#daret lyeth

[writingwitheli]

A Demon With Feathers Ch. 5

“...It’s a bit of a mystery, anyway, which is why I like the place.” Lyeth continued, putting her weight into her shoulder to push the broken wooden door open. It creaked loudly, and made Garrow contemplate the necessity of doors. He’d never had one before, and it didn’t seem to do much good anyway. There didn’t seem to be any purpose to it, as far as he was concerned. “If anything, it’ll get us out of the rain.”

Garrow shook off the rainwater that had followed the wind storm. Daret laughed, “You look a bit like a frightened cat when you do that.” He glowered.

“Feathers are meant to look intimidating when they rise,” he mentioned, hoping he could defend the fluff, “and I wouldn’t be able to get rid of most of the water if I hadn’t.”

Her grin still stayed. “Sure, but that doesn’t make it look less ridiculous. Anyway, the guest area is over there,” she motioned to a hole in the wall that led to a room full of colorful cloths and various shapes of wood and other things. Furniture, Garrow assumed. “You can stay there, but don’t break anything! And if you try stealing anything, I’ve got quite a few spells to track you down.”

Garrow looked back at her when she mentioned spells. Magic had always sounded exciting to him. “You do? Really? A lot of them?” He wasn’t sure if his tone sounded as excited as he wanted it to, translation was a bit awkward and common was difficult for anyone without moving lips.

She looked away from him, toward another hole in the wall that he assumed was or had been a window. “Ah, well... maybe one. But still! The point is, I’ll catch you if you do.” She shrugged her shoulders noncommittally and slid up her wide sleeves to her elbow. Her arms crossed in front of her and she ran her fingers over an intricate golden bracelet hanging from her left wrist.

Garrow nodded. He understood that even one spell could be powerful, though that didn’t stop him from wondering what it would be like to watch her cast one.

“So we’ll begin tomorrow then!” she said with a grin.

Garrow shook his head slightly, confused. “Ah, begin what... exactly?”

“The adventure, of course!”

The word caught his full attention now. “Where? What are we doing? Should I prepare?” He added up a list of things that were often useful for heroes in his books and considered what he could bring. Rope, which he didn’t have, but he assumed he could use a belt just the same if he truly needed to. Material for cooking, eating, or hunting, none of which he had brought, since the trip was only supposed to be a short one. A weapon of some sort, he guessed he could defend himself the way his father had expected him to if they got caught stealing. Bandages, which he had a few of, but not many. Maps, which were at home.

He realized he was horribly unprepared.

"Ah, well… I'm not quite sure yet. But I figure we can run around the town and find something." She shrugs nonchalantly, dismissing the thought for later.  He nods, it wasn't normal for the hero to go with a specific goal in mind, one would have to find them. He imagines the last time he saw the town and thinks about where they could go. He begins writing in his head, imagining the journey. And then he realizes something. "Wont I… stand out a little?" He motions to his beak, to his feathers, and to his wings. They're all pristine, he isn't ashamed of his beautiful dark coat, but he knows most people in the towns lack such features.

She nods and considers the problem. "Ah!" she says after a moment. She dashes into one of the back rooms that she hadn't shown him. After a moment, she returns with long cloths. She drapes them over Garrow, one over the wings, one tied over his beak like a scarf, and one hanging over his head. He can still see fairly well, but he feels silly. He knows the outfit will look strange, and doesn't seem to easy to keep together. But she grins, as if she had solved the entire problem. "We can pretend you're infected, there's this nasty disease going around in the West recently. No one would be too surprised, and they'd be almost happy you're covering yourself. We can figure out something better later, if we have time. We should get to sleep though, can't be tired for an adventure!" Garrow nods again, careful to keep the cloth from falling.

Daret leaves toward where Garrow assumes her own room is. He enters his own. The cloths cover most of the furniture, save for a few bits a pieces peaking out from under things like tables. One thing he does notice that he'd never had in his own home was a mirror on the wall. It takes him a moment to realize the figure staring at him through the glass is himself. The disguise, he finds, does hide most of his avian traits, and the cloths she had chosen actually seem to fit together fairly well. He shakes his head and tries to focus on the practicality. He won't be able to fly, he decides, but most people in the towns don't fly anyway. He'll be able to see, but he steps a bit closer to the mirror and decides that anyone would be able to spot feathers if he stood too close. He would have to keep a distance.

Garrow remembers then that Daret had told him to sleep. He thinks about home for a moment, before deciding that it's probably too late to head there anyway. He felt that his mother would be mad, but decided to work on the hopes that his sister would help her understand the need in the case of adventure. Deciding to stay, he pulls off the cloths and takes a few more from the furniture around the room, and he makes a small nest. It's not the best, but it will do.

[writingwitheli]

A Demon With Feathers Ch. 4

It had been a great book, large, and covered in symbols and drawings. Amongst the other things flying about in the storm, this one had easily distracted him. He watched the book as it crossed fell into the streets, waiting for the opportunity to snatch it as it passed by. 

Just as it began to near grasping reach, however, he felt a sudden plain in his side. Everything went dark.

The feathers in front of his face were muddled, earthish in color and fairly wet. He stared at them for a while, unmoving, before he recognized them as his own. Surely, he was too young to be molting that much at once, but then whose else would they be? Reaching out a hand, he smoothed one of them over until the mud was gone and recognized the color of his own dark feathers.

As he woke further, he began to feel the pain in his wings, and was momentarily worried that he might have lost one (or worse, both) in the fall, but he stretched them. They would still move, despite the pain, so he assumed that they would be fine.

The cart that had hit him was lying, broken, against a building, not to far away. As he looked up, he saw that the skies were still dark, though the wind of the storm had dulled considerably. 

“Still, child,” he heard from his right. He froze, the language was clearly not Tengu, nor was there any beak-clacking-accent. He knew the language, the common tongue often used in his favorite books (as Tengu seldom wrote well, though he had read a bit of every Tengu author he knew of), but did not know how to tell what type of creature would be speaking it. “I will not harm you, do you understand?” Garrow didn’t move, not sure if he wanted the create to know he understood. The creature repeated itself in another tongue Garrow knew, elven, and then several other languages.

Finally the voice stopped, and began to chant. It was magic, he knew, his mother was fairly good at basic spells. He tried to move to avoid the spell, but found himself trapped in what felt like a box, though he saw the alleyway empty before him.

To his surprise, the pain eased quickly, and he found himself able to stretch his wings with no harm.

“Well at least that means you aren’t an undead sort, I was a tad worried about the dark wings, but I didn’t think there was sign of rot.” The voice was more relaxed now, Garrow assumed she was talking to herself now, thinking that he didn’t understand her. “Ah, well, now to see what you actually are then... I do hope you aren’t going to try to hurt anyone.”

Realizing the woman wasn’t likely to harm him, Garrow sat up. “Ah, so you are awake then.” He gazed up at her and considered speaking, but she continued talking before he could begin to move his beak. “You don’t speak any of my tongues, though, which is rather strange. It’s been quite a long time since I’ve met any creature that didn’t understand me, though I do guess it’s been some time since I’ve left the cities around here. Ah, well, obligations are obligations I suppose. Now, what shall I call you...”

Here, Garrow realized, would be the best opportunity to speak. Admittedly, it was mostly out of fear that she would choose some embarrassing nickname like his brothers tended to (he was very glad when he’d gone through it long enough that his brothers had tired of calling him “Grumpy” when he didn’t wish to play-fight, mother had always said patience won out in the end, he’d never really believed her until then). “My name is Garrow,” he tried in Tengu. He shook his head, remembering the languages the woman had used, and repeated himself in common, “I’m called Garrow.”

She stared for a brief moment, and he was worried that he had misspoken, but then she grinned and stood up fully from the pose she had been thinking in. “So you do speak, little birdy. Almost disappointing, there were some wonderful names I could have called you. Yet you did not answer me earlier, why was that?”

He stuttered at her, as if she had been accusing him, “I-i... I was-”

She managed to keep talking, saving him from further embarrassment, “Ah, yes, your broken wing must have been paining you. I supposed I understand. I’ve just gotten so used to people I know continuing on in the middle of any sort’ve wound, I guess I never thought of it.

He nodded quickly, accepting her assumptions to avoid showing his fear. 

“Now, what are you doing here, flying in this nonsense, ah, Garrow, was it? Such a strange name.” She leaned forward intently, and placed her hands on her knees. Garrow felt that she was trying to belittle him, so he stood to his full height, but realized that he still barely reached the woman’s shoulders.

“Don’t I get to know your name?” Garrow asked. He was too embarrassed to admit he hadn’t known the storm was coming. His mother would have spent weeks lecturing him about it, once she found out. 

“Daret Lyeth, witch, dragon tamer, linguist, musician, beautiful adventuress, and skilled planes walker. I’m in town on a favor for a friend, I owed her for some medicines she had given me after I’d nearly died facing an army of Bugbears. I happened to end up battling with a local wizard over some artifacts I’d found. I guess we made a bit of a mess. Damn guy got the artifacts, too, or at least what was left of them. I’m hoping you’ll make up for it, right?” 

Garrow tilted his head. He wasn’t exactly used to being someone who could make up for much, especially not losing something like an artifact (which, he had read of, and assumed must be a powerful wondrous thing), but the word adventuress had caught him. It was just like one of his books, as far as he was concerned. The woman would likely have some goal she needed accomplished, and he would help her and adventure with her, and he would learn some great lesson, and it would continue until the end of the book where there would surely be promise for a sequel. He had always wanted to be on some great adventure.

And so, he responded, “Of course.”