a cord between the pair, from Jon’s heart to presumably where Hob’s was. It looked like a mass of tendon and flesh, like a living umbilicus between them. As Jon sacrificed power, Hob’s own grew.

The pooka emerged, visible to guard and layman alike. Flesh peeled back from his face, black and forbidding, revealing a nest of teeth. A long tongue unfurled, and an unholy roar ripped from the creature’s throat. It was hard to know where to hit him. His muscles slithered around his frame like snakes, giving the impression he was not quite standing still.

Jon whistled. “Kid! Grab the girl! Let’s get moving!” He tried to usher Lyssia toward the back. Hob wouldn’t hurt the guards. He and Jon had a strict ‘no killing’ accord. That didn’t include broken limbs, however.

“I’d turn around now, unless you want me to shove that pole so far up your ass you’ll taste your first meal.” Hob snarled at the guards.

Rämna Sisters
Lyssia D'avore
Varys

 

[Rämna Sisters]

Melody was very suddenly tackled to the ground, but the man doing it was smaller than she'd expected, and smelled much better. She was taken by surprise, and had been unsteady, and the sudden drop knocked the wind out of her with a sharp pain in her side. That will hurt later, she thought bitterly to herself.

She was about to try and push herself free when Hob's roar tore through the din. At this, she whipped her head and arms around and looked in horror at whatever thing had just appeared. "The fuck is that?!" Her sentiment was echoed.

She heard Jon call to the elf that'd fallen on her, then looked from Hob to the guards. "Fuck this," she whispered and allowed herself to be lead away.

 

[Varys]

The girl surprisingly went down rather easily under the initial impact of his weight against her. Perhaps he wasn't going to get his face rearranged after all? That'd be an increasingly rare stroke of luck. That'd be an increasingly rare stroke of luck. As the two of them hit the floor, he hears her wheeze from the impact. Swearing under his breath, he mutters a hushed apology as he braces for a struggle, although she didn't seem to have particular interest in fighting back. Still, he pins his body to hers as the brawl around them continued to burn.

At least until Hob showed himself with a guttural roar.

Varys had never seen Hob show himself openly like this. Honestly, he hadn't even been aware that it was possible. As soon as he saw everybody in the building step back and look in Hob's direction though, he knew they must have all seen him as well as Varys was able to. A little smile played at the edge of his lips as he imagined what must be running through their heads.

"The fuck is that?"

The woman beneath him had said it, verbalizing what everybody else in the room was thinking. He turns his head to look at her, only slightly loosening his grip. It was hard to believe somebody so pleasant to the eyes could be so dangerous, but then he was learning new things all the time. He only held hope that he wasn't going to pay for this little transgression later.

"That's a Pooka. Nasty attitude with an even worse sense of humor. He's with me, my name is Varys."

He left out that he was also with Jonathan, as he had know way of knowing how this girl knew Jon. For all Varys knew, her interaction with Jon had started this and the last thing he wanted was to say something to cause her to resist again. Still, Hob had the authorities under control for now it seemed. He slides off of the girl and stands, helping her to her feet while still attempting to keep a solid grip on her. "Sorry lady, just... doing what I'm told."

Reminding himself to thank her for being easy on him later, he rushes the both of them to Jon, lips pursing to blow the strands of silver hair that had fallen over his face from his vision. It was nearing time for a cut.

"I've got her, lead the way!"

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

"You don't understand," she said faintly. When he finally let her go, she wavered on the verge of falling over; she was deathly pale. Shock played a part of it, but the violence in the common room certainly didn't help. And the arrival of the Royal's helped even less, especially when the pooka offered its own bit. She hadn't been hallucinating the thing was there, and by the look in the eyes of the guards, it appeared that they were entirely nonplussed by his appearance.

"You can try, criminal, to carry out that thread," the guard that Hob had addressed replied calmly. Behind him, a dozen other guards, similarly armed, waited to take offenders into custody. "I imagine you are a foreigner, and so do not understand..." he began, but someone else finished for him.

"If you lay a finger on the Dynast' own, you would best to leave and never return to Erdeniin," a woman's voice cut in. She pushed past the male soldier at the door, heavy armor distinctly more elegant. "Those that do violence to the Royal Guard will, at the least, have the flesh whipped off their back. I imagine a stiff fine for such elegant looking gentlemen as yourself will be assessed," she added. Other guards began to filter through the door, an inordinate number of women. They approached people who were standing or on the floor; of those, none of them resisted or even attempted to.

She caught sight of the others that were leaving via the back, some pulled along by the arm and all of them in a hurry. Her eyes lingered on Lyssia for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face. "Thomas, please go and apprehend those ruffians. Take a couple with you. Alice and Denali will do," she said, turning to look for the establishment owner while her women and men went about their work.

Thomas nodded, and hurried as quickly as the heavier armor he wore would allow with the two ladies close behind. Another had approached the pooka, wary but unafraid. "Perhaps it is time to cease your resistance, yes?"

 

[Jonathan Burr]

Jonathan looked at Lyssia. She really was in a bad way. She needed a healer, and quickly. Both of the women did. He looked in relief at Varys and slammed the door shut behind them, sweeping Lyssia into his arms. He almost collapsed. How the hell did dashing heroes make this look easy? He stumbled a bit but caught himself and ran down the alley. Fast walked, really.

“Get the girls in the wagon! We’ve got to get them to a healer and quickly. I think this poor lass has a concussion.” Jon shouted back at Varys. The guards, unless they were preternaturally stupid, were going to be headed around the back of the building. Well, thank the gods he never wore shoes. Jon paused and reached downward through his feet. Rock and soil burst upward behind them in a jagged wall, ripping up the cobblestones. The soil hardened. It would give if they chipped away at it with weapons, but it would buy them time.

Jon rounded the corner and gently laid Lyssia in the back. “Varys, keep her awake. I’m getting us to a healer. You.” He pointed to the girl. “Up front with me, I’ll need you driving if I have to pull another stunt like the alley.”

Hob looked at the guards. Well. This was...probably the first time that hadn’t worked. “Well. Good thing we’re leaving then.” Hob sneered at the guard who tried to approach him, and simply stopped pulling magic from Jon. He vanished in a cloud of squirming hair worms that fell to the floor and wiggled between the boards. Of course he was still there, just not visible. He booked it for the back door. He had to get to Jon and he didn’t mind shoving a few guards into the wall to get there. The sight of the soil wall outside gave him at least an idea.

Lyssia D'avore
Rämna Sisters

 

[Rämna Sisters]

Melody brushed off Varys’ apologies. She didn’t need an excuse to get the hell out of here. She’d had more run ins with guards than she cared to remember, and if Faith woke up in a jail cell again she’d keep Melody shut away for months.

”Yeah sure let’s go, go go go!”

She followed Varys and Jon outside not looking back at the pursuing guards. She still wasn’t overly fond of Jon, the poor man had simply become a scapegoat for her personal issues. ”Don’t call me a girl, I’m a wo-“ but she was cut off. Jon’s tone did not invite argument, and she had to agree that time was of the essence.

She leapt to the front of the carriage and looked back at the encroaching guards for the first time. ”We need to leave!!”

She withheld the fact that there was, in fact, a healer she could attempt to call on. The smaller woman didn’t look that bad, there was no reason to involve her sister just yet.

 

[Varys]

As many questions as Varys had about what in the Hells has happened in this tavern, he was willing to put them aside. Eyeing the scene behind them one last time, he clicks his tongue silently as he notices something off about the entire ordeal. No, he'd ask Jon if he'd noticed later. He ushers the girl he'd tackled out of the door ahead of him, before taking lead, his slim frame quickly fleeing down the alley ahead of the rest of them. He heard an odd sound, and swore under his breath: That sounded like some of Jon's magic. They were really in trouble if he'd pulled that out.

Arriving at the wagon first, he took the time he had before the rest of their newfound 'party' arrived to open it up and clear some space for everybody. For Jon and Varys, there was plenty of room. For a party of four however, things had a potential to get far too cramped. Luckily, Jon took the more violent of their two new associates with him to the front. He honestly hadn't been looking forward to sitting in the wagon with that one.

Eying the rather pale looking girl that Jon had left in his care, he climbs up into the wagon and closes it. Keep her awake, he'd said? What was he supposed to do, make small talk?

He watched her, a fair bit of concern in his eyes. She... really didn't look very good. The way her arm was twisted in pain, the sheen of sweat on her unusually pale brow, he'd felt like this before. It was something he didn't wish on anybody. He lets out a small sigh.


"Hey. I know talking probably isn't high on your list right now, but stay with me okay? You're hurt, but we'll find some help for you somewhere."

Biting the inside of his cheek, he reaches over to where he'd been sleeping when the commotion started and takes his pillow. Gently using a hand to lift her head, he props it up with the pillow.

"Ride might get bumpy. Tell me if I can help you somehow. Or just... signal?"

Needless to say, his bedside manner was getting a rather low grade.

Lyssia D'avore
Rämna Sisters
Jonathan Burr

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

She could offer little resistance. She was herded along with the rest of the criminals out the back, walking with guiding hands but not truly aware of her surroundings. Pale, sweat soaked, and shell-shocked, she was lost in a world of overwhelming sounds and sensations and ideas, not least of which included the guards that the others seemed to be completely unconcerned about.

"....," the diminutive woman offered by way of conversation to elf she had been entrusted to, his white hair a stark contrast to her own. She swayed slightly where she sat, but she made no move to rise, to flee, or to interact in any way. Shell-shocked, mind muddled by pain.

The Guard Captain snorted in supreme irritation as the magical creature vanished. She had already delegated the task, though, and so she went about the business of gathering the other miscreants up with the aid of the others in the squad. All of the Royals were highly trained; the ones she had called off would do their level best.

And so they did.

Denali naturally took up the task of leading the trio. She, unlike the other two, was well training in magic. The pooka, despite whatever it thought, was not invisible to the middle aged Guard, and she tracked his movements easily enough. "Thomas, it went out the back," she said in a firm tone. The man took the lead, and the two women followed behind. They carried their staves, ready to defend themselves, and with the witch at the back to give warning, they would have been more than a match for anyone.

The trio just managed to get out the back end of the building in time to see the felons leaping into a gaudy wagon, color garish and eye-wrenching. "Stop," Denali growled at them, but before they could more than clear the doorway, the wagon had begun to move. The witch cursed to herself, turned to Thomas, and spat. "Tell the Captain we will need the Pegasi if we are to apprehend them, if it is worth the effort to catch them." Personally, she did not think an all out pursuit was in the cards, for now. It would be just as easy to let them flee, but spread the word that there was a wagon of that description, and the descriptions of the miscreants themselves, to the other Guardhouses.

 

[Jonathan Burr]

Ye gods the guards weren’t going to let this go, were they? Hob seized the wagon and began running as fast as his legs could carry him out of the alleyway and into the road. “Get us out of the city!” Jon shouted at him, and twisted in his seat. He looked sheepishly at Varys for a moment, grabbing one of his trademark rockets. The wagon careened madly around a corner, Hob’s claws scrabbling for purchase on the stones.

His apprentice was keeping the injured girl awake and hopefully paying attention to him; falling asleep now could prove fatal. He grabbed another rocket and shoved it at Melody. “Just keep handing me these!” He shouted to her over the din of the wagon.

Jon leaned over and fired at the pursuing guards. His fingers sparked the rocket and sent it sputtering toward them. It exploded in a shower of red, white and blue sparks that crackled madly. In midair it would have been visible for hundreds of yards. Up close? It was blinding. The stinking smoke sent plumes high into the air. Thankfully the sparks would sting but weren’t too harmful unless a guard caught one to the eyes. Jon’s intention was to temporarily blind and confuse them, not hurt them.

This would be so much fucking easier if you’d let me eat people! Hob snarled breathlessly.

“Shut up and get us out of here.” Jon snapped back.

Lyssia D'avore
Rämna Sisters

 

[Rämna Sisters]

Faith was surely going to have some choice words for her if Melody got them a "most wanted" status in this city... wherever it was. Oh well, too late to worry about that now. She almost fell over backwards as the wagon lurched forwards by an apparently invisible force, and she held on tight to keep from falling completely out.

It was exciting, if nothing else, feeling the wind whip through her hair and the wagon bump dangerously along the cobbled streets. The rocket was shoved into her hands, and she couldn't help but laugh madly at the shower of light and sparks that Jon was hurling at their pursuers.

She handed him the device and grabbed for another, hoping that he knew what he was doing well enough to not make them all go up in flames.

She looked back at the small woman in the wagon's bed, she did not look good. Melody's lips tightened with a shroud of guilt, knowing Faith could help her.

No, she'll be fine, no need to bring Faith into this.

Faith would just love this, wouldn't she? Melody hadn't been awake for more than half an hour before she had started this madness with careless fist. She tried to blame Jon for upsetting her, but she knew that was unfair.

 

[Varys]

Varys had been under no assumption that this was going to be a smooth ride, but the moment he saw the expression on Jon's face, offering Varys a silent apology, he began to realize just how much danger they were about to be in. The wagon suddenly screamed around a tight vertex in the road, and his injured charge began to slide towards the wall wildly. Swearing loudly, whatever his word of choice drowned out by the commotion around them, he tosses himself to the girl, locking his arms around her and holding her in place as the first rocket whizzed overhead.

The hot, colorful sparks burned briefly against his back as the fell, even through his jacket. It wasn't enough to cause him too much misery though; He was so full of adrenaline now, that he could barely hear the sound of Jon's yelling. More so was he focused on keeping the injured woman in one piece.

The wagon was moving far too much for it to be safe for somebody with likely head trauma. He had to secure her somehow. The smoke and fumes from their impromptu artillery filled his lungs as he worked his old brown jacket over her body, fastening it over her with her arms at her sides to keep them there. His hands then found either side of her head, aiming to steady it. Any sudden movements would merely increase her injury.

Now, he had to focus on keeping himself secure.

Jonathan Burr
Lyssia D'avore
Rämna Sisters

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

The jostling seemed to stir something within her, and the shell-shocked look faded in an instant at the first report of fireworks. Lyssia blinked, turning toward the sound quickly - and then hissed in pain as she jostled her broken arm in its splint. For a moment, she struggled not to vomit from the overwhelming surge of white-hot pain from her arm, but she managed to master herself.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she managed to cry out. She looked at the hasty splint, and shook her red head violently as another burst of fireworks went off. "Fools, the Royals might have let us escape to catch us later, but now they aren't going to stop until they capture us!"

Capture and either detain or kill them. She did not say that part out loud; in Erdeniin and Dornast especially law was taken very seriously. A brawl in a tavern might earn lashes, fines, or a night in the stockades but actually attacking the Royal Guard? If they were lucky they would be jailed and fined heavily, lashed a bit for spice. If they were unlucky, they would hang.

Overhead, a lone mounted pegasus tracked their progress, close enough to see if any bailed out. As high as they were, they were like a beacon to the rest of the city as to the location of the fugitive wagon; the pursuit on ground fell back to protect the public from the firework-flinging miscreants. There would be no escaping the city via that wagon by any of the gates, though; if they approached one, with their high-flying tail acting as a warning, the gate would be barred and the way cut off by armed men that were no longer going to resort to using staves and clubs.

 

[Jonathan Burr]

Jonathan was struggling to think up a plan. He set the rocket aside; apparently a single shower of sparks had been enough to convince the guards on foot to leave them alone. However they had a tail from above, confirmed by a quick look to investigate the sound of wings. A Pegasus. Wonderful. Well, they didn’t have time to muck around with this. They needed a healer for both women and they needed it fast. Hob was taking a twisting path through the city but he was waiting for direction. Right now, he was just keeping them on the move.

Jon grabbed one of the smaller fire flowers and flung it high into the air. It shrieked, thin and loud enough to frighten even the most battle hardened of horses, and burst into a whizzing mess of white sparks. It wasn’t going to harm the animal, but even war horses weren’t going to take kindly to screaming lights appearing out of thin air. Maybe that would be enough to shake their tail.

“Hob! What was the name of that healer you shacked up with here before we met Varys?” He shouted.

“You’re bringing that up now?”

“Just head there!” Jon snapped. He was aiming to keep their air tail off just enough to loose it in the back alleys. Hob was twisting them through the streets, and took a slower right. The healer Jon was talking about was a smaller shop tucked away in a back corner. He’d used her before, and Hob had taken a liking to her. Hopefully she hadn’t closed up shop or moved.

As luck would have it, she hadn’t. Hob stopped them sharply in front of it. It was a cramped, narrow apothecary shop that looked like someone had just taken advantage of a particularly large closet. It was wide enough for a man to touch both walls with his fingertips if he stood in the middle, but long enough that it could accommodate a small herbalist store and healing services.

“Get the wagon out of here and send them on a goose chase, would you?” Jon asked as he leapt out of the back. He offered a hand to help Faith down, then rushed to help Varys with the other.

He carefully gathered her in his arms. “Hey. Listen, everything will settle, alright? Hob’s going to have them running around like chickens. We need to get that head and arm looked at.” He told her gently.

“Jonathan Burr what in the nine hells are you doing?! Did I see your flowers going off in the damn city?” A woman came out of the shop, and stopped at the sight of Lyssia. “Oh for...get her inside and to the back. Quickly!”

“Thanks Rose.” Jon flashed her a smile as he hurried into the narrow shop. The healer, Rose, didn’t return it. She was a slight and severe woman who might have been pretty before the stresses of life had taken it from her. Her brown hair was yanked back in a tight bun, and her gray eyes were sharp as flints. She eyed Varys and Faith.

“Well? Inside, before you’re seen! And get that garish thing out of here; the guards could see it from the next town over!” She snapped at Hob. The pooka sheepishly picked the wagon tongues back up and hurried down the road.

Jonathan hurried Lyssia to the shop’s one and only back room. It was so cramped he had to make sure not to hit himself with the table or smack her head on the doorframe, but he laid her down on the bed provided as gently as he could. Wisely, he abdicated the room as the healer swept in and elbowed him aside. There was a narrow staircase leading up to her modest apartments, and Jon gestured to Faith and Varys.

“We can wait up there. If the guards enter the shop then....well, I suppose we’ll have some explaining to do.” Jon told them, running the back of his neck.

Lyssia D'avore
Rämna Sisters
Varys

 

[Rämna Sisters]

Melody had run out of fireworks to hand to Jon and was keeping her eyes ahead of them as the wagon seemed to speed, horseless, through the city. It was definitely exciting, although she would have preferred fewer guards to be chasing them. All the same, she couldn't keep a mad grin from spreading over her features.

They pulled roughly into the alley and lurched to a stop, and Melody had to take a few shaking steps to gain her balance before stepping into the small and unassuming shelter. She was not present when Faith healed (obviously), but this place had a medicinal look about it. It didn't have the holy symbols or religious tapestries that adorned the sort of places Faith liked best, but it had clear tables, spaces for moving bodies, and lots and lots of shelves covered in potions, poultices, and concoctions beyond her greatest imaginings. She was relieved that she would not need to call on her sister after all.

"You think we lost them?" she asked in a hoarse voice. Apparently she had been yelling a bit more than she thought along the ride.

 

[Varys]

Varys had been so focused on keeping the red headed girl and himself in place, that he was only vaguely aware of the sound of Lyssia scolding him for his efforts. Any other time, having somebody dress him down for putting forth an effort to save their life would have been insulting. The firing of what Varys knew to be a fire flower distracted him from such things though, and everything after that was a flash.

The next thing he was conscious of doing was assisting Jonathan in carefully hauling her off of the wagon and into the shop they'd skidded to a brief stop in front off. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hob flee. He wasn't terribly worried about the Pooka; Hob was strong enough to handle many threats, and a few guards weren't likely to cause him much trouble.

He watched from the back of the room as Jonathan steadied Lyssia on the bed, a small look of worry on his features. He didn't know the girl, but she'd been in a bad way. Varys didn't like wishing harm on others, especially not those who didn't deserve it. If Jon wanted to help her, then the odds were she didn't.

He shakes his head, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips.

"Will somebody tell me what the hells happened back there? I just had to cling to a dying woman in the back of a wagon with rockets flying off of it."

His expression rested on Faith.

"You started that brawl, didn't you?"

Jonathan Burr
Lyssia D'avore
Rämna Sisters

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

Being jostled around was not helping her constitution much, nor her temper. if it wasn't for pain, she would have been taking turns between absolute fury and abject terror. These people were utterly mad, fighting against the Royals as they were. A brawl was one thing, lobbing incendiary devices at the Guard another altogether else. Lyssia was already in enough trouble as it was, given the events over the last year.

Would they pin any of these barbaric ruffian's actions on her?

She gave an angry squall at being manhandled that was only slightly spoiled by the squeak of pain. The splinting was good enough to keep the broken limb from flopping around at odd, sickening angles, but it was not enough to stop the double drum beat of agony with every jolting step, with every beat of her heart.

Once laid on the table, the young woman stirred and rasped a manic laugh at the question that the young woman asked. "Lost them?" She laughed harshly. The pain had become maddening, but nothing like the jaunt through the streets. "The Royals, they are many things but fools is not one of them," she said in a sweaty tone. The same cultured manner of speech was there, if a bit rushed and slurred. For the first time in a long while, she did not appear to care if the woman they had brought her to would recognize her or not; very few among the commons did not know of Lyssia D'avore, the scion of the house that was no more.

"And I am not dying," she snapped. Just wish I would right no~ow, she thought to herself. Pale, clammy skin, fluttering heartbeat all told different tales. "One of you...one of you started that mess," she accused harshly. "Someone hit me with a chair," she added heatedly.

She wondered, idly, if this woman used magic to heal or if she relied on more mundane methods. She was not particularly excited by the prospect of forced-healing and everything that came with it.

 

[Jonathan Burr]

“That would be this lovely young lady.” Jonathan nodded to Faith. “I think we got a bit carried away, I was trying to help her and shut those idiots up. Seems she decided to nip it in the bud herself. My apprentice coming in just complicated matters.” He admitted with a sheepish grin to Lyssia, and left the room when the healer gave him a nasty look.

“I was right then. You’re two girls in the same body. Listen, I know someone who can help you, and negotiate how to live so you don’t have to ask your sister for release and your sister won’t be so scared.” Jonathan told
Faith. “You have to trust me. I’ve encountered this before and it’s no way to live.”

The healer rolled her eyes and stripped away the splint gingerly. “Regardless of what the guards want, girl, you’re not going anywhere with that arm.” She said sternly, and examined it. She gently probed with her fingers, lips pursed. “I’ll get a better splint. No writing or fooling around with that hand for a while.” She told Lyssia, and began pulling supplies out of a cabinet. She hesitated for a moment. “What’s your name, girl? You look familiar...”

Lyssia D'avore
Rämna Sisters
Varys

 

[Rämna Sisters]

Melody crossed her arms and put on a defiant expression. "They were being bastards and I shut them up. Didn't expect it to get so out of hand, and I wasn't the one shooting fireballs at them!" She could try and pass the blame all she wanted, she knew this was on her. Well... mostly.

She really did not want to talk about her personal life with Jon, even if his continued offering was from a place of kindness. She ignored him. Perhaps Faith would have heard him out in private. The sisters had been on better terms since dealing with the Urathiin mess, which was partially why she was so reluctant to bring Faith into this. Her mistakes could, as usual, bring them back to a place of distrust. She found herself wishing Jeremiah were here. He was the closest thing she'd had to a friend in some time but she hadn't heard from the metal man in ages.

The healer's words brought her out of this revery. Yes, something present to distract from her mistakes. A splint? Lyssia needed better than that, she thought with a wriggling sensation of guilt in her stomach.

"Is there any place we can lay low, let this blow over?" It seemed optimistic, given the damage they'd already caused.

 

[Varys]

Varys chimes in, arms crossed over his chest with a rather perturbed expression on his face. "There probably was, before you and Jon started detonating fireworks and letting the entire town know that something was up." He eyes Jon now, with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not arguing with the results, but we're sitting ducks with no way to hide now. They're almost certainly watching the streets, and who knows where Hob is?"

He walks over to one of the small windows in the front of the building, peering through it into the darkness of night. "I wouldn't have had to get involved if Miss Attitude over there had been able to take it as well as she dishes it out." The woman that Jon kept calling 'Faith' was proving to be nothing but trouble, and if she was going to start putting others in danger for the sake of her pride, he wasn't going to hide his thoughts on the matter.

"We have to stay here either way. The girl is hurt, and we can't leave her here. It's our fault anyways."

Lyssia D'avore
Jonathan Burr
Rämna Sisters