Prompts - "Dawn is on its way. The least we can do is live long enough to meet it." (dialogue); A walk at twilight (setting); The weariness of time (feeling).
For the first day i wrote a (canon compliant but not technically in canon) scene between Rowan and Phoenix from my wip What it Takes To Take A Life!!!!
tw - talk of death and loss
Word count - 698!
Waves crashed against the cliff side, the full moon casting a silvery-blue glow over the surface of ocean waves occasionally broken by a winged silhouette flying past. Rowan stood on the small balcony of the library he called home, hands gripping the railing. The stone underneath his fingertips was rough, cold from the wind.
The quiet of the night was nearly torturous, the absence of sound leaving room for the more negative thoughts to drift in.
Rowan loved what he did, truly. he loved the freedom that came with immortality, he loved being able to travel and study magic to his heart’s content.
He just wished it wasn’t at the expense of watching everything else crumble.
His youngest brother’s granddaughter had died the day before. No children, never married. He hadn’t even gotten to meet her, overhearing it mentioned in the market of the nearest town.
His other siblings, cousins, and family had slowly met their ends before this. He was officially the last of his bloodline, the last member of the De Rullo family left breathing.
He missed his mother.
Gods above, he just wanted his mom.
“Rowan.”
The mage nearly jumped out of his skin—since when was he so jumpy?—and spun on his heel to face the voice.
He knew who she was before he looked, of course. He really should be used to the goddess’ surprise visits by now.
He had to crane his neck to meet the woman’s eyes, because for some reason she insisted on presenting as eight feet tall. A single strand of her short, flame colored hair fell against tanned skin. She wore a brown tunic typical of a commoner.
“Hello.” He said, suddenly feeling leagues smaller then he was. Even if he’d been around for a hundred years, being in Phoenix’s presence always seemed to make him feel like a boy.
“Hey.” The goddess of life watched him quizzically for a few moments. Even though she had a tendency to present more human then other gods, her gaze still held this sense of other-worldliness that would have been unsettling if he didn’t know her. He couldn’t quite place the emotion in her gaze. Judgment? Pity?
“Walk with me?” She was turning as soon as the words left her lips, not waiting for a reply.
Rowan had to jog down the spiral staircase to catch up with her.
They fell in stride with each other, walking down the narrow stone bath that led from the building down to the sea.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sound of the water, watching the moon’s reflection shimmer.
Phoenix broke the silence first, with such a simple, yet complicated question.
“Do you wish, sometimes, that I hadn’t made you immortal?”
Rowan swallowed, suddenly very focused on the way the waves crashed against the rocks. “No.”
She gave him a knowing smirk. “You can’t lie to a god.”
He exhaled. Damn it. “Yeah, I guess. Sometimes.”
“Thought so. Tell me about it, little mage.”
Despite himself, his lips twitched up at the familiar nickname.
“I’m tired.” He said, finally. “Weary, I guess. Time is beginning too get to me.”
The goddess exhaled, her breath visible in the air. “Time is often our greatest gift, as well as our most painful curse.”
“Do you ever wish you were human?” The words rushed out before he could think.
At this, Phoenix looked genuinely startled, as if that was the last question she’d been expecting. A younger him would have cheered at being able to catch her off guard.
She swallowed hard, expression turning thoughtful. “No, I don’t think so.” She answered after a moment. “If I were human, I wouldn’t have my wife.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “I wouldn’t have you.”
Oh.
“I’m glad we’re friends.” He said. Calling a god his friend had stopped being weird after the first few years or so. “I’m glad I’m here.”
“As am I.”
The goddess of life turned her head to the sky. The pale blue of the fading moonlight cast across her face. “Dawn is approaching,” she said, flashing the boy a smile, “the least we can do is live long enough to meet it.”
~~~~~
That's it for today!! I'm always open to constructive criticism on my writing, or questions on the story or characters! Please tell me your thoughts, this was a lot of fun!!
(also pls tell me if this doesnt make sense i wrote in like an hour lmao)
Prompts: "You were never my enemy. You were never that. And it breaks my heart that you can't see yourself as more." - An echoing cave - The song of laughter
WIP: Unrelated One-Shot
Words: 1000
Tag List: (message me to be added or removed) @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion @scaewolf
A/N: this idea grabbed me by the throat (much like our POV character) and dragged me into a 1K word oneshot in a vaguely superhero-esque setting. I'll let you decide who the hero's supposed to be here :3
----------
"Dammit!" He shouted, punching the solid wall of rock between himself and the outside, as if his bare hands alone could break it apart. Elsewhere, he could have.
Here, though....
I sank to the ground, suddenly overcome with sheer exhaustion. I hadn't slept in three days, always moving, always on the run, always evading the man standing on the other side of the cave, pounding at the stone fruitlessly. Now that he was here, now that he found me... it was pointless to pretend to be strong.
We both knew I wasn't.
He turned to me, and in the light from my flashlight, his face was contorted with fury, the harsh white light and stark shadows doing little to soften the expression. "You!" He screamed, stalking toward me, his voice bouncing off the cave walls. "You did this!"
I didn't move.
His hand found my collar and jerked me to the side. I dropped the flashlight with a clatter, and the shadows hid his face. "Let me out," he snarled, "right. Fucking. Now."
"I can't."
"LIAR!" He shouted, the single word joined by a chorus of echoes. "You let me out, or I snap your neck!"
It started as a scoff. It turned into a giggle. Then full-on laughter.
I couldn't help it. The situation was fucking hilarious.
He stared at me, confusion obvious even without a clear view of his expression.
"Go ahead," I forced out, gasping for air when the fit finally subsided. "Do it.... Kill me.... That's all you've wanted... isn't it? These past months... the one thing you've desired... is my blood spilled.... And when you have the chance you... you...." I began laughing again.
"SHUT UP!"
I couldn't even if I wanted to. When I didn't stop, he shouted something incoherent at the top of his lungs and threw me across the room. I instinctively curled up, trying to protect my face and neck, but it still hurt when I hit the floor. And rolled. And hit the wall.
My laughter still came in wheezing spurts until finally, mercifully, it subsided enough for me to catch my breath. I didn't bother to get up, instead watching as he paced the length of the cave, flashlight now in hand, searching for a way out.
A fruitless exercise. I may be as much a victim of this trap as he was, but even I could see no way out. I'd been slapped with enough power-dampening cuffs in my life to recognize the absence of my powers. The idiot probably hasn't even noticed yet.
Did that make him lucky, or just naive?
It didn't matter to me.
Not as much as it should have....
Hm....
"Hey, asshole, wake up."
I opened my eyes to harsh white light shining directly into my eyes. "Get that out of my face," I muttered, words slurred from sleep.
Surprisingly, the light moved. I blinked away the spots to find him standing a few feet away. His expression was resigned.
"Come to toss me around again?" I asked softly, the fatigue clearly bleeding into my voice, "toss me around like the baseball?"
"Oh, shut up," he snapped, free hand clenched into a fist. "You rigged this whole thing."
"If thinking that makes you feel better, go ahead."
"Must've had some sort of wire or trigger as soon as I entered."
I sighed. "And trapped myself in with you? On purpose?"
He paused, clearly thinking for once in his life. Finally, he exhaled slowly. "No, you aren't that stupid."
"Thank you." I pushed myself into a sitting position with my back against the wall. He tensed at the movement, but when I settled back, hands folded in my lap, he relaxed. Somewhat.
For a moment, we stared at each other.
He broke the silence first. "This was a trap for both of us."
"Possibly."
"Any idea who?"
I scoffed. "If I knew that, you'd be alone in this cave."
In a blink, he was standing right in front of me, flashlight held menacingly, if that was even possible. He had a way of making the most mundane of objects appear as threatening as a loaded shotgun.
"Listen here," he hissed through gritted teeth, "cut the bullshit. Either you help me find a way out of this mess, or I strangle you to death and use your bones to dig my way out."
I inhaled sharply, both at his speed and his threats. But my next words were not fervent agreement, nor were they defiant insults. "You..." I said in surprise, "you've changed."
He raised his eyebrows.
"I'm not saying this lightly. You're... different. Almost as if this chase has consumed you."
He scoffed. "'Consumed me'? More bullshit."
"The old you would be appalled at the threat you just made."
"So? You are my enemy." The intensity in his eyes was unnerving. "You have always been my enemy. Nothing but a thorn in my side for far too long. I was just too weak to get the job done."
"No."
He blinked.
"You were never my enemy," I whispered, voice shaking. "You were never that. And it breaks my heart that you can't see yourself as more. That you can't see me as more." I raised my chin. "Go ahead. Kill me. It's what you've always wanted."
A beat passed.
Two.
Three.
I could hear his teeth grinding together as he weighed his options. His desires. His fears. My resignation.
Our situation.
A few more beats passed.
And yet, I still lived.
Finally, he stepped back. His hands shook, and the flashlight clattered to the ground once more, rolling in my direction. We both ignored it as he fell to his knees.
"Dammit," he muttered. "They were right. They were always right. I'm too damn weak for this."
"Or perhaps," I said, "you're stronger than them."
He didn't answer. Probably thinking about how my words were utter bullshit.
"Killing someone is easy. In the heat of rage or fear, it's the easiest thing in the world. But to be in the midst of those emotions, to hold someone's life in your hands, and to choose not to? That is hard. That is strength."
He weakly shook his head. "What kind of backwards bullshit is this?"
I smiled. "It's the backwards bullshit that gets us both out of here alive."
His head snapped up. "So you do know how to get out!"
I am participating in the writecamp event run by @agirlandherquill !!!!! This is where you can find the links to all of my writings!
Day one!
Characters - Rowan & Phoenix
Wip - What It Takes To take A Life
Summary - "Old man Rowan and the goddess of life reflect on the value of time and their obligation to themselves to live life to it's fullest, even though it will never end for either of them" (what my friend texted me after reading it)
CW: fantasy whump, betrayal, curse whump, passing out
A/N: Hi. I made a new oc. I have nothing to say for myself.
----------
Sterling awoke to voices echoing around him, as if from far away, speaking in a language he didn't understand. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, could barely comprehend anything beyond the terrible cold wracking every inch of his body.
Slowly, slowly, sensation returned, as if his body had been frozen and was slowly melting.
Which, as memory returned, he realized wasn't far from the truth.
Like the light fading in from the sunrise, Sterling's sight returned. He lay on his back, facing a sky full of stars, the edge of his vision lightening as the sun approached, soon to erase the stars from the sky entirely. He remembered seeing those same stars, right before---
Oh.
He'd been betrayed.
Lucian.
Left out, chained down for the eclipse to take him. To freeze him in a prison of steel.
How long has it been?
Sterling blinked, and the conversation abruptly halted. Faces crowded above him, blocking the rapidly vanishing stars. He recognized none of them. Not surprising. The last time he'd gotten caught in the eclipse, nearly two hundred years passed before he was freed, and almost everyone he had known and loved since passed away.
Someone asked a question in that same language he couldn't understand.
Sterling groaned softly. "Who are you?"
They stared down at him in confusion and concern. It was a weak hope that someone might have recognized his language, but he couldn't be faulted for trying. Regardless, he shouldn't stay here. For all he knew, Lucian had set up a fail-safe for when Sterling broke free two hundred years later.
He flexed his fingers, testing his muscles. At some point during his captivity, his chains had been removed, perhaps rusted away from time.
The people who'd found him murmured to each other in low voices as he slowly pushed himself to a sitting position and inspected his surroundings.
Before the eclipse, Lucian had shackled Sterling in the center of a courtyard, where dozens of people soon gathered to witness the rare turning of a "steel demon" back to its true form. Sterling still remembered Lucian's face, jaw set in harsh satisfaction.
He remembered how the man hadn't responded to any of his questions, his insults, his pleas as the eclipse grew nearer and nearer until Sterling was forced to endure the sensation of every cell of his body changing into metal.
But now he was free. And the courtyard was in ruins.
Broken stone lay in heaps, crushed tile and shattered glass scattered about like fallen snow. Moss had grown over much of the ground, and ivy climbed what little structure remained upright.
Sterling had outlived the palace of the sun itself.
Despite himself, a surge of pride had him jumping to his feet, ready to leave the ruins to history.
But his body had other ideas.
The moment Sterling got to his feet, he was sent straight back to the ground, head spinning. The people around him cried out, first from his sudden movement, then from his abrupt fall. Darkness encroached on the edges of his vision, threatening to swallow him.
Sterling tried to stay awake.
But, just like the eclipse, it soon consumed him completely.
The spirits made a show of scouting the area, and in particular, the water, which for some reason sparked another debate about Guardians and the fabled aversion to running water as opposed to still water. For some reason, the pond left both unaffected, and that was unacceptable.
Bickering like an old married couple seemed to be the only way these two communicated.
I flipped open my notebook and started sketching a rough image of the older standing ankle-deep in the pond, his presence leaving the water's surface completely untouched, with the younger hovering just above the water at eye level.
I was well aware of the spirits' living counterparts studying me curiously as I appeared to be staring at nothing and occasionally muttering to myself. Both were entirely reasonable behaviors even for someone who couldn't see Guardians outside of sanctuaries, so I let them stare as I finished the sketch.
"Looks like any other forest, right?" Ada asked, the ghost of a smile on her lips.
"Yes," he admitted.
"That's what everyone who went in there without a guide thought too," she said softly. "I tried to stop them. A few were lucky enough to make it out."
"And the rest?"
Ada exhaled slowly. "I found traces. Little else. When the Wilds takes people, it takes them completely."
"So that part of the story is true then," Jarsali remarked. She held her staff so tightly her knuckles had turned white. "What are we walking into, Ada?"
Ada looked at her for a long moment, gaze shifting between her and a point next to her briefly before she answered. "Some time ago, no one is sure when, but it was before this town and its twin on the other side sprang up, this forest was like any other. So the tale goes, an Earth Mage had a home nearby, and hunted beneath its branches. They used Mage energy as naturally as another limb, it often aided them in their hunts.
"Many years, they lived in solitude, only rarely venturing to the nearest town, which was some miles north at the time, to trade. Until one day, they stumbled into town, bleeding out from multiple stab wounds. For several days, they were on death's door, the townsfolk only able to speculate."
She exhaled slowly, staring into the forest. "When they finally recovered enough to speak of what happened... everyone thought they were still delirious. They said the forest itself had attacked them, sharpened branches spearing into their flesh like arrows, the ground crumbling and heaving to trip them, vines grabbing at their arms and legs. They'd only escaped because they were a Mage. But no one believed them.
"Until one night, they vanished back into the forest, and never emerged. Anyone who went searching also vanished, or stumbled out with similar injuries and tales. The paths are never the same. Navigation is unreliable at best, the sky at night completely foreign even to the best trailblazers. Markers are moved or stolen. Leaving the path is a guaranteed death sentence, but staying on the wrong path may lead you right over the cliff."
CW: held at knifepoint, threats, attempted robbery
A/N: Inspiration has finally returned enough for me to finish the chapter, in progress since literally October. Not that I haven't worked on the WIP itself, but I've been focusing on scenes later on. Anyway +1 party member!
----------
Kaira's eyes were wide, hand half-over her mouth when Hector finished recounting their story. "I... that's terrible!" She finally said, eyes darting to the bandages peeking out from underneath Luc's collar. "It was bad enough seeing the injuries post-death, but this...."
"We intend to find a magician to undo the curse," Hector said gravely. "I understand if you have your own obligations to attend to, and we would likely take you far from your territory. Do you know where the magician Qila Scoria was last seen?"
Kaira glanced between Hector and Luc, lips pursed. "I can do you better. I know how to find her."
Hector raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"We..." she exhaled slowly, "we have a... complicated history."
"I understand. You do not have to accompany us, just tell us how to find her."
Kaira shook her head. "No, I cannot in good conscience abandon two of my peers." She forced a smile. "It's been a fair few years. I'm sure the worst it will be is awkward. The last I heard she was near Valdove, though she may have moved on by the time we get there."
Hector glanced at Luc. "What do you think?"
The boy jumped, the surprise at being asked his opinion obvious on his face. "I... uh..." He stammered, face growing redder by the second, "I think it's great...?"
Kaira smiled at his nervousness. "It's all right. Anything for another Watcher." She gestured vaguely at the ground. "I assume you aren't familiar with the roads on this side of the Torrent?"
"Unfortunately your assumption is correct," Hector admitted, gently coaxing his horse to slow down as it started pulling ahead of her. "I haven't been near Zariya in about a decade, and even longer since I last visited Valdove."
She hummed softly in acknowledgment. "I see... well, not to state the obvious, but we haven't much cover out here. Even the light from a small fire can be seen for miles and miles. Plenty of room to run, little room to hide. We're at the tail end of the twister season, but we still should keep watch in case one decides to touch down on our heads."
In the distance, further down the road, songbirds chittered as if explaining that they, too, were present. Kaira quieted, cocking her head slightly. After a moment, she relaxed.
"Is everything all right?" Hector asked. In the corner of his eye, Luc's head whipped around from where he had been studying the horizon to the east, listening with only half an ear.
"Fine and dandy. Well, aside from the small band of would-be thieves hiding out in the only cover for miles around just ahead of us."
He raised his eyebrows. "How do you know that?"
"Because the birds that live in the tiny grove are usually significantly noisier around this time of day."
Hector glanced at Luc, whose face betrayed the confusion he felt.
"Also," Kaira clarified, "I'm unfortunately familiar with this specific band. Been dealing with them for the better part of the decade, but they're like cockroaches, you see, you squash one and the rest scatter only to come back with friends. They're quite fond of this type of robbery."
"Wouldn't suppose they'd be too pleased to find instead of a trio of helpless travelers three capable Watchers, hm?"
She grinned. "No, they wouldn't."
---
The plan was simple, and from Luc's resigned expression, he already knew Hector would tell him to hang back despite referring to him as a capable Watcher only a few minutes earlier. But he didn't protest.
"If we need you," Hector said, "I'll whistle for you and you can gallop in and blindside them with a few well-placed gunshots."
"What if they have guns too and just shoot you both?"
"Because for normal people, murder is more trouble than its worth. In the eyes of the law, the punishment for a murder is execution. That's the punishment for thievery in some places, but usually only for repeated strikes."
Hector glanced at Kaira, who nodded in agreement. "Same deal here. Wouldn't surprise me if some of the ones in that grove are repeat offenders." She sighed. "Murder might be on the table after all. Do you want to go in on foot or horseback?"
"On foot. I'm rather fond of keeping my horse alive." Hector dismounted and handed the reins to Luc before undoing the clasp of his cloak and tossing it over the saddle. "Her name's Milan, I liberated her from the Caenum Messenger Corps. Don't give me that look."
"What look?" Kaira asked, doing the same with her own cloak. Both were fairly unique, and most Watchers wore some variation both as camouflage, protection, and as an indicator of their profession.
"The 'I'm better than you because I go everywhere on my own two feet' look."
"We get it all the time from the elves," Luc clarified, carefully arranging Milan's reins with those of his own horse, Starduster. The name had been a compromise between Luc and two of his younger sisters, who had been more than a little put out when, a year into Luc's training, Hector had acquired a promising young stallion from the Messenger Corps.
At fifteen, Luc had no obligation to follow any of his sisters' suggestions, who were thirteen and ten at the time. But he, in a surprisingly mature manner for a teenager with pushy siblings, decided to take two of the options, 'Star' and 'Dusty', and smash them together into a new name.
"Elves don't ride?" Kaira asked skeptically, waving for Hector to join her as she started walking along the road again. "Last time I saw a diplomatic envoy visit Zariya, they were on horses."
"The diplomats are the rare exception. But from what Takari's told me, they only do it to keep up human appearances. They would very much rather be on foot."
She hummed softly. "I see... this 'Takari' wouldn't be Zade Takari, would he?"
"Do you know any other Takari's?"
"I suppose not. Though he does have a family, right? So I've heard."
Hector shrugged. "A wife and at least one daughter, that I know of. He speaks of both fondly. Haven't met them though, they're a private bunch."
"Interesting..." Kaira said, nodding towards the grove as they drew near. It truly was the only cover for quite a ways, and small at that, barely enough to call it a proper grove, a far cry from the Fells. Hector could see why it was a prime target for robbery. With the sun nearing its peak, any sane traveler would be tempted to rest under the shelter of the branches for a short while. "Would you consider yourself friends with him?"
Hector raised an eyebrow. Was she only making meaningless conversation for the thieves' benefit, to appear off guard, or was the question genuine? "We've worked together for far too long to consider ourselves simply 'acquaintances', if that's what you're asking."
"It wasn't, but it shall suffice." Kaira made a show of fanning a limp hand towards her face. "Can we rest here a moment?"
"Of course."
They leisurely stepped off the road into the grove. Hector had to admit the cool air underneath the branches was welcoming after two days of constant solar bombardment, even with his hood blocking out the worst of it. Of course, with his cloak now sitting on Milan's back, he had been deprived of even that protection.
Hector fiddled with his crossbow, making a show of checking the straps attaching it to his belt, though his hand never strayed too far from his akinaka.
So when Kaira, without warning, drew her sword and whirled around, he had his own blade out and ready just as hers rested against the throat of a young man, dressed in dark colors, caught in the act of sneaking up behind them. His hand was on the knife strapped to his side, but from the look on Kaira's face, if that arm so much as twitched, his lifeblood would immediately spill from the vein in his neck.
"Lovely day for a robbery, hm?" Kaira asked with faux sweetness.
"I..." the young man stammered, a look of pure terror on his face as his eyes darted around.
Kaira raised her voice. "The rest of you, come on out with your hands above your heads, or this one dies right now."
The moment the words left her lips, an arrow thunked into the tree inches from her left shoulder. Before she could react, the thief retreated out of arm's reach and made a show of brushing off the front of his shirt. Confidence returns swiftly when you no longer have a blade to your throat.
"Now, then," he said with a forced smile, "before I was so rudely interrupted. You two are, unfortunately, trespassing in our forest. You can stay here as long as you want, of course, but first you must pay a small fee." His smile turned apologetic. "I'm sure you understand."
Kaira groaned softly. "The same damned spiel every time," she muttered.
"Hardly a forest," Hector pointed out, his free hand brushing against his crossbow.
Another arrow slammed into the ground next to his foot. "If you even think of drawing that crossbow," the thief said, "You're going to have a lot more problems than defining a forest."
Hector ignored the threat. "That 'small fee' you mentioned wouldn't happen to be all the coin in our possession, would it?"
"Well aren't you a bright one?"
Kaira groaned softly. "Enough with the antics, Vic."
The thief raised an eyebrow. "'Vic'? Who's Vic?"
Kaira raised her sword and pointed it at a spot hidden in the branches of one of the trees. "Victor. I remember you. Farwater, on the eastern coast. I seem to recall you swearing to find an honest living, not joining up with this lot to threaten helpless travelers. Did you change your name when you went back to your old ways?"
Silence. Hector narrowed his eyes at the point Kaira indicated, where a small shape crouched amid the dark branches. How could she be so certain?
"And you," Kaira said, returning her attention to the one on the ground. "Is this really the sort of thing you want to throw away your life on? You've clearly done this song and dance enough times that no one would bat an eye if I put my sword into your gut."
The thief hesitated. "We have you outnumbered two to one."
"The other two members of your band have already fled."
As if in response to her words, the faint sound of hoofbeats echoed from behind the thief. He swore and backed up, slowly bringing his hands up defensively. Kaira didn't move even as he ducked around a tree and sprinted away, and the archer vanished from his vantage point.
Hector whistled for Luc, one long call to signal all was well, and turned to Kaira, sheathing his akinaka. "How much of that was a bluff?"
She sheathed her sword. "Thieves like easy marks. The moment we stopped being easy was when the scheme fell apart."
"That wasn't my question."
"I know. Like I said, I'm familiar." She stepped back onto the road as Luc appeared and reclaimed her cloak from Milan's back. "Let's get going, we should make Valdove just after dark."
"What happened?" Luc asked as Hector pulled on his own cloak and mounted. "I couldn't see anything."
Hector was silent for a long moment, nudging Milan with his heels to start walking. "I'm not entirely sure," he finally said in a low voice. "I think her reputation did the most work."
"Reputation?"
"Us Watchers are always regarded with a certain amount of wariness, comes with the territory. But the moment those thieves recognized her, they immediately fled."
Luc nodded slowly, the realization dawning on him. "Ah."
They rode on in silence.
Hector considered Kaira's back. Rumors flew quickly, especially in criminal circles, even more so with information about those dangerous to them. It was possible the tales had grown far beyond her actual capabilities, to the point that no one wanted to test if they were true.
But if it was her reputation as a Watcher, then why go into the situation without her cloak? Unless she had personally encountered all the thieves in that band save the one who spoke to them.
He would need to ask around when they reached Valdove and find out what the common folk knew about her. It would be only a starting point, and unreliable, but even the most outlandish of talk contained a trace of truth.
And, if nothing else, he could also ask about the magician.
"Alright," Draven called from the kitchen as he tapped his fingers, waiting impatiently for the water to heat up on the stove. The fire runes etched into the dark tile were beginning to lose their potency, he'd need to get a magician to recarve them soon. He'd gotten up less than an hour ago and had yet to hear any movement from the sitting room. Octavian wasn't in the dining room or kitchen, so unless he'd up and left, the elf was still in there. "We have some time before our appointment with Ferly, so I want to see to a few things."
No response. Draven gave the kettle another derisive look before casually making his way towards the closed door to the living room. "For starters, I want to look into guild registration, even if we're not doing this contract through them, it'll be nice for future jobs." He rapped once on the door before pushing it open. "Besides, they do pay two hunters more than they pay---whoa!"
The door opened to not an empty room, nor a sleeping elf on the couch, but a massive wolf curled up on the rug, yellow eyes open, watching him. Draven caught his breath as the wolf slowly got to its feet and stretched. In a blink, with a sound reminding Draven of the popping of bones breaking, Octavian stood.
"Was this... always a thing?" Draven asked slowly, trying to regain his train of thought. "I don't remember this happening when we were in the Fells."
"I didn't sleep when we were in the Fells." Octavian ran a hand through his hair and moved past Draven into the kitchen, where the kettle was beginning to whistle. "I can barely sleep now as I am. My other form... helps."
"Ah." Was all Draven could manage. Dreams had a way of reminding you of the most screwed-up moments in your life. Often even more twisted and screwed-up, if such a thing were even possible.
Well, there was a reason Draven spent half his paycheck on coffee.
