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

  1. #441
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    The troubled expression on Mec's face lingered even after Shallan turned towards him and he listened to her speak. After becoming self aware of what he was saying, he grew nervous about his sudden declarations: the announcement of his desire as well as the admission of his fears. Why did he let himself voice such things, especially now? Perhaps it could not be helped, not after toeing the line he insisted he would not cross for what felt like ages.

    He drew a sharp breath at the feeling of Shallan's fingers brushing across his cheek. A chill cascaded down his neck, traveling to the tips of his fingers and down his spine. The gesture made him feel vulnerable, the simple touch leaving him exposed. The cool breeze of the warm night suddenly felt like a winter wind, and Mec was left with neither cloak nor cowl. There were still hints of the troubled countenance he expressed before, but they were joined with a bewildered expression as he gazed deep into Shallan's eyes. He did not know what she was going to say next, and every second he spent standing in the cold chill was excruciating.

    Shallan's conclusive comments had Mec's thoughts whirling, racing to understand what she was exactly trying to say. The effort was proven unnecessary a moment later, as Shallan rose up to plant a gentle, warm, kiss on Mec's cheek. Mec's eyes widened as he felt himself grow warm, the earlier windchill being pushed away by a more comforting feeling. After Shallan had lowered herself back down, a few seconds passed in silence while the pair gazed into each other's eyes. Finally, Mec drew a long, deep breath, and shy smile inched across his lips as he exhaled.

    He gently reached for Shallan's hands, and lightly held her delicate fingers between his as he drew himself closer. After Mec lightly pressed his forehead against the top of Shallan's, he finally managed to will his vocal chords to speak. The words came slowly, softly, his voice low so that only Shallan would hear. "I would like that, very much." He squeezed Shallan's hands gingerly, then lowered his head slowly until his lips nearly brushed against hers, before closing his eyes and pressing a soft kiss to Shallan's lips.

    They held the kiss for a few seconds, before finally, almost reluctantly, pulling away from each other. Mec's heart was pounding in his chest, but almost any suggestion of the worried expression he held prior was eliminated. His head turned as if to hide his smile, but the creases in his eyes and the hushed laugh escaping his lips gave him away. All the while, his fingers still squeezed Shallan's, unready to let them go just yet. "Why did we wait so long to do that?" he finally laughed, looking back to Shallan.

    A sharp whistle came from the entrance of the inn. "Hey! Someone just ordered another round for everyone! Hurry up or you won't get any!"

    Mec watched the person who made thee announcement scurry back into the inn while he straightened himself. "We better hurry, from the sounds of it. This is a rare chance."

    After a few hours at passed, it was apparent that on this particular night, a free drink was anything but rare. Many had their fill, and even beyond. For those that joined the festivities late, the generous offerings by the fellow patrons provided an easy gateway for joining in the tomfoolery and ruckus of the night. Others, who were less responsible, easily found themselves getting carried away, drinking themselves silly. Even Mec and Shallan had a few more drinks than they should have. After all, it was hard to pass up a free drink, and maybe a few that were not so free, in between dances, games, and singing out tavern songs.



    The morning sun warmed Mec's face, its light gradually penetrating through his eyelids, causing him to finally wake. At first, he was confused as to where he was. His body felt restricted, and the sun was so bright. He was outside, he realized, and he felt warm even though the morning air was cool and there was dew on the grass and the straw around him. "Huh," he ran his hand against the straw he was laying on, realizing that he woke up somewhere outside... again. As the gears in his head turned, despite the aching in his skull, he finally thought to look to his side to understand why he felt so restricted and could not move his other arm. Next to him lay Shallan, nested underneath Mec's arm. A faint memory, one of the few from the previous night, flashed in his mind as he remembered the discussion the two had the night before. He tried hard to remember what happened after that.

    Suddenly, a pitcher of water and a couple wooden, overused cups were placed next to Mec with a few soft clunks. Through squeezed eyelids, Mec could barely make out Godrich's firey red hair, and the senior Misfit winked before he disappeared behind the large pile of straw once again. Mec could hear him walking away after a few moments, clearly talking to Charlie the donkey as he lead him somewhere. Mec wondered how it was possible for Godrich to be so lively after witnessing the way he was drinking the night before. He grunted as he poured himself a cup of water, and gingerly carried it to his lips to take a sip. It would only be a few hours before Clair would awaken everyone and bring them to attention with her "Yeetititit!".

  2. #442
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    The brief silence that stretched out between them was heavy with anticipation, and almost proved too much for Shallan to bear. Despite Mec’s bout of honestly just a few moments ago, she couldn’t help but feel anxious about what she had just done. Some traitorous part of her mind wouldn’t stop whispering that she had made a big mistake. That she had misunderstood, or taken things too far, and he was just a few seconds from turning her away. Thankfully, she didn’t need to dwell on such unpleasant thoughts for long. As soon as Mec reached out and took her hand, and pressed his forehead to his, Shallan felt like she was able to breathe again.

    Her heart was fluttering in her chest even before Mec began to lean down, and Shallan was quick to respond. She tilted her head back slightly, eyelids fluttering closed, just in time for Mec’s lips to brush up against her own. The sounds of chatter and music from the inn seemed to fade from Shallan’s awareness, eclipsed so completely that they might have faded from existence altogether. The windy night itself seemed to hold its breath, affording the two young lovers a moment of perfect tranquillity. Time itself seemed to pause, for just a moment…and then it was over. Mec pulled away, and everything else returned at once. When Shallan opened her eyes, she found herself feeling flushed and breathless, despite how chaste their brief kiss had been.

    The loud whistle and invitation that followed were both enough to draw a glance from Shallan, but instead of accepting straight away, she hesitated. That invitation would lead to the sort of night she had been hoping for, Shallan knew, but was that really her priority anymore, after what had just happened? Before she could answer, though, Mec seemed to make the decision for the both of them. Not quite sure how to feel, Shallan nodded her agreement, and quickly headed back towards the inn alongside him.

    ~~~~

    Just like her companion, it was the light of the early morning sun that eventually woke Shallan. Her reaction, however, was much less peaceful. Instead of opening her eyes and taking in their unusual surroundings, Shallan grumbled an unhappy protest and tried to turn away from the light. Both out of a desire to sleep for longer, and minimize the throbbing ache behind her eyes. After several long seconds, when it became abundantly clear that the morning sun would not be denied, Shallan eventually relented. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, despite her body’s protests, freeing Mec’s arm at long last. Even then, Shallan needed a few seconds to compose herself before she could turn her mind to their surroundings, and a few more before she trusted herself to speak.
    “How…is this really where we ended up last night? I…don’t actually remember.” Shallan’s first words were spoken softly, more to herself than to Mec. She took a moment to rub at her eyes and pinch the bridges of her nose, as if doing so might make them feel less gritty, or help ease her headache. Thinking about anything seemed like a tall order at the moment, but even so, Shallan began shifting through her memories of the previous evening, trying to figure out how they had come to sleep outside.

    She remembered…dancing. And drink. A great deal of drink. More than was probably wise, in hindsight. But then, what had she really expected? Snippets of discussion with other partygoers, largely useless without the context her spotty memories had stolen. A few faces that she recognised, and several that she didn’t. Shallan remembered…an attempt at dancing on one of the inn’s tables, spurred on by a bet she’d made and lost with Tanya. An attempt that had ended before it had even begun, when she had fallen whilst trying to get up onto the damn thing. That certainly explained the sharp pain in her right hip, which stood out from the more general aches that came with sleeping in such an uncomfortable spot. She remembered…

    Their kiss.

    Shallan froze in her seat, her thought process grinding to a halt. Did that really happen, or had she dreamed it up in her alcohol-infused sleep? No…no, that had definitely happened. She could remember the two of them stepping out of the inn, and the things they had talked about. All that had been before she’d had so much to drink that her memory had started to fail her. She threw a sideways glance at Mec, already able to feel her cheeks starting to burn…again. If she was lucky, maybe he’d just brush it off as another hangover symptom.

    “Can you pour me a glass, please? My head is killing me” she finally offered, after a moment. Both a genuine request, and as a way of stalling while she gathered her thoughts. Shallan would wait patiently, and reach out to accept one of the wooden mugs as soon as Mec offered it to her. She’d help herself to a generous sip, before letting out a soft sigh. It helped, if only a little.

    “How are you feeling? More put-together than I am, I hope” she offered, a wry chuckle slipping from her lips. Hopefully some polite conversation would help convince him nothing was amiss, whilst she tried to make up her mind about what had happened last night.

  3. #443
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    The sound of water being poured echoed out of the second cup while Mec promptly obliged to Shallan's request. He squeezed one eye closed, staving off a headache, while he looked towards Shallan and carefully handed her the wooden cup. Afterwards, he continued to sip away at his cup in silence. Although the water was a little warm, it served to sooth his dry lips and parch his thirst. Each gulp felt like it muffled the pounding in Mec's head, although it was hard to tell if the feeling was real or if he was simply fooling himself.

    He drew a long, slow breathe, letting the air completely fill his lungs before letting it out with a hefty sigh. With his thumb and middle finger, he gently rubbed his temples. When Shallan addressed him again, he glanced towards her, tilting his head slightly as he responded. "Well... I've felt better," he said. He began to pour himself another cup of water. "You ever notice how Clair, Ella, and Godrich always seem to never be hungover? I wonder how they do it. That's the kind of magic we need more of." After he willed himself to take another long drink of water, Mec pushed himself back into the bed of straw and let out a content sigh.

    Behind his closed eyelids, Mec tried to replay his experiences from the night before in his mind. The memories were all fragmented and incomplete, and whatever he could remember did not seem to fit together in a cohesive timeline. Sometime during the night, someone, he could not remember who, wanted to pet the donkey. That plan may not have worked out, evidenced by the fact that they had woken up next to the pile of straw outside of the stable the donkey would normally be housed. He thought harder, trying to peel back the the foggy layers of his memories while his belly full of water worked its magic.

    In his memories, distanced by the effects of the night's drinking, a particular event returned to him. It almost surprised him, as if he had stumbled upon something that was meant to be kept hidden. The thought of the kiss that the pair shared brought back the warmth in Mec's chest as his heart pounded and throbbed, rattling his rib cage. His peaceful expression as he lay on the straw was quickly replaced with a more thoughtful expression when his eyes opened, he glanced briefly towards Shallan. He wondered the kiss was still beneath the pool of alcohol and the fog of a poor night's sleep in Shallan's mind.

    "I really we have more time before Clair gathers everyone up. I don't want to get up." Mec turned himself over to one side, relieving his backside from the hard ground the thinner sections of straw did not cushion from. Having chosen to face Shallan, he realized that the adjustment placed him much closer to her. Was it too close? He did not know any more. Would he have even questioned it before the kiss? What did the kiss even mean? Would it mean something different Shallan than it would for Mec? The confessions and promises that were made, had they been shared too prematurely?

    Despite wanting to, Mec could not bring himself to broach the subject. With the return of his normal inhibitions, the silence was somehow more comfortable. Besides, how successful would they really be during to discuss such a topic while hungover? Instead, he chose to continue the relatively calm conversation they were already having. "So I guess this is what a life of show business is like, huh?

  4. #444
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    Clair, Ella, and Godrich did all seem to possess remarkable vitality, now that Mec pointed it out to her. A soft chuckle slipped from Shallan’s lips, and she found herself pondering the source of their apparent resilience as she helped herself to another sip from her glass. Were they simply experienced enough to know when to stop, or had they been doing this for so long that they had built up some sort of superhuman tolerance? Would the two of them find themselves in a similar boat, if they stuck with the Misfits? Shallan wasn’t necessarily opposed to the idea, though she didn’t imagine they’d be traveling together for quite that long.

    It wasn’t long before Shallan had emptied her glass. Like most inebriated people, she’d totally neglected to drink any water last night, and that first sip had done little but remind her of how thirsty she really was. The rest vanished rather quickly after that, before Shallan set her glass down amongst the straw. She tried to stick it somewhere it was more or less stable, and hopefully wouldn’t fall or break if she moved the wrong way, before laying back down. A sideways glance at Mec revealed that he had his eyes closed, and she didn’t feel inclined to interrupt. Shallan was feeling extremely sympathetic for his current state, and still needed time to sort out her own thoughts and feelings besides.

    When Mec finally spoke, Shallan just hummed her agreement, at least to begin with. The sound of him moving prompted her to open one eye, though she remained stationary besides. His second question was enough to prompt another soft chuckle, and this time, she managed to work up the energy for a proper answer.

    “Glamorous, isn’t it? A life of bright lights, fancy costumes, adoring fans, and…improvised straw beds, apparently.” Shallan would shift in her seat again a little, pushing herself up a little more so that she could see beyond the confines of their makeshift bed. The movement, slow as it was, made her dizzy, and it was a few moments longer before she felt ready to continue. A glance around was enough to confirm that they weren’t the only one who had crashed outside last night. Most of the Misfits were missing – presumably inside – but there were a few scattered about. Even now, she could see Godrich making the rounds, gently nudging the others into their own premature awakenings.

    “I wonder when we’ll end up with our own adoring fans. It won’t be long, surely” Shallan added as she looked about. She’d settle back down after a moment, and quickly change the subject. “There’s no sign of Clair yet, so we still have a little bit of time. Good thing, too. Even that felt like way too much exercise right now.”

    Shallan would lapse back into contemplative silence for a moment, before deciding that all these vain attempts at thinking weren’t doing her any good. It was time to just rip the bandage off, and hope that she figured things out along the way.

    “Mec, I think we-“

    “Well, there you two are!”

    Interrupted before she could get more than the first few words out, Shallan practically jumped out of her skin as an unexpected voice interrupted. She’d glance back over her shoulder just in time to see Tanya walking towards the two of them, looking just a little worse for wear. Her timing, at the very least, remained impeccable. Shallan’s friend would stroll up to the two of them, a lazy smile plastered across her features, before she’d fold both of her arms across her chest.

    “I was wondering where both of you had gotten off too. Nothing personal, but both of you look like you had a rough night. Surprised either of you are awake already, really.” She’d chuckle softly to herself, before her expression would grow a little more serious. “Shallan, Sarah sent me out to find you. She said to come find her once the convoy has set out. Don’t forget, yeah?” Her question was met by an absentminded nod, Shallan’s mind slowly trying to puzzle out what work they’d end up doing this time.

  5. #445
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    Deep down, Mec knew what Shallan was about to suggest, and a shameful sense of relief washed over him when Tanya suddenly interrupted. He braced himself from the her inevitable teasing and embarrassing questions, but surprisingly she did not intend to prod very much and promptly delivered her message to Shallan. His neck turned subtly in order to observe Shallan's reaction before chiming in. "I would say I'm surprised, but I guess it isn't too surprising for Sarah to take a page out of Clair's book. Subject everyone to a huge blowout of a night just to get straight back to it the next day."

    He downed his glass before slowly pushing off against the coarse straw, shakily rising to his feet. Closer to the inn, he could make out Godrich loading up large wagon, hefting large sacks from the ground onto the wooden bed, and then using rope to help secure the items. "Godrich looks like he needs an extra pair of hands," Mec announced, blinking through the morning's light. "I will see you both later." Without allowing much more time for protest or discussion, he hurried off.

    After willing his legs to carry him over to where Godrich was, Mec was close enough to announce his presence. "Need a hand, Godrich?" he asked.

    Godrich took a few seconds to finish securing a large roll of fabric to the size of the wagon using a rugged and worn length of rope. After looking over his work, he glanced back towards Mec and let out a chuckle. "I suppose I could, but you're looking a little worse for wear, my friend." He took a few steps towards a large wooden crate about half of his height, and picked up a large metal mug. "You drank plenty of water, yeah? Then here, finish off the rest of this. Don't mind the smell."

    Mec took the mug Godrich thrust towards him. As he raised it to his lips, he could make out the smell of cacao and... some kind of mint. The drink was gritty as it slid down his throat, and he could not help but let out a burp after forcing the sandy mixture down. "What did you just have me drink," he asked with a frown, spitting towards the side of the road.

    Godrich laughed. "It's a secret. But you'll find it will help with your hangover in a few moments. It's the least I could offer if you intend to help me before it is time to depart. Have some water and help me lift this up." He motioned to a water pouch that sat on the crate he collected the mug from, before going back to moving more items.

    Without taking much time to think about it, Mec was quick to oblige to Godrich's instructions. After downing yet another large drink of water, he tossed the container back onto the crate. "One second," he said, before disappearing behind a tree. The sound of water splattering against the bark was barely audible from where Godrich was working, and once it stopped, Mec returned. "That's better," he laughed, to which Godrich joined him with a deep, guttural laugh of his own.

    The two men hauled the last few items onto the wagon. It did not take too long, as most of the work had already been done prior, and with two sets of hands working on the job they were able to make quick work of the task. While holding onto the last bit of cargo, watching Godrich secure it with the final strand of rope, Mec cleared his throat. "Godrich, why is it that you choose to stay with the Misfits? Is all this traveling not difficult? With your experience, surely you could find regular work in any city of your choosing. I mean look at this city, there's plenty of coin to be earned here."

    Godrich stayed quite as he pulled on the rope tightly. "Well," he huffed, giving the rope one final yank before letting go. "It's all I've ever known, I suppose. And it's not all about earning a living I guess. Over the years, a few of our companions did just as you've said- spread their wings and flew to manage their own lives and careers. I suppose they have a passion for the industry, and saw greener pastures or even opportunities for their own personal glory. There's no sense in all of that, though. Once you've performed for one kind, you've performed for them all. Send a woman soaring to cloud nine with nothing but your voice and a lyre, bring one audience to tears, get one drunken fool kicked out of a bar... Do all of these things once and you'll realize it's no better the second time. I suppose I don't live to entertain others, as shameful as that might be for leading member of a troupe to admit."

    He leaned against the side of the wagon, spreading his arms and resting his palms on the wooden side rails. "The circumstances leading you and Shallan to join us might be a little different than the others, so you may not understand it right away, but understand that most of our companions were plucked from obscurity and given a purpose with us. I think you now some of our stories, if I remember correctly, Clair may have told you her background. Without people like us, Clair and Ella and me, to keep the mission alive, what hope is there for those future Misfits that are still lost out there, tired and downtrodden?"

    After another moment, Godrich stepped away from the wagon. "Aw, Sean, you're back!" he exclaimed, walking to meet the approaching man halfway. Sean was approaching with heavy steps, like an elephant, pulling along Charlie with a long leather strap around the donkey's neck.

    "His foots are all good," the slower man announced, handing the leather strap over to Godrich. "No rocks or nothin' stuck in those hooves."

    "Morning boys!" called another voice. Clair approached, bearing a perfectly white smile. Her signature blond curls flowed behind her shoulders, a rigid headband made of ivory keeping them away from the woman's face. A blue and white tunic loosely fell around her torso, only gently hugging her curves in certain places to make her feminine shape apparent. Her legs were outlined tightly by a sand-colored pair of pants, which hugged her legs until they disappeared beneath her brown boots. As was typical for her, her beautify shined brilliantly and beautifully, so much so that it was easy to miss Ella walking along just behind her.

    Mec wondered where the Clair and Ella were, since they were not in the inn with everyone else. They may have had their own tasks to perform, just as Godrich had.

    Not too much time had passed before Clair had awoken everyone, beckoning them to prepare for departure. By the time everyone was rounded up and prepared for departure, the sun had risen straight above them. A few friendly clouds would occasionally block the rays from beating down on them, much to the relief of the travelers. After one final check to make sure everyone was accounted for, the troupe headed off, northbound towards the main roads.

    As they started off, Mec reunited with Shallan. The private topic of the previous night's events were likely not to be brought up, not with everyone else around, so he thought it would be safe. "So, did Sarah work you to the bone already this morning?" he asked as he joined her side.

  6. #446
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    Were she capable of thinking straight at that particular moment, it wouldn’t have taken Shallan long to come up with a list of potential reasons Sarah might want to see her. Despite the water, though, it took her an absurdly long moment to process the thought. It felt as if she’d forgotten to oil the gears, and her brain was stuck working at half its regular speed. It wasn’t a sensation she relished, though there was little to be done about it now. Only when Mec began to rise did she realise that he’d said something, and she had managed to miss most of it.

    “Ah, sure. Later, then.” Shallan’s response was awkward at best, and a touch delayed to boot. She watched Mec depart, and then immediately proceeded to kick herself mentally for another embarrassing display, and the opportunity she had missed besides. Unable to help herself, Shallan flopped back down onto the straw and covered both of her hands with her face, a rather unflattering groan slipping past her lips. Tanya, her attitude as casual as ever, watched the entire display with a bemused smile on her face. She’d give her friend a moment, before moving to stand in front of Shallan.

    “Come on. Let’s get you up.” She’d bend forward and hold out her hand. After a brief moment of internal debate, Shallan reached out to take it, and let Tanya pull her to her feet. The entire world seemed to spin, a disorienting mixture of blurred colours and shapes, before it quickly righted itself, and settled into a much more familiar configuration. She mumbled a soft thanks, but Tanya was having none of it.

    “Oh, no. We aren’t done here yet. Let’s get you some breakfast, and then we’ll see if we can’t track down Sarah, so you can find out what she wants. In the meantime, you can tell me everything you remember from last night…and I’ll remind you of all the embarrassing moments you’ve forgotten.”

    “You’re evil.”

    Despite Shallan’s protests, the both of them were smiling by the end of their exchange. One of them much more enthusiastically than the other, but even so. Arm-in-arm, the two girls wandered off towards the inn’s front door, determined to try and start their day over again, and do a slightly better job of it this time.


    By the time midday rolled around, and the Misfits as a whole managed to hit the road, Shallan was feeling much better. Not quite perfect, but close enough that she felt remarkably like her usual self again. A greasy breakfast, some more water, and enough time had worked wonders on her foggy brain. It was a good thing, too – there was no way she would have managed to keep up with the rest of the troupe otherwise. Shallan had already decided she’d need to find a way to thank Tanya properly later.

    A small glance around was enough to reassure her that she wasn’t the only one that had struggled this morning, though. Several other marchers looked like they were feeling the strain already, and a few poor souls had been confined to the wagon beds indefinitely. A part of Shallan was unhappy about it, considering that they had chosen their own fate, and likely wouldn’t be rotating out to give the rest of them a break any time soon. It was impossible to avoid feeling a fair bit of sympathy for the unfortunate souls, though, and Shallan found it reassuring to know that she’d be taken care of, if she ever made the mistake of going quite that far.

    Such was her line of thinking when Mec made his approach. He seemed to appear at her side almost out of nowhere, making Shallan jump a little. Thankfully, she felt much more capable of holding a conversation now, and her response wasn’t quite so slow in coming this time around. A soft chuckle slipped from her lips at the mention of Sarah, and a familiar sense of excitement bubbled up inside her chest. She graced Mec with a quick smile, before turning her gaze back to the road ahead as she spoke.

    “Oh, she didn’t have any real work for me. Apparently she didn’t think I’d be capable of that for another couple of hours at the very least, after last night. Can’t say I blame her, considering. She just wanted to plan some stuff out for later today whenever I felt up to talking.” She’d pause briefly to throw another sideways glance at Mec, that eager smile still lingering.

    “We made arrangements to meet up tonight, once we’ve stopped and set up camp. Now that we don’t have any costumes or makeup to worry about, she’s finally going to start my actual lessons. It’ll be a little bit embarrassing, trying to practice with everyone else sitting around, but…well, this is what I’ve been waiting for.”

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    "I'm sure you will get used to it," Mec assured her. "It's not like you have anything to be embarrassed of. Clair was the one who sought to have you trained properly, and I doubt anyone knows better than she does about such things such as musical talent." He took a moment to pass a long, sweeping glance amongst their fellow travelers, thinking back to his interaction with Godrich earlier that morning. Learning what he had, he wondered what small worlds of obscurity some of the troupe members came from. What stories were hidden behind groggy faces that were contorted with the fatigue from the previous night? Hidden behind giggles and laughs of the babbling girls, or the occasional shouts and hollers from the guys?

    Would he be able to help others that were like them once he learned to master his powers?

    "Maybe I can learn a few tricks myself while we're traveling," he said casually. "Godrich seems to be really talented when it comes to whipping up the props and special effects. Might be more fun than just hauling the cargo around." He shot Shallan a glance, his eyes lingering on the small pearl that dangled delicately below her neck.





    The group did not travel as quickly as it would have had they been freshly energized, but they managed to reach a small town slightly before the sun would set. Clair, Ella, and Godrich stopped to debate over whether they should continue or settle with the progress that was made and make camp near the town. Clair seemed to grumble when she spoke, but listened patiently to her peers, even when Ella began to raise her voice unexpectedly. They ultimately decided to settle near the town- opting to set up camp instead of spending money on a tavern. Upon further inspection of the town, it was clear the sole tavern that lied at its heart would not be able to house such a large group anyway.

    While the group was setting up for camp a modest distance away from the town's entrance, sprawling out blankets on top of the long blades of grass, clearing out small patches for little fires, and setting up the handful of tents to go around, Clair and Godrich made their way into the town with the promise of finding food to go around for the group. They still had not returned by the time the camp was set up, and everyone has resigned to their own resting spots. A few of the Misfits entertained themselves and a few of their peers by practicing their songs, while others sat silently and rubbed out the soreness in their legs. Ella sat atop a small rock that stood out amongst the tall grass, filling in the role of the shepherd as the most senior member that remained. She held a book in one hand, staring at the pages with an almost angered expression. Her dark red eyebrows formed a distinctive 'V' shape, furrowed as her eyes scanned the words of her book.

    She hardly moved when one of the troupe members, a tall and lanky man whose long arms were very expressive as he spoke, addressed her. "What's taking so long? We're starving, Ella!" The man's arms, seemed to thrash with every word, halting with his palms face up and angled downward at the end of his cry.

    Ella licked her finger, avoiding her long, pink nail, and turned the page. "Go hunt something then. Maybe you'll find a possum in the grass."

    The tall man groaned, thrusting his arms downward one last time before stomping off to return to his resting spot.

    Mec watched the interaction from a distance with attentive interest. He was still working out his suspicions about Ella being connected to Clair's curse. While he and the guest in his mind lacked the power to break the curse, it still seemed wise to try to gain as much knowledge about it as possible. There was no evidence that Ella was directly involved with laying the curse, but her rather abrasive demeanor did not help eliminate the notion either. It was only after realizing that he had been watching her for a few minutes did Mec realize that the woman's features were easy on the eyes. Her typical loudmouthed tone was put to rest while she read her book, no longer serving as a shroud from her natural beauty. Her long red hair fell in long waves around either side of her face, glowing with a fiery light as the setting sun shown against it. Her skin was pale and soft, immune from the harsh traveling involved with her profession, save for the speckling of freckles that crossed from one cheek to the other.

    Aware that his distant observing was likely to look like malicious staring to any one that would be watching him, Mec eventually pulled his gaze away to lie on the old, raggedy blanket that was allocated to him. He almost drifted into a slumber just when the cheers erupt around him, signaling the return of Clair and Godrich. With them, a pair of adolescent boys came carrying a large pot in between them. Clair and Godrich carried stacks of bowls and spoons, cups, and a few pitchers of water that seemed to lose some of their contents on the trip back. Once the boys had set down the pot, Godrich shooed them off to fetch more water and bowls, before deftly starting to ladle out the contents of the pot into the bowls for the Misfits to snatch up. A thick brown stew came out of the pot, a thick and earthy scent wafting with the vapor off of its surface. The traveling band ravenously snatched up bowls for themselves, funneling into a well rehearsed, organized chaos that seemed eerily efficient.

    Mec waited for the initial excitement, and small mob, to die down before making his way over to claim his share. As he stooped down to pick up his bowl and a cupful of water, he began to realize his hands were trembling slightly. He attributed the phenomena to the lack of nutrition that day, but was silently weary of his perceived tiredness since beginning to use the Equinox nonstop for Clair.

    He nestled back in his spot again, and he took few sips of water while he took a look at the food in his bowl. The contents of the stew itself left much to be desire as it seemed to lack meat, but it was full of various roots, carrots, and other underground vegetables. The scent filled his nostrils, and to his surprise it seemed that the stew was heavily spiced, a perk that seemed exclusive to a town so close to the main roads.

    When he had almost emptied his bowl, he turned to retrieve a rolled up map from his bag. He had managed to trace it from one of the maps in the library he had been frequenting in Loefenshire. There was a long distance between the current stop and Mec and Shallan's eventual destination, in the far north near the icy mountains. In some ways, it did not feel like it was a long enough distance, but in others he wished they would approach sooner. During one of his final communications with G, the mysterious voice had not wanted to reveal more about its true nature, or about why it had "chosen" Mec, until the objective of finding safety in the north was met. It was hard to decide if being enlightened on such things would be better or worse than being ignorant to them. Reaching the north meant he and Shallan would be much safer than they were traveling the roads more central to the kingdom, and better positions to explore... well, their mutual interest they discussed that previous night. The one that Mec found easier to avoid discussing even after foolishly letting it loose only the night before.

    He rolled up the map carefully, his hands making slow, gentle, as he performed the task. Turning his head slightly, he listened carefully for Shallan's voice, wondering if she had been training with Sarah during most of this time. Finding it difficult to hear much of anything, he remembered that he did not need to be limited to the traditional five human senses to experience the world around him anymore. He drew a long inhale through his nostrils, as the lines of the Anima appeared before him. With practice, it was starting to become easier and easier to find his key companions. Shallan was not far, and he even easily picked out Clair towards the front of the camp without looking. After gathering his things, he began to wade through the grass towards where Shallan would be.

  8. #448
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    When the troupe finally reached their stopping point early that evening, Shallan was nothing if not relieved. The day’s march had been harder than most, given the rough night of sleep, and the hangover. Even so, she had no intentions of sitting down to rest just yet. Buoyed by the knowledge that her first lesson was about to start, Shallan did as instructed and set off in search of Sarah, carrying Mec’s kind words of encouragement close to her heart. Her stomach was a mixture of nerves and excitement, and Shallan did her best to lean into the feeling, to let it drive her, as she picked her way through the crowd.

    It soon became apparent that finding one person in a group as large as this was going to be a difficult task. It felt like she was digging her way through a proverbial haystack, searching for the one slender needle hidden within. It wasn’t long before she decided to take the intelligent route, and started asking those she passed if any of them had seen where her new training instructor had set up camp. Shallan was willing to bet that Sarah was well-known enough that everyone would know who she meant, and even if most of them hadn’t seen her, she really only needed one person to say yes.

    It didn’t take long before Shallan got the information she required, and finding Sarah was easy once she knew which direction to look in. She eventually stumbled upon her mentor towards the Western edge of the camp. Not quite on the outskirts, but far enough to avoid it being too crowded. Something Shallan was grateful for, considering the purpose of their meeting today. Had Sarah done so intentionally, for her sake? She had never been quite as rowdy as some of the other Misfits, so maybe she just enjoyed the space, but Shallan wasn’t confident enough to rule out the possibility.

    Sarah looked up quickly when Shallan approached, and the two of them exchanged a quick greeting. Without waiting to be invited, Shallan helped herself to a seat on Sarah’s blanket. She sat down opposite her new mentor, crossing her legs beneath her, and waited to see just how they would go about this. True to form, Sarah quickly made it clear that she didn’t plan on wasting time.

    “Alright, Shallan. Show me what you’ve got.”

    “Oh, uh. Right here? Just like that?” The frankness of Sarah’s request caught Shallan a little off-guard. She threw a not-so-subtle glance at their surroundings, eyes flickering from one group of people to the next. All those who were seated nearby, minding their own business atop blankets of their own. Sarah’s own gaze remained fixed on Shallan, her lips pursed into an expression of mild displeasure.

    “If you really want to sing, Shallan, then you’ll need to get used to performing in front of a crowd sooner or later.” Her voice was soft, her tone soothing. Gentle. “I know it can be scary. Just try and remember that all of these people are part of the troupe, too. They all started out where you are right now. I promise you, none of them have forgotten. They aren’t going to care. Or judge.”

    Shallan’s gaze flitted back towards Clair before she nodded, just once. “I…I”ll try” she offered, inwardly cursing how shaky her own voice sounded. She made a conscious effort to straighten her back a little, before closing her eyes. The aspiring singer would take a few deep breaths, one after the other, trying to centre herself. Then, when she was ready, she launched into the opening refrain of the Moonwalker’s Ballad – the same song she had been singing in the bathhouse, when Clair had taken notice. It seemed the logical choice – if it had impressed the troupe’s leader enough to recommend training, then hopefully it would impress her instructor, too.

    Her start was a little uncertain, the words shaky, as they flowed out of Shallan’s mouth and filled the air beyond. After a few moments, though, Shallan seemed to find herself. Her words grew steadier, more confident. She let all knowledge of her audience bleed away, and just lost herself in the song. She made it halfway through the second verse before Clair held up a hand, signalling her to stop. Slightly disappointed, Shallan let her voice trail off, the next line dying on the edge of her lips. It wasn’t her best performance, but even so, she watched Sarah closely, curiosity written all over her features.

    “Well, I can certainly see why Clair sent you to me” Sarah offered ,a small smile of her own turning up the corners of her mouth. “That song certainly has a way of attracting attention. I haven’t heard it in years. Anyway, before I tell you how you went, Shallan, I want you to look around again.”

    Shallan did, and was surprised by what she saw. Some of the people sitting nearby were still going about their own business, but quite a few were looking her way. Each of them wore their own smile, and those that met her eyes gifted her with a smile, or a quick nod, or some other form of silent encouragement. Not once did she find any signs of judgement, or disgust, or contempt, or any of the other emotions that she so often feared. In hindsight, it was difficult to remember why she had been so afraid in the first place. Her expression was warm when she eventually turned her attention back to Sarah, who greeted her with another small smile.

    “See? I know what I’m talking about. They wouldn’t keep me around otherwise. Now, shall we move on to the important stuff?”

    Shallan responded with a quick nod, tinged with a fragment of her earlier enthusiasm. It didn’t take Sarah long to come up with a list of her most obvious strengths and weaknesses, alongside a few ways she might work on each. After that, she taught Shalllan a few basic vocal exercises. Scales that she could use to warm up her vocal cords before performing, and more complex ones that she could use to practice. Sarah’s softer, more refined voice joined Shallan’s own, and they filled the air with their own unique harmony.

    The two of them continued their lesson right up until the moment Clair and Godrich returned with dinner. Once the two of them had claimed their portions, they returned to Sarah’s rug and ate in easy, companionable silence. They had both finished their meals and set their bowls aside by the time Mec came looking for Shallan, who was totally oblivious to his approaching presence. For the time being, at the very least. She didn’t think she was far from turning in for the night, personally, considering her lingering fatigue, and the long march that likely awaited them again tomorrow.

  9. #449
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    After finding Shallan, Mec would announce his arrival, and settle down nearby. They talked for a short while after exchanging their usual pleasantries, but soon the day's labors grown apparent. The time to rest came quickly, and like most of the Misfits, they settled in their nooks within the camp and turned in for the night. The morning came soon enough, and the troupe was back to traveling, northward. Always northward.



    Their travels took them to the cities and towns that clung to the main roads, each stop unique from the ones before. It only took a few of these stops for both of tag along travelers to fill their respective roles in the group. Mec stayed close to Godrich, and under the more experienced traveler's mentoring, learned a great deal about playing at the hearts and minds of an audience. The magician may have also taken a few opportunities to experiment with a few of his own tricks to influence others, only to learn he was far from mastering the craft he first learned in Convittas. No matter how much he strained and focused, the unfamiliarity of the aura he felt from a brand new group of strangers hindered his ability to influence their moods. There were more subtle ways, he learned, to sway others' thoughts during their traveling band's stops.

    It was during such a stop that Mec found himself listening attentively to a few patrons in a small tavern. The tavern was small, much too small to host the kind of romp that the Misfits were known for, but the plump lady who ran the kitchens knew how to roast a chicken. The magician raised a finger to push back a stray lock of hair away from his face, as he continued to trace over a few pages of a journal he was able to get his hands on.

    "I can't handle these taxes any more, Robbie. By the time the lord's taken his share, I hardly have enough to feed me family. It's hard enough as it is, working day in and day out, every day. Only reason I'm sittin' here playin' cards is because I need to relief my back, or else I'd snap."

    "Aye. They be taxin' everythin' these days. Gamblin', workin', next they'll tax orphans for havin' no parents, no doubt."

    "They say it's all going to them witch hunters or wizard hunters that be goin' round town nowadays. Pfoo. I ain't never seen no wizard or no witch before, have you?"

    The magician stirred slightly in his seat. There was no word of such activity in this town, but they had only arrived just a day before. Clair, Godrich, and Ella had not even brought back word about proper work yet. The rest of the troupe was told to lay low, not to cause a fuss or pursue any solo ventures, which was an unusual order. Now, knowing that the taxation in the town was so strict, the order did not seem so unusual.

    Mec stood from his seat, adjusting his hair away from his face again before gathering his things. He stood tall, his shoulders and back having grown broad and straight with the traveling and labor the inclusion in a traveling troupe demanded. He delivered his plate of bones to front of the tavern. "Is it true that there are witch hunters guarding this town?" he asked the stocky, round, woman behind the counter.

    "Aye sir. But there is no need to fret. There has not been a sighting of no witches or wizards or sorcerers of any kind in this town for as long as I can remember. They is just being cautious, I think. Just an excuse to keep the thugs under the lord's command, rather than let them employ themselves."

    "I see," Mec said casually. He placed a coin on the counter and slid it towards the woman. "The chicken was delicious. Thank you."

    Later that evening, a small uproar rose out of the troupe's camp when Clair delivered the sour news that they would be moving on, without any major performances in this town.

    "This is the second stop in the last few weeks that we're leaving empty handed," announced the tall stick man, who always seemed to be the first to complain. Mec could not remember his name, and could only recall him as the tall stick man of the group.

    Clair sighed. "I know. But the towns around here are very strict with their taxation, especially on entertainment. Only employees of approved institutions are allowed to perform, or else they risk imprisonment. We can not afford the time or the risk. Before sunrise, we'll have a new course routed to avoid any other towns known to carry these new taxes."

    After some more grumbling, the group collectively managed to accept the reality of the situation, slowly dismissing themselves into smaller groups to pass the time until nightfall. Mec watched silently as Clair approached Shallan. The troupe leader took Shallan's hand gently, apologizing for once again delaying Shallan's first large performance. "Don't get discouraged. The time will come." She squeezed Shallan's hand between her own, before giving her a firm nod and letting go. She then walked passed Mec, pausing for a brief moment to mutter into his ear. "We need to discuss our arrangement. Privately, later." She nodded once again, and walked passed, the scent of cherries trailing behind her.

    Mec quickly understood what Clair would want to discuss. He was sure it was regarding the witch hunters he had heard about. Even if that had not been the case, Clair had been requesting such meetings frequently over the last several weeks. Although the symptoms were staved off, the troupe leader was anxious to permanently rid herself of the curse. The anxiety only grew after a short, private, experiment. One in which Mec had relinquished his hold over the curse. Clair's health had quickly spiraled downward, and she began to... change. Mec could hardly forget the image of her skin tightening over her bones, shrinking and curdling into a grayish color, until he commanded his powers to seal away the curse once again.

    Shallan was not present for all of these late night encounters with Clair, and Mec failed to relinquish facts about the experiment or any other private discussions Shallan was not a part of. In fact, he failed to relinquish his thoughts over other important matters with Shallan. The consequences of such a failures, he worried, were looming overhead. As Shallan's skills and repertoire within the group expanded, so did her confidence, and Mec was beginning to learn that his partner was growing less abashed about getting her points across.

  10. #450
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    Whilst most of the individual towns they visited were all wonderfully unique, the days in between were nothing if not repetitive. Each one began and ended the same way. An early morning wakeup call, a long forced march, and then a scramble to set up camp before the last of the light faded. The only things that ever seemed to change were the scenery and the weather. At first, Shallan found herself grateful for the structure their routine provided. It wasn’t long before she felt fit enough to keep up during the day, and eventually the early mornings didn’t seem so terrible either. Before long, however, the monotony began to wear her down.

    The only thing that kept Shallan sane, aside from their infrequent stops in town, were her daily lessons with Sarah. Their strict schedule meant that they were consistent, and each one gave Shallan something to look forward to. The time she invested quickly proved worthwhile, too. Under Sarah’s experienced tutelage, her skills began to bloom. The difference between her singing before and her singing now seemed as night and day, to her rapidly-improving ear. It wasn’t long before Shallan began to make use of the time they spent marching, reciting lyrics, doing vocal exercises, and singing a few wordless scales whenever she had the breath to scare. Often just to herself, but it wasn’t uncommon for the other Misfits to listen in, and occasionally join her. The extra time she invested sped her progress along, which encouraged her to practice even more. A perpetual cycle that quickly saw her becoming the singer Clair had originally envisioned.

    It wasn’t long before Sarah deemed Shallan ready for her first performance. The thought terrified the aspiring singer a little, who didn’t feel particularly ready, despite the consistent praise. Thankfully, her mentor knew better than to throw her in the deep end. Instead of insisting Shallan take centre stage, Sarah worked her into the background of a few other performances. She had Shallan add her voice to the music from the back of the stage whilst the dancers and musicians went about their usual routines, or cast her as a minor side character in plays, where she could play her role without shouldering the bulk of the crowd’s attention. Minor castings, all, where she wouldn’t ruin the entire performance if she made a mistake. As Shallan’s experience grew, so did her confidence. Little by little.

    When Clair and Sarah informed her that the time had finally come, Shallan wasn’t sure how to feel. Nervous butterflies seemed to unfurl their wings within her stomach, and the aspiring singer wasn’t entirely sure if the sensation was born of excitement or fear. And yet, despite her readiness, Shallan was forced to wait. The Misfits passed through two towns in a matter of weeks without performing a single show. Clair had her reasons, of course. When she explained, Shallan couldn’t deny that they were good ones. Even so, she was surprised to feel a pang of disappointment when the troupe’s faultless leader offered her some kind words, counselling patience. Still, there was nothing for it.

    Her chance finally came about a week later. The troupe found themselves approaching a moderate-sized town that Ashlyn informed her was named Demue. Shallan’s first impressions when it first came into sight were rather…well, neutral. It was hardly the largest place they’d performed, but it wasn’t the smallest, either. It looked more civilized than Convittas, but not so rich as some of the places they’d visited. Very middle-of-the-pack in all areas. That said, looks could be deceiving. There was no way to know for sure until they got closer.

    When Clair returned from her routine scouting and informed the troupe that they would be performing, word spread through the Misfits like wildfire. Everyone seemed to be chattering about the exciting news, and seemed to go about their preparations with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. Stuck in the midst of it all, Shallan couldn’t help but wonder why Clair had picked this place. Had the taxes and extra security measures simply been relaxed here? Or were the Misfits so desperate that they couldn’t afford to go another stop without some sort of income? Should she be glad her first performance was to be somewhere so normal, or disappointed? Either way, she wasn’t given long to ruminate on her questions. Soon, Sarah was dragging her away to prepare.

    What followed proved to be a very strange experience for Shallan. She had gotten used to helping Sarah and the other performers prepare before a show. Applying makeup, finding costumes, tuning instruments and rehearsing lines with whoever was next to go on. It felt very odd to be on the receiving end of all that attention for once. Tucked away in one of the local inn’s private rooms, she wanted nothing more than to leap up out of her uncomfortable chair and help. Instead, she had to remain as still as possible for the Misfit doing her makeup.

    “Remember, the tempo changes around the start of the third refrain. You have a tendency to forget when you’re nervous. Don’t forget to keep your head up and your shoulders pulled back, either.”

    Sarah darted back and forth right on the edges of Shallan’s vision, just within her peripherals. Forever out of focus, she seemed to be sorting through the different costumes, searching for a dress that would suit. The aspiring singer kept wanting to look at her properly, but had learned the hard way that her makeup artist would scold her if she tried. Shallan didn’t think she’d ever heard her mentor speak so many words at once before, even during their lessons. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if Sarah was nervous, or just trying to be helpful. Shallan opted to believe the latter. If her mentor was feeling jittery, then Shallan wasn’t sure where that would leave her.

    “You can close your eyes if you need to. It might even suit the song, if you pick your moment right. Now, what do you think of this?” Sarah stepped into her vision and held up a flowing, purple dress. Shallan was unable to shake her head in response, but it didn’t seem to matter. “No, you’re right. I’ll find something else.” Her mentor barely waited a second before she was off again.

    Shallan put up with their combined ministrations until the moment when her makeup artist finally sat back in her chair, and declared her work done. She handed Shallan a mirror, which she readily accepted. The face that stared back at her was both different and her own, all at once.. The foundation and concealer were both natural shades, designed to hide imperfections and highlight her features in subtle ways, without being obvious. The centrepiece was the eyeshadow, which was a vibrant gold. Clearly applied by an expert hand, it seemed to twinkle in the low light, and did a wonderful job of drawing the eye. The effect was striking, but without being overbearing. It made her look…well, beautiful.

    “-allan? Hellooooo? Can you hear me, Shallan?”

    It took the aspiring singer a moment to realise that someone was speaking to her. She tore her gaze away from the mirror, and met Sarah’s eyes. When had she come so close? The lady in charge of doing her makeup was watching the two of them with an amused smile.

    “I think it’s safe to say she likes it. I’ll take the compliment.”

    Shallan could already feel her cheeks burning as she handed the mirror back. She didn’t have long to dwell on it, though, as Sarah quickly helped her stand.

    “I’ll help you dress, and then I’ll run you through a few warm-up exercises before we head downstairs. We don’t have long, though, so we’ll have to be quick.”

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