Alexiad's page

There's a moment, where she tips her head back and knocks down the shot of liquor in one go, that Alexiad sees her as others must do: confident, worldly, beautiful. The moment passes quickly when she goes back to teasing him, and he smiles and downs the shot she passes to him.

"Cheers." He thinks about another shot, but decides against it. "She should be here in the next night or so, I think. So you'll be able to discover that both of you are actually real." He yawns. "Sorry. Long week. I'm gonna head upstairs to bed, actually."

If you want to stay down here and do a scene with Tace, we can do that, or you can head up and we can move on to another day. Your call :)

Alexiad gives his sister a look of respectful admiration as she turns what could have been a nasty fight (however drunk they were, being outnumbered is never fun) into a swift retreat: Good work!

He stays by the door for a few minutes to make sure that they really have gone and aren't planning to come back, but it seems that the night's excitement is over.

Alexiad doesn't really see any point in the subtle approach, especially with people who are drunk. He simply grabs the ringleader, twisting his arm behind his back and propelling him towards the door. "Playtime is over, friend. Let's you and your friends get home safely now, yes?"

Grapple: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

Alexiad gets a look in his eyes which reminds Mira that he was a hardened street-thug long before he ever became a priest. His voice, however, remains calm.

"Wait here a moment, sis, there's just something I need to do first. Don't eat the rest of my food." He slides out of his seat and walks towards the rest of the group.

Alexiad shrugs in reply. "There's not as much of that as you'd think. Pharasma tells us to treat the dead with respect, and that gets drummed into us pretty hard when we're novices." He gives her a wry smile. "The Lady of Graves doesn't have much of a sense of humour, I'm afraid. If I ever get too serious, I hope you'll tell me."

Alexiad smiles in reply, meeting Mira's eyes before quickly looking away as he realises he's been staring at her. She's definitely not the little girl anymore. "I think you'd be disappointed, sis - most of us Pharasmins are a pretty serious bunch. I think it comes from dealing with death and undeath on a regular basis." He shrugs. "It doesn't bother me as much, maybe the way we grew up means I got used to it. Something to thank Lamm for, perhaps." When life is cheap, you can get pretty casual about death.

He deliberately changes the mood again back to something more cheery. "As for if any of them are good-looking, I woulnd't be able to tell you. I'm not into guys." He gives her a good natured poke/tickle in her ribs.

Alexiad leans forward and gently tucks a stray strand of Mira's hair back behind her ear. As he does so, he idly wonders how she keeps it looking so straight and untangled - washing and drying it must be a pain when it's that long. Unless she uses magical assistance, of course. He suspects she has some magical talents, but she's been pretty coy about using them around him.

There's so much they don't know about each other. In their time apart, they've grown and changed.

He suddenly realises she's talking to him, and comes back to the present with a smile. He nods. "Of course I want the best for you, sis. You should only settle for someone who respects you, and who doesn't order you around. And I'd hope you respect them too, enough to listen to them even if you don't always agree!" He smiles, but it falls away a second or two later. "Like... I'm not thrilled that you want to go into Calistria's service, and I'm worried you're doing it because you don't think you can do anything else, and I disagree with that. I think you could do anything you put your mind to. But at the same time, if that is what you want to do then I want to respect that and not get in the way. I just..."

He looks away, and then looks back at her, straight into her eyes. "Nobody could pay enough to be with you, sis. If you end up with someone I hope it's because they're good enough for you, rather than because they've paid for you. There isn't enough money in the world, as far as I'm concerned."

Alexiad smiles as he gently brushes at her pouting lip with his thumb. "I know you know that you look adorable right now, sis - and I'm sure it works on other guys." He shakes his head, still smiling. "Trust me, you won't be disappointed."

Alexiad gives a small frown at Mira's joke - and not just at the slight irreverence towards his goddess. "I wouldn't make jokes about the king's health, sis. Not even here, in this tavern." He gives a warning shake of his head.

As she changes topic, he smiles as she starts picking at the holes in his robe and offers to fix them. "Thanks, sis. My hands are built for fighting rather than needlework." He picks up her hand, in one of his own, lifting it off his robe and admiring the neatness and softness she manages to keep. "Nobody would ever guess you grew up on the streets, sis." He gives her hand a soft squeeze before letting go.

"As for the costume, it's a surprise. I have decided, but you're going to have to wait and see." He grins at her, knowing how much she likes having secrets and hates not knowing them. "It won't kill you to wait."

It's several days - almost a week - before Alexiad returns, long enough for Mira to start getting restless and bored. When he does return, he's suitably apologetic, giving her a big hug as he walks through the door of the tavern. "I'm sorry, sis." He settles at one of the tables and starts eating whatever Breeze can carry from the kitchen. He catches Mira looking at him and grins. "I've just been fasting for almost a week, give me a few minutes to eat like a pig before I get my table manners back, will you?" Once the initial hunger is dealt with, he explains that the church of Pharasma has been consulted over the king's illness, and that his prayer vigil was part of a ceremony to try and get answers and/or healing.

He shakes his head. "It didn't work, though. Either Pharasma has chosen not to interfere, or there's something else going on." He downs his mug of ale and calls for another one. "Still. Not my problem, really - let the senior priests handle it, that's what they're for." A thought strikes him. "Oh, that reminds me, a friend is going to come by at some point in the next few days. She is helping me with your dress for the ball and she wants to meet you to get your measurements - at least, that's what she says." He smiles, and orders another ale with a wave of his hand. "I think she just wants to confirm you actually exist, she's heard me talk about you for ages now."

...and we're back

The next morning, Alexiad heads downstairs before Mira is awake, bringing her back some coffee. He uses his magic to remove her hangover ("one of the perks of being a priest!") before stretching out, with a grimace.

"I'm due back at the Cathedral for the next few days - being a priest has its duties, as well as its perks - so I'll probably sleep there instead of trekking all the way back here."

He gives her a smile. "So I'm leaving you to your own devices; try not to get into too much trouble!" The smile fades. "Seriously, though, be careful if you go into the city. The mood is pretty bad now that the King is dying."

He plants a kiss on her forehead, before getting changed back into his priestly robes and leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Alexiad sighs as Mira looks at him pleadingly: "OK, sis, but you're getting a bit tall for this." Actually, with the extra height he's put on in the last couple of years, it's much easier than when they were kids; and the lateness of the night means that there are fewer passersby to offer curious stares.

The inn is long since closed up for the night, so he does his best to enter quietly, conjuring up a small candle-light effect to see his way upstairs. He gently slides Mira off his shoulders and onto her bed, careful not to wake her up. In the dim light shining from his holy symbol, her face looks softer than when she's awake - the cares and stresses of her life faded away. He gently puts one hand on her brow, murmuring a prayer of blessing.

He makes a face as he looks at her dress, and decides against trying to get her out of it - he's not sure how it unfastens and he'd probably just wake her up. He settles for loosening the bits that he can see, to give her some freedom to move, before drawing the blanket over her.

That done, he finds his own bed on the floor by the window and allows the alcohol he has drunk to send him to a deep slumber.

Alexiad is indeed about to protest when Mira shushes him; realising that she wants something other than pity/sympathy, he grins as she talks of competition. "Well, I suppose when you start in the gutter, the only way is up, sis. But you've got a long way to go to catch me!"

As the meal winds its way towards the end, he stands. "And on the subject of Tayce, I think it's time to head back to hers and find our beds."

The air outside the restaurant has chilled in the night breeze and he winces slightly as the heat of the indoors fades, leaving only the illusory warming of the alcohol. He wraps an arm around Mira as they process through the streets. "Joking aside, although I'm happy to compete with you, I couldn't be prouder of you than I am already, sis." He plants a kiss on the top of her head: one of the advantages of having grown to be taller than she is.

"You survived that bastard when so many didn't, and kept enough of yourself together that you aren't defined by what happened to you. The Mira up here is one I'm proud to call my sister." He rests his head against hers as they walk.

As Mira looks away, Alexiad reaches his arm across the table, softly cradling her chin in his hand and gently drawing her gaze back to his own. "I'm sorry, sis. My fault. Please don't feel embarrassed, I want you to be able to talk to me, but it can wait until when you're ready." (His own cheeks are still red, so he's perhaps not quite practising what he's preaching - but then again, it could just be the wine.)

He lets go of her, carefully tucking a stray lock of hair back behind her ear before slightly awkwardly withdrawing his arm.

"And you're absolutely right about the gods: if you feel that call, then you should listen. And you're right as well, about the funerals... although did I tell you that's how I met Tayce?"

He's talking as much to fill up the silence as anything else, giving Mira (and himself) a chance to regain composure. "I didn't do her husband's funeral, of course, but the Deacon who did do it sent me to do a pastoral visit afterwards. I honestly think he sent me because she was in Trail's End and he couldn't be bothered to go that far."

"Anyway, when I arrived at the tavern there were a couple of local toughs insisting that her late husband owed them money and they were there to collect. We stepped outside and..." He coughs. "Let's just say that they discovered the difference between a harmless-looking priest with a staff, and a street thug armed with a heavy stick, shall we? In a way, I taught them a valuable life lesson. After that, they left her alone, although I always went by occasionally to see how she was doing."

"So when I first met Breeze and her sister a while later, sending them to Tayce was a no-brainer, really."

His own composure (mostly) recovered, he looks at Mira, to see how she's doing.

Alexiad gives a wry half-smile as he looks Mira up and down - or at least, as far down as the intervening table will permit: "I hate to be the one to break it to you, sis, but you're definitely not a little girl anymore. You could tell them pretty much anything, and they'd believe you."

He reddens slightly. "I have to admit, the idea of you doing - doing that, letting someone pay to... well, I'm your brother, I'm never going to think anyone's good enough for you." He sighs, conceding the point. "But you're not free so you can do what I want. You're free so you can do what you want. That's the point. And if that's what you want then, well, I'm not going to pretend I like it, but I'm not going to fight you over it, either."

He rubs his hand over his eyes, before pinching the bridge of his nose. "OK, this is officially a weird conversation to be having. But then, neither of us is exactly normal."

He refills the two glasses. "To us, together again. Watch out world."

Alexiad returns some minutes later; there is a little more colour in his cheeks and a little less red-wine spill on his shirt. He sits down heavily and drains the wineglass in front of him, pouring himself another. He looks as if he's about to drain that too, but instead reaches - more sensibly - for the water.

Looking up, he can see Mira's thoughts mirrored on her face. He can't always read her, she's excellent at hiding things, but just this once he can see what she's wondering. He reaches out, interlacing his fingers with hers and squeezing her hand gently. "You did the right thing telling me, sis. I would always rather hear a hard truth than an easy lie. And it can't have been easy for you to relive it, so thank you."

He looks down for a moment. "I think I knew that really - that she was dead, I mean. I just..." He sighs. "I just, you know, hoped that because I'd somehow managed to live, that- that she might have, too." He pauses. "This is going to sound really stupid, but I sort of wondered if my masked friend was - was her. Stupid, I know, they don't look anything alike, it just goes to show we're all capable of wishful thinking. Even when I should know better It's just I swear I catch her eye sometimes and it's like - like she knows me." He gives another sigh.

"Anyway. Enough of the past, unless there's anything you want to tell me. I'll always listen, sis. I might not always like what I hear, but I'll always listen."

"Let's toast the future - to his death, and our new life afterward." He picks up his wine and tilts the glass towards Mira. "What will you do, once that bastard is dead and we have our life back?"

The wine glass in Alexiad's hand shatters suddenly, cutting him and spilling blood-red wine down his front. He stands with a sudden oath, calling on a reservoir of divine power to stop the bleeding, and mops ineffectually at the stain.

"Sorry, sis. Sorry. I'm sorry." His face is deathly pale. "Sorry. I'll just... I'll just go and get cleaned up..."

Parting the curtain surrounding their table, he heads quickly for the bathroom, almost colliding with Lianna as he does so. "Sorry..."

Now it's Alexiad's turn to look uncomfortable as Mira teases him about Lianna. "I'm not - I'm not him, sis." He refuses to use Lamm's name. "If I help someone, it's not to take advantage of their - of their gratitude afterwards." He stumbles over the words slightly; this is an odd conversation to have with your sister. "Maybe that's - that's one of the reasons I was so interested in my masked friend, you know? There's no... obligation there in the way that there would be if she was someone I'd rescued."

He shakes his head. "I don't know if that makes sense to you, I can't really explain it. But it makes sense to me. Part of who I am now is about deciding who I'm not, and I've decided that I'm not him and I'm not Caleb."

He frowns, his face clouding over slightly. "Also, the last girl I was with - Shirrin - she got dragged into this and... well he dealt with me first so I don't know for sure, but I can guess she didn't make it, right? There's only ever one penalty for disloyalty with him. I mean, I'd love it if you told me she was able to escape, but I think I can guess what happened to her once I was out the way."

Alexiad grins back: "I've missed your laugh, sis. I've missed you. So much." His hand slides across the table, covering hers as he references the tattoo she is hiding. "I know, sis. I know what that tattoo means. If you want to talk to me about it, about what ... happened to you, then I'm here to listen. If you just want to forget about it and never discuss it then that's fine, too. Whatever you want."

PM me some vignettes when you have time?

He gives her hand a squeeze. "You're free now. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

He leans back in his seat. "As for me, well... quite a lot of my time has been learning to be a priest rather than a thug, you know? And most of the rest of my time was spent looking for you, although I found a bunch of people on the way - Breeze, her sister, our - my - masked friend, of course..." He looks momentarily awkward and hastily moves on. "And Lianna; that's the waitress here, by the way, and I'm pretty sure she guessed we're twins. I mean, I know I've got taller, and you've got... curvier." He coughs.

"But we still look pretty similar, you know. At least, I think so. Although you're definitely prettier than I am!" He winks at her.

Alexiad smiles, relaxing slightly as he pours two glasses of wine, passing one to Mira. "Cheers, sis." He points at the curtains enveloping the table. "This place is discreet, so don't worry about being overheard. And the Cerulean Society hates Lamm, so we can relax a bit, for now."

He smiles. "A long time since we spent time together. Of course, Lamm killing me didn't help with that! I don't recommend dying, sis. It's not a comfortable experience." One hand idly fiddles with the spiral of Pharasma around his neck: even out of his priest's robes, he is still mindful of the goddess he serves.

After they leave, she makes sure they move away from the door before she answers Lexi: "Far from it. Definitely not normal. Most in her profession are simply playing tricks on people. And honestly, I am more comfortable believing she is being dishonest over believing her art is real and my privacy is not."

She shakes her head: "Just imagine what such power in the wrong hands could do..."

That comment gives Alexiad considerable pause. It's true: the degree of Sight that Zellara has shown is the sort that only the most powerful of Pharasma's priests are gifted with. Whatever powered her vision must have been something truly out of the ordinary. He shakes his head. It's just one more mystery, but it will keep for now.

"I'm fairly sure she's on our side - or at least, against Lamm. It'll do me for now."

When Lexi sees her dwelling on the topic, he attempts to cut it off by suggesting Dinner, and Mira gladly focuses on something else: "Ah, certainly! I was so anxious and excited because of the meeting I totally forgot about being hungry. And it'll be great to have some time to talk. Where are we going? You know, just because Lamm is in hiding does not mean all his associates are..."She didn't want to be a worrywart - she trusted her brothers choice of location, but it felt better to speak up and be reassured than to have the thought linger in the back of her mind.

Alexiad grins, his good humour restored for the moment. "Where we're going, Sis, that won't be a problem. Which reminds me..."

Quickly ducking down one of the many back alleys that twist and turn through this quarter, he shucks off his priestly robes and dresses in something more conspicuous (giving Mira - if she's peeking - a glimpse of the taut, street-fighter's build that still lurks beneath the concealment of holy orders). He emerges a few moments later, dressed in shabby but reasonably smart (and most importantly, nondescript) civilian clothes.

He bows, and offers her his arm. "Shall we?"

Alexiad nods, wrapping an arm around his sister's waist. "Leave the costume to me, I have an idea already."

He bows to the fortune-teller: it seems a good idea not to offend someone who seems to know too much about him. "Farewell, Zellara - and thank you."

Leading Mira out of the weird house, back on to the relative normality of the streets, he shuts the door carefully behind them as they leave. He shakes his head, and grins lopsidedly at Mira. "OK. Did any of that strike you as normal?"

"Anyway. Enough of that for now. Let's grab some dinner - I know just the place. It's time for us to catch up on each other's lives."

Alexiad hasn't forgotten the name. He hasn't forgotten the sick feeling of helpless rage, of knowing what had happened to Mira and being powerless to do anything about it.

He wraps his arms around her, holding her close. "I'm not going stop you, sis. Hell, I'll hold your cloak while you end him."

Alexiad puts a hand on his sister's shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. He looks at Zellara with a defiant expression. "I don't know what your game is, but if you're suggesting Mira would betray me, that's ridiculous, and if there's something she isn't telling me then it's for a good reason. I trust her. With my life, if it comes to it."

Alexiad looks suspiciously at the door - Pharasma is the goddess of prophecy (among other things); his experience of fortune tellers is that they tell you what you want to hear. On the other hand, this one obviously knew how to find them, and what they wanted. Which maybe makes it even more suspicious.

But on the other other hand, he's carrying a quarterstaff. If this is a trap, he's ready to face it.

Alexiad nods in reply, with a smile. "I hear everything you're saying, sis, and I respect it. I just disagree about one thing..."

Stepping forward, he brushes a strand of her hair back from her face, so he can look her fully in the eyes. "I've seen the people Lamm has broken, sis, and they're afraid - afraid of Lamm, afraid to cross him, but most of all, they're afraid of their own lives: if you offered them freedom, they wouldn't know what to do with it."

He gently taps her temple, mimicking the gesture she made moments before. "The Mira up here, she's not afraid - she's a brave, tough, smart, resourceful survivor. She took the worst that Lamm could do to her and she didn't let it destroy her. She wants to destroy him, and she wants to be free." He smiles at her, gently, letting his words sink in. "The 'Mira up here' is someone I want to know better, after so long apart from you - so I suggest we go find out what this mystery messenger has to say, and then we can grab supper together - there's a great little wine shop that I know, run by a really nice Ustalavic couple. They took in a girl I rescued a few months back, and I'd like to see how she's getting on..."

He gives another smile. "So, shall we go?"

Alexiad gives a boyish smile, his good humour returning as Mira puts him in his place: "You're right, sis, you're right, thanks for the pep talk - I just needed to get that off my chest."

He gives her a thoughtful look. "And you're right, too, that I don't need to know what happened to you. But if you want to talk about it, then I'm here. Always. Although now that you're breast - dressed! I mean, now that you're dressed, uh"

He stumbles over the words for a moment, before quickly regaining his composure. "I know that Lamm gets a lot of his girls hooked on drugs, to make them more... well, you know why. If that's happened to you, then I DO need to know, because you can't just stop taking it, the withdrawal will kill you. You aren't the first of Lamm's girls that my masked friend and I have rescued, so I know what to do, but you need to tell me so I can help."

Mira's not-so-innocent question throws Alexiad further off-balance.

Pharasma is not one of the deities (like Sarenrae) who insists on absolute truthfulness from her priests; but Alexiad has long since discovered that honesty is the best policy. Partly because telling the truth is simpler than having to keep track of all the lies - but mainly because he really, really, sucks at lying.

OK, don't panic, just think of something you can say, only not-

"I kissed your friend."

-only not that. OK, THIS should be interesting...

"Your masked friend, I mean. Not that she's exactly your friend, from what she said, but I don't know her name - which is ridiculous, right? I mean, if she'd wanted me to make a move on her she'd have told me her name, don't you think? But like an idiot, I moved in anyway and now I've messed it all up."

You know, this is probably more embarrassing than just admitting to Mira that you accidentally touched her br... ok, maybe not. But it's close. What you need to do is to-

"And it's not like I've got so many friends that I can afford to lose one, right? I mean, yes, she's sexy as hell but she's so much more than that - she's tough, she's smart, she's resourceful, she's funny, she's a truly reliable friend - yes, yes, I know I've fallen for her, I do have some self-awareness - but I should have known better than to go and behave just like every other man she's ever met. I did know better, that's what really stings - I knew it wasn't the right thing to do, but I went and did it anyway. I wish I could tell her how stupid I feel - no, not just stupid, ashamed - but I don't know how to find her - she was always the one who knew where I was. Oh, I'm such an idiot!"

-is to Stop. Talking. Right. Now.

He takes a deep breath. "OK, our next hideout is going to be in a cellar. That way, it'll be much easier for the Abyss to open up and just drop me straight into it."

Oh. OH.

Alexiad's eyes widen as he realises what's happening: she's reacting to him like a client.

Oh, Mira, what did those bastards DO to you?!?

SoH: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16

Moving his hand carefully, he rearranges the blanket so that it covers her properly, before lying down and wrapping his arms around her in a hug. "Sis, it's ok, it's me, you're fine, you just need to wake up..."

He runs his hand along her arm. "It's ok, it's ok, you're safe..."

Silently he vows again that the bastards who hurt her are going to PAY. ALL of them.

It's perhaps an hour or two later that Alexiad wakes up properly. Moving silently as he can to avoid waking Mira, he creeps to the bathroom (he's stayed here enough that he knows which floorboards are the ones that creak) for a wash and a shave.

After that, refreshed and fully dressed once more in his grey priestly robes, he spends some time in prayer. Pharasma doesn't demand significant worship from her clerics: actions, not prayers, are the currency that she judges everyone by. Still, it's right to spend some time in contemplation, to try and ensure that his actions will be ones she will judge well.

Kneeling, he closes his eyes and is silent for several minutes.

Lady of Graves, Lady of Repose, Goddess of Prophecy... protect us and grant us your guidance as we go on our way... Help me in my quest to bring Lamm and his cronies before you, to face your judgement... Heal Mira from the harms that have been inflicted upon her...

He also spends some time in prayer for his elusive, masked companion/ally - although he is unsure exactly what to pray for. Opening his eyes once more, he sits in silence for some moments, just watching Mira sleep. It's been so long since they were last together - it's hard to believe that they are finally reunited. His face sets in determination: nothing - NOTHING - is going to separate them again.

Eventually, he reaches with one hand under Mira's blanket, poking her in the ribs with one long finger. Neither of them are especially ticklish, but he knows the spots where she can be tickled awake...

"Hey sis." He grins at her, boyishly. "Time to get up." The grin widens. "Plus, you were snoring."

When Mira heads up to the room for a nap prior to leaving, she finds that Alexiad has ignored the various beds in the room and has curled up to sleep on the floor below the window - next to the only available escape route. His eyes open wide when the door opens, and he rolls into a crouch reaching for his quarterstaff before he wakes enough to realise who it is. "Oh. Hello, sis." He blinks. "Did I oversleep?"

Alexiad stifles a yawn. "Interesting. But I really need a quick rest before I do anything else - and then we'll make our way there." He leans against Mira, enjoying the fact of her presence after being apart for so long. "Alright. I'll see you later. Don't get into any trouble - this isn't the best neighborhood."

With that, he makes his way upstairs to bed.

Taking one strip of Bacon from her brothers meal, savoring the taste, she continues:"You do know she...likes you? Right? -...- What are you doing today?"

Alexiad nods, completely missing the implications of Mira's comment. "She likes everyone, doesn't she? And they like her... I'm so glad I got her out of the streets. I hate to think what would have happened to that sunny nature." He blinks as his bacon is deftly whipped away. "I don't know where you put it, Sis. You must have hollow legs."

He yawns, hollow eyed from lack of sleep. "I'm going to have a quick rest. And then..." He puts on to the table a card that is identical to the one you received. "Found this in my prayer book last night. I'm assuming you got one too? You've as much reason as I have to go against Lamm. I wonder if our masked friend got one too. I don't suppose she mentioned it when she came by? I asked her to keep an eye on you, just in case."

He hesitates for a moment, toying with his food and deliberately not looking at Mira, suddenly uncomfortable. "I don't - I don't suppose she mentioned me at - at all, did she?"

Alexiad smiles, at ease and well fed after a long night. He watches Brienna hurry away. "She's a good kid. And she likes you. She's been through a lot, you know, kind of like we have... I'm glad she's found a good home."

Alexiad nods gratefully: "I'm sorry you and Mira don't see eye-to-eye. I would like you to both get on, you're both important to me..."

He takes her hands in his, interlocking their fingers, while he looks her straight in the eye. "I'm no good with words. I'm a street thug who got religion and is doing the best he can, but I haven't got... eloquence."

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry I was ever your client, more sorry than you can know. I want you to be free to live the life you wish ... we can do a lot of good together. I've started trying to find street kids, get them out of harm's way, get them set up with families and stuff. But a lot of them, they see a man and they run. If you could help me with that, they'd listen to you where they might run away from me. That's my hope: that when Lamm's out the way, we can work together on that..."

He takes a deep breath. "Anyway. Mira's staying at a place in Trail's End, top floor of the Soldado Tavern."

I've sent you a PM

LAMM. That bastard spoils everything, even this moment.

Alexiad nods, hot with disappointment, but makes no move to stop the masked girl stepping away, or to follow her. "I understand."

Aware that the silence between them - normally so comfortable - has become awkward, he changes the subject. "Would you, uh, mind keeping an eye on Mira this evening? I don't know when my vigil will end and I'd like someone she knows to be close by until I get back. I'm sure she'll be fine, I just feel bad about leaving her alone..."

Alexiad nods, her news not taking him by surprise: after all, she had clearly recognised him when they first met - so it seemed likely that was the obvious reason why.

A huge weight lifts from him as he realises that she holds no grudge: If she can forgive me then perhaps I can forgive mysel-

His thoughts break off entirely as she touches him. She's never touched him before. She's always kept her distance. Even when he has had to put a hand on her to heal her after a fight, he's always put his hand somewhere neutral, and she's always stepped lightly away afterward.

Without quite realising what he's doing, he puts his hand over hers, moving up to stroke her arm, wrapping her lightly in an embrace; gently enough that she could step away from it without resistance...

His thoughts are a mixture of a strong desire to make amends, and strong desire generally (hey, you're the one that gave her the Overwhelming Beauty trait!)

"!"

While he waits for his heart rate to return to normal, Alexiad considers the pluses and minuses of pinning the masked girl down and tickling her until she promises not to do that again. Ultimately he decides not to: she's a skilled fighter and probably wouldn't take well to being grabbed. Besides, he doesn't know if she's ticklish. I guess that depends on WHERE you tickle her... he does his best to stamp on that thought.

He settles instead for a nod, acknowledging her report. "Well done." He's about to ask for more details, but decides he doesn't actually want to know - he will commend the souls of any who died to Pharasma when he prays later on.

"Mira is safe. We had to fight past Caleb and two of his goons." He won't be praying for THAT ****** tonight, that's for certain. "So he won't trouble you again, if he ever did." He trails off as his thoughts stray closer to home. Uncomfortably close.

He clears his throat, and looks away from her, suddenly unable to hold her gaze. "Lamm rewarded me that way, a few times. I never treated them the way Caleb did - he used to boast about it afterwards. But I never - I never exactly asked if that was what they wanted, either. So if you were one of those girls, then - then I'm not sure what to say. Sorry doesn't really seem good enough. All I can say is that I'm not that person any more, and I'm working to do good rather than harm. That doesn't undo the bad stuff I did, I know that, but I hope-" he forces himself to look at her, to meet her gaze. "I hope it's enough for you to accept my apology, if it's needed."

Alexiad and his masked ally have several pre-arranged meeting places. They have three things in common: they were all chosen by her, they are all in remote parts of the city, and they all have several ways in and out.

This particular spot is located in the maze of ancient tombs in Grey district, which is home to the vast Cathedral of Pharasma. It's a convenient point - the tombs at this spot are old enough that nobody visits them, and far enough from the Cathedral that no one has any business coming here just by chance. The myriad winding paths through the vast cemetery provide a huge number of ways to come and go.

This door to this particular mausoleum - commemorating a long-dead general whose name is obliterated from the weathered stone - has long since rotted away, turning it into a convenient shelter from the elements. Not that it is raining tonight, but it has on past occasions.

Alexiad has long since learned that whichever route he watches is inevitably not the one that she arrives by, so he simply waits, resting his back against the stone.

Alexiad wraps an arm firmly around Mira and leads her away from that place. Apart from the over-riding joy and elation of being reunited at last, his thoughts are a jumble: satisfaction at killing Caleb (who'd clearly been messing with his sister) is at odds with the disquieting thought that maybe, if Lamm hadn't tried to kill him, he himself would have ended up like Caleb. It's not as if I refused the girls that Lamm passed my way... He shakes his head and turns his attention back to Mira. "I've got somewhere for us to stay. It's with someone I trust, but it's not a great part of town. Best not to draw too much attention."

Relieved beyond measure that the crossbow is no longer pointed at them, Alexiad retrieves his staff. He kneels for some moments beside the dead men, saying a brief (silent) prayer to Pharasma for each of them.

He spends a few seconds longer next to Caleb's body, lost in thought, before the old woman addresses him, bringing him back to the moment. "Right. Yes. We should go." He rummages in his pack, drawing out an old cloak that has seen better days. He wraps it - and one of his arms - around Mira's shoulders. "C'mon, Sis. Where we're going, you'll need to cover up a bit."

Alexiad is furious with himself at having dropped his staff - not that it would do much good at this distance. He steps in front of his sister, shielding her from the crossbow - although he hopes that Mira can talk this crazy woman into not shooting.

Alexiad notes with satisfaction that Caleb's bravado is fading - the thug has little to say for himself any more. He himself doesn't talk much while fighting, it's too serious a business for that.

Changing the grip slightly on his staff, he holds it almost like a sword, bringing the wooden 'blade' down on Caleb's skull. There's a wet crunching sound, and the thug drops to the floor with barely a whimper.

Quarterstaff: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
Damage: 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10

Letting go of his weapon, Alexiad runs forward, sweeping Mira up in both arms and holding her in a bone-crushing embrace, whirling her round and round joyously. "Oh, Sis... Sis..."

He's not crying. He's not. It's just that his stupid eyes didn't get the memo.

Alexiad can't hear the words exchanged between the two, but he sees the knife - and Caleb's attack. With a roar of wordless fury, he charges forward, up the stairs - but his staff whistles harmlessly past Caleb's head as the street-fighter ducks effortlessly.

Quarterstaff: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12
Damage: 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10

Alexiad meets his sister's gaze, holding it for as long as he can - she's changed so much in the years since he last saw her, but he'd recognise her anywhere. He grins as she rams her knee into Caleb; all those years of playfighting (and not-so-playfighting) with one another obviously haven't been completely forgotten.

Slightly distracted by seeing Mira after so long apart, he is slow to react and the thug's knife cuts him. Annoyed with himself, he re-focuses, swinging his staff solidly against Bezh's skull. There's a thud, and a sickening crunch, and the man falls to the floor, twitching slightly.

Quarterstaff, double attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18
Damage: 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15

Quarterstaff, double attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14
Damage: 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13

Stepping over the body, he gestures at Caleb: "You wanted me dead? Let her go, and try for yourself."

Alexiad had truly intended to do this the easy way, but the woman behind the counter clammed up on his arrival, looking stubborn when he asked a few simple questions. It was only when she gestured to the two heavyset thugs to throw him out that he lost his temper.

OK. Politeness wasn't working. Time to try something else.

Quarterstaff, double attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10
Damage: 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12

Quarterstaff, double attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20
Damage: 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15

Bringing his staff whirling round him in a fierce arc, he drops one of the thugs almost instantly, but the priestly robes constrict his movement slightly so he misses the other one.

Alexiad hastily averts his gaze, suddenly preoccupied with one of the buckles on his footwear, although too late to prevent the image of the girl languorously stretching from being etched into his mind. Dammit...

Gritting his teeth, he regains his self-control with only a brief struggle (priestly training is big on discipline); but by the time he looks up again, she's gone - only the flicker of the curtain at the window betraying her favoured method of departure.

(Thought you might like a 'Batman Exit' ^_^)

He sighs. Of all the girls in the city, he had to get mixed up with the one who's as elusive as starlight.

Oh well. Time to think on that later. For now, he needs to get moving; and besides, thoughts of Mira drive out any other issues. He only hopes that the plan works.

It begins...

The plan is sound, but it hinges on timing. The alchemical laboratory needs to be destroyed at the same time as the rescue operation, to divide Lamm's forces and weaken his power.

Alexiad nods at the masked, beguilingly familiar stranger whose real name he still doesn't know. He does his best to keep his eyes fixed on hers, but he knows that his gaze has wandered over her figure: even through her disguise, it's clear that she is the most beautiful young woman he's ever encountered, much less worked closely with.

Not that he'd do anything about it, of course. His encounter with Pharasma showed him what sort of person he was becoming, and he does his very best these days to follow her calling as a healer - and that means giving this victim of Lamm's abuses her own space, and being her friend; and nothing more.

He brings his attention - and his eyes - back to her gaze. "So. You ready?"

Dotting in.