“In case you hadn’t noticed? If I don’t enjoy a game, I don’t let it go on,” she returns, still with that gentle expression. “As to how much? [tsk-tsk-tsk] You’re not the only one who guards their heart, or its mysteries.”
“Speaking to Sheriff Hemlock sounds like a good idea — though we may have to pray that he can spare the time tomorrow. Even as small as Sandpoint is, I don’t imagine the Swallowtail Festival is a day when he gets a lot of rest.”
After the conflict I bow to the Sheriff. "Thank you for the assistance good sir. I appreciate the assistance."
I smile at Victoria and then look a bit sheepish. "I should be the one apologising as it was I who dragged you out here unprepared. I myself am always prepared for such matters. I am glad to see you unharmed."
Noro is not in any condition to argue with the dwarf about anything. heck she doesn't even know who he is.
she accepts the help anyway. Jusht get me to my bed an I'll be fine she mutters with a lisp.
Noro will direct anyone that is helping her, to her apartment.
she glances toward the Sheriff as she goes. noding her thanks for not locking her up this time around.
Olivius steps up next to the dwarf. I can assist in carrying the girl to her place, if needed. He continues more loudly so everyone can hear, I also suggest that none of us sleep alone tonight. Introductions have been made, and we are all targets for some unknown reason. We can try to puzzle at why tomorrow. Let's just try not to die tonight.
I should buy that man a drink. Horatio makes a show of shrugging dramatically, though his smile never falters. "Well, my dear, your friend raises an excellent point. Perhaps you'd like to reconsider the offer?"
"I agree" Sheriff Hemlock rumbles as he approaches the party. Gluck and the others are being carried out by the other guards, to the garrison's jail presumably. "You can tell me more about how this man looks I'll be sure to put a notice out for him. As for you, Noro, I'm not letting you stay in that damned place. There's room at my house and anyone else who needs a place to sleep tonight is welcome. If you're staying at the Dragon or the Deer, I'd find out who else is and bunk together."
With that he leads the others out and towards the garrison a short ways away. After securing the thugs, Jubrayl, and Gluck he assigns a few guards to escort those going to the Dragon and the White Deer, while he helps Olivius carry Noro to a simple house down the street. It's furnishings are humble, but well made, and comfortable.
I know that bastard gave you some awful stuff, I had this on hand and thought you'd appreciate being able enjoy the day without puking your guts out. Don't worry about paying me back, it's a gift.
---
Cade
P.S. I thought you'd appreciate some clothes that are made for fighting.
The one that isn't the whiskey is smooth and buttery, though more amazing than the flavor is seconds after downing the bottle, you feel like you could take on the world (All detrimental effects are gone, along with the Nonlethal.) Sheriff Hemlock is nowhere in the house.
Under the bottles is an outfit of clean clothes that are made out of something tough, but soft.
Apologies Olivius. I'm afraid that I'm not the mage you think I am, although you could say that magic is in my blood. I know I seem suspicious, call it an aspect of my nature if you will, Know this though. I will help as I can, but I am bound by rules far more ancient than even your Thassilon. I cannot directly interfere, but know that neither did I betray you to Jubrayl. I wish you luck on your journey, and I offer this. Sometimes the path that will make us the best, and most happy, is not the path we seek the most.
---
Cade
The next day is bright and clear. The night passes without event and the crack of dawn starts with the murmur of preparation, which soon becomes the dull roar of a festival. The smells of food fill the air as the sounds of games, and general tom-foolery, provide a backdrop for the bards and storytellers milling in the streets. Criers call for you to witness feats of derring-do and soothsayers promise to reveal the future to those who wish to know, for a small fee of course. Blades flash in mock combat and the occasional gout of flame, or ice, erupts over the crowd from the mouths of daring men and women who eat the deadly substances for the show. In the square, the cadence of chants and the melodies of hymns ring out as the sun climbs higher. A stage is ready for some of the town's more respected citizens to speak.
Olivius awakes the next morning feeling refreshed. Yesterday was one of the most crazy and emotionally disturbing of his life, rivaled only by worst of Unit Reviews at the Academy and his tenth birthday when he got a pet dog. The sight of the dog's head spinning slowly through the air, scattering blood as it went invaded his thoughts. Olivius immidiately and reflexively surpresses the memory.
He rolls out of bed and quickly uses his fingers to put his hair back in order. That'll need to be cut soon, he notes to himself. On his gear he finds a note. Odd. It's not uncommon for someone to be able to sneak up on Olivius, but it's very odd to break and enter the sheriff's home and leave a note behind. He reads the note quickly, then retrieves his note from yesterday on the docks and compares the writing. It appears to be from the same person. Cade. Not a Mage? But offering advice nonetheless? "Sometimes the path that will make us the best, and most happy, is not the path we seek the most."
Ya, no idea what that meant.
Mysterious notes from disappearing non-mages in the morning did not bode well for this day being normal.
Olivius straps on his armor and gear before making his way out.
After the brawl in the arena, Saroune returned to the caravan. Her head filled with dancing swords and handsome bards, she crawled into her tent, dutifully set up by her family. They never knew when Saroune would catch up to them, but they always tried to make her feel welcome when she did.
***
The next morning marked the beginning of the Swallowtail Festival and Saroune didn't want to miss out on the festivities. Stopping at the Dunk the Goblin, she hefted a ball and sent it hurtling towards the target.
The ball sailed high. Cursing in Varisian, Saroune grabbed another ball. This gnome was going down.
Thirzin decides that a nice, calm stay would be better for him than the bar, so he stays at the sheriff's house. He wakes at a decent hour the following morning, stretching and creaking as the sun comes up. He needs to Olivius as the man leaves.
The dwarf makes his way out to the festival, armor, gear, and weaponry strapped on, feeling ready to take on the day.
Seeing the various games, he heads first to the Devil game. The ranger cracks his knuckles and after focusing for a moment or two, he attempts to hit the kite.
And not only does the stocky man hit the kite, but he hits it smack dab in the center. "If that'd been a critter, it'd've been dinner on the table." And with that, he wipes his hands.
noro finally awakens her whole body aches from the fight. her head pounding from dehydration. she glances over the side of the bed to see the bucket that was left for her, "just in case".
Noro slowly gathers herself together. where the hellsh am I? thish ain't my apartment
Noro stumbles out of the bed. which was so much more comfortable than her one at home. she almost trips over the bottles left for her.
she grabs the note squinting as she tries to focus on the words. then checks out the bottles. drink me firsht? Ha sheems the ole father came to the reshcue after all
Once she has all of her wits about her again Noro finds the clothes and the other bottle. she cleans herself up and put on her new clothes.
tucks the bottle of whisky in a small sack and folds the note up and into a pocket it goes.
Noro makes her way outside. by this time everyone else staying there would have left.
Noro makes her way to the festival looking for Lou. he said he was doing charcoal sketches. she thought she would help his little business venture along.
|
"Perhaps we can meet at the festival tomorrow. I'm here to keep my eyes open and the festival should prove less... Violent." She spoke to Akisame before going back to the inn she was originally staying in for the night to sleep.
The next morning, she happy to find herself at the festival, though she prepared herself with all of her combat equipment this time. Though she wore her robes over her armor, she wore her hood down. Seeing some of the games, she decided to give a few a shot.
The first she decided to try was The Sandpoint Devil.
Only just missing her mark, politely asking for a second attempt, she took it. If she missed again, she would just give up. She loved archery, and she can normally hit targets like these. Usually, though, there's aren't so many distractions.
She nailed the target with a clean shot. This shot was a much better display of her abilities, she though. Smiling, she bowed her head and moved on.
Then she thought that maybe a game of Hide and Seek would be fun, though she was hoping she had spotted Akisame by this time.
Olivius wanders for some time before he sees a black kite whizzing through the air. He watches several people give it a try, none successfully, before he decides to give it a go.
In spite of the fact that shooting was never his thing, he manages to put the shot on target. He whoops heartily and stands back to watch some more attempts.
Soon after, the girl he ran into last night on the docks, then saw ambushed with him in the pit fight stood up to the line for a shot. Her first misses, but her second shows some true skill, solidly pegging the target. He steps up to her after she is done and introduces himself a little hesitantly.
Uhh, Miss? My name is Olivius, Olivius Telraven from last night. I helped carry Noro out. I wanted to apologize. I was the one who ran into you last night on the docks and I wanted to say I hope I didn't hurt you. Yesterday was a rough day for me, but that is no excuse. Olivius's father's voice echos in the back of his awareness You must never give excuses, only results.
Thirzin chuckles, pushing his braids away from his eyes, as he works another test of skill. But before he makes it to dunking a "goblin" or joining in any of the competitions, he sees the individuals who were there the night before.
"Hey you two! Good job last night. Left some good bruises and cuts out there, didn't we?"
Olivius turns from his apology and smiles at the dwarf Indeed, I think that arena master left part of his face on my shield! Well met. I'm Olivius Telraven. He holds out his hand.
Pavanna sits up in bed and looks down at her hands, thankful that they’ve finally stopped shaking. She managed to hold together her jaunty facade the night before, at least until Horatio turned the corner on his way back to the Rusty Dragon, but as soon as he was out of sight she’d emptied her stomach. Though she grew up amongst soldiers, including a few veterans of the Mendevian Crusades, that sudden brush with violence and near-death — and cutting down a man herself, even though the healers quickly saved his life — was a massive shock to her system. Thankfully, Victoria had been awkward but supportive over her ‘delicate stomach’, but even when she did get to bed, it took Pavanna a good part of the night to fall asleep.
I almost killed a man last night. What disturbs her most about the thought is the fact that she really can’t be sure whether it disgusts her more than it thrills some dark part of her.
Pavanna dresses and methodically straps into her armour, drawing calmness from the near-ritual motions. She hesitates for a moment, considering taking her bow and quiver. No, best not. I doubt the Sczarni would try anything at the Festival, and I’m meant to be showing the colours of Iomedae at the consecration anyway. Instead, she buckles her round shield to her arm, carefully flicking a little dust from the silver emblem proudly emblazoned on its face.
Even so early, the streets are already busy and chattering with fair-goers, and Pavanna lets herself wander amidst them, needing to be no particular place until the actual dedication ceremony. As she goes, she spies several of the games and side-shows set up for the crowd. The log-rolling makes her shiver and veer away; ever since that dunking she got when she was eleven, large bodies of water have filled her with a quiet unease, if not actual terror. Seeing the queasy-looking folk at the pie-eating contest, not to mention catching a whiff of those who couldn’t control their nausea, her own stomach rolls over again and she walks past without slowing. She shakes her head as she passes the children playing hide-and-seek, envying their carefree lives.
As she comes to the Dunk the Goblin game, she spots Saroune and brightens immediately. She holds her tongue as the Varisian winds up, not wanting to spoil her aim, but when the throw goes astray anyway, she calls out, hoping to wipe the frustrated grimace from her friend’s face. “Well met, Saroune!” she cries cheerily. “I’m sorry to see a ‘goblin’ vexing you like this. Perhaps I can settle the little beggar’s account for you?”
“... or perhaps not. They are slippery little scoundrels, aren’t they?” she adds ruefully, watching her own cast fly a little low. “D’you think we should try for the Sandpoint Devil, instead? It might prove an easier target — or at least a larger one.”
Horatio wakes in the night barely able to stifle a scream, patting himself down furiously to make sure his nightmare wasn't real. "It was all just a dream," he mutters to himself after a few moments, brushing sweat-soaked hair from his face, unable to control his shaking hands. As he looks down, he sees a spider crawling across one of his hands - a decent-sized one, too, the size of his thumb. In a panic, he flings it to the floor, then smashes it with the first hard object he can find, which happens to be the heel of his boot. His stomach churns and his head spins. Why did it have to be spiders? he thinks, trying to settle his nerves and get some sleep. But sleep doesn't come easily.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
He drags himself out of bed at dawn, finding it useless to continue snatching half-hours of rest all night. He shaves away the stubble of the last few days, buckles on his leathers (for show more than anything else), and takes to the streets with nothing more than a coin purse, his rapier, and his violin. He twirls the bow between his fingers as he walks the streets, the townsfolk still setting up for the day ahead. A quiet spot in the square helps calm his nerves from the nightmare, and after a short nap in the shade, he finally feels ready to take on the day.
It doesn't take long for someone to find him - though not someone he'd have wanted. A small gaggle of children, imploring him to play hide-and-seek with them.
He sighs and agrees - not that I have anything better to do right now, anyway - standing up and already looking around for a good hiding spot, but one of the children giggles. "Nuh-uh, you're the seeker!"
"Oh, if you insist," he chuckles, sitting back down and holding one hand over his eyes. "One... two... three..."
"No peeking!"
After counting to twenty, Horatio rises, calls "Ready or not, here I come!" and begins the search, walking slowly through the square, eyes peeled.
The dwarf grips the man's hand firmly, giving the man an archaic handshake that is a grip of the forearm. His smile is natural and wide.
"Thirzin Bronzebeard. thought he'd never get up when you hit him. What about that huge guy in the ring? I'd say the only reason I got a hit in was because of you all."
He releases the man's hand. "That brawler woman was something else, wasn't she? Noro or something, I think? One of the local celebrities, I think."
Olivius shrugs I heard her name is Noro. I'd never met her before, but she really took some good hits well. Oh, and I saw the gash on that brute's leg. You did that? Nice cut. Forehand or backhand?
Thirzin smirks. "Forehand. Legs like that you take out like a dead tree. Except dead trees don't howl quite as loud." The dwarf laughs heartily.
Noro finds her brother not far from the stall set up by Amieko.
hey Lou, drawing picturesh I shee. why not sketchsh yer favorite shister then.
Noro takes a pose on a stool beside Lou as he begins his sketch.
Thirzin smirks. "Forehand. Legs like that you take out like a dead tree. Except dead trees don't howl quite as loud." The dwarf laughs heartily.
Olivius laughs and suddenly remembers he was in the middle of meeting someone else. There ya go again, Idiot, forgetting the simple niceties.
Thirzin, I wouldn't like to leave out our fellow in arms from last night. He gestures to Victoria, who he so rudely left out.
I bid farewell to the others and return to my room for the night.
The next day comes around I join the fair merely as an observer.
I watch the proceedings take place until I see Victoria. I greet her as she is heading on to her next game.
I approach. "Greetings Victoria-san. It is a fine day for a festival is it not?"
He grins. "Olivius, I think ya be needin some of them gnomish glasses, because that's no man. That's a lass." He chuckles and puts a hand over his mouth conspiratorially. "He hasn't hit the drink that hard, has he?
Speaking normally, he extends his hand to the woman. "Pleasure to meet ya both, though. Real good heads, the both of ya, to get ya through somethin like that."
Olivius instantly flushes a bit red, but he lets Victoria have her turn in the conversation without correcting himself. Fellow as in "person who was also there". By the hells, this day is starting out poorly.
Saroune turned to Pavanna's voice and smiled. "I suppose we could give it a shot. At least the kite won't taunt us."
“Indeed,” the tiefling agrees, giving the green-painted gnome a foul look before they move on. That fellow’s getting just a little too into character, if you ask me....
As they approach the Sandpoint Devil event, Pavanna spots the knot of people talking nearby — including Olivius! Flashing Saroune a smile of apology, she crosses to him and hugs him for a moment just as his blush starts to subside. “Good day to you, Olivius!” she chirps as she steps back again. “I’m sorry for abandoning you last night, but Horatio... he’s both persistent and unexpectedly complicated, and handling that with grace took a little too much of my attention. Can you forgive me?” she asks, again with a contrite expression.
Glancing away from him, she nods to the hooded woman and the dwarf. “Well-met, Victoria. Again, thank you for your help last night — all of it. And you, too, Master Dwarf. I’m sorry, but I don’t recall hearing your name in the... confusion at the pit-fight? Mostly, what I do remember is your deft hand with that axe of yours.” She motions to the taller Varisian woman with her. “Everyone, this is Saroune Anzoletta, a wizard and a fellow scholar.”
|
|
Pavanna; that's absolutely fine. Victoria would jump at the chance to ensure your safety to the White Deer, and would assure Horatio that you would be safe.
Victoria had only just finished shooting the kite when he was approached by the guard from the previous night.
"It's quite alright, Olivius. My name is Victoria. I'm just glad we all made it out of there without grave injury." Then she grinned a bit. "I think we turned out to be a little more than they could handle. I may not be very big..."
Then she watched as the dwarf approached and spoke to Olivius for a moment, then she politely responded to his handshake. "Victoria is my name." Now responding to all parties who have approached, she looks around and smiles to everyone. "It pleases me to meet you all."
It is at about this point that Akisame approaches. Excited to actually see him there, Victoria steps away for a second and responds to him. "It is a much better day than I had expected, I've met the people who helped us last night. This is Pavanna, Olivius, Thirzin, and Souroune. My friends, this is Akisame. He's the man who was with me last night."
I bow in the traditional Tien fashion. "It is a pleasure to meet you all. I am surprised there were so many people at that unsanctioned brawl with such decent intentions."
Akisame is being sarcastic. You think he may be wary of you and your backgrounds given you all were at an underground brawl. He also expects you to think the same of him if you are in fact good people.
What i think is funny is nobody even thought to seek out noro to see if she was alright.
So really she only barely met a few of you.
Saroune nodded to the group in acknowledgement and fidgeted with her scroll satchel. She would let the archaeologist do the talking. Pavanna was really quite good at it.
Lou finishes the sketch and tries to hold back a smile when Noro takes a look at it.
Lou!! I haven't worn that shince I wash a little girl. You know I hated that outfit! Noro gives Lou a punch to the arm.
But Lou always expecting such an action from her was ready this time and with near lightning speed deflects her punch.
Noro grabs the sketch pad and rips out the picture of her. Thish will never she the light of day again
Lou merely smiles as he turns a couple of pages to show her the same picture he drew a few days ago.
Noro just gives Lou a friendly harrumph and heads off to see what the other activities there are.
Noro heads over to the drinking contest Now thish ish shomething i can relate to. she says with a smile.
noro's presence suddenly causes a couple of contestants to bail expecting to be easily outmatched.
Noro makes her mark as a contestant in the contest and takes a seat waiting to see if others are willing to join.
Olivius feels himself relax when the tien wrestler arrives. Now he was spared the embarrassment of botching yet another introduction. Then, quite suddenly, he is smothered in Teifling. It takes him a moment to realize that Pavanna has made another sudden appearance in his life. His half-second confusion turns to a broad smile.
Of course you're forgiven. I've seen and heard of that particular Limp-Wrist before. He has a way with just about everyone. I'm actually surprised his silvery tongue hasn't gotten him into more fights
At Saroune's introduction, Olivius only really hears two words: Saroune, and Wizard. He immidiately locks onto her with piercing, eager eyes. A Mage! A real Mage! That probably won't disappear on me! By the gods, this day just took a turn for the better.
He sees her fiddling a scroll in its case. I bet she can tell me what's wrong! But I can't scare her off. Best to wait until introductions are over. Yes, wait, then I'll approach.
Olivius turns to Thirzin and excuses himself, I need to go ask a question of Saroune, but it was good meeting you. If they have a melee around here again, i'll look for you. .
Olivius makes his way around and through the crowd to approach Saroune. He bows (surprisingly well and smoothly for a simple caravan guard) and says, Greetings, my friend Pavanna mentioned you were a Mage, a Wizard. Would you mind me asking your speciality? What fields of magic do you study?
“Olivius, you’re a wonderful man, and don’t let anyone tell you any different,” she says sweetly. “That said, be nice: he was there as a favour to Ameiko. Yes, I know, it might just have been part of their little dance, but still....”
She lets him excuse himself moments later, nodding indulgently as he goes. She knows that magic is one of his passions, though not amongst his gifts (just yet, anyway), and she half-expected that hearing of Saroune’s arcane talents would draw him like a moth to a flame. And Mother says I can’t be subtle! Saroune, perhaps you’ll do better when you share an interest with the man in question....
Completely missing the undertones of suspicion to Akisame’s question, she smiles at him brightly. “You’re the one who threw that goon around when the trouble started! Another man I owe thanks” (she bows gratefully) “for his timely actions.
“As to our ‘decent intentions’, well, Horatio, the blond fellow I was with? He was asked to look out for Noro’s well-being, in case the fight went especially sour — as it did, in the end. He asked for my help in the matter, and I couldn’t refuse him. Saroune I met later, and I... more or less dragged her along. She said she was looking forward to a little excitement, but I didn’t expect that ‘excitement’ to almost get her killed. I hope I can make it up to her.”
Thirzin shrugs. "Plenty of training in cutting things in two, believe you me."
The bearded man awkwardly bows to the Tian. "Hey, those are the sort of brawls that get you the bounties."
--
Thirzin chuckles at the remaining folks. "Speaking of the brawler woman...lets go find her and see how she's doing." And with that, the dwarf starts making his way through the crowd, dragging along the rest of the group, if need be.
Just as he's attempting to peer into the branches of a tree - Kids like climbing trees, right? Certainly loved climbing all over the Shingles when I was that age - Horatio feels the crowd move. He turns around out of curiosity, and sees a familiar-looking dwarf. And oh, there was the lovely Saroune, as well as-
His face falls a little when he sees Pavanna deep in conversation with a Tian fellow, and - was she smiling at him? Well. That puts a damper on the spirits, doesn't it? No matter; she seems a happy person in general; I'm sure it's fine... He clears his throat, leaves the tree - Who am I kidding; those little blighters have probably forgotten the game already - and approaches the group from the back, tapping Pavanna on first one shoulder, then the other, with the bow of his violin. When she turns around, he greets her with a warm, genuine smile and outstretched arms. "Ah, my dear; I deeply regret not meeting you this morning, and was beginning to worry I wouldn't see your lovely face again. Can you find it in your heart to forgive a forgetful scoundrel, and - if we're being honest - right bastard like myself?" And so the dance begins again.
Pavanna jumps a little at Horatio’s voice and touch, but she’s mostly recovered by the time she turns around... then his words register, and her blood-red eyes flash in sudden anger. Reaching between the open arms, she pokes him in the chest with one finger — and none too gently. “Don’t you ever say things like that again, Horatio Aldebrandt!” she growls at him, not a little surprised by her own vehemence. “I don’t let anyone talk down my friends like that, them least of all! ‘Bastards’ are knowingly cruel, ‘scoundrels’ are heartlessly cavalier. You. Are. Neither!” The last three words are backed by three more jabs of her finger. Really, why do you say such things, Horatio? she wonders. Do you truly hate yourself so much?
After glaring at him for a moment longer — which is almost like a rabbit glaring at a fox, given the difference in their heights — she relents and chuckles, almost helplessly. “That said, it’s good to see you’re in such fine form. I was afraid that I broke your heart last night; depriving so many people of your presence because you’d taken the morning to brood would have ruined the whole Festival.”
As Thirzin moves off, she arches a brow to Horatio. “I do believe our dwarven comrade makes a good point — after last night’s fight, you so occupied my attention that we both forgot we were there to take care of Noro. And we wouldn’t want to tarnish the fair Ameiko’s opinion of you in such fashion, would we?” She waves after the dwarf, ‘after you’. She doesn’t offer Horatio her arm, but that’s not a snub: her shield binds up one arm, and from childhood she was trained that when fully girded like this, she cannot fill her sword-hand with anything but her sword.
Horatio blinks down at the first finger jab, one eyebrow raised. The three jabs that follow, however, dig in painfully, and he can't help the pained expression that follows the last. Okay, so she doesn't appreciate a self-deprecating sense of humor. Good to know, he thinks, opening a gap of a few inches in the front of his leather vest to massage his aching sternum with his knuckles. But why does she seem so bothered by it?
"Well, I was hoping for a hug, perhaps some more swooning, maybe a dash of 'oh-but-I've-missed-you-so-much', but I suppose as greetings go, I've had worse. Ah, but you did leave me distraught last night. I barely slept for the heartache - the only reason I'm here at all is because, as you suggested, the festivities would have been worthless without the joy my presdence brings." Exaggerated movements and an overly haughty tone suggest he's not taking himself seriously at all. "However, I think I deserve to recieve a little joy myself in addition to spreading it, and I think simply seeing you has done that already." A wink and a genuine smile punctuate his statement.
His gaze follows Pavanna's hand towards the dwarf, and he shrugs, following it - but not after attempting to drop his free arm over her shoulders, standing at her shield side. "I suppose you're right. I do tend to have a rather unfortunate knack for being stunningly distracting. It's one of the drawbacks to having such a pretty face." He gives a small chuckle, wincing slightly when his chest stings again. "Perhaps when we find Noro, she could give me a few more bruises," he mutters, absently rubbing the spot again.
It’s only when he starts playing to the back rows that Pavanna finally realises he wasn’t (overly) serious to start with, and she blushes a little for her over-reaction. “I, uh... I get a little over-protective about ‘my’ people,” she says, wondering how candid she’s being with herself. “And you do have a way of... throwing me off. My sense for humour is usually than that.”
She rolls her eyes at the comment at being ‘stunningly distracting’, but it’s the half-joke about bruises that makes her chuckle as they set off after Thirzin. “Now you’re just being completely silly, Horatio. If you haven’t had worse than that after a night’s tumble, no-one involved was giving it their all.”
"Less than twenty-four hours and you already consider me one of 'your people'? You move even faster than I do." He laughs, tightening his grip on her shoulder slightly, moving a couple of inches closer as they walk. "Oh, my dear. You should just see some of the 'battle wounds' I've accumulated over the years. I'd say every last inch of me's been black and blue at some point... the face tends to avoid the worst of it, though. Though there was this one Ulfen fellow back in Korvosa who left a rather nasty bruise on my neck. That one took weeks to go down. Had to buy a new shirt just to cover it when playing in the taverns." He rubs his neck absent-mindedly as if remembering. "There's a vast gulf between passion and malice, though. If nothing else, if Noro happened to rough up my face a little, perhaps I wouldn't 'throw you off' so badly." He raises his eyebrows at her, half-smiling at the suggestion. "Or perhaps it's not my face that distracts you, but my charm? In which case you're out of luck, my dear. I don't think that's going away any time soon... not for as long as you're around, anyway."
Olivius, while being very much engrossed in his conversation with Saroune, can't help but overhear Pavanna and Horatio's little banter fight. He even got his hopes up that someone was going to finally punch Horatio outright, but no dice. He has to suppress an eye roll as they dance their little dance. Olivius had never been one to enjoy such games as verbal chess. He enjoys real chess better. Even more so if the prices are all alive and moving at once.
Pavanna casts an assessing glance at Olivius and Saroune just before she and Horatio leave. There’s nothing to alarm her there: the pair seem to be getting along well enough, in a sweetly-clumsy kind of way that reminds her of two puppies tripping over each other. For their parts, Victoria and Akisame seem comfortable enough in each others’ company.
She cocks an eyebrow at the tale of the new shirt, but she doesn’t shake off his hand. An Ulfen ‘fellow’, was it? That’s a little bit of a surprise, but her own history is mixed enough that she’s not one to cast stones. “I’ve seen pretty faces and charming manners before, Horatio; some have had their way, some have been disappointed. And though I enjoy the game — every woman likes to feel desired — that is why I was so quick to deflate you when you tried to put on airs yesterday morning. A charmer who makes empty promises can be fun for a night, but the next day is... lonely.”
She draws a deep breath, bracing herself, then plunges on:
“But I don’t think that’s what you are, and it’s the things I’ve seen behind your face and your charm which... appeal to me. And perhaps which so angered me just now.” She looks at him sidelong, serious, gentle. Vulnerable. “The man you first showed me in the square, the carefree rake, the handsome charmer — he was a mask, one I think you’re trying to become. I’ve dealt with people who thought they could woo me by play-acting the gallant or the ‘wounded bird’, but the glimpses I’ve seen in what you did for me with Garridan Viskalai, and at the docks during our tour of town, and at the pit-fight... the man I saw in those was generous, and gentle, and honest, and more brave and selfless than he realised, and he was in such terrible, real pain.
“I’m not asking you for the story behind that pain,” she adds quickly. “Not yet. We’re still mostly strangers to each other, and trust between us is young and frail. I just... want you to know that if a single night of soft company is all you want, you should find someone else, because I really don’t know if that’s all it would be for me. And if you want us to be more than that? Please, try to leave the mask off and just be who you are, not who you want people to see.”
The speech hits Horatio like a sap between the eyes. For several moments, all he can do is blink, eyes twitching in confusion and an apparent loss for words. For an instant, the facade seems to fall away like breaking glass - then in the blink of an eye, he's turning away, touching his thumb and index finger to his temples, eyes closed, trying to build the wall again.
When he turns back, he inclines his head ever so slightly to a nearby bench, before taking a seat on it, elbows braced on his knees. He takes a long time to break his silence, and when he does, his voice is slow and deliberate, as if he's still thinking everything through as he says it.
"I've been hiding for a long time. The man you saw in the square yesterday, not far from this very spot... I used to be him, many years ago. Something happened that changed me - twice. The mask is a reminder of a simpler time. A time I'd like to go back to; a time I can never relive. But sometimes, we keep trying, because memories of better days are all we have.
"I can tell you right now, I'm far too entrenched in this to give it up easily. It's like..." He pauses, searching for a comparison. "Did you ever get into trouble as a child? Do something you shouldn't have done? And you lied to your parents about it, and you had to keep covering yourself with iore lies, until it took all your willpower to keep up with it? Dod you ever get so caught up in those lies that you couldn't escape them, and you convinced yourself that they were real? That's what it feels like. Like layer after layer of lies, pressing in like-" He pauses, swallows as if steeling his nerves. "Like spider webs. Like I'm all wrapped up in webbing, and when I try to pull it away, it just sticks to my hands and gets me nowhere." His thumbs rest against his temples, his fingers lace together over his forehead, and he sighs, a deep shuddering breath that brings about another silence. Horatio, you daft bastard. Look what you've gotten yourself into.
I nod at the crew and seem to relax a little. "Seems to be a good group. I hope to see more of them soon." I turn to Victoria. "Now, how about we go and see more of this festival. Where were you planning to head next?'
Saroune brightened when Olivius asked her about being a mage. Magic was one of the few things she could talk about comfortably to a stranger. "I specialize in transmutation mainly, although I'm proficient in most schools. Are you also a practitioner?"
Olivius bows his head and reddens slightly. I wish. But, ... He pauses for a moment, as if debating what to say next. He shifts his pack around and pulls out a tattered, musty spell book. The words seem like they've been pressing on the back of his teeth as they pour out, I have been trying to practice, but the spells won't come. I was wondering if you could help me? Maybe after the festival? I don't want to waste your time with this old thing. I was just hoping a real Mage could help be with my dream to combine my martial training and Spellcraft. Maybe you can't, but maybe you can, you know?
Olivius's tome barely qualifies as a spell book. It only contains a few cantrips like Prestidigitation and Mending. There are several pages filled with arcane mumbo-jumbo. What is there and workable seems to have been produced using lowest grade ink and some kind of charcoal writing pen. The pages are well worn from age and use.
Saroune tries not to let her true feelings show when she sees Olivius's poor excuse for a spell book. "Where did you get this?" she wondered while skimming through the pages.
Olivius shrugs. Sorta pieced it together myself. I traded for most of it. My father forbade me from learning so I had to make due with what I could copy, steal, or barter to get. I know the Prestigitation is real. I got that off a hedge wizard a few miles east of the Asmodean Academy of Military Science in Cheliax. Cost me a month's pay and a tardy demerit. The others I've gotten through trading here in Sandpoint, Magnimar, the Mushfens, and anywhere else we stopped, really.
Olivius was about as close to showing nervousness as an Asmodean-trained fighter got. Which is to say he was standing rather stiffly, almost at attention. Half of him was screaming at him to snatch the book back before she burned it or something; the other half was silently begging her to confirm that something was wrong with the book, and not him. Yet another half felt like he had just asked a princess to dance. Oh, hells, he was flying apart at the seams! His stature tensed just a little more, trying to hold himself together.