Private Tales Warm Hellos for Rainy Days

[Faurosk]

Rain spat down in sheets, striking a staccato rhythm against the low slate roofs of Elbion. Commerce never rests in the city of merchants, and the busier streets were far from empty. Many of the shoppers perusing the lesser-traveled Altuhk lane, however, were driven by the weather’s dramatic downturn to seek out shelter in the numerous cafes and taverns that dotted the street. One man remained on the stretch of cobblestones that wound to its dead end, nearing the final shop before he would invariably need to turn and walk the winding path back to his temporary place of residence.


Soaked robes clung to Faurosk like a blanket of sleet, sending cold chills scampering up his spine with every heavy drop that struck across his back. He’d been quick to transmute a heavy cloth hood from his outfit before the rain could wet his hair too much, but he silently damned his father’s fashion choices. Silk? Perhaps it was fashionable once, but really? What about cold, or water, or anything that doesn’t lend itself to an outermost layer of silk?


The mage uttered a low grumble as he entered the final store before Altuhk lane reached an impassable wall, drawing his hood back from his head and shaking loose what water had reached his already unruly hair. The man there had been surprised to have any customers this far off the beaten path, and Faurosk could immediately recognize the stranger’s somewhat shifty behavior, as if he’d nearly been caught in some clandestine act. Their business was brief. The mage was looking for a knife-- a Templar-made knife, to be more precise. The saying went that one could find anything in Elbion, but for every weapon store and second-hand armorer Faurosk could find, not one had even a shred of Templar weaponry, and the mage was nearing the end of his rope.


It was some good fortune, then, that this shopkeeper had recently come into contact with someone looking to get rid of one such dagger. The mage tried to hide his relief, but it must have been evident on his face; When the shopkeeper requested a “finder’s fee”, the mage laid two copper pennies across his palm without a trace of irony. The shopkeeper had grumbled something to himself about ungratefulness, but he accepted the payment nonetheless, simply happy to have made some profit on the inclement day. Faurosk exchanged some words with the shifty man, telling him to send the seller to the Familiar Tower Tearoom on Rohrssen avenue. Without any further sense of ceremony, the mage threw his hood back over his head and left for the rainy streets once more. From there, it was a short walk to the tearoom, and it was made even shorter by his brisk pace-- To be fair, could really, really use a coffee.

 

[Rainie]

Lorraina Night was plucking a tune familiar to her on her trusty old lute. Rain pattered loudly on the window panes of the tavern, and more muffled upon the thatched roof. The patrons were sparse and quiet, for the most part, subdued by the calm environment both she and the rain outside created.

Rainie, as Lorraina was called, was quite fond of this weather. She preferred colder temperatures, and the less sun, the better for her fair skin. That, and Elbion was measurably warmer than, say, the Spine.

She had spent the day in the market, and eventually gave up once she realized she was soaked to the bone. She had returned to the Singing Gull to wind down and earn her keep for the night providing music. The barkeep was familiar with her at this point, as she had shown preference for the dockside tavern for several months now.

She was just about to transition into another soft and sweet song when a young boy approached her with a polite, "Excuse me, miss!"

The din of idle conversations overtook the room as she stopped playing to reply. She listened for a moment, a bit surprised, until she remembered the shopkeeper that she had bartered with earlier in the day. Remembering the conversation, she believed she had idly mentioned where she was staying whilst they talked.

Apparently she may have a buyer for the holy knife after all.

Smiling, she tipped the boy a silver and packed up to head to the tearoom the boy said the buyer would be. Bidding goodbye to the barkeep and pocketing her meager tips, she forged back out into the rain with her hood pulled tight over her still-damp red hair.

The cobbled streets were strewn with puddles, which Rainie's booted feet dodged with deftness. The Familiar Tower Tearoom wasn’t a place she had visited yet, but all her visits to Elbion had gifted her with a working knowledge of the city’s layouts… Especially the back alleys. And there was one such backalley on Rohrssen avenue that she was acquainted with.

It took a while, and she found herself feeling the damp through her cloak once more, but she eventually spotted the tea shop. The sign was in the shape of a teacup and saucer. How adorable.

Eager to escape the chill that was setting in, Rainie shouldered open the door and darted across the threshold as quick as she could. A rattle of wood alerted her to the tottering coat stand she’d bumbled into, and she quickly snatched out a hand to steady it.

Whoops.

After a chagrinned moment, she swept her dripping cloak off her shoulders and hung it on the rack. At least it was quite warm inside. There was a fire crackling in one of the hearths. Slightly flushed, she swept her gaze about the room, searching for some sort of proprietor or server to ask after her mysterious potential buyer.

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

The tearoom was sparsely populated, with a smattering of thirteen tables scattered about the room. A few tables sat closer to the fire, and these were without doubt the most full. Pairs and trios sat near the hearth, speaking in polite, quiet tones. Many looked to be of the scholarly variety, spectacles of copper speckling noses here and there, and hardly any physical physique to speak of among them.

One table stood out in particular. Far from the warmth of the fire, a man sat with his back turned to the door. Blue and beige robes laid perfectly flush over his broad shoulders, a familiar mantling covering his shoulders. The general fashion, if it could be called such, of his outfit was a few years past its prime, but it looked comfortable. Lived in.

Besides, knowing Rainie, she could recognize Faurosk better from the rear than from his front.

A kettle sat on the table before the mage, along with two teacups that looked rather diminutive in comparison to his largish frame. One cup was turned over, untouched, while the other kicked off sheet of steam that entirely consumed the wizard's attention.

A member of the tearoom's paltry serving staff approached Rainie, then, giving her a polite bow of the head. "Could I get you a table, ma'am? Or are you meeting someone?" The woman before her had a small voice befitting of her tall and rail-thin frame, and her hazel eyes fixed Rainie with a polite gaze.

 

[Rainie]

Clearing her throat, Rainie faced the waif of a woman who approached her. She smiled apologetically and began, “Yes, well, I’m actually looking for someone…”

It was then that her sweeping gaze settled on a familiar silhouette. Rainie would recognize those shoulders and that head of sandy brown hair anywhere. She’d spent weeks staring at it as they traveled through frostbitten forests after a damned dragon.

Her breath caught in her throat, she froze there for a moment, mind blank. Images of mist, demons, and her wizard covered in blood flicked behind her eyes. A troll, a torn-out heart, and a beloved dog, bleeding.

Mouth agape, she found her voice. It cracked as she continued, “Um, I found him.” She sent a shaky smile the waitress’s way. “Thank you.”

Without another thought, she crossed the room before coming to an abrupt halt. Her hand lifted and hovered over her stomach, where there was a shiny new pink scar under her dress. Back then, in the chaos, she’d gotten separated from the group, and then…

She ran. In the heat of the moment, she’d thought she would die if she didn’t get away.

She’d left him. She’d left her best friend.

Rainie turned on her heel and made for the exit.

Then stopped.

Why was she running away again? How could she? Didn’t… didn’t Faurosk deserve…

Rainie swallowed, and summoned up the nerve she didn’t currently have. She had to clear her throat before she could put on her familiar drawl.

“Well, well,” she sang, a smile in her voice. Fortifying herself, she slipped into her usual persona and stepped up behind Faurosk’s chair. With far too much familiarity, she draped herself almost entirely over him and reached around to cover his eyes with a cheeky, “Guess who?!”

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

Faurosk sat and stared at the teacup in his hand, steam rising and fading all within moments of its creation. All in all, the mage held a pretty succinct image of fragility, and if he were a painter, he mused, he might just have found the inspiration for his masterpiece.

He wasn't a painter, though, and his mind wandered from thoughts of artistry. Flashes of memories flitted through his mind-- A village, burned to ruin and filled with the shambling dead. Its inhabitants stood pinned and crucified upon warped, smoldering wood; Twelve heads, burned, held high upon flaming pikes. Orcs' heads; Red mist, all encompassing. Smothering. Draining. Entities lurking just out of sight, springing forward. Then, ichor. Dark. Sickly. Everywhere.

Faurosk only noticed that his tiny, fragile cup was shaking when its steaming contents shook inelegantly onto his hand. The tea soaked through his glove in short order, lightly scalding the flesh between his thumb and index finger. A muttered curse, a teacup set aside, and he was back to staring at the fading steam.

Something pulled him from his thoughts before he could delve too deeply yet again. A familiar voice rang out behind him, resounding- at least in his ears -with all the beauty and grace of chimes ringing from an idyllic hillside. Hands were placed over his eyes, paired well with the feeling of a friend draping none-too-fully over his back.

Tension dropped from the mage's shoulders, and stress he didn't even know he bore began to fall away. Without so much as a thought, he rose to his feet and rather rudely left Rainie's embrace behind. He turned swiftly to face her, giving her a look between shock and joy before wrapping his arms around her in an embrace that was only as loving as it was smothering. "Sun and moon, I thought you were gone..."

His voice was a quiet rasp, completely anathema to the joy apparent in his hug. A few moments passed before he finally wrenched his way backwards, keeping his hands firmly yet gently placed upon his best friend's shoulders as though she might fade away once more if he should he let her go. A bright grin stretched across his face, and she might have noticed the small trace of wetness percolating at the corners of his eyes. "You're alive-- We're alive... Wow, that's a, uh, nice change of pace."

 

[Rainie]

Rainie released the wizard from her loose hold as soon as he wrenched out of her hands and stood, a look of worry flitting over her face. Was he… angry? She would deserve it... That didn’t mean she’d enjoy it.

It turned out that she’d fretted for nothing, as she was swiftly crushed into Faurosk’s broad chest in a smothering embrace. Rainie’s shoulders dropped lax from where they’d been previously creeping upwards with apprehensive tension. Relieved, she threw her arms around the wizard’s waist and buried her face in his chest. She may have expelled a giddy laugh in utter relief.

He pulled away rather quickly and left Rainie reeling. She felt his warm hands clasping her shoulders, and her hands automatically reached up to wrap around his forearms. She blinked up at him and returned his smile. Her odd purplish eyes flicked over his face and her brow creased faintly in concern at what she found.

"You're alive-- We're alive... Wow, that's a, uh, nice change of pace."

Still, she forced a careless laugh. “Right?!” Her thumb absently swiped over the soft skin of Faurosk’s wrist. “Still, I think we’ve proved we’re hard to kill,” she added in a conspirative whisper, eyes sparkling.

Despite herself, she was smiling so hard it practically hurt. Her stomach was still doing flips, her insides utterly sure that the wizard would be completely betrayed when he learned what had actually happened back in the mists. She was torn between the instinct to run away and the visceral need for everything to just be normal. Demon invasions made everything so complicated.

“How-” she aborted. “Are you-” she stopped again. “May I join you?” She grinned and nodded her head down at the table. The combined effects of the weather and the adrenaline crash of seeing Faurosk again had left her absolutely wracked with shivers. She could use a drink. Well… tea would do, she supposed.

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

Faurosk's grin went lopsided at Rainie's comment- "Still, I think we've proved we're hard to kill." A small bark of laugh wrenched its way out of the wizard's throat, and he gave her a toothy smirk that was somewhere between incredulous and amused. "I think our continued survival is something of a divine joke; We just haven't found the punchline yet."

Eyes locked deep with her peculiar purple peepers, the mage didn't want to let Lorraina go for some reason he couldn't quite place. When she asked to join him, however, he couldn't exactly refuse the offer. Shivers wracked her body like a leaf caught up in a gust, and Faurosk could only try to hide his surprise and mute his natural response to comfort her. "Oh, ah... Of course." His hands left their presumptuous perch on her shoulders, and he glanced to his gloves as if he'd only just realized then that he'd been touching her. With a careful dust-off on her shoulders, he motioned towards the seat across from the one he'd been occupying. "I'm expecting company, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind your presence."

The wizard took his own seat once more, eyes never leaving his friend as she made her way to take her own. "Are you, uhm, alright, then?" His voice was stuttered and fragmented in a way that was rather uncharacteristic to how he'd carried himself in the past, as if he'd been reduced to the nerves of their first meeting once again. The truth of the matter, though, was that his brain had been frazzled by the realization that he was a little less alone in the world than he'd thought mere minutes before.

His left hand fell to the opposite wrist on nervous instinct, carefully rubbing his forearm through the thin barrier of robes that interposed. The scar Pandemonium had laid over his tendons somehow still felt tender, even after the span of time since they'd escaped the horrendous place. "And, please, help yourself to the tea." He added the offer as an afterthought, as if he were merely filling the silence before she could answer as to how 'alright' she was.

Rainie

 

[Rainie]

Rainie smirked hallowly and flicked a limp lock of hair over her shoulder. “Who minds my presence, really? Don’t answer that.” Snickering, she drew away from him and pulled out the other chair. It was then that Faurosk asked if she was… alright.

She let out a breath and dumped her things on the floor. Her shoulders were cold and stiff, not a good combination. Stalling for time, she stole Faurosk’s own cup of tea instead of pouring her own. Cheekily, she took a sip.

Her eyes fell on the wizards hands, which were fidgeting, and his stuttering speech finally registered. Her own nerves and chill made the teacup in her fingers tremble, sending ripples through the surface of the hot drink. Insides still roiling, she decided she wanted everything to go back to normal.

Carelessly, she lifted a single shoulder in a shrug. “I’m as alright as I can be. Things change, you have to adapt.” She did allow an earnest, if tremulous, smile. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I, um,” she sipped her stolen tea. “I was worried.” She crossed her ankles under the table and knocked his foot with the toe of her boot by accident.

Wait. A thought occurring to her, she furrowed her brow in thought. Something was missing. Horrified, she set the cup down with a clatter and ducked her head under the table. When she saw only their feet and her own pile of stuff, she let out a gasp and jerked upright.

“What happened to Nota?!” She demanded in terror.

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

Faurosk managed a smile as Rainie stole his cup and took a sip. Well, there went the idea of fragility, though there was some sense of justice to his self-imposed symbol of peace being disturbed by none other than Lorraina Night. A familiar feeling swaddled him like a warm blanket, as if everything were alright because the only meddling factor in his life was the bard across the table.

She said she was alright, then, as if the wizard hadn't learned to see through her fibs here and there; Her hand shook, rippling the surface of her- no, his -tea in much the same way his flight of fancy earlier urged the tea to burn him. In a way, she served as a reflection to his own muddled state, but he, too, wanted things to go back to the way they were. "Well, I was worried about you, too, Rainie. Thought I lost you." Thought I left you behind, he thought, though he kept the words to himself. Telling her that would only serve to open the flood gates.

Faurosk's jaw opened for a moment as he started to ask her another question, but before he could, Rainie ducked her head under the table and reemerged with a look of absolute horror on her face. Her question, if it could be called such, thundered over to the mage and drew the attention of the tearoom's other tenants. The mage reached out, carefully setting his hand on the back of Rainie's in a calming gesture. "Hey, he's alright, don't worry. He's probably off gambling, stripping another wiz's familiar of its zoldos."

That was... Probably a joke, right? At the very least, the wizard doesn't seem too worried about Nota's fate, which should hopefully come as some comfort to the distressed bard who'd made them a spectacle for the room's other occupants. "If you'd like, I could call him back...? Might be a bit mad at me, but, hey, he'll be happy to see you at the very least."

 

[Rainie]

Rainie’s brow remained furrowed but she did calm a bit at Faurosk’s comforting words and touch. Unfortunately, she didn’t notice the amount of attention she’d managed to draw. Usually she only took notice if faces were turned away from her.

“Oh,” she intoned lamely. “That’s good. Last time I saw him…” She remembered the blood, the gashes, the clear pain the poor pup had been in. Rainie blinked the images away. “Well, I’m surprised he’s not with you!”

She returned to her stolen tea and nudged the teapot upon the table towards the wizard. “You should have some, you’re looking a bit peaky,” she teased. She noisily sipped at her pilfered cup.

“And while I do miss sweet little Dustmop, I doubt he’d hear you from… wherever he is.” A thought occurred to her suddenly, and she deliberately knocked Faurosk’s ankle with her toe. “Hey, if you see any religious-looking blokes, shout it out.” She was in a better position to see the door though. Why did Faurosk sit with his back to the door, anyway? Didn't all their adventuring together teach him to keep an eye on all entrances at all times? Rainie bit her lip, then took another sip of tea.

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

Faurosk propped his head up in his hand, rubbing his index finger over his eyebrow as he went about pouring himself another cup of tea. "Rainie, I thought I explained that-- You know, never mind. No, if I shouted, he wouldn't hear me." The wizard took a sip of his newly-poured tea, curling his lips as he tasted just how over-steeped it had become while he was awaiting his seller. "But, you know, magic." He waggled his fingers as if the gesture could explain away what his words didn't.

Faurosk cocked an eyebrow at Rainie's request. "A religious-looking bloke"? How the hell was he supposed to tell someone's creed just by looking at them? His lips twisted into a smile as an idea struck him, and he pointed just past the bard's shoulder to an empty table in the room's corner. "You mean like that priest over there?" As soon as Rainie would turn to check, Faurosk reached out and took up her teacup in his empty hand, loudly slurping from each cup in turn to get her attention once more. Suffice to say, tea was dripping down his chin and wetting his robes, but it was worth it to shoot for a laugh from her. Even a polite giggle would be worth it, really, just to hear her happy again.

In the back of his mind, the mage drew his willpower together in a sort of minor arcane charge. He let it build for a few seconds, letting the spark of energy grow brighter before sending it down the silver thread of a psychic link that tied him off to his familiar.

Somewhere else in Elbion, Dustmop looked up from a hand of cards splayed out in front of him. He'd grown quite a bit since he'd met Rainie's on the docks, aging well into his adolescence while maintaining the energy of a puppy if not the size. Faurosk's Familiar gave a quick glance around the table he sat at, eyes lingering on the owl sitting only a few feet to his right. Deciding that it was best to go find his master, the dog bounded away from the table and out through a hole in the run-down tavern's wall, entering an alleyway only a few blocks from the Familiar Tower Tearoom. With nothing worn to shelter him from the rain, Nota ran from street to street, nearing the tearoom without really knowing why Faurosk had called him back so soon. All he could do was hope that his big, dopey human was alright.

Rainie

 

[Rainie]

Curious, Rainie turned around in her seat to see where her wizard was pointing. She frowned when she realized the indicated table was in fact empty. And then a loud, obnoxious slurp alerted her to the true nature of Faurosk’s dastardly plan.

She whipped around so fast she smacked herself in the face with her own wet hair. Across from her was a ridiculous, tea-drenched, wizard-who-caught-the-canary. He’d stolen back his cup and proceeded to defile both of them as noisily as he could.

Oh, Astra help me, my best friend is an idiot.

It took nearly all of her willpower to not fall out of her chair. She did have to stifle a snort with her hands and hide her face against the table, forehead pressed to the wood; her slim frame trembling with barely-restrained laughter.

“What-” she squeaked between giggles. ”Why?!” She whispered in quiet despair.

Eventually she propped up her head with both elbows on the table, shook her head solemnly, then drug a random teacup over to her side. Uncaring of who’s cup it actually was, she took a long drink of it. It was bitter.

Shaking her head in disappointment, she glared at Faurosk with equal parts fondness and exasperation. Rainie refilled her new cup with oversteeped tea and dropped in two lumps of sugar with a splash. Her spoon clinking against the porcelain filled the space for a moment.

Recentering herself, she took a deep breath and let it out. “You said you’re meeting someone, right? Who-” Before she could finish her thought, a single bark could be heard from outside, quite close to the door.

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

Faurosk couldn't resist the self-satisfied grin that spread across his face even as he smeared a glove across his chin to soak up the spilled tea that lingered there. His other hand swept a few inches over his robes, and a faint trickle of energy left his digits and caused the damp patches that speckled the fabric to vanish without so much as a stain.

It was then that he felt Nota growing closer, the faint warmth of his familiar presence becoming more and more prominent in the back of the mage's mind. Rainie, finally recovering from her slumped state of exasperated mirth, posed him the start of a question; He didn't even begin an answer, knowing she'd likely forget he was there as soon as his dog entered her line of sight. There was a light flex of his hand, and the tearoom's door blew open as if on a particularly strong gust of wind. It swung just wide enough for Nota to fit his snoot through the gap, pushing the door further with a twist of his neck. The dog strode into the tearoom like any other guest would, giving a polite glance around even as the long fur of his tail dripped rainwater onto the ground in his wake. Hair matted and soaked, he looked particularly unhappy with his circumstances-- After all, he'd been having a lovely time out of the weather before Faurosk called him back.

The dog's mood quickly changed, however, as his dark eyes landed on Rainie with an intelligent look unbefitting of a typical Allirian wild-hound. A smile spread back along his snout, mouth hanging slightly agape as he bounded quickly to the bard, half-leaping up onto her and resting his paws on her shoulders. It was the closest thing a dog could manage to a hug, but the wetness of his fur didn't make it a particularly comfortable experience for the bard. Faurosk, meanwhile, rolled his eyes and drank his bittered brew of tea. At least the pup was happy to see someone, if not his best friend and arcane partner-in-crime.

"Sure, sure, you two just have fun. I'll be here when you're done." The mage crossed an arm over his chest, taking another quiet sip of tea.

 

[Rainie]

The bard frowned curiously when the door seemed to open on it’s own volition. It had been so long since she had traveled with the wizard that she’d forgotten the nonsense he could conjure. She tilted her head curiously.

Surely enough, the brown snout of a bedraggled dog forced its way into the teashop, confirming Rainie’s suspicions. A familiar visage of an Allirian wild dog meandered into the shop and glanced around with keen eyes unfitting of a mere animal. The dog’s intelligent gaze fell on her.

A wide grin spread over Rainie’s face as she automatically opened her arms. She quickly found herself with an armful of wet dog panting happily in her face. Laughing and cooing, she ran her fingers through the dog’s wet fur, keeping up an obnoxious mantra of: “There you are, sweet baby, how are you, oh I’ve missed you so!”

Rainie would be embarrassed to say that she was nearly overcome with elation to the point of tears springing into her eyes. She’d been so worried for so long over the dog she’d known as a pup, and the pup’s own master she’d known for just as long. To have them both happy and healthy in the same room was a boon to her poor battered heart.

Still giggling, she pushed the now heavy dog off her and scratched behind its ears. Then she looked up and noticed Faurosk’s overly-patient expression and chuckled again.

“Now, now, don’t be jealous. I’m sure Nota loves you just as much,” she teased with another pat on the dog’s head. She knocked Faurosk’s shin with her boot lightly. “So, back in Elbion, huh? Just couldn’t stay away?”

Rainie herself had fond memories of the seaside marina town. She’d been drawn to the city with the promise of beautiful and familiar water views, bustling trade and patrons inclined to magic. It was unlike Alliria in several ways, but so similar in others. It wasn’t exactly home, but it had quickly become her favorite city. She’d also met her most favorite people here, besides.

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

Faurosk set his cup aside, knitting his finger against his temple with all the put upon patience of a Saint bound to be beheaded. His gaze fell upon the pair of goons across from him once more, and the telltale perk of a smile tugged the corners of his lips just slightly. Nevertheless, he persisted in his stoic facade, knowing full well that he could dry off both of the soaked buffoons with little more effort than a wave of his hand. He also knew full well that he wouldn't.

Rainie finally cast Nota aside, giving him a number of scritches behind the ear. The beast sat nobly at her side with all the loyalty one would expect from such a creature, and Faurosk could feel the sass in his dog's gaze. "I saved his life and all," The mage grumbled quietly, almost inaudible amidst the mulled conversations at the other end of the room. "You'd think he'd love me half as much, but nooo..."

The wizard finally dropped his expression of muted suffering, giving both his familiar and his friend a broad, bright grin. "As for what brings me back, I guess you could call it 'business'-- You are fond of speaking vaguely, aren't you?" There was a brief flash of a wink thrown in Rainie's direction, then. It would seem time apart hadn't dulled their rapport too much, after all. In truth, Faurosk would avoid Elbion if he could-- Still a fair bit of bad blood near the College, and there were few other Maesters he could seek out there without getting berated for his 'arrogance' and 'malfeasance', whatever the hell that meant.

"How about you, then?" The mage gave Rainie a steady look, smile turning only faintly smirkish. "Missed me so much, figured you might come back here and relive the glory days? You know, back before we became big damn heroes and all."

Rainie

 

[Rainie]

Faurosk turned her own question against her, and her smile went wry. And then he called the two of them, ‘big damn heroes,’ and her smile turned bitter.

“Speak for yourself, sparkle fingers,” she scoffed. Rainie didn’t bother trying to fool herself. She was no hero. She flung arrows from the sidelines and ran when things got tough. She was a coward and a fool. Not to mention a criminal.

After a moment of undisguised brooding, she shook the shadows from her face and offered a genuine smile.

“I did miss you, though,” she told him honestly. It was probably one of the more honest things she’d ever told the wizard. She took a long look at him, noticing the changes since their very first meeting. His posture was still not as straight as it could be, but he didn’t hang himself as lowly as he once did. His face, still sweet and handsome, was more angled in certain places. He looked more hardened, more experienced. But still, himself. But perhaps more tired. There were dark circles under his haunted eyes. She was sure his skin held new unseen scars and his shoulders bore new and different weight.

Taking a deep breath, she shuddered and set down her teacup. “Bit cold, isn’t i- i… i-choo!” Rainie ducked her head down and funneled her sneeze into her lap and sleeve as much as she could. Sniffling, she righted herself apologetically and sniffled. “Pardon me,” she excused hastily. Inelegantly, she swiped at her reddened nose with her sleeve.

“Yes, well, business as well for me,” she answered belatedly. After a beat, she added, “I also needed a bit of normalcy, anyway. After all the chaos.”

And not just the mist. Rainie’s brow furrowed and she stared down at the woodgrain of the tabletop. Behind her ribs fluttered the urge to tell someone who would understand about all the recent developments in her life. Would Faurosk sympathize? Or would he declare he’d told her so and go off to do something stupid and riteous? She bit the inside of her cheek, then took another sip of sweetened tea.

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

Faurosk's eyes narrowed at Rainie's nearly harsh remark and bittered smile, reminiscent of the tea that had sat brewing in its own gloom for just a few minutes too long. Like the tea, her smile had been a lovely thing not a few seconds before, but something had dredged it downward into brooding. The mage thought it must have been something he'd said, and held his response to her sparkle-fingers remark. "It wasn't me who made us scale a mountain and kill a dragon."

His own partially tart expression was softened by her ensuing honesty, turned once more to the faint-yet-there smile. Sure enough, his features had been hardened by the previous long months. Hunger-pangs sharpened his features with the aid of hours upon hours of walking, and his face had only been marred by a faint silver scar across his cheek since the time they'd met in that dingy dockside bar. There was a certain level of hollowness to his gaze, though most wouldn't realize. Rainie had known him longer than 'most', though, and to her his lingering pains must have been more than apparent. His eyes met hers as she fixed him with a lingering stare, and he found his thoughts travelling a similar vein to her own. There was a tiredness in her that might have been entirely new, or perhaps he simply hadn't caught it amidst the joie-de-vivre of their early travels together. Either way, his smile turned sympathetic. Perhaps sparkle fingers and deft handed thieves had more in common than he'd originally thought.

The bard's sneeze pulled the wizard from his musings rather abruptly, and her expulsion was met with a small laugh on the wizard's part. Even amidst their mutual brooding, there was something so naturally carefree and humorous to an unexpected sneeze. Nota gave a wide yawn in response to the light spray he got, fixing Rainie with the best faux-judgemental glare a canine could muster.

"Normalcy's good," the mage said rather glumly in response, cocking his head ever so slightly and fixing his friend with an empathetic smile. His hand once more crossed the table, lightly resting atop hers and giving it the lightest of squeezes. "I just have to wonder why Lorraina, musician extraordinaire, would seek it out. Hope you don't mind my redundancy, but, really now... Are you alright?" His tone was quiet at its tail end, his expression residing firmly in the realm of understanding.

Rainie

 

[Rainie]

Rainie’s fingers tightened around the delicate cup she held and an embittered smile spread across her face again. Oh, damn him. She reached down to scritch Nota under the chin apologetically. She was stalling for time. Another well-intentioned lie lay on the tip of her tongue. She knew Faurosk; he wouldn’t press further if she shut him out. But still, that need to be known fluttered behind her ribs.

She took a deep breath and let it out, and a false smile spread across her face.

“You know, it’s silly,” she lied. But then she continued: “You remember Eilasandree? Well, I went to see her recently.” And then she tumbled into the vague vernacular that irked him so much. “You see, she’s got a new… dress. It’s far too big for her. It doesn’t suit her… at all. I’m scared that… she…” the bard scrambled for the correct analogy. “Well, I’m scared that she won’t go back to her old, ah, look. Maybe that’s conceited of me. But there are other changes she’s made that have, erm, complicated things as well.”

Eyes wide, she searched Faurosk’s face for any sense that he understood what she was trying to say in the quiet and attentive teashop. Then she bit her lip, hard, and lowered her gaze to the table.

“I’m only familiar with what that… uncle of mine taught me. I’m no expert. I don’t know what needs to be done for things to go back to the way they used to be.”

Or even if I want them to.

She held back that last thought. She knew if she spoke it aloud, it would be come real. Tangible and fact. She wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment.

She stared down at the table.

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

The mage bit his lip in thought, wracking his mind to understand the vague cant of one used to telling secrets in public. He kept his gaze intently on Rainie's expression even as her eyes fell to the table, or the other patrons, or anywhere other than his own. He scanned for any clues he could garner between her false smile and indefinite speech. In the end, he figured he'd landed on the right conclusion.

She'd become disillusioned with Eilasandree. After all, the lich had acquired a new 'dress'; a new dogma, claiming land and plundering the tundra for the sake of some undead nation. The dress was too big; her doctrine of conquest too broad to be sustainable or even remotely ethical. Of course Faurosk knew of the Eternum-- Hell, it was announced with a blast of dark energy large enough to give even the most stoic of Templars a bad case of the chills. That's why he was buying some holy knife, after all, just in case he had to defend himself against Rainie's lover and her veritable horde of death-averse lackeys.

"Well, ahm..." Faurosk started, trailing off shortly. It was truly remarkable how quick Rainie was on coming up with inconspicuous means of saying clandestine thoughts. "Seems like a, ah, complicated situation to say the least. Of course, I was never a fan of Eilasandree's, um... Fashion sense to begin with, and from what I've heard, it's only gotten worse."

"And, uh... Perhaps I'm a bit biased in the realms of 'fashion'. I mean, look at me." He threw a gesture down to his robes, antiquated as they were and far too light to be owned by a practitioner of the darker arts. "Outdated, ahm, fashion, and all that. But if you need me to pick up where your, ah, uncle left off, I might just be able to help you out." His hand gave hers yet another gentle squeeze, as supportive as any gesture so simple could possibly be. After all, he was offering to help her escape a hostile nation of undead. Support came with the territory. "Though... Well, maybe things are too far gone to go back to normalcy."

His expression fell flat, utterly morose with sympathy for his friend's plight even as she stared at the table. "It's just that-- Ah, dresses can be hard to abandon... And it's not conceited of you if that-... Changes things."

Rainie

 

[Rainie]

The thief couldn’t help but let an amused grin creep over her lips as she listened to her wizard. He was trying so hard to keep up, and as far as she could tell, doing a decent job of it! She’d known he was clever. She felt equal parts proud and skeptical as he spoke, dissembling his words and trying to make sense of them.

Fashion sense to begin with? Sure, he’d never liked the fact she was undead. Heard it had gotten worse? Had word spread of the lich’s new shared body? That was shocking.

Faurosk then insinuated that Eila’s current form was not easily changed back. At that, her brow furrowed and her shoulders slumped minutely. She’d feared as much. To cover up her dismay, she took another sip of cooling tea.

Still, at least she’d finally told someone. Rainie shook her head, her slowly drying hair frizzing all around her face. Finally, she took notice of the gloved hand against her own and turned her palm around to squeeze it back. Chest light and unburdened, she slipped her hand away and poured herself another cup of oversteeped tea with a serene smile.

“Well, I was afraid of that,” she admitted with hooded gaze. She looked up again with only the barest hint of grief in her eyes. “But I’m glad you understand.”

With that, she cleared her throat and leaned back relaxedly in her chair. She tossed her hair over her shoulders and arched her back in a slight stretch to ease the tension there. “So, what’s new with you?” She dropped her free hand onto Nota’s head, and thread her fingers through the dog’s fur.

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

The wizard could practically feel the smoke filtering through his ear from the fire in his brain. He was clever, sure, but this speaking-in-tongues that the thief was so fond of left him trailing behind and struggling to keep up. At least Rainie had seemingly gained something from his efforts, losing a portion of the weight upon her shoulders. He could only hope a sense of clarity came from this loss of tension, and that maybe, just maybe, his friend would abandon the Eternum before it brought her crashing down with it.

A small smile played over the his face and Nota's tail began to wag a bit more enthusiastically as the air became just slightly less tense. She was glad he'd understood, and he was more than happy to listen; The thief had trouble being candid, and her openness was appreciated.

"What's new with me?" Faurosk repeated her question as Rainie got back to petting the best boy, Dustmop. "Well, there's not much to say. Not for tearoom small talk, anyhow-- Learned a few new tricks for the next time we get into a scrap, read up on some ciphers from Ages past, things of that sort." There was a shrug that scrunched his shoulders and dropped them once more, though there was still a fair bit of tension apparent in how high they rested. "Boring, boring stuff. How about you?" It was then that the mage caught his first whiff of wet dog. His nose wrinkled upon impact with the scent, and he leaned around the table to fix Nota with a narrow look while raising a finger to Rainie. "You really didn't stick to cover on your way over, did you? Polite of you not to shake off on the floor, though."

The mage gave a short wave of his hand. Drawing upon a small amount of energy, Faurosk incited a breeze to bluster a circle around his Familiar. The floral scent of rosewater blossomed around the dog as its fur began to dry rather quickly, tail fluffing back up to its full size in short order. Faurosk gave Rainie a small, sheepish smile and flicked a finger towards her. A similar breeze blew past her head, drying her hair and unfrizzing it almost immediately. It turns out that, no, Faurosk's hair is not naturally as majestic as he prefers to keep it.

"Is that better? If not, I could always wet your hair again." Before she could assume too much of his offer, the mage placed a hand on their half-full kettle and sloshed it menacingly in her direction. "Anyhow, ahm, sorry. You were saying... What's new with you?" His tone vaguely mimicked the one she'd used while posing her question, as if he weren't quite committed to copying her. "And why the hell are you looking for a 'religious bloke', anyhow? You don't seem the type to be after that sort of thing." He gave her a friendly wink, clearly meaning to elicit a smile.

 

[Rainie]

"Oh, I highly doubt it's boring, dear," she dismissed easily. While magic wasn't exactly one of her talents, she was still quite impressed with it's capabilities.

Speaking of...

Rainie reached up and patted her smooth curls in surprise, then narrowed her eyes at the wizard across from her. He'd been holding out on her. Where had that bit of prestidigitation been when they were traveling through the mountains? The freezing wind of the Spine had given her at least an inch of split ends. She’d been distraught during that particular haircut.

She reached down and ruffled Nota's fur further, then cocked an eyebrow at the sloshing kettle, daring the wizard to try it. She'd grown up with an absolute terror of a little brother, and would willingly stoop to equal retaliation if necessary. Her own actual age be damned. She’d dunk the grown-ass wizard’s head straight into a bowl of stew if need be.

The bard grinned at his question about her being on the lookout for a ‘religious bloke.’

She chuckled lowly and shrugged one bare shoulder. "Shows what you know," she teased. "There's a certain satisfaction in defouling the holier-than-thou with my company." She wiggled her brows suggestively, then had to laugh.

Then she remembered something, and perked up with the question: “Oh, what sort are you waiting for, anyway?” With her eye on the door, she’d be in the better position to spot them.

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

Faurosk narrowed his eyes at the woman across the table, putting on an air of offense at her insinuation-- Really? Corrupting the pure of heart with her mere presence? When he spoke, his tone was aloof and just faintly hurt. "Oh, so what? Damning my soul wasn't enough? Now you're after priests and the like."

The mage threw his gaze across the room, staring at nothing in particular. His eye sparkled just slightly, but for the life of him, he couldn't fake a tear. After only a few moments, his facade shattered spectacularly. His eyes returned to Rainie once more, a bright grin adorning his features. "Really, though? Corrupting priests? Tsk, Rainie, I expected better of you-- Seducing barmaids, sure, but 'religious blokes' is a new low." In spite of his words, the mage gave his friend a wink that was all cheek.

"As for who I'm waiting for, well..." Faurosk trailed off, giving the question thought for the first time since he'd arrived at the Familiar Tower. Who would be selling a Templar's knife, anyways? Archaeologists, perhaps. Maybe a deserter looking to make a quick profit. The mage gave a brief shrug, fixing the bard with a smirk. "Don't know, really. Should be an older person, maybe a military type. Hard to say, if I'm being honest."

 

[Rainie]

“Barmaids, barmen, priests or priestesses, what’s the difference really,” Rainie sang. Her eyes went dewy and she clasped her hands over her chest dramatically. “Anyone with a pure heart is ripe for corruption!” At that ridiculous statement, she giggled to herself.

Then she smiled sweetly. “And you’re soul’s not damned! I mean, I haven’t fully corrupted you, if you know what I mean.” At that, she leered suggestively at the mage, leaning on the table in the way she knew displayed her assets the most. She stared into Faurosk’s deep brown eyes with teasing heat and smirked. However, in fear of scaring the poor wizard off, she backed off as if nothing happened with a smile. She retreated back into her chair and went back to scritching Nota under the chin. So was their way, really.

“Military type, then?” She inquired, changing the subject. “You plan on finally learning to fight? I doubt you need it, really.” Her eyes shuttered suddenly, a memory overtaking her vision. “You fought those demons well enough.”

Blood, blood, blood.

She swallowed, then leveled the mage with a steady gaze. “Do a poor musician a favor and never pull something like that again, alright?”

After a moment, her serious expression lifted. “What do you want from them, anyway?” She wondered with a careless smile. She cupped her cheek in her hand as she leaned on the table.

Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

Faurosk's eyes stayed firmly on Rainie's throughout her entire display, and he noticeably leaned back an equal distance to that which she'd moved forwards. Her 'assets' were on display just as much as her plan had entailed, but the mage's gaze did not falter nor fall. Instead, his smirk curled up into a facetious sneer, head half cocked to the side. "I think I can guess what you're implying-- Your eyes say it all." Anyhow, aren't you still seeing that tyrannical necromancer? He bit back the remark before it could be put to words; Even though he was just joking around with her, something told him that would cross a line he'd rather leave unperturbed.

His smile returned in time with hers, but he couldn't quite drop the fluster that had been mustered in his chest. Though his expression was easy and happy, a noticeable flush of red colored his cheekbones in an almost handsome fashion. "No, I'm not looking to learn anything from them-- Besides, like you said, I'm already an expert." Rainie would notice that, no, she'd never claimed he was an expert, and that cheeky smirk quirked his lips once again.

"But, alas," His voice rang out in a sing-song mimicry of seriousness. "I suppose I'll promise you, that-- I'll never pull something of the sort again... While you're around." The last bit was added in something of a stage whisper, meant to be heard. It was only then that he noticed his friend's grave expression, and his own features smoothed to a similar seriousness. "But, ah... Yeah, no, I'll avoid violence like that if I can." The wizard shifted in his seat, uncomfortable from his memories of Pandemonium. "I didn't enjoy the feeling, to say the least."

"As for what I want them for, well, that's another story." Levity entered the mage's voice once more, and a smile tugged the corners of his lips. "I've been looking for a new focus-- Of the arcane variety, I mean. Silver blade, consecrated... As far as I could figure, it'll be a safe bet against a certain type of person who might seek to do me harm." Faurosk didn't say what sort of folk would want him dead, but his implication was clear enough to the roguish woman across from him; Undead. Undead that wanted him in an early grave, most prominent among them was a lady of the noble persuasion. "Don't worry, though, I won't use it to hurt anyone. Silver is good for warding magic, and, well, I lost my staff in Pandemonium..."

Another shrugged pinched his shoulders. "Figured a replacement was in order. How about you, then? Are you actually looking to screw this religio--" It was then that their shared situation clicked, and the mage simply gave Rainie a dull eyed look. "Oh... Right. Take it you have what I'm looking for?" Yet again, that smirk tugged the corner of his mouth, though trepidation played its anxious way over his brow.