Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[C S]

Syria chimed in, "Don't forget the others, Septimus. Not that you can forget anything but you know what I mean, sharing a mind as we are now -- anyway. Feel free to pass on the tidings Vixen, and I hope you've found those books useful in your studies."

[Hopeflower]

I will. Thank you, and the same to you. It was a quieter sort of surprise that colored Vix's words now, one that came with a pleased warmth that her minimal experience with shielding her thoughts did nothing to diminish. Underneath it was a thread of worry - ever-present, connected to all of the people she knew who lived dangerous lives, but strengthened by the reminder that Septimus and Syria had gone looking for one of these dangerous foes. Good as their intentions were, it didn't stop her from fearing for them. Perhaps it was this line of thought that made her add, I never did get to thank you properly for the help, Syria. Or the flower, come to think of it. Here's hoping I'll be able to give you both gifts sometime soon.

[C S]

"Seppy was asking about what we'd be doing now that Morrelie's been sidetracked from exacting her... vengeance..." Syria made a flat note. "I'm sure we can add swinging around your part of Aster, wherever that may be, to our list."

[The Kingpin]

"You needn't go to the trouble, Vix. We'd be happy just for the good food and pleasant company. Likewise for Gregori, it seems, if our little check in on him is any indication." It was not an accidental mention of the elderly mage, and he was sure Vix knew it. "We will be sure to warn you ahead of time if we're visiting. No promises it won't still make you jump, I'm afraid," he added jokingly at the end of that.

[Hopeflower]

Nick is the one used to sudden mental intrusions, not me, Vix agreed, a touch self-deprecatingly. Right, Arsenic? she added for good measure.

In what would come as a surprise only to those who didn't know him well, Arsenic's deep voice responded with a gently teasing lilt. You would think you'd be used to hearing voices by now.

I'm used to you, Vix fired back. The psychomancer's hum was distinctly amused, and before Arsenic could reply, she went on, Getting back on topic, though, it's no trouble at all. Besides, it'll be a fun challenge trying to figure out what to get for a dragon.

[C S]

"That's no challenge at for most drakes, I'd say. Something lustrous, sparkling and more often than not some kind of precious metal molded by tiny people-hands into things they have no use for. Septimus is something else. See if you can't find him a book on something he doesn't know about yet. You're in the right place for it, and you have his closest friend as a resource if he can spare the time." Syria scoffed. "It's Septimus. Of course he'll spare the time; what am I saying?"

[The Kingpin]

"Isn't it part of the point for gifts to be a surprise?" asked the Scholar with barely contained mirth. "I'll be expecting it now. In all honesty, though, I think it's Syria who deserves the nicer gift in this case. An almanac of one sort or another. Perhaps something to do with herbs," he added. He didn't dare suggest she go hunting for magical artefacts. He knew all too well the Innkeeper wasn't versed in such, and he'd been on the prowl for arcane knowledge long enough to know there was no shortage of conmen who would swindle the unaware for ludicrous sums.

[Hopeflower]

You never know what I might come across during this venture of mine, Vix said, biting her tongue to contain a laugh and absently turning a page. Even I don't know. But I'll definitely keep all of that in mind.

[C S]

"We're going to bring you and your friends some souvenirs as well. Thimeyra and perhaps even Drakhunmiir itself," Syria promised. In the case of Thimeyra, Beshayir would also get the chance to put together a traditional outfit for herself while they were looking for trinkets and memorabilia. It was a way of showing that she was growing up as much as giving her the opportunities she was denied in the past.

[The Kingpin]

A concerned mental nudge at Syria followed that, the Scholar silently warning her against promising what he wasn't sure they could provide. The thoughts regarding Beshayir, however, were not overlooked, and Septimus made a mental note of it. It seemed it was going to be an expensive trip. Another thing to make a mental note of; he would have to see about taking on a bounty contract or some other well paying project. The wealth he'd gained from the Grymhaven bounties before Draxon collapsed was well on its way to being depleted, and though he could live without wealth at all, the comforts to which he, Syria and Beshayir had grown accustomed were not things he felt he wouldn't mind losing.

"I'm sure we can find something nice for everyone. Though I may contact you for advice on a few of them, when the time comes."

[Hopeflower]

I'll do my best to be prepared for that. Even as she said it, Vix pressed her knuckles more firmly into her jaw and worried her lower lip with her teeth. The conversation was winding down, and it was taking her attempts at staying lighthearted with it. Try to stay in one piece until then, won't you?

[C S]

"You won't have to worry about that. Thimeyran merchants are nice people. We've made a friend out of one who sells books and inks and quills. I don't know about Drakhunmiir. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure there are plenty of lovely dragons there like Septimus; I just don't know if there are any merchants, y'know?" Syria replied in her bubbly way.

[The Kingpin]

Sensing the unease in the Innkeeper's 'voice', he reached out over the mental link, giving what could have amounted to a squeeze of her shoulder were they speaking in person. "You needn't worry, Vix. The only thing we have to fear any time soon is over-eating," he assured the Innkeeper. "In any case, I'm sure you'd rather have your peace so you can finish your day's reading and make the most of the Solstice, so I shan't keep you longer. Give our regards to the others, won't you? I hope to speak again soon."

[Hopeflower]

I will. Stay warm, and tell Beshayir I said hello.

"Coming to get something to eat, sunshine?" Rowan asked. "You look about ready to fall asleep." She stood up to stretch, an unpleasant crunch sounding out as the scarred assassin rolled her neck.

Vix blinked, shook her head to clear it, and said, "Yeah. Let me get my things together." She marked her page and shut the book decisively, getting a curious look as she did so. "What? I wouldn't keep you two in the library today of all days."

Arsenic narrowed his eyes, giving her a searching look. 'Are you sure?'

"Positive. Let's...take a walk around the city instead. See what we find." When they still looked mildly surprised and less than convinced, Vix added, "It's the least I can do to make up for dragging you away from home during the Solstice."

The assassins exchanged a look. Arsenic shrugged, and Rowan shrugged back. "If that's what you want to do, I'm not complaining," said the older woman.

[C S]

"I don't think Vixen has hugged a dragon," Syria noted as she repositioned her staff and started on her way to getting off of Septimus. "Or maybe the dragons that live near her village aren't as warm as you are. Do you know anything about that?" inquired the mage as she straightened out her coat, before offering a hand to the Scholar.

[The Kingpin]

"Can't say that I do. I've never been that close to them. They're wary of me." There was a note of disappointment in his voice, but it was obvious he was accepting of it. A fact of life for those to whom society and kinship was restricted to their own kind, and where a beast of a higher calibre was treated with a necessary, ingrained distrust. While the Scholar and the Extraxl pair were relatively friendly, on a conversational basis, at least, there was always that innate barrier of fear that kept them from letting him get close. Justified, as a Hueilin that wasn't acquainted to them would hunt them if it got hungry enough.

He reached a hand to meet her own, rising to his feet with her.

[C S]

"Hmm." Syria rested the end of her staff on the floor and thought. "Makes me wonder how they handle winter, then. They either don't care about it because, you know, dragon and all, or they do what Frondfoots do and huddle together in their nests and pant." Realizing that to the uninitiated, the visual of a panting lizard may be odd, she clarified, "The panting helps them generate body heat when they aren't underneath the sun."

[The Kingpin]

"And no one in Aster would be able to answer that for you definitively. Your best bet would be asking Arsenic what he's observed," responded the Scholar matter-of-factly. "The extraxl are even more illusive than the Hueilin before our self-imposed isolation was broken. They do a very good job of avoiding detection. So much so that the only mention of anything remotely resembling them I have found is in a four thousand year old tome that was practically disintegrating when I found it. And even then, there's only three sentences of dubious accuracy at best. And good luck convincing an Extraxl to tell you. They'd sooner eat you." It was clear it was a matter that had given the Scholar some frustration, though it was the sort of frustration dedicated to a matter left to lie. It seemed he had no intention of pursuing this particular frustrating mystery.

[C S]

"In that case, we should be thankful for our unique connections and respect that the lot of them aren't the talkative bunch. Maybe that's me speaking with a Daavenian's bias, former isolationist state and all." Syria waved the floral idol about as she would her empty hand in dismissing the subject. "They won't bother you if you don't bother them kind of deal I take it. You know, before the alliances were made, I heard people thought Daavenians existed in this hive of some kind, everyone armed to the teeth and waiting for someone to tread on us like a colony of ants. Green... and silver ants."

[Hopeflower]

Having informed the receptionist and the lingering students that the rest of the day was theirs to do what they would with, Viho was quite alone with his thoughts. And while some would have thought it a sad thing to be alone on the Solstice - especially when he had family within the city - Viho found it little different from previous years. A different location, maybe, but the snow and ice still had that way of muffling the surroundings, and the distant sounds of celebration remained. Smells of cinnamon and other less identifiable spices would be drifting on the breeze, adding to the already inviting scents of food wafting from various food stands.

All of these things combined did little to tempt Viho to leave his classroom. In the silence and solitude, he sat contemplating the thin chain he'd taken off of his neck and wound around his fingers. The pearly white tooth that served as a pendant swayed gently, and he read the motion as slightly mocking.

"It's a tooth, obviously," she'd said in playfully superior tones. Zaltana had dangled the crocodile's tooth in front of him, just out of his reach. "Nice, huh? I trapped the croc it belonged to myself, months ago." Her voice had taken on genuine pride by the time she was done speaking. Not without reason. The crocodile had been big enough to feed half of the village, and its hide had made for several pairs of very nice boots.

"I remember," he'd said, reaching to catch her wrist and pull her closer; she danced away, shaking her finger at him in reprimand.

"Nuh-uh, where's my present?"

He'd feigned indifference. "What makes you think I got you one?"

"Well for one thing," Zaltana had laughed, "you're not smooth enough to get away with calling yourself my gift."

Viho had smiled then. "Pity. I'd hoped that would work this year." And then, deliberately contradicting himself, he'd produced a small, unremarkable wooden box and offered it to her.

Zaltana's expression when she'd opened it had gone through curiosity, confusion, shock, and then finally settled on overjoyed understanding. She'd thrown herself at him, taking him by surprise and sending them crashing to the floor. They'd laughed off the bumps and bruises, and she'd slipped his ring on her finger.

"I know it's early," Viho had said, "and one day you might decide I'm not the man you want. But you know I don't do rings - " and she'd laughed, ecstatic " - so if you'll consider that a promise, then I'll consider this one, too."

Zaltana had kissed him then, slow and sweet and everything he'd wanted. "Okay," she'd agreed, breathless and smiling beautifully. "It's a promise."

Pain registered, dim and distant at first, but then sharp and insistent and demanding he do something about it. Slowly, Viho opened eyes he didn't remember closing and uncurled a fist he didn't remember making, and he inspected his hand. He hadn't drawn blood, but the necklace chain had left angry red marks in the skin of his fingers, and the tooth had broken the skin of his palm.

A promise.

With a sigh, Viho set the necklace on the desk and reached up to rub at his face. He didn't cry anymore, thought he might have long forgotten how. But he did allow himself this quiet moment of grief in the face of how much time had passed. How his son had had to comfort Zaltana with lies in her final minutes. How certain he'd been, little over a month ago, that he was going to see his wife again - and that she'd never forgive the mistakes he'd made.

What would she say, if she could have seen him now? What would she say to Arsenic?

If Viho could have answered that, odds were none of them would have been where they were today.