Darlain was utterly exhausted, after 16 hours in labor anyone would be. She thought she'd been through the worst when Holden was born, but twins.... she was elated now that it was all over. Just as her eyes began to close, a knock on the door snapped her attention to the silhoutte of her husband, and all the kids in tow.
She smiled at them wearily, giving them a shaky wave, "'ello loves..."
Shin lept onto the nearby couch and onto the bed, Lorelei thankfully had the sense to guide her little sister away from actually crawling over her mother for the hug, though the gesture did elicit a bit of a pained grunt from Darlain. "Easy, easy, gotta be careful there, loves."
Drogar chuckled and leaned over for a kiss, while Holden looked at some of the equipment in the room, curious about what everything was for, she'd have to give him a tour one day of an infirmary, she made a mental note. Lorelei... for her part, looked a bit bored, 16 hours was quite a bit of time to ask for a girl her age, and this was the poor girl's third time present at the birth of siblings, so Darlain didn't hold it against her... much.
Another knock at the door, and a broad shouldered nurse walked in with two bundled babies in tow, fraternal, it seemed, with the corresponding green and purple bows to indicate the genders. "Just droppin off the new family. They're 'ealthy and 'ale, seem to be no issues, we'll get our resident priest in tae 'eal ya up, should be able tae discharge ya by the end o' the day!"
She handed the girl over to Drogar, and the boy was nestled into Darlain's arms, both crying terribly... she was already anticipating the difficult concept of feeding both, not having yet formed a plan for that... but they'd deal with that in a moment. She paused to take in this big, wonderful family of hers, all together and growing and changing.
Peace and quiet. Sharyssa almost couldn't believe it. It's been already three months since she moved from Suramar to Dalaran, and the difference was striking. She never felt so much more at home in the estate, not like this.
Being alone didn't bother her, though she occasionally missed the way her sister or one of her guards -her friends, really- interrupted her work with a question or reminder. Good thing they were always welcome to visit, an offer Alyth'Rea acted upon every two weeks.
Speaking of her little sister, her next visit was supposed to be on the following day, so she'd better start cleaning up a bit.
"What the..." Shar muttered as she felt a 'knock' on her wards. The only one who visited her unannounced was her uncle Eoloran, but he always used his distinct arcane signature to mark his arrival. This was someone else.
Sharyssa quickly checked her outfit in a mirror, a simple pair of burgundy trousers and a violet vest. The only missing piece was the enchanted ruby of her right eye, but she was in the middle of upgrading some of the enchantments on it, so she simply arranged her hair to better cover the right side of her face.
The visitor's identity made her pause once she opened the door.
"What are you doing here?" The arcanist hissed incredulously as she stared at the newcomer with a wide eye.
"Is that how you greet your mother?" Emmara Sourse asked back with a tilted head, her face a blank mask.
"I have made it clear you are not welcome without any prior arrangements, sometimes not even then, yet here you are." The younger elf crossed her arms, her whole body rigid. She slowly exhaled before finally adding "Come in."
Her mother didn't reply, just nodded at ther eventual permission and followed her inside.
Sharyssa leaned against the dining table, she didn't intend to take her mother any further into her home. "Out with it, what do you want? If you wish to persuade me to go back to Suramar, forget about it."
Emmara's expression finally broke and the old elf sighed. "Look Sharyssa, you are still the eldest of House Soursea, it means your position is still important even if Alyth'Rea took over the duties of the heir. As such-"
"Stop that right now. I couldn't care less about any 'duty' you think I still have. Rea is more capable than you give her credit for, not that you would notice anyway. As for myself, I'm done. I have nothing to do with House Soursea anymore. My name is Sharyssa Dustshade, and I'll never be happier that I get to keep Ann'da's name a little longer."
"Sharyssa, I-"
"I don't want to hear anyother word." Shar growled, clenching her fists. "I don't care what pathetic excuse you have for being a terrible mother, for making spiteful comments on every decision I made, or for letting your husband suffer a fate worse than death. I hope you are at least aware it's your fault he's gone. It was you who did nothing when Elisande made an example of his House, after all. As the official partner of the head of a more influental House supporting her rule, he would have been spared if you just said a word... Yet you were so taken with Elisande's vision that you were willing to doom him for it, and I will never forgive you for that!" Tears ran down Shar's cheek, but her eye was sparkling with arcane in her anger.
Her mother winced as the words hit home, her ears drooping. She couldn't deny the truth of the barbs. "I don't expect you to." She finally whispered, unable to meet her eldest daughter's gaze. "Maybe I should go..."
"Yes, you should. And if you you show up here again without prior arrangement and my permission, my wards will make you stay a safe distance away." Sharyssa's voice was cold as ice, but kept her tone even with effort.
Emmara just nodded, unwilling to trust her voice and left without making any more fuss. Her receding figure looked pitiful and utterly defeated.
Closing the door and recasting her wards, Sharyssa collapsed on her sofa and sighed. She should have felt horrible talking to her mother like that, but the woman purposefully made her life unbearable, especially in the last decade. A short time for an elf, but full with events the young arcanist couldn't forget or forgive.
Hopefully her mother would learn this lesson and stay away. Shar might be willing to talk to her again eventually, but it would be on her own terms, not her mother's.
Morning came swiftly, Valanthriell spent the time thinking and planning, how best to make the change for her Daughter's sake. Taaliah was still quite young, by the aging of Elves, and their last interaction was so short in the first hour of her life, there would be no memory to cling to for comfort, only removal from what she knew.
"Just how traumatic do you think this would be?" Valanthriell glanced over to Emveah who fed the camp's fire, letting out a slow sigh before answering the loaded question.
"Listen, she's grown up with all kinds of stories about you, we don't actually know much of the contents aside from the BS line Fealia told about you being dead. Do you trust your Grandmother? That seems like the key to all this since she's bringing the kid." Emi was direct about it all, the Grandmother was the hinge that could make or break the transition if it happened at all. "And let's not forget this could be her grand scheme to dick us over."
"Mmm, the information I hold is enough to bring her down, she knows it. Sure I would lose out on the fortune but I don't need it to survive, she does. That is likely the perfect collateral against Fealia."
Emveah nodded slowly, knowing little personally about the woman but trusting Vala's judgment. Two horn blasts, Fealia was approaching in a carriage, a company of guards for protection. The ornate carriage came to a stop as a footman hopped down and opened the door, offering a hand to the passengers within. The first to exit was not Fealia, as expected, but instead the aged Matron of the Shadowfel family, Amalie.
Valanthriell was struck by surprise, rushing over to embrace her Father's Mother, the gesture welcomed with a coo of delight from the elderly woman. "Ooh, dearest. You are more stunning than I remember." Amalie doted on her Granddaughter.
"It is wonderful to see you, Grandmama. I did not expect you." Valanthriell was more than surprised, she was grateful that her Grandmother remained close for the sake of her child.
"I could not leave your dear girl at the hands of that wretched pretender." Amalie sneered, never having approved of Fealia. "Now then, the reason we are all here." With her word, the footman helped the child out of the carriage.
She was the spitting image of her mother, with long raven waves, vibrant green eyes, and a warm complexion; sweet as can be in her middle childhood (6-8 cause elves) as she moved to cling to her Great-Grandmother's side.
"Taaliah, remember what I told you in the carriage? That Mrs. Fealia had lied about your parents?" Amalie asked the fearful girl, her response was only to nod. "Well, this beautiful woman, is my Granddaughter, your Mother Valanthriell."
It was all Valanthriell could do to keep calm, not wanting to scare the girl further, coming to kneel before her with a calm and soft smile. "Hello, my lovely girl." Already fighting back tears, but she must contain them.
After what seemed like an age, Taaliah took a few steps closer to Valanthriell, looking closely at her features to see the same features with minor differences, her curiosity high as she had wished and prayed for a true Mother. "Mama...?" Taaliah squeaked.
"Yes, Taaliah...I'm here. I'm finally here." Valanthriell's eyes welled up and the child brushed them away before reaching to hug her Mother for the first time since her birth.
This, this moment, was the peace Valanthriell had longed for.
Word Count: 900
Summary: Attzi gets a present.
Warnings: none
@daily-writing-challenge
Attzi was in the process of sorting her dirty laundry when a loud, confident knock came from her front door. She ran a hand through her hair and stepped over the pile of darks on the bedroom floor, quietly running through her head who it could be. Her coworkers usually radioed before coming to visit. She hadn’t placed any delivery orders, and it wasn’t cleaning day for her house.
Even though she had no clue who was on the other side of the door, the person standing there when she opened it was the last person she expected. She felt her eyes go briefly wide, and then immediately snapped a pleasant smile into place.
“Baron Revilgaz. Long time no see!”
He grinned at her. “Attzi. Lookin’ good, as always. Ya got a sec?”
“Uh, sure.” She looked down the hall at her bedroom, thinking of her laundry, then back at him. He didn't have any lackeys with him, at least. “Ya wanna come in, or…?”
“Nah. Take a walk with me. We ain’t goin’ far.”
She eyed him for a moment, but he was all smiles. Reluctantly, she stepped out of the house and closed the door behind her. "Alright."
He gestured to the spot next to him, and she fell into step. They started walking down the boardwalk and towards the main part of town.
After a few moments of silence, the baron spoke: "Ya know what day it is, Attz?"
She thought for a moment, then said the date.
Revilgaz shook his head. "Nah. It's more important 'n that."
"What, then?"
"It's th' two year anniversary of ya leavin'!" He smiled at her before turning his attention back to the boardwalk.
"Oh. I wasn't keepin' track,” she said mildly.
"I was. Without ya workin' with me, life's been a lot harder."
His voice was still pleasant, but Attzi sensed danger all the same. She looked ahead and saw one of his grunts outside the stables.
"...Well, I'm likin' my new job. They respect me."
"I respected ya, too."
She shook her head. "No, ya didn't. That's why I left."
They were at the door of the stables now. The baron's henchmen opened the door for them and stepped out of the way. Revilgaz paused and turned to face her.
"I don't wanna fight on such a big day. So lemme make it up to ya." He gestured for her to enter the building.
Even from out here, she could hear some sort of commotion coming from inside. Attzi studied him for a moment, then sighed and walked through the door, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the shift in light. The baron stepped in as well, before walking towards the back and gesturing for her to follow. He was walking straight for where the noises were coming from.
Soon, one of the large enclosures in the back came into view. There were six stablehands attempting to corral some sort of large animal inside it. The beast was green, furred, and long like some of the dragons she’d seen in Pandaria, only it had a foxlike head. She stopped and stared as it growled and kicked at one of the handlers. The rope the man was holding came loose, and for a brief moment it hovered over the floor. The man got back up, seized the rope again, and then continued tugging the creature inside the pen.
The baron stopped a safe distance away, crossing his arms. “She was traded ta me from Ardenweald. Escaped three times on th’ way here.”
Attzi stared, mouth agape. “What is she?”
“They’re called wilderlings.” When the fox creature growled and pulled one of the stablehands into the air, he chuckled dryly. “Can’t imagine why.”
She studied the wilderling, who was now halfway into the pen. “She’s pretty.”
“Glad ya think so. She’s your present. Happy anniversary.”
Attzi turned her stunned stare from the wilderling to him. “What?”
He gave her a small smile. “She suits your personality. I’m sure ya both will get along fine.”
She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing at Revilgaz. “Ya ain’t subtle.”
“I ain’t tryin’ ta be. Good luck wrangling a stubborn thing ta do your bidding.” The baron gave a small wave, and then began walking towards the exit.
Attzi was about to retort, but she heard the pen door slam shut, and then the sound of the wilderling slamming into the walls. She turned to watch the creature test each of the pen walls before lunging for the gate next. When all of it held, she sank to the floor, breathing hard.
As the stablehands staggered off, Attzi approached the pen, studying the wilderling. She looked up at Attzi from her spot on the pen floor and growled softly. Unfazed, Attzi stepped closer, frowning quietly as she realized they hadn’t taken the ropes off.
“They’re treatin’ ya all wrong, ain’t they?” she murmured. “Girls like us want good food and nice things. Lemme go see if we can’t get ya some food an’ water, an’ then we’ll go from there.”
The wilderling’s ears perked at food, which Attzi decided to take as a good sign. She said a few more soothing words, and then moved to find the stable master. She’d have to ask how much the pen and food would cost per day, and get payment for that set up.
She hadn’t been expecting to take in another animal, but she wasn’t about to back down from the baron’s challenge. Attzi was going to make the best of this… and hopefully improve the quality of life of the poor thing now in her charge.
Attzi’s life had gotten better once she was free of Revilgaz, so why wouldn’t the same be true for the wilderling?
The letter was crumpled up and abandoned in the trash next to a red cellophane lollipop wrapper. The chimes she hung at her door are cheerfully tinkling as the woman briskly walks out into the street.
Dear Pollux,
Peace is a tricky thing. Tricky enough that it makes me jumpy whenever it peeks into our lives. It brings a lot of questions for me, even as it hides others behind its back.
But, I guess that’s nothing new. Me having questions, I mean.
How long will it be this time? Should I relax or stay a little reserved? Is it going to be one of those easy times? Or one of the times we kind of vibrate around each other with tension for a few days/weeks/months …?
I haven’t had any episodes. With ~time~, I mean. I still feel a little unforgiven about making it back. Like some cosmic force is searching for me, and one day I’ll be whisked away to that other time. Time feels heavy. It makes me hold my breath.
Peace is deceptively sharp. It cuts me to the quick and I drip uncertainty from heartache and ennui.
Ha! ... UGH. *here there is a rolling squiggle to her ink--wild and emotive, a burst of energy and change from the print prior*
Nah!
Sunlight poured in through the library’s great windows, perfectly illuminating Fiorenze’s favorite reading nook. Her tea had steeped precisely for three minutes and was in an enchanted mug to keep it hot, even if forgotten in the midst of a particularly juicy chapter.
Keranna was out location scouting for a potential autumn masquerade, Pyraelia had made her apologies for missing their usual afternoon tea — she’d stayed up too late, you see — and the Tower was quiet aside from the quiet warbling of one of her favorite orchestral records and the barely perceptible hum of the player it turned on.
Rue — she’d finally settled on a name for the small kitten — had curled up in the crook of her neck and was a pleasant enough reading companion, purring lazily away and unbothered as could be. For the first time in a long time there were no calling cards to answer or events to make an appearance at.
Chapter 4: Sort It Out
Characters: Keith Summers, Carter Summers, Hayzel Baker, Shadowhunter
Rating: Teen
Notes: Day 7 in Challenge
- First Chapter - -Previous Chapter- -Next Chapter-
A light breeze swept across Carter Summer's chest as he slowly roused from sleep, or so he thought. He wasn't a stranger to sharing sleeping quarters, often lumped in with his brothers when they were younger; but as brothers, they took precautions to somewhat avoid intruding into each other's space. With Hayzel, he found those efforts now completely eroded, waking to find a passing sensation, not the wind, but the quiet breathing of his new friend.
Cheeks tinting red, he slowly rose up, trying not to let Hayzel's head fall too far from his chest and wake him. Across the campfire, his brother snored loudly, sprawled out, still blissfully ignorant of the budding relationship. While not his intention, he reaped the benefits of being a perceived savior. Idle flirting and hand-holding had quickly escalated into making excuses to sneak off together on their journey to embrace and steal kisses. Now, to him, it seemed pretense was very well on its way to be cast aside, Hayzel having found a place under his arm and his chest to lay his head.
Scowling, Carter slid free of his dreaming companion, guiding the other to his pillow before standing up. While the ego inflation was gratifying, he didn't want Keith to wake and see them together. He could already tell his big brother was hurt by how fast Hayzel has taken to him, somehow unable to read between the lines. He often wondered how the other could be so naive with the eldest brother having quite the reputation as a rake. He too had managed to charm a handful of women himself on his travels, leaving him baffled at his closest brother's lack of awareness when it came to matters of the heart. Keith wasn't hurting in his ability to make far more friends than he ever could. He even had a couple plainly simpering for him; yet, nothing came to pass as far as he knew, and it bothered him. Not so much as he felt a need to be involved in his brother's personal affairs, but in that he could sense the growing frustration from Keith that he didn't understand why Hayzel wasn't giving him as much attention.
As he started to put on his leathers and gear, he watched Hayzel sleep cursed silently to himself. Dressed, he picked up his claymore and then stood over his companion, eyes trailing from their soft sleeping face down to their lithe form. His cheeks reddened once more, embarrassment sending him away from camp to take a walk and clear his head as his own frustration mounted.
“If he wasn't so, gods damned dense, I could talk to him about this shit," he growled inside his head. “He's supposed to be the knowledgable one. Why do I have to fucking worry about ruining his innocence? I'm the one struggling with...struggling with..."
Carter paused as the sound of ambient kupoing invaded his thoughts. Turning, he found himself with an unwanted companion. "Why the long face, ku-," the Moogle started to ask before finding the entirety of its face being crushed in the palm of the dark knight.
"NONE OF YOUR GODS DAMNED BUSINESS," Carter roared, winding back his arm before giving the creature a chuck.
Rather than the familiar panicked cry of the flung creature being flung into the distance, its scream was short-lived, bouncing off something with a squeak while the impact point let out a deep grunt.
Rage subsided, Carter blinked and watched as a red-robed figure rubbed his face and punted the Moogle aside. "A powerful right arm you've got there, boy. I'd say you've makings of a ball player," the man complimented in an attempt to hide his annoyance.
"Sorry, sire. I somehow attract pests," Carter apologized before tensing up as the man lifted his hand to slick back his salt and pepper hair, revealing his third eye. "Fuck."
"It is too early to cross swords boy. Stay your hand and I shall move on and leave you be."
Carter swallowed, stopping himself from reaching back to his claymore, finding the stranger's hand already upon his blade. Knowing he'd lose in a quick draw, he did as he was told, though not ready to let the old man by without interrogation. "Why are you here Garlean?"
"I am hunting an elusive mark. And you? You don't resemble a soldier, despite your apparent pride."
"My brother and I are passing through to meet with family," he lied, balling his fists at his side. On further inspection of the man, he noted he was not only well armed but seemed to be carrying an assortment of strange masks strung to his belt.
"I see," the man answered, crossing his legs. "And you've come this way to brood and let off some steam? I'd assume sibling trouble; however, you look grown enough to part ways if that were the case. A lass I take it?"
Carter glared before looking away, the man hitting the nail on the head, mostly. "I didn't ask for your insight old man."
"And it was plain that you were not going to simply let me walk by, boy. Better to pacify you with idle chatter than being forced to lay you out," the Garlean retorted.
The Ala Mhigan stayed stiff for a moment before relenting that there would be no cause to fight, the man reading him all too well. "How'd you know," he asked, tilting his head back in defeat, embarrassed his enemy seemed more attuned to his situation in seconds.
"I've attempted to raise a few sons, albeit poorly. I remember the signs Low mood, quiet, hostile. Then you're unblemished and do not strike me as a pacifist. At the very least, if you felt travel necessity with your brother I imagine you'd solve it with fists before having the sense to storm off."
Pegged again, Carter just grimaced, letting the man monologue.
"A lover left behind, or on your mind at least. There's nothing you can do about that other than sulk like a babe. If you would intend on keeping me, you might get something in talking it out. I do warn I find myself lacking in matters of the heart."
"Fuck, fine."
"Watch your tongue, boy."
"Seriously," he asked, getting a reproachful nod from the man.
“You’ve barely the whiskers upon your chin to use that sort of language at me.”
Carter rolled his eyes, sticking out his chin, absently showing off his meager patch of hair before deciding to let it go. “It’s as you said. A matter of the heart. I’ve become attached to someone…that’s not quite a lass. We’ve grown rather close and it’s only a matter of time before things progress naturally. I’m just worried about growing too attached. There are, things I feel that might get in the way.”
“If you mean to imply a means to leave a legacy, I will tell you now boy, you are unworthy of their affection and wanting of character. Truly having feelings for this person, the only thing that should matter is what is in thy breast. Family is not writ in blood but forged in love. That is the only true legacy. If you need another example, look to the Warrior of Light and Eorzea’s love for them. Your bonds and deeds are all that you can leave behind.”
The Ala Mhigan took a step back as the other condemned him for his lack of perspective. Crossing his arms, he closed his eyes. He stood quietly for a moment, turning the man’s words around in his head, feeling confusion replaced by shame, then shame into resolve. “You’re right. I’m not worthy…but I want to be. I feel all that dumb sh- Er,...stuff that bards sing about when I’m with them. I guess I need to not be a coward and make my intentions clear to them… The Twelve I sound like a damn fool,” he anguished, palming his face.
The man nodded and then moved to take his leave from the young man, “Well, then it sounds like you’ve already made peace with your feelings; however, do not progress lightly on the whims of your hormones. Ensure you’ve been thorough with your personal inventory and ensure that you articulate yourself in a manner that lays plain your feelings and assures them of your commitment to move forward.”
“You sure do like the sound of your own voice,” Carter called out.
The Garlean paused then turned, face twisted in what the Ala Mhigan assumed was an attempt at a smile, “So I’ve been told,” he answered.
“Yeah, well. Thanks, I guess. You’re not as bad a guy as I thought for being a Garlean. Earned your dad points at the very least.”
The man looked up to the sky a moment before returning to his hunt, leaving Carter to reflect further on his situation. Calmed, he made the trek back to his camp, finding Keith and Hayzel in the process of waking. Kneeling beside his companion, he lightly brushed his fingers across their cheek then leaned down, pressing their lips together lightly before pulling back, ignoring his older brother’s shock in the background. “Sorry to make you wait…”
U’tova Thenn was almost out of breath by the time she caught up with those bounty hunters her boss was chatting up a storm with. The big redheaded Hyur was not the man she was looking for, nor the pompous Ishgardian archer, nor the intimidating Roegadyn pugilist. No, she was looking for the Miqo’te who was calling the shots. The man who made sure everyone was geared up and ready for work. The man with olive brown skin, deep scars across his face, piercing yellow eyes and a deep voice almost as thick as mud. Just thinking about him made her heart flutter– but now was not the time to be daydreaming; she wasn’t here for his autograph– she was here for his help.
They were held up at the Silver Bazaar. U’tova knew this because all the ships were stuck in the docks, waiting for the approaching storm to pass over before they took to the sea. Bounty hunters and rougher folk filled the courtyard with rowdy voices and obscene limericks as she walked past. If this many people were clogging the walkways then that meant the only tavern was likely filled to capacity. Her target was outside, she was certain. Then she saw them, the ones that bought out most of the ammunition she made for her job, scattered along the staircase leading up to a seemingly empty balcony. As soon as she approached, the rowdy hyur put on a huge smile and rose from his sleeping mat. “GUN GIRL!” He laughed, storming up to her; her eyes widened and she clutched her package tightly, halfway expecting a huge hug from a huge hyur, but instead his big hand ruffled her hair. “What are you doing here?! Come to give me a better deal?!”
“I’m here for K.” She calmly answered, batting at his fingers to get him to give her some space. “Where can I find him? Is he asleep, or…?”
He jutted a thumb up the stairs. “He likes to watch the sunset. You’ll find him up there. Oh– do you need a drink? You’ve traveled so far!”
U’tova shook her head and ducked under his extended arm. “I’m only nineteen!” She hurried past the others and ignored their inquisitive glances, not stopping for anyone else. Eventually she slowed down at the top of the stairs lest she be out of breath again, her head poking up to look around to spot him before he spotted her.
And there he was. Resting on the edge of the balcony with two empty bottles beside him and a third one in his hand. He turned his head slightly in her direction to let her know he was aware of her presence, but as soon as she started moving closer, he returned to his drinking and watching the sunset. “What can I do ya fer, darlin’?”
“I…” For a moment she forgot what she was even about to ask once she heard his voice again. “You are the bounty hunters that came into my shop this afternoon.”
“Aye, and yer the girl who sold us them rifles.” K’thalen took a swig of his drink and continued. “Why’re ye here? Don’t tell me we ain’t paid ye ‘nough.”
She took great caution in her choice of words. She took a deep breath to get her composure before leading him to his answer. “You are bounty hunters… hunting a very dangerous gang.” He didn’t answer, only choosing to take another swig of his drink as he listened in silence. “To my understanding you’re going after the Black Adder Boys.”
“And?” He finally asked, turning to look up at her with his piercing yellow eyes.
“And… I want to help you.”
“‘Fraid not, lil’lady. Roster’s full.” He turned his attention back to the sunset and took another swig. By this rate he would be on his next bottle in just a few minutes. “The bounty fer their heads is already split five ways. Anymore n’it won’t be worth it.”
She gave him an indignant glare. “I don’t care about gil, if that’s the deal breaker. All I ask is to eat alongside everyone else. I can repair your firearms too if that’s the cost for accompan-”
“I’m stoppin’ ya right there.” At last he set the bottle down and rose to his full height to tower over her; she didn’t realize just how tall he was… and staring up into his judgy eyes was making her feel weak again. “Our job… our profession… it ain’t no place fer a dainty lil’thing like ya. Them Black Adder Boys’ll chew ya up n’spit ye out, if’n yer lucky. I bet ye can imagine what some greasy bastards like ‘em would do to a girl such as yerself.”
“I don’t need that image…” She curtly responded, pursing her lips. “And I’m no fool. But I can handle myself.”
“Ever kill a man before?”
The question caught her off guard, but his burdening gaze forced her to answer truthfully. “N-no… not yet…”
“Best ye be on yer way then. Can’t afford to have some rookie tag along with us, aye? Go on… off with ya.” He waved his hand dismissively before sitting down with an exhausted grunt, but she didn’t move an ilm. He glanced over at her legs and let out an irritated sigh. “Why do ye wanna be a bounty hunter so bad anyroad? It ain’t an easy job, girly. Most folks don’t make it a full year ‘fore they’re killed takin’ a job they shouldn’t have.”
“They killed my pa.” U’tova blurted it out, making him pause mid-sip. “They tried to rob our store. He wouldn’t give them what they wanted so they… shot him right in the stomach. Then shot him a dozen more times… none of which were in the head. They made him suffer.”
K’thalen took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. “So it’s revenge yer after.”
She swallowed dryly to prevent herself from tearing up. “I’m after justice… but I’ll settle with revenge.”
Slowly he looked up to meet her gaze again. “The Black Adder Boys were me family once. I trained most a’them when we was all in the Order of the Twin Adders. They betrayed me fer gil… slaughtered dozens a rookies just tryin’ to make the world a better place… or at the very least, feed their families. Revenge is… not a good thing to follow, lass. Though I suppose I ain’t one to lecture ya ‘bout fergiveness.”
“I’m not here to be lectured. I’m here to make sure my father gets the peace he deserves.” She pulled her package off her shoulders and opened the top, pulling a slender rifle polished to a mirror finish. “I’m not used to fighting killers like you are, but I’m a damn good shot. I can shave the peach fuzz off a Lalafell’s upper lip at 200 yalms. Let me tag along and I’ll make sure your guns never jam again.”
K’thalen lifted his bottle to his lips but paused, before offering it to her. “Drink this. If’n ya can keep it down then the others’ll probably let me keep ya ‘round.” He sat back down once she took the bottle from him; it smelled awful, some nasty black gunk she’d find building up on an engine rather than something that should be placed anywhere near her mouth… but if she refused him then… what then?
“Down the hatch…” She thought to herself before instantly regretting it. It tasted like she was swallowing needles fresh from a campfire, only worse! She only took a sip but had to cover her mouth lest she immediately spit it out! It was fire in her throat, burning a hole in her chin as she forced herself to swallow it, which only made it burn all the way down. “BLAGH! UUGH! WHAT THE HELLS IS THIS?!”
K’thalen threw his head back and laughed heartily! “Hahaha…! Black Belly Whiskey, lass! What’s yer name, anyroad! Heh heh heh….!”
She wiped at her tongue before pushing the bottle against his chest. “U… uugh… U’tova Thenn…”
Immediately his laughter stopped and his eyes grew wide. “Thenn? As in Thenn Tia? The legendary gunsmith of Thanalan? Yer his daughter?!”
“The one and only…”
He straightened himself up and took a long swig of his bottle. U’tova couldn’t bare to look at him drink that sludge lest she retch again. “Well.. welcome aboard, Tova. M’name’s Thalen… Thalen Tia. Or as I used to be called… Thalen Thrice-Shamed.”
She paused as she looked him over but she didn’t seem too surprised. “Thanks. Let’s take those bastards down together then…!”
"Oi... don't be too hasty. Sit down n'tell me more 'bout yer pa. There'll be plenty a time to get yer blood debt repaid soon 'nough, I swear it."
