Fate - First Reply Where You Don't Belong

[Raphael Thrice]

Crossroad Mire - A Lone Dock

"But you'll like, be back right?" Raphael had asked the ferryman whose face had been cloaked in shadow and silence during their entire trip. The being who'd brought him here still did not speak, yet instead turned his oar to travel away from the dilapidated pier he left our poor young mage atop. Raphael had not dressed the part. He was still in Allirian noble clothing and stuck out like a sore thumb in a place like this.

There had been rumor that this was a place to come if you wanted advancement in magics that places like Elbion refused to offer. He hadn't considered the fact that it may be a sinister and dank place that did not welcome people of his ilk. While his eyes darted around the Crossroad Mire, he figured that he at least had enough knowhow to defend himself if it came to that. He feared it might.

His shy footsteps made the cracking wood beneath his feet groan in anticipation for his ignorant arrival.

He was here now, and it would be best to figure out who could help him.

 

[Emmeryn]

“Always good to be home,” Emmeryn murmured, despite no one welcoming her with open arms. Well, her business partner might, or rather, he would be hunched over a tome to only sign to Emmeryn that she was breaking his concentration or she needed to get out. He rarely ever gestured anything friendly towards her, but he was unable to speak.

Emmeryn liked that fact. It meant her business secrets were safe.

The sun was down, or else she wouldn’t be out and about. With a sniff, the vampire began making her way to Fifteen Dogs. Long robes covered Emmeryn, a large golden cross (not blessed, of course) hanging from one ear that twinkled in lantern light when it did wash over her. She knew these dirt roads better than anyone else, knew all the inbetweens as well. Head held high and proud, she walked past the docks.

She paused in her step, turning her head to look at the man dressed in Allirian attire. She knew the dress well, why some of her most loyal, and loaded, clients made their homes in Alliria. A dark brow was raised, her orange eyes glowing in the darkness like a setting sun.

“New to the Mire, Rich Boy?” She called out to the young man, grinning like a wolf.

Raphael Thrice

 

[Raphael Thrice]

Raphael had no idea where to even start. The ferryman had said virtually nothing and left him to figure his own bearings. A scratch of his head and a clench of his fist to indicate both his frustration and his fear.

When a voice called out, he first didn’t register it was even for him. He’d been so focused on figuring out what to do that he didn’t expect anything to even address him. So when he turned towards the voice in confusion he was pleasantly surprised to see quite the looker gazing at him.

If anyone was going to talk to him here, he was happy it was a nice and exceptionally attractive woman.

“Something like that.” The renegade shrugged. “Looking for some unsavory magics. Surely a beauty like you would know nothing of that, would you?”

A shark’s grin and a playful tone.

Emmeryn

 

[Emmeryn]

Unsavory magic? What an interesting term to use. Emmeryn didn’t move from her spot, instead raising a dark brow inquisitively. She beckoned Raphael over to her with a single finger in a flawless come hither motion, the smirk still evident on her lips.

When Raphael would make his way to Emmeryn, she would place her hands on her hips, cinching her white cloak at her waist. Leaning all her weight onto one foot, the vampire would look Raphael up and down, devouring every inch of him as if he were a dead lion and she a hungry vulture.

“You’re in the Bayou, everyone here knows a thing or two about… unsavory magics, as you call them.” Emmeryn would finally answer, still not relinquishing Raphael from her heated orange gaze. “It just depends what you like to get into…. ?” She trailed off, fully expecting him to finish her sentence with his name.

Raphael Thrice

 

[Raphael Thrice]

He felt near possessed when he walked towards her. It had been instinctual and as if he felt there’d been no other choice but to follow her beckoning.

Once in front of her, he placed his hands in his royal blue pockets. The creases in his lining showing definition as he quietly flipped a silver coin in his pocket.

“Anything that might help amplify what I can already do.”

Taking the coin out of his pocket he held in front of his face. A brief crackle of blue energy shot across it. Then another. In a couple seconds, three dancing bolts of lightning wrapped themselves around the bit of currency, and he let go of the coin.

The arcing bolts kept the coin afloat on a rotation, the bolts acting as impromptu stasis. He snagged it back out of the air, and smirked.

 

[Emmeryn]

Emmeryn, although she didn’t show it, was impressed with Raphael’s display of magic.

“I’m assuming you don’t want a simple augmentation tonic,” she said. Of course, why would anyone want a limited resource that only boosted arcane might for a moment? Not a young lad at least, or so Emmeryn was hoping he wasn’t really the lazy sort. Those were never fun.

“Do you want to learn more spells or take the easy way out?” Emmeryn questioned, wanting to make sure that if she were to get wrapped up into this man’s antics then fun would ensue.

Raphael Thrice

 

[Raphael Thrice]

The easy way out sounded, well, easy. It would be nice to have some of the weight of magic lifted from his shoulders. This place, though. It had an air about it that told him if he tried that shit he would regret it.

He put his hand to his chin and looked up, humming and tapping his foot rhythmically in thought.

With a snap of his finger, he pointed at the stranger.

“I want tomes.”

 

[Emmeryn]

A wolfish grin appeared on Emmeryn’s face, and without asking, she brought a lean yet strong arm around Raphael’s shoulders, drawing him in close. Leaning her head to his, her lips were centimeters away from his ear.

“I know a good place for you.” Emmeryn’s voice had dropped an octave, a slight rasp in her throat. “Ever heard of Fifteen Dogs? Best place to get a book or two in the whole Bayou. For a price, of course.” And oh, the prices one could pay. Emmeryn released her hold on Raphael and began sauntering off. She was already heading there, why not bring some fresh meat with her?

“The name’s Emmeryn, if I grow to like you maybe I’ll let you call me Ryn— but I don’t like you just yet. I’ve lived in the Bayou for a good chunk of my life.” She said, not telling a single lie yet. “You’ve forgot to give me your name. What’s your story, Rich Boy?”

Raphael Thrice

 

[Raphael Thrice]

She had a lot to say and a lot of bravery to grab him the way she had. It’s not as if he was much a threat, actually, he was far more scared here than he was letting on. And if she did happen to be some sort of shark smelling blood in the water, he would be better off being cautious than not.

When she began to walk off he tugged at his collar nervousness. He had the thought then to not speak on how much money he’d brought with him. It had been a bit.

He started to follow just behind. Terrified to follow, but happy to watch her lead.

“Raphael. I don’t have much of a story,” he stated, trying to keep his wandering eyes straight.

“You already know of my clothes, so you know what I can pay.” Wait. Fuck. Seal broken, he guessed.

“I guess the big parts are surviving a vampire and some eldritch monstrosity, if by the skin of my teeth. Figure I should be stronger if that’s what the path I’ve chosen has in store for me.”

He didn’t mention that both times he’d survived were due to beautiful women protecting him. What a theme.