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Thread: [M] Anima Mundi IC (Namingtoohard and Headwrapper)

  1. #21
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    Mec watched with careful eyes as the the boy scurried out of the maze of buildings. His gaze stayed transfixed down the passageway that lead into the street. "I can't imagine living such a life at that boy's age," he mused aloud. "In a large city such as this one, where the people hardly acknowledge each other and are suspicious of each other's natures. At least at home an orphaned or homeless child could seek some sort of refuge, whether that be in an orphanage, or church, or some other place run by benevolent hearts."

    As they waited at the junction of passages, Mec began to pace. Surrounded by tall, grey walls, he and his companion were left alone together with not much more than the creeping sunlight from above to accompany them. "It's amazing that a silent and dull place like this exists in such a city, after being stuck in that sea of sweat and horse dung all morning." More random outbursts of thoughts such as these would emanate from Mec's mouth as he paced. The small amount of stimulation the grey stone surrounding them provided left his mind craving to venture to places he did not wish to return to. After a while, Mec would stop in front of the passage he had located the street urchin in earlier. His head would poke innocently into the alley, and then he would turn to look back at the passage in which the boy had exited and over to Shallan.

    With a slight shrug, he began to inch his way down the dark tunnel, regardless of whether or not his companion protested or not. Should she choose to stay where they agreed to meet again with the urchin or follow him did not matter to Mec, as he did not plan on exploring for too long. As he slowly made progress down the passage he saw the it would meet with a wall and turn to the right behind the building. The young man would slowly peer around the corner. There, he could see that the passage widened slightly before coming to a dead end as one building ended and the wall wrapped around to enclose what would be an exit.

    At the center of this small clearing he could see a pile of brown rags, haphazardly shielded from the sunlight with a makeshift tent made of random parts that could have fell from wagons or were procured from broken furniture, blanketed with a dirty cloth. It was evident that there was a person beneath the rags from the regular rise and fall of breathing. Mec took care to approach the wobbly structure silently, only crouching to observe what was beneath the tent when he was merely a pace away.

    What he discovered was the visage of a woman, her hair lightly wrapped with a dark-colored scarf. The woman was unconscious, unaware of her visitor. He face dripped with sweat, and her breathing, while regular, was heavy and labored. Mec presumed the woman was the street urchin's mother, which would explain his defensive behavior before.

    The young mage would down the path he came from to ensure that he had not been followed by the boy before letting himself drop down to his knees and rummage through his bag. As noisy as he might have been, he did not seem to disturb the slumber of the woman in front of him. His hands would eventually reemerge from the bag with a stack of notes, wrapped in a leather binding. Mec recall when his father had instructed him to diligently copy the pages of the travelers guide that was used during his journeys. The book contained many common know-hows that aided travel, and there was a section that described various illnesses and ways to cure them or alleviate their symptoms. Mec's fingers scrambled across the pages, seeking this particular section of his notes.

    After locating the desired passage, Mec would begin to compare symptoms of various illnesses to what he saw in the woman. The flesh was cold, and so he dismissed all illnesses that listed warm skin as a symptom. Labored breathing, fluttering heartbeat, sweat in spite of the skin being chill to the touch - these symptoms would appear in multiple illnesses, and unless the woman was conscious Mec would not be able to differentiate between them through other symptoms. The young man grew increasingly frustrated as he flipped through the pages roughly, hoping to find some solution to the problem before him. A particular symptom would catch his eye, unique to only one illness, listed as Bloodclaw Disease. As the name implied, bruising or bleeding beneath the nails of hands and feet suggested the illness. Beneath the list of symptoms the man, in his youth, had scratched the letters "N-O-L," None or Lost. This was the symbol that implied that there was either no cure for the illness or the cure was lost with time either due to war or the loss of methods or extinction of resources required, such as magic or creatures that weren't believed to exist.

    Mec noted that the disease was listed as fatal, but there had been no detail on the life expectancy of a sufferer of the illness. He took a deep breath, hoping that the symptom he was looking for wasn't present in the woman he assumed in his care. After carefully placing his notes on the floor, open to the page he was analyzing before, he would carefully raise the rags, just enough to see the woman's hand laying by her side. "No..." His eyes widened at the presence of bloodstained rags wrapped around the delicate fingers of the woman. "No no no." The man would quickly shuffle to where the woman's feet were to discover they were wrapped similarly. Defeated, Mec would sit back against the stone wall behind him, his hands gripping at his own brown locks angrily.

    "Worthless," he would growl as he stuffed his notes back into his pack forcefully. After securing the bag to his back once more, the frustrated man would punch the stone wall angrily with the bottom of his fist before storming back in the direction he had come from. His mind preoccupied with his tantrum, he had not thought any better of the lack of pain in his hand and hadn't noticed the crack he had left in the grey stone. Should Shallan had followed him earlier he would brush passed her, determined to return to junction they agreed to wait in. He prayed that the boy had not yet returned, that Mec could claim ignorance of the fate what may be the boy's last family member. The story would only be shared with Shallan, and her alone, whether that be by mouth or by her witnessing the events herself.
    Last edited by Headwrapper; 02-21-2017 at 10:37 PM. Reason: Random missing words

  2. #22
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    Shallan would pass the vacant time that followed largely in silence. Unlike Mec's constant pacing, she herself settled for leaning against a vacant section of wall, letting it support the majority of her weight for the time being. Her fatigue was making itself known again, and she felt that this was the closest that she was going to get to a proper rest until they had procured travel for the next stage of their journey. Just like that morning, though, she didn't trust herself to sit or lay down, lest she refuse to get up again. She endured most of her companion's outbursts in relative silence, not of a mind to refute them. After all, she couldn't really disagree, even if she was thankful for this chance at respite, brief though it may be.

    Still, she would watch curiously as he edged around the corner that led back to the same place, though a disapproving frown flickered across her features briefly as he ducked into it. She was hesitant to go prod and investigate despite her curiosity, given that they had all but promised the boy that they would stay away. She would wait patiently for a few moments, before straightening up with an irritated sigh, heading towards the alley with the intention of going after Mec, and trying to drag him away from probing if it proved necessary. Unfortunately, things never got that far. The woman was stopped dead in her tracks as she rounded the second corner, and was confronted with the sight of Mec withdrawing, revealing the visage of an unknown woman laying within the hastily constructed shelter.

    One of Shallan's hands immediately went to her mouth, covering it completely as she tried not to call out or otherwise panic. Her eyes wide, she had the look of a startled animal, frightened and uncertain when confronted with a dangerous situation that could very well mean its end. She would stay there in stunned silence right up until Mec moved to withdraw, brushing past her in the process. She practically ignored him, sight fixed on the unfortunate lady. Not having any notes or prior knowledge to draw on, she lacked any understanding of the lady's affliction, but such did not seem to bother her.

    "...is there nothing we can do?" She questioned simply, voice quiet and crippled, as if she were defeated by the very prospect. After a f seconds, though, her expression changed. Her mouth set itself into a hard line, and the sadness and worry in her eyes was replaced with something more akin to determination. "...even so, I'm going to do what I can" the words followed, slipping out of her mouth before she even knew what she was saying. For Shallan, one simple fact stood out - even if all she managed was to ease the woman's suffering just a fraction, it would be worthwhile.

    With no fear for what was afflicting the woman, Shallan approached, her stride full of purpose. Removing her pack as she walked, the woman quickly dumped it on the ground beside the unconscious lady, before crouching down next to her. A brief glance was enough to determine what she had to do, and she quickly settled down into a more comfortable sitting position before reaching for her bag. Within moments, Shallan had withdrawn something rather unexpected - a sundress that she had packed along to act as a change of clothes during the trip. The next part took her several attempts to accomplish, but there, in that secluded and quiet corner of the alley, she tore a long strip of fabric from her dress. It was hard, given their sturdy make and Shallan's lack of physical strength, but slowly and surely, she reduced it to tatters.

    Her plan was clear enough, now. She would begin the process of carefully removing the bandages covering the woman's hands and feet, though the first time she could not help but wince at the unwelcoming and discouraging sight that awaited her beneath them. Ever the altruist, Shallan paid absolutely no mind to the fact that she was potentially risking an infection herself, working with singleminded determination. Slowly, she would dab away at what blood she could with the soiled and used bandages, before beginning to work at rebinding the unknown lady's damaged limbs, now using the rags of her once beautiful dress as makeshift rags. They might not have been much better, but they were clean, and that was bound to help...or so she thought.

    At some point, she became vaguely aware of footsteps approaching rapidly. Her mind briefly registered the arrival of a third presence within the cramped and narrow alleyway, but before she comprehended what it was, two hands closed around her upper left arm. "Leave her alone! Get away!" It called, shrill and high-pitched. The voice of a child in distress. She had not finished her work yet, with one more limb left to redress, but the sudden shock made her glance up briefly, and the child fuog und struggled with all his might to drag her away from his enfeebled mother. Reluctant but somewhat content, Shallan would cease to resist, allowing herself to be half-dragged, half-shuffled backwards, and allowing the boy space to get between her and his mother.

    His breathing heavy and fast, the boy looked back over his shoulder as he settled, shouting again. "Leave off! Get out of here!" He added, voice on the verge of cracking. After a few seconds though, as he tried to ensure his mother was unharmed, his eyes and mind began to register had taken place there. They drifted over the ruined dress and fresh bandages in turn, along with the clean state of the one limb that remained. Slowly, he glanced at her one more time, eyes wide. "You...you did this?" The question came. It was one with an obvious answer, but no matter. The child was young, after all. "We couldn't just leave her be as she was" she muttered softly, voice quiet.

    Shallan had completely forgotten all sense of their agreement during the event, letting the boy begin tying up his mother's last exposed foot without interruption. She simply stared on in silence, lip quivering briefly. As soon as Mec made his presence known again, be it to help her up or for any other reason, she would whisper a few soft words, so quietly that the distracted child did not seem to hear...or if he heard, he showed no signs of it. Her voice was downtrodden, unbelievably so, and her eyes glittered with tears of her own, on the verge of winning their way free.

    "...it's not going to be enough, is it? Even with the money, it's not going to be enough"

  3. #23
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    Mec would make his way back to center of the complex of buildings, where he and Shallan were to wait for the boy's return. He placed both of his palms on the smooth stone wall nearest to him, bowing his head as he tried to recall anything he might have not taken the time to write all those years ago when he copied the traveling notes. Of course it was futile, as he knew the notes were diligently copied and any information from the original writings would have been in his own version. His notes said nothing about how quickly the disease would take the lives of its victims, but the woman's condition did not seem to suggest she had much life left. After standing in this way for some long minutes he decided to accept the reality of the woman's demise. No apothecary or doctor would truthfully tell him anything other than what he already knew from his own resource, no matter how much he longed for it to not be so.

    All things exist within the Anima Mundi... Mec flinched at the sound of the voice interrupting his thoughts. He would turn and shout at the buildings before him, and would appear a mad man had he not been alone. "Now isn't the time, damn it!"

    All things, G would repeat. To lose faith now would mean to lose faith in the Anima, to lose faith in me. Do not give up hope... Do not give up hope... Do not give up hope... The words would seem to echo in Mec's mind, but he wasn't sure if it was his imagination or if this voice was truly reiterating the statement over and over. After a few seconds the man would be reduced to placing his hands on his ears, trying to stop the sound from penetrating his mind, but to no avail. His eyes squeezed shut, he wouldn't notice when the boy had returned.

    "Where did she go!?"

    Mec was abruptly broken out of his trance. His confused expression was returned only by the boy's glare, adamant for an answer. "You said you would both stay here!" Before Mec could respond, the boy had already begun his sprint towards his mother. The mage would sigh heavily as he stood to follow. He had made a mistake in allowing Shallan to stay behind, as now he would not be able to plea ignorance of the situation and quietly accept the unfortunate circumstances.

    He would let his hand slide against the smooth stone of the walls as he slowly strolled down the passage. He was not terribly excited for the events to come, and was reluctant to even continue going. Aware of his duty to return to Shallan, especially in her unrested state, his legs would continue to trudge him forward until he returned to the ramshackle encampment. As he approached Shallan he would assess the situation, noticing the bright strips of cloth that were used to bandage the woman's phalanges. He knelt next to his friend, offering his body to lean against should she need the support.

    Solemn after considering his friend's question, he would lean towards her in order to shield his answer from the others present, careful not to match gazes with her in order to not lose the courage to answer. "The bleeding nails are a symptom of an incurable illness..." He would hesitate a moment before annexing another word to his statement. "Fatal." After completing his answer Mec's expression was overcome with one of pain, but no tears betrayed him. He would take a shaky breath before finally turning his head to match gazes with his friend.

    Witnessing the tears forming in his companion's eyes summoned a strange heat in the young man's chest. The cold layer he tried to shield his heart with had begun melting away, it seemed, and it became difficult to resist the grief. It was unfair. Unfair that this young one would lose what might be his only family, unfair that after diligently preparing for this kind of situation Mec wouldn't be able to aid the ailing woman, and unfair that the only correct course of action was to sit back and accept it all.

    Do not give up hope...

    This final outburst invading Mec's thoughts was enough to tip the scales that were his emotions. Where one side was grief, the other was anger, and the gravity of the situation pulled on the latter. The mage's humanity would temporarily leave him as his grief-stricken expression transformed to one of anger. He bore his teeth like a wolf attacking confronting prey, and his almond eyes flared wildly. Only a few seconds later, unbeknownst to him, the deep browns of his eyes would be gradually replaced with a rosey gold."I. said. Stop!"

    Angrily, he would wheel around to strike the wall behind him, not far from where he left evidence of his anger the first time. His hand would rest within the small, shallow dome he had imprinted on the wall for a few seconds as he breathed heavily, regaining control of his temper. The strange color that had gathered in his eyes vanished and the tension that had taken control of his body loosened. The boy peered around guiltily, realizing his foolishness. He made a hasty retreat through the passage that served as the only exit, oblivious to the reactions of those around him. He would retreat the junction that served as their meeting place and mumble angrily aloud while pacing back and forth, questioning why his personal demon was no longer speaking.

    A few moments after the mage retreated, a soft glow, a color not unlike what had recolored Mec's eyes before, began to emanate from the narrows cracks that traced the imprint in the otherwise dull stone. The glow was faint and would retreat back into the stone briefly after its birth, and would only be noticed by anyone already observing that particular spot. Small pebbles of the grey stone would then yield to a small forest of bright green sprouts that came forth from the cracks. With seconds, the sprouts would grow to blossom into a bloom of flowers, the stems arching so that the bright pinks and whites of the petals could catch the small amount of sunlight that entered the area.

  4. #24
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    The gentle crunch of footsteps on stone was more than enough to announce Mec's return, much in the same way it had announced the boy's arrival just moments ago, when he had rushed forward to stop Shallan from implementing what he thought to be malicious intentions. She would glance up at him briefly as he crouched down alongside her, offering his support. She would have made do for an extended hand, but this method was just as welcome, and she quickly moved to accept his offer. Reaching out with one hand, she would grab on to him gently, before rising to her feet with a soft and unsuppressed groan. Her fatigue was not so deep-set that she would have likely remained there if left to her own devices, assistance was greatly appreciated nonetheless.

    His words were less welcome than his actions, though, as he confirmed what Shallan had begun to both suspect and fear. That the condition afflicting the boy's unconscious mother was not only incurable, but fatal, given time to run its natural course. She had known it deep down the entire time, on some instinctual level, but hearing the words said aloud confirmed her fears in a way - made them less of a theoretical consequence and more of a reality. The lady was dying in front of them both, perhaps slowly, perhaps quickly, but dying nonetheless. Shallan exhaled sharply as she digested this information, closing her eyes slowly in a vain attempt to both come to terms with that simple act, and hide the tears threatening to spill over.

    After a few seconds she would straighten up again, taking a few moments to try and steady her breathing, before she would open her eyes again. She was just in time to witness Mec's temper flare, his expression and body language transforming in an instant. Slightly worried, she would take a small step back, a strange mix of confusion and worry plastered across her features. His striking the wall was met with silence, and Shallan made no attempt to stop or otherwise comfort him as he once again beat a retreat back the way they had come. Instead, she lingered a few months longer, mournful gaze settled on mother and child, before drifting across to the stone wall that had borne her friend's rage...until a strange golden glow forced its way into the edges of her vision.

    It was a soft light - one that did not cause her to flinch or look away, like one was prone to doing when catching a direct glimpse of the sun. Still, it's light was warm, filled with something she couldn't quite describe, in a way that didn't quite make sense to her, it faded as quickly as it had come, through, and the woman continued to stare silently for a few moments. She spent a few moments wondering whether it had even been real at all, or just a product of her tired mind. That was, until the miniature forest made itself bloom. The way it forced itself out of cracks in stone and mortar was mesmerising, if not outright hypnotic. Slowly, she reached towards the flowers, movements slow and gentle - as if she was afraid that the slightest touch would cause the illusion to shatter and the plants to disappear. A trick of the light, surely...but then again, she had already witnessed an entire tree where it had burst out of the ground in an instant.

    Her fingertips brushed against the petals of one of the flowers briefly, and she marvelled at the simple touch. Slowly, and only after a brief hesitation, she would pluck the two largest flowers from their stems with a soft tearing e rest she left to their new home - not wanting to kill any more of the beautiful new blooms than was necessary. After all, she had never seen any flowers that looked quite like these before. Turning on her heel, she would advance on the boy where he crouched over his mother, though his face was turned upwards, watching her. Had he seen the flowers bloom too? Shallan didn't know for sure, but if he had, the boy showed no more surprise than she. Crouching down, she would reach out to lay one of the flowers on his mother's heaving chest, before retrieving her dropped pack. A brief exchange followed, and gold changed hands, before she would retrieve her pack from where she had dropped it later. The remnants of her dress she left behind, so that he boy could use it as she had, should his mother require another change before she...passed.

    Slinging her pack back over her shoulder, she would cup the remaining flower in both hands, glancing down at it in silent appreciation, and awe. With her head turned slightly downwards, and eyes fixed on the small sprout, she would head back out to join her companion.

    Approaching wordlessly, she would step towards Mec slowly, coming to a halt only when within arm's reach. Slowly, she would glance up at him, eyes peeking out from beneath a few stray hairs of her fringe that had come loose during the morning's events. Slowly, she would hold her cupped hands out, both revealing the strange flower to him, and offering it. She was unsure if he had created them intentionally or not - and she was sure it had been his doing, as there was no other explanation but magic - but Shallan had a feeling that he would want to examine it regardless. Only when he had satisfied himself, either by waving it off or plucking the strange flower from her outstretched hands, would she speak again.

    "...The boy said that the trader he found would wait for us on the western side of town, by an inn called 'the crooked stool'. We're to meet him there at noon, but we can't be late. The man didn't entirely believe the kid's story, so if we aren't there on time, he'll assume it was al slime sort of prank or trick and leave without us" she offered simply. Naturally, this was what she had asked the boy when retrieving her pack, and had given him the agreed-upon amount of gold, totally to whatever leftovers would not be required to pay the trader for their passage. "Food and drink are our own responsibility, but we'll be welcome to ride up front with him or in the wagon as we wish, and sleep in the back so long as we don't touch his wares"

    With that, she would turn and head back out of the alley, and into the Main Street. As soon as they were free of the tight space and close-pressing walls, she would turn her eyes skywards. This time, though, it wasn't so much for her own personal enjoyment. Rather, she was searching out the sun, to see if she could get a rough idea of the time from its position. They would likely need to head to the inn straight away, or back through the marketplace, but it would be nice to have some understanding of just how much they needed to rush.

  5. #25
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    Mec reached out and accepted the flower, wincing slightly as his bruised fingers wrapped around the stem. He inspected the specimen silently as the plan was shared with him, rotating it and carefully probing the petals with his fingers. The flower looked much like the others he had unintentionally spawned in his sleep; the bit of stem that was left was smooth and practically flawless, and the petals curled slightly at the edges. When their conversation ended, he would allow the flower to fall to the floor before gathering his pack from where he dragged it during his earlier retreat.

    He silently followed his companion out of the maze, slowly raising his hood as they approached the Main Street. He too gazed at the sky, but with the intention of finding out which direction they would need to go to find where the trader had taken refuge. "Let's not delay. The less we inconvenience this merchant the less likely he'll be suspicious of us. It doesn't appear we were left with much time anyway." With this he would begin walking westward. Fortunately there was no need to venture through the circus that was the town square, making the pair's journey a simple one. At one point in their walk Mec would draw a sharp breath, remembering something. "Have you decided on a name for yourself? We won't have time to do all that we talked about yet, but at least that part could be easily done." He of course was talking about the notion of false aliases and disguises, deliberately vague in the small chance his voice might be carried to suspicious ears.

    As they ventured closer to their destination, the dull stone buildings were replaced with more colorful, albeit less sturdy, wooden ones. Taverns, inns, and guild halls could all be easily differentiated by their colored banners and carved wooden signs. After a long search Mec would reach out to his partner and point to a small wooden sign, hanging over a door with some bronze wire. The words 'The Crooked Stool' were carved into the wood, and the scrawling of what was presumably a stool, slightly angled to one side, sat next to the letters. Compared to the words expertly carved into the sign, the depiction of the tool was humorously ill-crafted, as if it was annexed to the wood hurriedly by an amateur.

    When they approached the inn Mec would glance around, hoping to find some sign of who they were looking for. He had expected a cart or a wagon would help them identify who they were searching for, but none were parked nearby. He began to wonder if they had taken too long to meet their appointment and were left behind. He also weighed the possibility that there was no merchant and they had been played for fools, but it didn't seem likely. "Could this not be the correct place?"

    The question hung in the air for a few seconds before being split open by the sharp edge of loud whistle. Mec would turn to find a man, about his father's age and a bit on the portly side, standing behind them, hands on his wide hips. The man would lean forward to inspect the two travelers, as if trying to peer over his large pink nose. "I bets it's yous. Are you twos the ones wantings to go to Taunteas?"

    Mec observed the man for a brief moment before formulating an answer. The man's ham-shaped body almost matched Mec's height. The large side of the talking ham was clothed with a white shirt and a simple black vest, narrowing down to a pair of green pantaloons. The man's nose was comically large, almost hanging over his thick pink lips, and his shiny black hair resembled a bowl that sat upside down on his head. Mec would introduce himself to the man as Jay Foxtrot, and his companion with the name she may have shared with him earlier or another he fabricated in the moment. The youth's introduction ended awkwardly, as he had not prepared a story for why they wished to travel to Tauntea, and he had hoped names were sufficient.

    The merchant would continue to consider them with his misshapen black eyes while his thin legs supported his cone of a body. A man of business, he did not waste time with introducing himself. "You gotses the coins? I tolds the kid I only taking yas if you gotses the coins." The man would then accept the brown pouch Mec offered to him, peering inside and weighing it with his hands. "Okays, I take yas. But only to the gate of Taunteas." The man would then turn to wander away, presumably towards his wagon, briefly weighing the pouch of money once more before concealing it in his vest.

  6. #26
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    A thoughtful him escaped Shallan's lips as Mec announced that they should not delay, followed by a simple nod. Her quick glance upwards told much the same story; that noon was already fast approaching, and less than an hour away. With little their option, she fell into step with Mec, once again following his lead as he led them in what was roughly the right direction. She remained silent, with eyes slightly downcast for the larger part of their journey; the fate of mother and child both lingering in her thoughts.

    She would finally break her silence when Amex questioned her on the nature of her alias. Indeed, there was little time to go about formulating a proper disguise, so fake names would have to do. Indeed, she had one in mind, that she had intended to use from the beginning. Voice soft, she let it slip past her lips.

    "Natasha. Natasha Daviar" she announced simply. While the name Daviar meant little to her, Natasha was her mother's first name, though whether Mec remembered as much she did not know.

    As they arrived at the inn, she joined her companion, glancing around in earnest. It seemed that the man found them before they spotted him, though. There was little room for Shallan to interject during their initial exchange, but as money changed hands and the man turned away, she pursed her lips briefly. She disliked something about the man inherently, but Shallan could not tell what it was for the life of her. She had no idea if such worry had a basis, was just woman's intuition, or was her projecting her downtrodden mood onto her surroundings, judging him harshly and unfairly for no reason.

    "Mm..." She hummed thoughtfully to herself for a moment, as if about to speak, before she would let out a soft sigh, shaking her head. "Never mind" she added simply after a moment, just in case Mec had taken notice of her temporary pause. "Let us just be thankful that he hasn't immediately tried to turn us in" the words came; a hint of her suspicions, or merely a display of her nerves? Either way, she would hurry after the man regardless, following him to where his cart was presumably stashed. As she fell in with him, the man began to speak again.

    "I musts admit, I hadn't expected yas to show. Mighty strange way of trying to arrange a ride" he observed simply. Shallan frowned briefly at the comment, though her body reacted faster than her mind, and she quickly spouted the first answer that came to mind. "What's the cost of a single coin if it saves us scurrying back and forth all morning to find one ourselves? Better to take it slow and enjoy the markets while we have the chance, I would think" the answer came, hopefully casual and plausible enough to avoid arousing any extra suspicion.

    As they rounded he corner around the side of the inn, the man's cart came into view. It was of rather traditional make, all things considered, if not a little on the large side. In that respect, it seemed to be quite fitting of its owner. Two horses were strapped to the front of the cart, instead of the traditional one. Behind them sat a large raised beach, where the driver would normally sit. A bench too large for one, but fitting three would be a squeeze. The back of the wagon was open, but right now it was covered by a large tarp, presumably to discourage any questionable locals from trying to slip something from the wagon when its owner was not looking.

    Perhaps more alarming was the two guards standing nearby. Shallan tensed up for a moment as she spotted them, before relaxing a little as she saw that they bore to emblems or town markings, only armaments. Hired mercenaries, charged with protecting the owner and his wares on their travels. Indeed, to both feel so at risk of loss and to have such wealth, their merchant friend must've been carrying an expensive load indeed. The nature of such was revealed moments later, when the man stripped the wagon's tarp back a fraction to reveal it was loaded with animal pelts. Not the smaller wolf pelts, but rather, the much larger and more expensive fur of bears.

    Wordlessly, the merchant climbed onto the driver's bench, signalling the guards with a wave of his hand. For a second she thought they had walked into a trap, but the guards complied with no urgency, pulling back the tarp and climbing up into various parts of he wagon themselves. Whether they would ride the whole way too or their master would get them to hop out and walk later, Shallan did not know. Instead of alighting straight away, she lingered briefly, hesitating for a moment so that she could draw close to Mec. She almost slipped and used his real name by accident, but caught herself just in time.

    "Once we make it out of the town, I'll probably take that chance to rest. Could you please wake me in a few hours, so that I don't have trouble sleeping tonight? Or earlier, if anything...interesting happens" she asked in earnest. A simple enough request, though hopefully he would grasp at her hidden meaning as they locked eyes. After that she would promptly climb into the back of the cart, clearing a space for herself as best she could, so that she could lay down and use her pack as a makeshift pillow, and her cloak as a thin blanket.

  7. #27
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    Mec would observe the cart carefully as they approached, silently considering its features. It was a bit larger than the one his father normally used for travel, but all the rest seemed familiar. Like his companion, he would also find himself wary of the guards' presence. He would come to realize they were merely the merchant's men, but he decided that that was little reason not to keep up his guard. His eyebrows raised in amazement as the nature of the cart's contents were revealed, admiring the thick dark furs.

    A small nod would signal that he understood Shallan's request. "Of course. You more than deserve to finally get some rest." He would connect glances with his companion before she climbed into the cart to claim her spot. Just as Mec placed his hands on the wooden frame to pull himself in, he was interrupted by a holler from his unknowing accomplice that sat at the front.

    "How about yas joins me up fronts?" the portly merchant would call. "The road is so boring afters crossing it so many times."

    Mec would shift nervously, hesitant to separate from his companion. Before the boy could formulate a proper rebuttal, the merchant would whistle and smack his palm in the small amount of space left on the bench. Considering it would be best to be on the merchant's good side, Mec would find himself stepping away from the back of the cart, exchanging one final glance with Shallan as if to express the matter couldn't be helped.

    Despite his original unwillingness to join the plump man at the front of the cart, Mec couldn't help but feel a small bit of enjoyment out of sitting at the front of the cart, elevated above the his surroundings. It brought memories of the first time he traveled with his father as a young boy. He would sit at the helm of the vessel, side by side with his idol on a quest to acquire wares for their noble shop. Although not quite the same now, on the run from authorities and soliciting the assistance of a strange misshapen man, but some thrill remained all the same.

    With a flick of the reins the cart would begin moving towards the northern exit of the city. They would eventually merge with the slow moving traffic of the main roads, slowing their advance to the exit. Mec would frequently take a moment to peer back towards the cart in hopes to catch a glimpse of Shallan and verify her welfare. When the cart was nearly at a complete stop in the thick uncoordinated traffic, the man sharing the bench with Mec would shift his body, letting out a loud exhale. "So what takes yas to Taunteas?" He would inquire.

    Mec turned himself slightly to face the man. "Natasha and I share a common relative who resides there. We have only recently learned that they have come down with a grave illness, and made haste to gather some necessities to deliver ourselves to their aid. We simply could not waste any time arranging for transport, and so we employed some street boys to find us a vessel." His eyes would scan the other man's face, watching as his fabrication sunk in. Somewhat surprisingly, the merchant accepted the story as true, or at the very least true enough, and nodded his head vigorously.

    The man would, in his own obscure way, share his condolences and wished Mec and his relatives the best. He would then proceed to bring up talk of his own family. As their conversation continued, so would their progress to the exit of the city, the streets beginning to clear out and allowing them to trek at a suitable pace. By the time they reached wide gates, Mec had learned that his companion was named Earnest, he had three wives who he was very fond of and they reciprocated this love due to his conviction and not his wealth, and each bore him two to three children who he enjoyed the company of on occasion. Unable to find opportunities to speak, Mec would decide it was better that he would not have to fabricate any more lies and frequently take time to peer back towards the cart, nervous of the prospect that Shallan would be alone with the mercenaries.

    To Mec's surprise, the security at the exits of the city was nearly non-existent. Very few guards stood post in the area. They seemed more preoccupied with ensuring that traffic was moving in the proper direction than anything else, barking orders to keep clear of the carts' paths and to hurry up when crossing. The freedom from the city walls was exemplified by the increased pace of the carriage as it bounced down the road towards their destination. After they put some distance between themselves and the city, the merchant would explain that they would arrive at the gates of Tauntea by mid-evening. He would drop off his guests and exchange his horses, then take advantage of the last few hours of the day to return to his guild another town over.

    The bumpiness of the trail would force Mec to grip the bench tightly with one hand when he practiced his routine of checking on Shallan. He would observe her for a long moment, regardless of whether or not she was aware. He wondered if it was possible that their crimes would be forgotten after they traveled far enough, buried by more newer so-called atrocities and the sands of time.

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    Inwardly thankful that he had immediately understood her request, Shallan began the climb up into the back of the cart without delay, greatly motivated by the thought that a chance to rest and forget was mere moments away. She paused briefly as the merchant they had booked a ride with called out to Mec, inviting him to come and join them up on the bench from which he drove the carriage. Fully aware that they had little choice in the matter, she would flick her head in that direction, portraying yet another silent message - "I'll be fine. Go"

    At this point she was more concerned about the presence of the guards than anything else. Sleeping in their presence was not a comforting idea, but there was little she could do about it. The woman simply had to trust in Mec, that he would keep an eye out and alert her if anything went wrong. Without hesitation, she lay her pack down to use as a pillow, lowering herself down to rest her head on it. Her cloak made for a makeshift blanket of sorts, too. Closing her eyes, Shallan did her best to fall asleep. It felt like a war between her fatigue and body clock, debating whether to let her rest or not. After several moments spent lying motionless with her eyes forced shut, though, the girl drifted off into sleep's embrace.

    Shallan's fatigue made for a dreamless sleep, despite the fact that her nights were usually quite vivid. Sprawled out in the back of the wagon, hair splayed around her and hands gripping at imaginary blankets and pillows, she almost looked peaceful. Her face was completely relaxed and free of worry, perhaps for the first time in their entire journey.

    As their journey continued on, she slept away, motionless except for the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and the occasional lurching of the cart no which they rode. She remained completely ignorant of Mec's attention whenever he glanced back at her, practically dead to the world. She tossed and turned on occasion, but hardly so much that one could call her sleep fitful or restless. She would wake a few hours later, with her return to consciousness signalled by nothing more than a soft groan. Slowly, she would push her upper body up off of the wagon's tray with her arms. Her hair fell around her face in long strings, practically obscuring it from view, and she blinked groggily a few times as her mind tried to reacquaint itself with her surroundings. Waking up on her own terms, instead of because the conditions for Mec to wake her had been met, well that was a surprise in and of itself.

    Her muscles were still sore, not so much from fatigue, but rather sleeping on such a hard surface. Her grogginess came not from fatigue, but rather from the disorientation of waking up somewhere new for the first time, with no immediate recollection of where she was or how she had gotten there. After a few seconds, though, recollection flooded back. Slowly and deliberately, she brought a hand up and ran it through her hair, pushing it all back as effectively as she could. Her attempt was only moderately successful, leaving several strands disheveled and out of place. "Ah..." a soft sound of recognition escaped her throat as everything clicked back into place. Squinting for several moments as her eyes adjusted to the harsh sunlight, she finally pushed herself up into a sitting position, before taking a brief moment to stretch out her arms.

    Staying silent as she tried to finish the slow process of waking up, she glanced around for her pack briefly, before recalling where she had left it. Grabbing her makeshift pillow, she pulled her pack open, immediately extracting her waterskin. After taking a lengthy drink from it, she would clumsily clamber towards the front of the wagon, climbing over pelts and her own belongings alike as she manoeuvred into a position where she was situated directly behind the driver's bench. With the skin in hand, she would reach over it, offering the skin to those seated upfront, while bracing herself for whatever jokes they decided to make at her expense. Once they had accepted or rejected her simple offer, she would settle back onto her knees, resting both of her forearms on the wooden plank that separated the bench from the rest of the cart.

    "Mornin" she mumbled softly, her words slightly slurred as her tongue slipped over the words, working about as efficiently as her mind, which was still in the process of waking up. Slumping over briefly, she would spare a few moments to glance around, before finally speaking up again. "How...how long have we been on the road? Did I miss anything interesting?" She asked, firing off both questions in rapid succession without pause. She glanced around briefly as she waited for a reply, searching for the two guards from earlier, while taking in the scenery as best she could. The view might have seemed rather plain, like any other open stretch of country land, but it possessed a subtle, innate beauty all its own

  9. #29
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    Both Mec and Earnest would glance behind them as the space they shared was invaded by the third passenger's arm, offering a waterskin. Mec, suddenly extremely aware of how little he had drank over the past day, would accept the tan pouch graciously. As he did so, the man who shared a seat with him would bid their fellow traveler good morning, jesting that he hoped the princess had a good rest. His jests would be accompanied by nasally chortle, all in good fun. Mec would also allow himself to chuckle, admiring some odd charm that came with his friend's disheveled appearance.

    Mec would take a few long drinks from the pouch, only leaving enough for one more good swallow before the skin would be emptied. He would offer the skin to the older man, who would refuse it with a wave of his hand. Deciding it would give his hands something to occupy themselves with, Mec would keep the water skin in his possession, idly sliding his fingers against the dried pouch.

    Over the course of their last few hours of travel, Mec began to grow fond of their driver, who also seemed to be in high spirits. Perhaps the merchant found it refreshing to have a fellow traveler with him as he journeyed across a flat an uneventful landscape. As a merchant he would have little opportunity to speak to people at an individual level, and so it must have done him good to share his thoughts with a companion. Over the hours of travel the merchant grew more and more talkative, laughing loudly as he made jests and glowing with pride when he would speak of his many children. Despite his wealth, the man at his core was truly simple, and enjoyed small interactions with others as much as he did his grandeur possessions. Realizing this, Mec found his own mood to be uplifted, genuinely enjoying the conversations he would have with man. This joy would be counterbalanced, however, with the realization that the fugitive's only contributions to their conversations consisted mostly of lies and vague generalizations. The possibility of Mec and Shallan being recognized also loomed in the back of his mind, well aware of the risk that this all could all be some intricate rouse or in some way end poorly.

    Mec would scratch the waterskin with his thumb before turning his head to face Shallan. "We should be a little over halfway to our destination, should we arrive mid-evening, which we think is possible." He would accompany his next statement with a slight shake of his head. "Nothing interesting yet."

    "We wills haves to stop soon for the horses to rest," Earnest would chime in. "Just brieflies so they can drinks and fill their bellies. They good horses, the stable owner is a friend of mines, so me returns them in good condition." The man would subtly shift the reigns, guiding the cart towards a brook he had knowledge of. Upon being asked about the guards who had sat in the rear of the cart, the guard would shift himself slightly in his seat, briefly delaying his response. "Ah, theys just kiddos with some armor. They needs the coin, and I needs the help, so I brings them."

    Mec, content with the answer, would respond with a small shrug. He would continue passing his hands over the water skin in his possession, watching the hills roll beneath him as they approached the location in which they would pause their journey.

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    Any and all jokes about her current state and physical appearance were taken in stride by Shallan, who bore them with good humour. After all, she had been prepared for just that sort of thing from the beginning, having more or less expected it. Still, the nap had been more than worth the brief ridicule, and the way it positively influenced the atmosphere of the small group made for a nice added bonus. One of two retorts came to mind, but she bit them back, much more interested in any word of how long she had been out, and what had transpired in her temporary absence. The news of their impending arrival, combined with the knowledge that nothing of note had happened in their absence, was more than enough to satisfy her. As her mother would have said, no news is good news.

    For the section of the journey that followed, Shallan would remain in the back of the cart. Going through the effort of climbing up over the divider and onto the bench didn't appeal to her, and it would've been somewhat squishy even if she had managed it, with all three of them jammed into that single space. Instead she remained near the back of the esat, though she did so much more restlessly than she had slept. The woman would go from sitting behind the to people upfront to keep them company, to watching out over the side at the scenery, to leaning right over one of the outer edges to get a look at the road beneath the cart as they trundled along. With nothing better to do, she spent most of the time trying to occupy herself with trivial activities such as these, up until the moment when a halt was announced.

    Knowing virtually nothing of horse care or maintenance, the girl endured the notion in silence, simply accepting the knowledge as a fact. The news that the guards were less hardened mercenaries and more young and inexperienced aspirants was a relief, and seemed to soothe her nerves somewhat, not that it showed outwardly all that much. She suddenly felt that either of them were much less likely to suddenly plunge a knife into her back as soon as they got the chance, if they knew of the news spreading about Mec by some chance.

    As they approached the brook, Shallan would take the chance to shuffle towards the back of the cart, ready to dismount as in as things came to a halt. In the last few moments of their approach, she took the chance to remove both of her shoes, opting to leave them in the wagon bed where both her pack and cloak were still laying, from her earlier nap. The guards both took note of the action, as they were seated nearby, but neither of them saw fit to comment on it. Indeed, it seemed that she already had her mind set on what exactly she wanted to do when they finally ground to a halt. As soon as the merchant called a stop, steering the horses a short distance off the road before bringing them to a standstill, she quickly dismounted.

    Relieved for the chance to get up again and walk about good and proper for a bit, she took a few moments to stretch out her legs, feeling the tension build for several moments, before letting out a soft groan as they relaxed in a manner that felt almost euphoric. She would step off the beaten path and into the grass that surrounded he brook almost immediately, a small smile flickering across her face as she enjoyed the sensation of the grass between her toes. She cut a seemingly random path around the wagon, zig-zagging back and forth in a manner that would've almost made her appear drunk, if not for her perfect balance, before circling around to watch as the horses were removed from their harnesses, before being led down towards the water to drink. She wandered a few steps closer, speaking up once she neared the merchant they now knew to be named Earnest.

    "Is the anything I can to do help?" She questioned simply, but the man quickly waved her off with a dismissive wave of his free hand, while the other held the animal's bridle. "Nay, princess. Yous just go and relaxes. I'll take care of this lot" he remarked idly. She rather fancied the idea of getting to pet or feed one of the horses, but alas, it seemed that would have to wait for now. After a moment she brushed the thought aside as inconsequential, resolving that there would be plenty of other opportunities to do so in the future. For now, she would go back to her original plan, but only after seeking out Mec quickly to see what he had planned to do with this quick break.

    "I think I'm going to go down and paddle in the water" she would inform him simply, before heading off to do just that. Wandering down towards the edge of the small stream, she would poke a toe into the shallows briefly, before shivering a little at the cold. Steeling her resolve, she would step into the shallows, walking out a small distance. Not so far that the water threatened her clothing, of course, as much as she wished for a chance to wash off the exertions of the last day and a half There was some small discomfort as a few small pebbles and rocks dug into her unprotected feet, but overall, the river's gentle caress was more than enough to make up for it. Once her feet had adjusted a little, she began to wander a little, stumbling about amongst the shallows with eyes cast downwards, marvelling at the clarity of the water, and the brilliant way the sun reflected off its surface. Combined with the gentle current, it almost made it seem like the brook was sparkling. A common enough sight around running water, but she found it wondrous all the same.

    "It's so pretty" the idle remark came, though she didn't bother to specify exactly what she was referring to. After a few more moments she would pause again as another thought struck her, before quickly turning her eyes outwards. A quick survey of their surroundings would cause her expression to fade a little, and the look in her eyes became a tad distant. "Actually, I think...this is the furthest I've ever been from civilisation before" she mused simply. Indeed, with no clear sign of a town within sight, a strange feeling of isolation suddenly settled over her, despite the knowledge that their little travelling band was rig there, just a short distance back the way she had come. It was kind of liberating, in a way, and also exciting, but not without its own strange hint of wildness...even if there was nothing particularly wild within the immediate vicinity. A strange thought and a strange sensation indeed.

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