(April 10, 2013)
Brushing the lint and dirt from his outfit, Micah looked in the mirror. He wasn't as sought after here as he'd been at home, but he knew he was still handsome. Even with the new scar on the left side of his face. Maybe it made him look a little more rugged instead of elven "delicate." He tried a muscle man pose or two, just for effect... and decided against it. He shook his hair out into perfection again and threw his cloak over his shoulders.
Today was the day he'd see about finding information about his family. The man at the glassworks had looked almost eerily like he did. And the woman might know something about it. With a wink at the bartender and a blown kiss to the barmaid, he stepped out into the sunlight with a bounce in his step.
Peacock? Maybe... but then, he was good looking. He'd see how this went.
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(April 17, 2013)
Ameiko's black kimono and obi drew curious glances from the other visitors as she made her way through the Sandpoint Cathedral. Few of these people had ever seen formal Minkai clothing before. Certainly they all knew of her family's origins in distant Tian Xia; but it was now three generations since they arrived, in her grandfather's day, and the family had long since adopted the local dress for day-to-day purposes.
If only such a day-to-day purpose moved her now! But though she was no strict traditionalist like her father, Ameiko would never dream of offering the funeral rites for her father and half-brother in any but the most strictly proper mourning garb of a Minkai noble, correct in every line and fold.
No one stopped her as she stepped softly through the cathedral and out the door to the graveyard beyond. The weather was fine -- it should be raining, she thought. But the annual fall rains were still some weeks away.
The family tomb lay near the back of of the graveyard, a small pagoda set close against the wall beneath the spreading limbs of a silver maple tree. A few pale yellow leaves mottled with brown spots lay scattered about the gravel path, presaging the winter to come.
Ameiko set down the two funeral urns and drew the crypt key from where she had folded it into her obi. It fitted neatly into the lock. She paused before turning the key, however. It seemed ... final. As if she were not merely opening a door to lay her kin to rest, but sealing herself into her new roles: not just noble of Sandpoint and expatriate of Tian Xia, but head of her family -- and the sole surviving Kaijitsu.
The key turned too easily.
Within, the dim room that held the urns of her ancestors awaited. No more than perhaps 12 feet square, the flagged stone floor rose to ranks of niches for urns all around. At the back stood a small altar to Pharasma, in her Tian aspect as Mother of Souls. Ameiko brushed a few dead leaves out of corners, and lit a stick of incense on the altar.
Turning right, Ameiko laid a hand on one dark green urn made of glass produced at her family's glassworks. The death tablet below it read "Atsuii Kaijitsu" in the flowing Minkai script.
"Hello, mother," she said. "I'm sorry for not visiting more often. The inn has taken so much of my attention lately. But here I am now."
She paused a moment. "And I've brought father," she said. "And, and Tsuto."
Blinking back tears, she placed the two urns in the niches to either side of her mother's, then knelt before the altar, bowed her head almost to the floor. She sang the traditional death chant, a measured, deliberate, yet dissonant tune.
Afterwards, when she had calmed herself a bit, she sat cross-legged before the altar. "O Pharasma," she prayed, "Mother of Souls, Lady of Graves. Take my departed kin and judge them in thy wisdom. Thou art known as an impartial judge; yet if a daughter's prayer may sway thee, judge not too harshly my father Lonjiku. If a sister's plea may soften thy stern mien, look kindly on my brother Tsuto. I ask not that you forgive their faults, which were many -- but if there is room for atonement in the afterlife, I ask that they be given a final chance to redeem their living choices. Or, if it be thy will, let them live anew to redeem their sins of this life in a new one: for thou art also goddess of birth and rebirth, the First Midwife. In thy hands, their hearts; in thy lips, the power; in thy mind, the judgment. So be it."
She fell silent. Wreathes of incense coiled lazily through the still, cool air. According to tradition, now was the time for the mourners to speak quietly of their time with the deceased, to recount joys and sorrows, and offer what comfort may be had in shared remembrance.
But Lonjiku was widely disliked, and had been all but a hermit for these past years since his wife Atsuii's death. No one would come for him.
Nor would anyone come for Tsuto. He had been gone for years, only to reappear up to his neck in some kind of diabolical plot to burn the entire town to the ground. Father Zantus had initially been opposed even to allowing Tsuto's ashes to be placed in the cathedral grounds. Ameiko had had to trade heavily on her status as Sandpoint nobility -- and proprietress of the glassworks, a major source of local income -- to persuade him otherwise. In the end she had had to bribe him with promises of a fine stained glass window for each of the six major shrines in the cathedral, and even then he was not happy about it. The locals would not want to risk censure by reminding him of the matter. No, no one would come for Tsuto.
Ameiko folded her hands in her lap, lowered her gaze, and settled in for a long, lonely vigil amongst the dead ashes of her family.
-------------
(?)
After asking around after Ameiko, he was led to the cathedral. Father Zantus did a double take at the similarities in this man to the troublesome one that was being interred out back even now. It took Micah a moment to realize that though, as his eyes were all over the interior of a building the like of which he'd never seen.
It continued to amaze him the grandeur most people would go to for something that could have been done in nature, the way it should be. Finally he turned to the minister, giving one of his more charming smiles. "Sir, I was told Ameiko was here for some reason." He had heard it was to inter the remains of the dead in stone, but that was a ridiculous concept to him. Burn the body and scatter the ash to aid the lands; that would make more sense. But different people, he supposed.
With light, quiet steps in his soft black leather boots, he moved closer to the man. "Could you please tell me where I might find her?"
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(April 19, 2013)
It took Father Zantus a moment to realize that this was not Tsuto Kaijitsu risen from the urn, but instead one of the young folk who had lately distinguished themselves defending the town from goblins. The complexion was quite different really, though the hair and facial shape were startlingly similar. He blamed the dim light of the nave for his mistaken impression (rather than his aging eyes).
He indicated the door at the back of the nave. "That leads to the graveyard. You'll find her in the ... pagodie? Paga doh? The pointy little building at the back. Doing what she WOULD insist on doing. Young folks these days, I tell you. No, don't thank me, I'd rather wash my hands of the whole matter. Shoo!"
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(April 19, 2013)
"Thank you, sir." Micah gave another of his charming smiles, unaware he was doing it. He had found it was best in these "civilized" lands to be polite and respectful.
He started for the back, but turned to the priest again, dropping 5 coppers in the older man's hand. "Here. I... hope this is acceptable?" He knew there was usually some rule about giving to places like this, and didn't want to offend them.
As he turned away again, he caught a young woman in the first pew staring at him. Was it because he wasn't a local? Or his looks? Or the reputation he and his companions were gathering? Whatever it was, he smiled and winked as he went by.
Passing an acolyte, he in turn was the one doing the staring. The young man was rather attractive. Strong, lithe body the robes couldn't quite hide, wavy hair, clean cut and was that a dimple in his...?
Micah walked right into a pillar. This wasn't the time for flirtations; what was he doing? He shook his perfect hair out as he cleared his mind and went the rest of the way out to the pointy building to find the only woman who might have a clue about his past.
He watched her for long moments before quietly clearing his throat. "Ameiko?"
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(April 19, 2013)
(In the background, Father Zantus seems mildly offended at being given money for giving basic directions, but Micah moved away too quickly for him to respond effectively.)
Ameiko gave a start and turned around to see -- for one wild moment she thought Pharasma might have taken her prayer and raised Tsuto from the dead, right then and there. But then she recognized Micah, the adventurer who had lately been staying at her inn.
"Oh!" she said. "You startled me." She hesitated, torn between manners and a mild sense of alarm at this unexpected appearance. Manners won out. "Do please come in. I'm sorry I can't offer you a chair, but ..." she gestured at the bare room, designed for the comfort of the dead rather than the living.
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(April 19, 2013)
(Wasn't giving for the directions, but for visiting a holy establishment ;) )
"Right, um... I don't want to intrude." Honestly, the place creeped him out. "I just wanted to know if I could visit with you about your brother some time." Away from here, he thought.
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(April 19, 2013)
"Oh! ... yes, of course. And this is the traditional time to speak of the dead." Ameiko tucked an errant strand of black hair behind one ear. "What would you like to know? I gather your meeting with him was ... brief, and, well, ended badly."
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(April 19, 2013)
Surprisingly, he didn't find her attractive; not in the weird get-up she was wearing... and not in this weird place. "I'd say it was brief." He nodded. "And a surprise. I didn't expect to see anyone that looked like me." He paused, suddenly a little unsure. He wanted to know, but what if it was another hope that went up in smoke? What if she thought he was just crazy? But he had left the only home he'd ever known with the intent of finding out. Suck it up, he told himself. "I guess... I'd like to know about his parentage. See, I've never known my mine. I don't even know if it was the mother or father that was an elf. I was abandoned as a newborn." He doubted she was even interested in the backstory. Best just shut up about it for now, until he knew if she even cared. "So... seeing as how he and I looked alike..."
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(April 23, 2013)
Ameiko nodded. "There is a very strong resemblance. I remember being so startled the first time I got a good look at you that I almost dropped the dish of curry I was carrying."
She paused, organizing her thoughts. "Take a seat," she said, gesturing at the floor. "This may take a while."
"Tsuto was older than me by 3 full years. He was my half brother," she said. "As you can no doubt tell by the fact that I am full human, where he had elven blood as well. It caused quite a scandal when he was born -- to my mother, Atsuii. So this much I can tell you: if you and Tsuto truly shared a parent, it must be your father.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you exactly who that was. Mother never told anyone. I think she might have told me, in time, but when I was 13 I ... ran away for a while. I had ... agh. Things were never right between father and mother after Tsuto was born. Father was furious over her infidelity. He was a man of stern, unbending, rigid conviction. He had married Atsuii in good faith and never wandered, and considered it a grave personal insult that she did. He thought Tsuto would be his child. But when he was presented, the pointed ears made it quite obvious that Lonjiku Kaijitsu was not this boy's father.
"I wasn't there, obviously, but his rage was legendary. He fetched an axe from the shed, dumped mother on the floor, and proceeded to chop their bed in two. He hauled her half down to the basement and dumped it in an empty storeroom. He never even spoke of divorce -- he would never go back on a sworn oath like that. Mother retained her title, her income, her place in the household. She kept everything. Everything but his respect and love. They barely spoke a word after that. The fact that I was born at all ... well, that's a story in itself.
"As for Tsuto, father forbade mother to raise him. He saw to it that Tsuto was placed in Turandorak Academy, the local orphanage, and provided for, but ignored Tsuto himself, and strictly forbade mother ever to go and see him. Once I learned I even had an older brother, I used to sneak down to the Academy and and take him candy and pocket money and such ... ah, but I'm wandering.
"Anyway, when I was 13 ... gods, only six years ago ... I arranged a surprise meeting between Tsuto and father. I thought maybe I could reconcile them. It went, um, badly. Tsuto punched me in the face, and I was so upset afterwards that I ran away to Magnimar and lived on the streets.
"I might be there still, except that a few months later I got word that mother had died. Our manor sits on a cliff. There was a rainstorm, and she fell from the balcony. Tsuto swore blind that father must have pushed her off, but I never believed it. Why would he have? What could have led him to murder her then after tolerating her for all those years? I just couldn't see it. We had a screaming match in the middle of mother's funeral, and he stomped out. I didn't see him again until that night at the Glassworks when he tried to recruit me to his cause, if you can call it a cause. I think all he really wanted was to hurt father."
She looked down at the end of this recitation. "And there, in a nutshell, is the recent history of the Kaijitsu family. I'm afraid it may not be all that illuminating for your own questions. But at least you know a little more. Your father was an elf. Tsuto was born in 4686 AR, so sometime that year or late 4685 your father visited Sandpoint and, um, mother's bed. Tsuto's eyes were black, and I'm pretty sure he got them from mother, so you likely got your eyes from your mother."
She slumped down a bit. She had not broken up during her recitation of woe, but it was clearly a strain on her to dredge up these bitter memories.
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(April 23, 2013)
Ah hells, he thought. A woman crying... best keep her from going there. He put an arm around her, patting her. "Didn't mean to make it worse," he muttered. He hadn't realized she was that young either. He was only a few years older than her. And this close, she smelled nice too.
It wouldn't be such a bad thing to see her again. "Maybe... your mother had letters? Or correspondence with this other man? Maybe she has a hidden treasure box or something? I mean, if you'd want to look..." He fell quiet, patting her arm, looking around the creepy room. I sound like an ass, he thought, asking her about this when she's lost someone. "Maybe it would distract you." Yeah, good recovery, Micah.
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(April 24, 2013)
Out of Character notes:
1) Micah's certain to see Ameiko again, she runs the Rusty Dragon inn where the party has been staying when in Sandpoint. She stays there herself most of the time. So he doesn't need to make any particular effort to arrange to see her.
2) This incident is of course happening in the past -- it would have happened shortly after returning from Thistletop, but a good week or so before the recent murders that the party is now investigating.
3) I'd like a spot check for next post.
In character:
Ameiko looked down at the floor as Micah put his arm about her shoulders. She didn't pull away from his touch, but neither did she lean into him. His resemblance to Tsuto made it a bit spooky to accept an embrace from him right after placing Tsuto's ashes in their niche. She had also noticed his eyebrows raise slightly as she mentioned her age. Not too surprising. People who didn't know her well often took her for older than she was, partly due to the two streaks of white in the otherwise black hair that framed her face.
"It's all right," she said. "You had a fair reason to ask. And I do appreciate the company -- this is the traditional time to talk about the dead, as I said. I didn't really expect anyone to come. Father and Tsuto were not well liked.
"As for letters -- well, it's possible. If mother did have correspondence with him, it would probably be in her room at father's house. My house, now, I guess. Sweet Shelyn, that seems strange. What am I supposed to do with that great barn of a place all by myself?
"Anyway, I wouldn't mind looking. I've been curious about it for years, but of course I was too young to really understand something like that -- and then she died, and I never had the chance to ask as an adult. If you'd like, we can go look together. Perhaps the day after tomorrow? I have to sit vigil here all night, so I'll be exhausted all day tomorrow."
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(April 24, 2013)
Woo! 19 +5 = 24!!!!
Micah happily sat back, glad she was done with the near-crying episode. Seemed women were the same most places in that regard. "Look, I don't know the rules for things like this," he motioned to the crypt. "But if you want someone to sit with you, I can. Back home we never made anyone light the pyre by themselves. Seems kind of... rude, really. So... not that I can offer much, but I could listen. Or just sit here." He gave a slight shrug.
Maybe he could be a bit of a peacock, but he had also been there for friends when they lost parents or siblings or loved ones. He never knew what to say or do, but he was good at being a quiet presence. Sometimes that's all the other person needed.
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(April 24, 2013)
Ameiko smiled at him. "Thank you very kindly for the offer, but I must decline. It is traditional for the family to receive visitors for a few hours after placing the urns, and you are welcome to stay that time. Afterwords, however, the overnight vigil is for family only.
"While I don't look forward to a night alone here ... if there was one thing that father and Tsuto agreed on, it was the importance of tradition. I never saw eye-to-eye with either of them on that point. Tradition can be far more restrictive than law, and changes even more slowly. But tonight, tradition calls on me to sit vigil for them. Since they cared so much about it, I feel that it would be disrespectful to break with tradition in this.
"Quite aside from that, I'm sure tongues would wag all over Sandpoint if I spent the night alone with a man in my family crypt. Particularly one who looks so much like my brother. I have enough to deal with right now without going blue in the face fighting unfounded rumors.
"But if you would like to talk for a while, it's fine. I lit a candle right after the death chant. You may stay until it burns out." She indicated a taper on the Micah had not previously noticed, partially obscured behind a bunch of flowers. He estimated it would last perhaps another 45 minutes at most.
He also noticed something else. As she pointed at the candle, the left sleeve of her kimono slid back a few inches, revealing a tattoo. He couldn't see all of it, but it looked like one end of a snake.
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(April 24, 2013)
He shrugged. "Depends if you want the company." He'd check in with the man in the temple to see if anyone would be watching the crypt either way. If there wasn't, he fully intended to sit watch outside. Protection first, especially when someone was emotional; it was one of the first lessons he had learned.
"Wait..." he gently set a hand under her arm. "Tattoo?" He was intrigued.
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(April 24, 2013)
"Ah." She said.
A long pause followed.
"Your group lost someone. The big half-orc -- Port, I think? Tell me about that."
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(April 25, 2013)
"Oh. Port. Well..." It wasn't something he liked even remembering. And it wasn't the first time he'd lost someone. "I failed." He shrugged, quiet now. "I had him in my grasp... and I couldn't hold him. He drowned... because of me."
The strong cocky attitude was gone. Micah looked away, not wanting to show he could be bothered or shaken. People didn't respond well to weakness. Not back home; not here. And he certainly doubted she wanted to hear about friends he'd lost; not when she was grieving something raw yet.
He had hardly known Port, but he had done everything he could to save the big guy. And all he had done was make it worse for everyone.
He forced a smile for her. "He was a solid fighter."
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(April 25, 2013)
Ameiko nodded. "Then you understand perfectly. Your group lost one person. Mine lost four, and one of those died to save me."
She looked moodily at the altar, lit by the flickering candle. "When I was sixteen I couldn't stand living in my father's stale, bitter house any longer. I left, and joined a group of adventurers. We ranged all over Varisia, and once into Nidal to the south, and got into all kinds of awful scrapes over the course of a year or so. Ironically, the last job wasn't far from here, which just goes to show you that you don't need to go far from home to risk your skin.
"We were hired by a small, small mining town in the Fogscar Mountains in central Varisia. They'd been all but cut off from the rest of the country for nearly a year -- a group of cannibals had been preying on villagers, merchants, anyone who came along the road. We wouldn't have gotten there ourselves if we hadn't come in the hard way, over the mountain peaks -- but that's another story.
"Anyway, they were holed up in an abandoned mine in the mountains outside of town. The village had lost half its population over a year, and were desperate, so they offered us a pretty sizable chunk of the gold they'd mined during the year if we'd go up there and clear out the cannibals. We accepted. It was the only good way out anyway.
"Things went ... badly. It turns out the cannibals were puppets, not really in charge of their own lives any more. I mean that literally -- they had some kind of fungus growing in their heads. It made them crazy, wild. They were faster than they should have been, and stronger, and they would eat anybody they could get their hands on, or else plant fungus in them, too. Poor bastards."
She shuddered a bit in remembrance. "And as I said, they were puppets. The whole group had been created by a druid who decided that the town's mining practices were an affront to nature, and that the town needed to be wiped out. He'd been infecting people with this fungus to make them his slaves."
Though she was sitting calmly enough, Micah noticed her fists clenching and unclenching in her lap.
"We went in all fat and happy. Just a bunch of backwoods yokels who'd gotten all wrong in the head and started eating people, we thought. We were doing okay until the druid showed up. He liked snakes. He had a lot of them, mostly just little ones he kept as pets, I guess, but one really big one. Things got ... real bad, after that. Jellia, Huron, and Mel went down pretty fast, leaving just me and two others: Alder and Sandru Vhiski. We tried to retreat, but the snake was damn fast, and it got me.
"See these?" she asked. She ran a finger into her hair and indicated the two locks of white hair. "I wasn't born with those. The snake ... it had its fangs buried in my head, here, and here. I remember looking down into the dark of its throat and thinking 'O Shelyn, this is it.'"
"But Alder got it off me somehow, pulled me free. It turned and bit him, and then we ran. We got away, all three of us. But Alder had already lost a lot of blood, and I think he'd been bitten by more than just one snake. He stumbled, and the few remaining cannibals fell on him. There were too many, and more snakes were coming ... I just, I just couldn't go back for him. The delay while they tore him apart is probably the only reason Sandru and I got away.
"Sandru was a wreck. He'd gotten off lightly -- no poison, just a few wounds -- but Alder was his brother, and that hit him hard. He tended me while the poison burned through my system, but I could tell he was tearing himself up inside. I lived, but ever since my hair has grown white where the snake bit me.
"We got back to Sandpoint okay, and then Sandru left. Took a job as a caravan guard. I haven't seen him since. As for me, I cashed in some of the profits from my year as an adventurer and bought the Rusty Dragon. It gave me something to focus on besides the loss. Even so ... I couldn't stop thinking about it. It just ... bothered me that Alder died just to save me. I didn't feel like I really deserved that. If he hadn't come back for me he'd probably still be alive. Instead he died in agony on a cold mountainside.
"So after a few months I decided I had to do something to honor him. Something permanent, something that would never let me forget his sacrifice. So I got this."
She pushed up her sleeve to show the tattoo. Her arm was solidly muscled. The snake began just above her wrist and coiled all the way up to her shoulder. "See? This way, kind of, the snake ate me after all. And every time I look at it, I'll think of Alder and what he did for me."
Through this recitation of horror, Ameiko had remained strangely calm, perhaps because it was an old and familiar grief rather than fresh and hot. Her sleeve fell down as she returned her hands to her lap.
Reflectively, she said "I never told anyone about that before. Sandru knows, of course, but people would just pity me if they knew. But I figure you'll understand. You've been there. You know.
"And even if it didn't work out as you liked, you tried to be an Alder, diving in to save your friend. Not an Ameiko, who ran."
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(April 26, 2013)
He reached over, taking her hand, squeezing it firmly. "Everyone runs sometimes. Like I said, Port wasn't the first I lost. It just... his was so obvious to everyone in the group. I live in a forest, by the gods. I should be able to swim. I couldn't hold him up. He was in my grasp and just... slipped away. I didn't hold on long enough. I failed.
"I've been lucky in not having scars other than this." He showed the claw marks down his cheek. "And I'm sorry about your brother. Wish things could have gone different." Unsure what else to say, not given to speaking about his past, he sat quietly, his hand in hers, sharing the grief she had to endure. Even so, he watched the candle burn lower, knowing he would need to step outside within another 20 minutes now.
It was about her anyways. Her time to talk, to grieve.
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(April 30, 2013)
"Thank you," she said. "Tsuto ... and father ... I loved them both, in their own way, but as you can no doubt tell, our family was not especially close and cuddly.
"Father and I had grown increasingly distant since I got back to Sandpoint. He disapproved of my job as barkeep at the Rusty Dragon -- and never mind that I actually own the place, bought with money I earned risking my neck as an adventurer. He thought it was below a Kaijitsu. And maybe if we were still in Minkai, he'd be right.
"But we're not. Grandfather brought the Kaijitsus to Varisia. We can't keep living as if we're in Minkai. It doesn't make sense for here.
"As for Tsuto, well, I hadn't seen him in almost four years. And we didn't actually grow up together -- I only got to see him when I snuck out. It bothers me that he threw in with that Nualia woman, and I don't understand why he killed father. They hated each other, sure, but somehow I never thought he'd do any real harm. Maybe I didn't know either of them as well as I thought.
"For that matter, what the hell happened to Nualia anyway? I didn't really know her, growing up; she was too old to play with me and her foster father kept her penned up in the old cathedral a lot of the time anyway, but everyone seemed to like her. No, that's not the right word. Not "like" -- she was the town mascot, or something. How the hell do you go from town mascot to a demon cultist intent on burning the place down to fuel your own transformation into a monster? I just don't get it.
"I've made my peace with Alder's death, I think, including my own role in it. I have my tattoo to remind me -- I'll never forget him and what he did for me as long as I live. I think that's enough. At any rate, ever since I got the tattoo I've been able to sleep again."
She looked contemplatively into the candle, running fairly short now. "Before time runs out on us, here ... I'm curious. What else do you know about your parents? We've established that your father was an elf, which means your mother was human. Any idea where they met? Where you were born? You have to know where you grew up, anyway -- some kind of forest, someplace?"
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(May 2, 2013)
He looked away, not wanting her to see how sore this topic was to him. He wasn't like the elves where he'd grown up. He wasn't like the humans here. He was half-breed, and no matter that he was "exotic" looking... they had never let him forget he was still a "mutt." Everyone wanted to taste the forbidden fruit, but no one wanted to love it.
That's right. Underneath it all, the proud peacock was a hurting, wounded thing. He covered all of that with the flamboyance and posturing... since it seemed most were at least attracted to that. "I'm... a foundling," he finally said, his voice just over a whisper. "My parents must not have wanted me. They found me in a basket in the hunting lands of Nirmarthas.
"Elves don't have much reason to be in the forest where I was raised, so... either my mother travelled, or my father stumbled on our people, or they..." He sighed. No reason to go into all the possibilities of what could have happened to his parents. "It doesn't matter. I just... for once in my life want to know I fit somewhere. That maybe they did want me." He gave her a weak smile, honesty in his eyes rather than the self-importance he usually presented. "I was fostered in the Fang Forest. Suppose the green cloak gave it away for you? Anyways, Half-breeds don't really have a place, despite the fact I was raised there. Always welcome, forever apart." He shrugged a little. "Not much chance for a mutt to marry, you know? I just want to know what happened to them. Why they left me. Was I nothing but a big mistake? Are either of them like me?" He shrugged again. "Your brother was the first clue I had to anything."
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(May 5, 2015)
Ameiko listened to this history closely. She smiled at his comment about the cloak. "The cloak told me nothing -- I knew you were from a forest because you said 'I grew up in a forest, I ought to be able to swim' just minutes ago."
"You're right, that doesn't give you a whole lot to go on. Was there anything in the basket with you? Where was the basket left? Any nearby settlements or paths, or just out in the middle of nowhere?"
"As for belonging ... I think I know your problem. You've been the only half-elf living amongst humans. You need someplace where there are a bunch of other half-elves, so that you'll have people who know how it is, and you won't stick out so much. Or rather, the wardrobe will probably make you stick out regardlesss, but at least you won't stick out on account of your *race*.
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(May 6, 2013)
He laughed at that. "I know. I like fancy clothes. At least I keep it practical for running the wilds. And if I found other half-elves, that would be great.
"I was left in the middle of hunting lands. The people that raised me said it was lucky they found me. I wasn't dehydrated yet, and couldn't have been there long. Something would have eaten me otherwise. So that's all I've got to go on. Most in the area don't really do a lot of reading or writing; not great at it myself. I -can- do it, just takes me a little to figure it out. So no note with me. Not even a blanket. I was left exposed." It bothered him more than he wanted to admit that he had been left like that. It kind of pointed to someone in the area being his mother... and definitely not wanting him. His best option now would be to find his father.
But he put on a smile for her. "Sorry. This should be about you."
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(May 10, 2013)
"I have all night to reflect on Tsuto and father," Ameiko said, "So don't feel like you're hijacking the conversation. It's nice to think about something else for a bit anyway."
On the Pharasmin altar, the candle flickered, low and nearly gone. "The reception time is nearly over. I think we're probably not going to solve the mystery of your ancestry today, though. Meet me at the Rusty Dragon after lunch the day after tomorrow, and we'll go up to the house and see if we can find any information about this dashing mystery elf who apparently wandered around the area sweeping human women off their feet a couple of decades back."
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(May 12, 2013)
He rose to his feet in a fluid motion, leaning to take her hands lightly into his. "Until the day after tomorrow," he offered with a bow. "May all go well until then." He gave her hands a light squeeze, gave her a smile of sympathy, and went out to stand guard over her vigil.
There he remained until first light, only then creeping back to the inn for a few hours rest. No need to even let her know he'd been watching out for her. Or even tell the others what he'd done. They'd only think he was off carousing with a loose man or woman anyways.
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(May 12, 2013)
Micah's night vigil was unpleasantly cool. Though autumn was still young, the night air bore promises of cold to come. Twice during the night he had to hide from passing priests -- since Nualia's theft of her former step-father's ashes, security had been stepped up. Still, Micah's forest-trained stealth easily outmastered the eyes of priests accustomed more to bookish labors than night patrols.
The only other thing of note during the night was some mournful, haunting music emanating from the Kaijitsu shrine. Evidently Ameiko had brought her instrument along, though he hadn't noticed it earlier. He didn't recognize the instrument by its sound -- perhaps some exotic instrument from distant Minkai?
