A Caster Walks into a Tavern
@t-rachemys also requested some Uma and who am I to say no to that 😜 (scroll to the end for a surprise)
Rain hammers the village roofs as Ishida sprints down the muddy road, his arm throbbing with every heartbeat. The cut burns, but he keeps going, cursing himself for his own carelessness. He’d helped the boy in the ditch without thinking, and he’s paying for it now. He should’ve checked for soldiers before using power, but the storm had swallowed him and he’d acted too fast. He didn’t know how many were still behind him. He didn’t look. He just ran.
The tavern ahead glows faintly through the rain. Shelter. He shoves the door open and slips inside, shutting it with a controlled, quiet click. His breath comes hard, but he forces it steady, scanning the room automatically: exits, shadows, anything he can use as a weapon.
Blood drips from his arm onto the floorboards. He presses his hand over the wound letting his magic seep through, covering it in a soft blue light. Then a voice rises up from the shadows.
“You’re either blind or dumb, because the sign says closed. So which is it?”
Ishida turns toward the counter. A girl stands behind it, arms crossed, unimpressed. She looks young — close to his age — but her stance is confident, practiced. Her hair cascades around her face like waves as she cocks her head to the side, waiting. Ishida doesn’t answer her. Not yet.
A heavy fist pounds on the door behind him. He goes still, weight shifting subtly towards the back of the room. The girl approaches, her eyes flicking to his wound, then to the medallion on his cloak. She sighs like he’s an inconvenience.
“Get behind the counter. And try not to bleed out on my floor. Blood stains.”
Ishida hesitates, only for a moment, before moving. He ducks behind the counter, keeping low and silent. He braces his good hand against the shelves, waiting to bolt or fight if she slips up. The woman strides to the door and cracks it open. Three Han soldiers stand outside, dripping rain and impatience.
“We’re closed,” she says flatly.
One soldier shoves the door open wider. “We’re looking for someone.”
She leans against the doorframe. “And I’m looking for customers who can read signs. Seems we’re all disappointed today.”
The soldier scowls. “We saw someone run this way.”
“Congratulations,” she says. “You can follow footprints. Gold star.”
The soldier steps forward, hand on his sword. “We’ll search the place.”
She sighs dramatically. “You’re tracking mud everywhere.”
Then she flicks her fingers. A thin ribbon of water snaps from the rain puddle outside and splashes across the soldier’s face. His eyes go cross.
“You’re headed back to the barracks,” she says smoothly. “Routine patrol. Nothing unusual.”
The soldier blinks. “Right. Routine patrol.”
The others nod, dazed. Then, they turn and walk off into the rain and she shuts the door with a soft click. Ishida exhales, releasing the tension from his shoulders.
“Thank you,” he says, voice low.
She turns, hands on her hips. “Typically, when someone comes to your rescue, a thank you is expected.”
“I said it,” he replies, clipped but sincere.
“Mm. Needs work.”
She steps closer, eyes narrowing at the blood still dripping onto her floorboards.
“You won’t get far leaving a trail behind you.”
“It’s fine.”
She nods towards a barstool “Sit.”
Ishida hesitates out of instinct. Letting someone close is risky, but the cut on his arm is deep. He’s too weak from lack of food and rest to heal it properly. He needs to have it cleaned so he can keep moving so he lowers himself onto the stool, posture tight.
The girl steps in front of him, close enough that he can feel the cool air shifting with her movements. She pours water into a cup, the surface rippling with a faint pulse of magic. The element responding to her. When she presses the cloth to his arm, the sting bites hard, but he doesn’t flinch. He just exhales through his nose. As she leans, her shirt shifts, revealing a dark mark above her left breast. His gaze catches on it. A damned mark. So she is a Kubil, he confirms.
“Eyes up, sweetheart,” she says. “It’s rude to stare at someone’s chest unless invited.”
Heat pricks at his ears, but he keeps his expression neutral. “Wasn’t staring,” he mutters, though the lie is thin.
Then he feels it. A soft pull at the edge of his mind and before he can think, his own magic reacts. It twists sharply, deflecting hers, sending it back like a snapped tether. The backlash stings along his nerves. His eyes snap to hers. She felt that. He knows she did. And he knows she knows exactly what it means.
Her gaze then drops to his arm, at the mark half-hidden beneath his sleeve. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? A caster.”
His shoulders tense. He reaches for the medallion out of habit, a reflex to protect the lie he’s worn for years, but stops when she raises an eyebrow. There’s no point finishing the denial. She already felt the truth in the way his magic shoved hers aside. He shifts on the stool, ready to stand if she makes a move toward the door. Ready to run. Ready to fight. Ready for anything except what she actually does.
She doesn’t move away. Instead, she lifts her hair, revealing her own damned mark fully.
“Relax,” she says. “If I wanted to turn you in, I would’ve.”
Ishida studies her. Her mark explains her confidence. Her power. Her willingness to help him. Relief flickers through him, but he buries it quickly. Relief makes people sloppy.
She pats his arm lightly. “Well, as payment for my services, let’s put you to work. You can start by unstacking the chairs. Unless of course you’d like to pay in cash?”
“Work’s fine.”
“Good,” she says, already turning away. “Try not bleed on anything expensive.”
He slides off the stool, and heads towards the chairs. Hours later, the tavern glows with lantern light. Ishida wipes down a table with his good arm, moving carefully, until the woman calls him over to the bar. She slides a drink towards him.
“You worked hard.”
He blinks. “We’re even then?”
“I didn’t say that.”
His jaw tightens. He studies her, trying to read the game she’s playing. She only smirks and leans onto the counter, her green eyes bright with mischief. He takes a sip of the drink, lips puckering at the bitter taste.
“So…how long have you been here?” He asks.
“Ohhhhh sorry, Sugar. Backstories don’t come free, and you’re still in the red.”
Ishida snorts. “I’ve done everything you asked.”
“I can charge you for whining too.”
“You’re the most crooked tavern maid I’ve ever met.”
“And you’re the worst Child of Light I’ve ever seen. That medallion looks like it came from a children’s market stall.”
His cheeks warmed. “It works well enough.”
“For villagers, maybe. Anyone with half a brain can see it’s fake.”
He rubs the disguise lightly with his thumb. “Will you at least tell me your name? So I know who I’m indebted to.”
She pauses, then tilts her head with a sly smile. “Names cost extra.”
“Is there anything you don’t charge for?”
Her smile widens. “Compliments.”
He stares at her, caught between disbelief and reluctant amusement. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Thank you,” she says, taking a long sip. “And it’s Uma.”
He nods. “I’m Ishida.” “I don’t remember asking.” He huffs — not quite a laugh, but close, and she smiles.
Then, one of the waiters hurries in, looking breathless. “Uma! A royal caravan is coming down the main road.”
Her grin sharpens. She turns to Ishida, eyes bright.
“Want to have some fun?”
The night air is sharp with the smell of wet earth and lantern smoke as they slip down the main road, keeping to the shadows. The royal caravan crawls towards the village—two wagons, four guards, and a driver who looks half-asleep.
Uma nudges Ishida with her elbow. “Easy pickings.”
“You do this often?” Ishida asks.
“Only when I’m bored,” she flashes a grin.
Before Ishida can respond, she flicks her fingers. A thin stream of water curls from a puddle, snaking across the dirt like a living thing. It slides beneath the nearest guard’s boot. He slips with a yelp, crashing into the wagon wheel. The other guards turn, startled.
Ishida steps forward, raising his hand. A flicker of light bursts near the lanterns, making them flare too bright. The guards shield their eyes, just long enough. Uma darts in, kicking one in the knee. He drops with a curse. Another guard lunges at her from behind, sword raised. Ishida moves without hesitation, raising his good arm. Light gathers at his fingertips, but the guard is faster. The blade grazes Ishida’s shoulder, heat slicing through skin. He grits his teeth, refusing to cry out, and thrusts his hand forward. A burst of magic slams into the guard’s chest, knocking him backwards int the mud.
Two more guards rush in from the second wagon. One grabs him by the cloak, yanking him backward. Ishida twists his body, planting his feet, but the man slams him into the wagon side. Pain spikes through his ribs. He drops into the mud, vision blurring, but he forces himself upright, jaw clenched. The guards raise their swords.
Uma jumps down onto the wagon wheel, using it as a vantage point. She kicks the one guard squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling. The other one grabs at her ankle, but she sends a spiral of water around his legs, freezing him in place. Ishida steps him, knocking him out with a flash of light. Uma snaps her fingers. Another whip of water lashes out, striking the last guard across the face. He stumbles, dazed. Ishida grabs his wrist, twisting it sharply, sending a controlled jolt of lightning up the man’s arm. The sward clatters to the ground. The guard flees into the trees.
The driver tries to flee next. Uma rolls her eyes.
“Oh please,” she mutters, and a sphere of water bursts over his head, knocking him clean off the seat.
Ishida wipes mud from his face with the back of his hand. “You’re efficient.”
“You’re a mess,” Uma laughs, brushing a piece of muddy hair from his forehead.
Together, they tear into the caravan. Uma pries open crates with a dagger; Ishida uses small bursts of magic to snap locks. Inside, the find coin, dried fruit, a few bottles of wine, and a velvet pouch containing a golden ring.
Uma holds it up, watching the red gemstone glitter in the light. “Pretty.”
“Dangerous,” Ishida tells her.
“So am I,” she counters.
He shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
They toss valuables into a sack. When they finish, Uma hops off the wagon and stretches like a cat.
“See, fun, right?”
Ishida looks down at his mud-covered clothes. “It was something.”
She looks at him, really looks, and for a moment, the word feels strangely still. Warm. Then she smirks. “Come on, Mudpie. Let’s get out of here before someone with an actual brain shows up.”
“You truly think yourself the pinnacle of intelligence,” Ishida notes teasingly.
“Don’t you?”
Back at the tavern, Uma tosses the stolen sack onto the counter with a satisfied thud. She pours a round of celebratory drinks for them, using the wine they had found. As the lantern lights burn, they swap stories, and divide their findings. Uma takes most of the share and Ishida lets her without protest. He listens as she hums along to the music that filters through the room, tapping her fingers along to the beat. Something warm unfurls in Ishida’s chest. He takes the last swig of his drink, feeling the ache in his shoulder settle into something manageable, and stands.
“Dance with me.”
Uma blinks, surprised, then her lips curl into a slow, mischievous smile. “Well, well. it’s about time.”
She steps around the counter with exaggerated elegance. “Come on, Looker.”
She takes his hand, her grip is warm, sure. He places his hand at her waist, careful not to hold too tightly and they begin to sway. He keeps his movements controlled, watching her feet, trying to match her steps. She keeps changing the rhythm just enough to throw him off.
“You’re doing great,” she says lightly. “For someone with absolutely no sense of timing.”
He huffs, “You keep changing it.”
“No,” she corrects, tapping his chest lightly with one finger, “you keep missing it.”
Ishida shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.“You’re insufferable.”
She spins herself under his arm, hair flaring like a wave. As she comes back around, her hand drags across his chest and around his back. Heat pricks at his ears and she grins, clearly delighted.
“Relax,” she coos. “I’m not going to steal your heart.”
“You steal everything else.”
“True,” she says. “But hearts break. And I don’t like cleaning up messes.”
Ishida laughs and something bold flickers through him — maybe the wine, maybe the adrenaline, maybe just her. He tightens his hand around hers and shifts his weight, guiding her into a clean spin beneath his arm. Uma lets out a surprised laugh. Before she can recover, he guides her into a smooth dip, keeping his injured arm out of the way. Lantern light catches her eyes, widening just a fraction. He holds her there for a moment just taking it in.
“…not bad,” she says.
He lifts her back to standing with an easy motion. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
Her eyebrows raise, delighted. “Oh? Look at you. Full of surprises.”
“You started it.”
“Careful now. I might start expecting you to keep up.”
“Try me.”
She pauses, amused, before nudging his shoulder with hers. “Fine. But this time, I’m leading.”
As the music faces, their dancing ends with a soft sway, her forehead nearly brushing his. After a moment, she steps back, hands on her hips.
“Well, you didn’t step on my toes. I’m impressed.”
“I was trying very hard.”
“I could tell,” she smirks. “Your face looked like you were solving advanced mathematics. All scrunched up like a squirrel.”
“A squirrel?”
“A very worried squirrel. But a cute one.”
He takes the drink she slides towards him, cheeks warm. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
She leans on the counter, chin resting on her hand, studying him with that sharp, amused gaze she always has.
“What?” He asks.
“You wear that emblem like armor,” she says. “But you’re not half as cold as you pretend.”
He lifts a brow. “And you hide behind trouble. But you’re not half as cruel as you want people to think”
Her mouth curves. “Don’t spread that rumor. I have a reputation.”
Ishida smiles. “I won’t. I still owe you, remember?”
Her eyes glint. “Good. I’d hate for you to think your debt was paid off.”
He huffs a soft laugh. “Nice to know debt with you is a lifelong commitment.”
“Only for people who get mouthy,” she taps the counter. “Lucky for you, I’m in a generous mood.”
Later, after the last patrons leave, the tavern goes quiet. Ishida stays helping Uma close up, wiping down tables he’s already wiped down twice just to keep his hands busy. She must notice though, the hovering, the way he’s teetering between enjoying the company and wanting to be alone. He hears her sigh through her nose.
“If you’re going to mope around like a kicked puppy,” she says. “My bed’s big enough for two.”
His head snaps up.
“Don’t make it weird,” she says before he can speak. “The inn beds are lumpy, and you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
She grabs the lantern, “Anyway, I need my beauty sleep before dawn makes me unbearable. Try not to run into trouble on the way back. I’m too tired to clean up after you tonight.”
Ishida manages a small smile. “I’ll do my best.”
Her smirk softens at the edges. “Goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight.”
The next evening, the tavern is alive again — laughter, clinking glasses, the warm glow of lantern spilling through the windows. Ishida stands outside in the dark, hood up, arm re-bandaged, watching her move through the room with effortless confidence. She’s laughing with a customer, tossing her hair, rolling her eyes at some joke, while she slips extra coins from his purse. She looks bright and untouchable.
A familiar weight settles in his chest. Danger follows him like a shadow. It always has. It always will. He’d already brought Han soldiers to her door once, he won’t risk doing it again. He rests his hand against the tavern wall, letting the cool wood steady him, touching the silver pendant around his neck. For a moment, he lets himself imagine himself staying — helping in the tavern, trading banter with her, laughing the way he had last night.
But imagining is all he can do. He turns away from the warm light and slips back into the night without a word.
Tag list: @sassybookworm2020 @magnus-the-maqnificent @high-warlock-of-brooklyn @my-archerboy @khaleesiofalicante @radisv @raziyekroos @spotsandclawsthings
