Post by Eurydice on Apr 15, 2008 2:59:07 GMT -5
((Set a year after Kiri and Valas first meet. Wrote this out by hand first, and I feel like that influences things more than it should. Curious. Probably riddled with typos, as I am posting this at four in the morning. Will fix them eventually. Title stolen from a Vienna Teng lyric.))
Kirjava darted ahead of Valas, her hand closed so tightly on his that the thick band of silver on her middle finger bit and nipped at his skin. The two figures ran headlong through the underbrush until they burst out of the scant wood and through the city gates, rushing past a group of startled tourists, coming to a halt at the first tall government building, as if snatching at a safe base in a game of tag. Wildeor mewed a loud objection to the amount of grit that they had accumulated over the course of the run and began to clean himself indignantly.
The little elf peered out past the guard at the gate, who had simply rolled their eyes as Valas had dashed past, as if to say, "There he goes again..." She saw no sign of pursuit.
Valas shook his head, leaning against the building, catching his breath. "Those bastards," he muttered, "are getting far too close for comfort."
"We still made it out before the reinforcements came," Kiri offered noncommittally as she scooped up Wil, who had finished cleaning his own coat and licked at Kiri's fingers twice more for good measure.
"This time." He grunted in annoyance, running a hand through his hair. "With every pursuer we pick off, the remaining guardsmen double their efforts again. It's getting ridiculous." He glanced down at her, his eyes sharply serious. "We really are going to have to go to the source, soon. You know that, I hope."
They had been on their way back to town when they had collided with the scouting party, a Tyrnese caster of some sort with two local hired trackers. Valas and Kiri made short work of the two lackeys, but the caster was wild, vicious, and would not be silenced without a fight, hurling Eldritch energy left and right like a whirlwind of dark power. By the time they took him down, Kiri could clearly hear the footfalls of a dozen guardsmen; any other day, Valas would have at least considered standing his ground, but their fight with the mad caster had drained so much of their respective strengths that it wasn't worth the risk. Knowing that home and relative safety were close, they had bolted. Kiri had sent mirror images of themselves running alongside, as far as she could stretch them, buying what little time they would in distracting the pursuing forces.
The sun was sinking low as they made their way towards the castle; Lord Darren was probably sitting for dinner already, and although they could always request to have a tray sent up, Kiri felt too drained to be hungry. They really had been lucky to get out of that fight intact. It had taken nearly all of their combined efforts to take down the warlock.
Guards at the door greeted them, waved them in. Kiri never quite understood why they always addressed her as "Lady Kirjava." It felt silly to think of herself as titled royalty.
Safely closed in their customary room, Valas sat on the end of the bed, wincing slightly as he quickly inventoried what damage he'd soaked up. He paused as he noted Kiri gingerly dabbing at something near her temple; he could not see what, though, because of course, the omnipresent illusory face betrayed nothing of the surface below. "You alright?"
A quick nod. "It's not bad." There was the usual ripple of light and moment of fractional distortion as the ring came off, revealing a long ribbon of blood along her hairline. Valas winced, remembering one Eldritch blast that had struck her nearly full-on in the face, but her assessment seemed correct-- the cut wasn't deep. Even so, he must have reacted more visibly than he had mean to do, because Kiri made a face at him and added, "Oh, don't look at me like that; you're hurt worse than I am."
He'd hoped she hadn't noticed. Valas always felt slightly guilty whenever Kiri showed any sign of worrying about him. He was her guardian. He was the one who was supposed to see to her well-being, not the other way around. He was supposed to be strong for her. And anyway, he wasn't hurt badly either-- the warlock's attacks had bruised a few ribs, perhaps, and battered his chest a bit, but it was nothing that a cure potion and a good night's sleep wouldn't heal. "I am not hurt," he said, dryly defiant, "I am minorly and temporarily inconvenienced." He started removing his gear, checking it as he went, frowning slightly as he drew and resheathed his dagger. "Bastard made a right mess of my little friend here, though."
Kiri extended a hand. "Let me see."
With a shrug, Valas tossed it to her, sheath, belt, and all. She caught the bundle deftly and drew the dagger, holding it up to the light to examine, head tilted slightly as if listening to far-away music. Valas smiled at her with gentle, unspoken amusement. Kirjava tended to become very abruptly decisive, almost imperious, whenever the weaponry was an issue. She looked like the last person in all of Anaura to know anything about weapon-smithing, but in the few times that she'd spoken of her family, it had been apparent how much she had admired her father's skill at smithing, how much she'd strived to learn, in an effort to please him. That, coupled with a skill at alchemy and enchantment that her mother had nurtured in her, left care of the weaponry in her hands, and Valas knew by now better than to interrupt.
Nodding decisively, Kiri went to one of the little desks in the room, where she'd leave some of her non-essential gear, between excursions and assignments. From one of the drawers, she withdrew two vials and, dabbing a few drops of each on a clean white cloth, began spreading the clear-blue substance over the battered surface of the blade. Valas watched for a moment, fondly, as she sat there, like a school girl at study. He took a clean bandage from his pack and, going over to kneel beside her, began, unobtrusively, to clean the cut at her temple. He saw her smile, and he smiled in turn, before he finished up and went back to putting his gear in order.
It was almost like a ritual for him to return from a job and carefully clean and repair all of the equipment he'd use, laying the pieces out neatly, one next to another, along the surface of the wide bureau under the large mirror, ordered and safe until they were needed again. It was an apt microcosm for his life, really; the good little assassin was sent out, returned successfully, and was put back on the shelf to wait until he was needed again.
Or rather, it was a microcosm for what his life had been. How strange, how much had changed in the last year... Valas was not even sure how much of this change in what his life was came from actual change in his situation and the people around him, and how much of it was due to a slightly less bleak, jaded outlook on his world. In the mirror's reflection, he watched Kirjava, this tiny, crafty, fragile creature, holding the dagger to the lamplight, wiping the blade, scrutinizing it for some characteristic invisible to him, and dabbing at it again. Valas saw his reflection smile, warm and content. He had rediscovered hope once more, this year.
The pale figure in the mirror regarded himself a moment longer. He'd rarely given thought to his appearance before, except to see that it was inconspicuous or appropriate to whatever cover he was using at the time. More and more, of late, he'd wondered what she saw when she looked at him with her small, dark eyes. He remembered all too well what she'd seen when they first met: a tall, pale, wild intruder, bursting into her room, unmistakably marked with certain, subtle danger. He remembered also how she'd looked at him, first frightened, then confused, then bleakly resigned. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him now. Terror and uncertainty, he'd read off of his prey for all his career. What he read off of her these days was something he hadn't known intimately in all of his working memory.
Kiri's voice piped up from the desk. "What's this?"
Valas turned, startled and embarrassed. Between nimble fingers, she held a little white-wrapped package that had been stowed in his belt pack. "Oh. Ah..." He felt a faint rush of crimson color his cheeks, and he bit his lip. "It's, ah, nothing really..."
He stepped over to where she sat, her head cocked in curious puzzlement, stood behind her chair, his fingers resting lightly on her shoulders. "It's... it just, ah..." Kiri craned her head up, looking blank. Valas smiled softly. "A gift."
The pronouncement elicited a glance of unsure, pleased surprise. Kiri looked down at the little white packet, up at the man behind her, and down once more. Her mind simmered with uncertainty, happiness, and bewilderment. "Oh. I, um..." Awkward, tentative silence sat between them for a moment. "Thank you," she said, finally smiling, looking a little embarrassed. "Should I open it now?"
Valas nodded, feeling slightly ridiculous. In the mad dash to get home to safety, it had slipped his mind completely. He hadn't the slightest idea how he had actually wanted to present the gift to her, but he was fairly certain that it had not been her finding it by accident that he had in mind. He was a spy, for god's sake, and an assassin; he had long since forgotten how to give gifts, just as she had long since forgotten how to receive them. It had taken them gradual, awkward months to be able to do little favors for each other, even, without both parties feeling strange about it. Exchanging a physical gift felt like another leap entirely, though. Kiri had some working memory of receiving small acts of kindness, memories of loving family and friends giving birthday gifts, entertaining little trinkets and baubles. The closest Valas had were memories of receiving new arms and armor from various masters, over the years, and he wondered what might have been the last gift he ever gave, as Kirdan. A pretty dress for the wife he barely remembered? An amusing toy for the children he might have fathered? He would never know, of course, but it was somewhat comforting to be able to wonder, at least, to think in such terms.
Carefully and precisely, Kirjava unfolded the soft paper that crinkled and rustled under the pressure of her pale, swift fingers. Opening it into a white square the size of a handkerchief, there was a little silver circle sitting in its center, a small ring fashioned as a tiny loop of gently curving chain. Dumbly, Kiri picked it up between her thumb and forefinger, watching the polished surfaces glint in the lamplight.
Still unsure how to deal with this, Valas felt obliged to explain, and with nothing else happening, he did. "There was this little jewelry shop, back in Braca. I wanted to, ah... I wanted to, well, get you..." He looked away slightly. "Your illusion always wears gobs of pretty silver jewelry. I thought it might... I thought that perhaps you might like to have another piece, beneath, that's real."
It was more than that, really, the tiny length of chain she held. He hadn't even been sure, at first, what had made that piece jump out at him, when he'd been furtively studying the little rack of simple silver bangles that the jeweler had taken out of the case for him to inspect. It was more than just another piece of solid silver, beneath the dozens of illusory ones. He couldn't find the proper words to describe it further, though-- a pledge, perhaps, or a promise. His eyes sought out hers. "I hope it's alright," he said slowly, hoping that somehow, she understood.
The girl turned the little piece of silver over and over in her palm, before trying it on her index, middle, and ring fingers; it slid easily onto the ring finger of her right hand and stayed there.
There was no charm or enchantment on it, but she could feel herself sitting up a little taller as she rotated it on her finger. She studied each link as she turned the little circle, running her fingertips along the miniscule indentations and irregularities. Finally, her hand came to rest on his. She was blushing a bit, but her smile and heart were sincere. "It's perfect. Thank you."
Valas felt a rush of relief at her pronouncement. He drew her to her feet and kissed her hand quickly, almost shyly. Her hand lingered at his face for a moment, resting against his cheek, before she withdrew it and set to busying herself wit the dagger once more, wiping it clean and carrying it, with the sheath, belt, and pouch, to the wide chest of drawers under the mirror.
She lingered there a moment. Valas saw her regarding the reflection, self-conscious and critical of what she saw there. Padding over to stand behind her, his arms settling around her small, straight frame, his chin resting on the top of her head, he just held her, gently squeezing her against his aching ribs. She laughed softly, buried in his arms.
They lay down together shortly after, one curled around the other, both bodily exhausted but quietly, deeply happy. Sleep eluded them for close to an hour, but neither cared; they were content to just lie there, warmed by each other's touch, wrapped in a comfortable, soporific haze, bound together by promises, love, new-found hope, and a tiny length of silver chain.
Kirjava darted ahead of Valas, her hand closed so tightly on his that the thick band of silver on her middle finger bit and nipped at his skin. The two figures ran headlong through the underbrush until they burst out of the scant wood and through the city gates, rushing past a group of startled tourists, coming to a halt at the first tall government building, as if snatching at a safe base in a game of tag. Wildeor mewed a loud objection to the amount of grit that they had accumulated over the course of the run and began to clean himself indignantly.
The little elf peered out past the guard at the gate, who had simply rolled their eyes as Valas had dashed past, as if to say, "There he goes again..." She saw no sign of pursuit.
Valas shook his head, leaning against the building, catching his breath. "Those bastards," he muttered, "are getting far too close for comfort."
"We still made it out before the reinforcements came," Kiri offered noncommittally as she scooped up Wil, who had finished cleaning his own coat and licked at Kiri's fingers twice more for good measure.
"This time." He grunted in annoyance, running a hand through his hair. "With every pursuer we pick off, the remaining guardsmen double their efforts again. It's getting ridiculous." He glanced down at her, his eyes sharply serious. "We really are going to have to go to the source, soon. You know that, I hope."
They had been on their way back to town when they had collided with the scouting party, a Tyrnese caster of some sort with two local hired trackers. Valas and Kiri made short work of the two lackeys, but the caster was wild, vicious, and would not be silenced without a fight, hurling Eldritch energy left and right like a whirlwind of dark power. By the time they took him down, Kiri could clearly hear the footfalls of a dozen guardsmen; any other day, Valas would have at least considered standing his ground, but their fight with the mad caster had drained so much of their respective strengths that it wasn't worth the risk. Knowing that home and relative safety were close, they had bolted. Kiri had sent mirror images of themselves running alongside, as far as she could stretch them, buying what little time they would in distracting the pursuing forces.
The sun was sinking low as they made their way towards the castle; Lord Darren was probably sitting for dinner already, and although they could always request to have a tray sent up, Kiri felt too drained to be hungry. They really had been lucky to get out of that fight intact. It had taken nearly all of their combined efforts to take down the warlock.
Guards at the door greeted them, waved them in. Kiri never quite understood why they always addressed her as "Lady Kirjava." It felt silly to think of herself as titled royalty.
Safely closed in their customary room, Valas sat on the end of the bed, wincing slightly as he quickly inventoried what damage he'd soaked up. He paused as he noted Kiri gingerly dabbing at something near her temple; he could not see what, though, because of course, the omnipresent illusory face betrayed nothing of the surface below. "You alright?"
A quick nod. "It's not bad." There was the usual ripple of light and moment of fractional distortion as the ring came off, revealing a long ribbon of blood along her hairline. Valas winced, remembering one Eldritch blast that had struck her nearly full-on in the face, but her assessment seemed correct-- the cut wasn't deep. Even so, he must have reacted more visibly than he had mean to do, because Kiri made a face at him and added, "Oh, don't look at me like that; you're hurt worse than I am."
He'd hoped she hadn't noticed. Valas always felt slightly guilty whenever Kiri showed any sign of worrying about him. He was her guardian. He was the one who was supposed to see to her well-being, not the other way around. He was supposed to be strong for her. And anyway, he wasn't hurt badly either-- the warlock's attacks had bruised a few ribs, perhaps, and battered his chest a bit, but it was nothing that a cure potion and a good night's sleep wouldn't heal. "I am not hurt," he said, dryly defiant, "I am minorly and temporarily inconvenienced." He started removing his gear, checking it as he went, frowning slightly as he drew and resheathed his dagger. "Bastard made a right mess of my little friend here, though."
Kiri extended a hand. "Let me see."
With a shrug, Valas tossed it to her, sheath, belt, and all. She caught the bundle deftly and drew the dagger, holding it up to the light to examine, head tilted slightly as if listening to far-away music. Valas smiled at her with gentle, unspoken amusement. Kirjava tended to become very abruptly decisive, almost imperious, whenever the weaponry was an issue. She looked like the last person in all of Anaura to know anything about weapon-smithing, but in the few times that she'd spoken of her family, it had been apparent how much she had admired her father's skill at smithing, how much she'd strived to learn, in an effort to please him. That, coupled with a skill at alchemy and enchantment that her mother had nurtured in her, left care of the weaponry in her hands, and Valas knew by now better than to interrupt.
Nodding decisively, Kiri went to one of the little desks in the room, where she'd leave some of her non-essential gear, between excursions and assignments. From one of the drawers, she withdrew two vials and, dabbing a few drops of each on a clean white cloth, began spreading the clear-blue substance over the battered surface of the blade. Valas watched for a moment, fondly, as she sat there, like a school girl at study. He took a clean bandage from his pack and, going over to kneel beside her, began, unobtrusively, to clean the cut at her temple. He saw her smile, and he smiled in turn, before he finished up and went back to putting his gear in order.
It was almost like a ritual for him to return from a job and carefully clean and repair all of the equipment he'd use, laying the pieces out neatly, one next to another, along the surface of the wide bureau under the large mirror, ordered and safe until they were needed again. It was an apt microcosm for his life, really; the good little assassin was sent out, returned successfully, and was put back on the shelf to wait until he was needed again.
Or rather, it was a microcosm for what his life had been. How strange, how much had changed in the last year... Valas was not even sure how much of this change in what his life was came from actual change in his situation and the people around him, and how much of it was due to a slightly less bleak, jaded outlook on his world. In the mirror's reflection, he watched Kirjava, this tiny, crafty, fragile creature, holding the dagger to the lamplight, wiping the blade, scrutinizing it for some characteristic invisible to him, and dabbing at it again. Valas saw his reflection smile, warm and content. He had rediscovered hope once more, this year.
The pale figure in the mirror regarded himself a moment longer. He'd rarely given thought to his appearance before, except to see that it was inconspicuous or appropriate to whatever cover he was using at the time. More and more, of late, he'd wondered what she saw when she looked at him with her small, dark eyes. He remembered all too well what she'd seen when they first met: a tall, pale, wild intruder, bursting into her room, unmistakably marked with certain, subtle danger. He remembered also how she'd looked at him, first frightened, then confused, then bleakly resigned. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him now. Terror and uncertainty, he'd read off of his prey for all his career. What he read off of her these days was something he hadn't known intimately in all of his working memory.
Kiri's voice piped up from the desk. "What's this?"
Valas turned, startled and embarrassed. Between nimble fingers, she held a little white-wrapped package that had been stowed in his belt pack. "Oh. Ah..." He felt a faint rush of crimson color his cheeks, and he bit his lip. "It's, ah, nothing really..."
He stepped over to where she sat, her head cocked in curious puzzlement, stood behind her chair, his fingers resting lightly on her shoulders. "It's... it just, ah..." Kiri craned her head up, looking blank. Valas smiled softly. "A gift."
The pronouncement elicited a glance of unsure, pleased surprise. Kiri looked down at the little white packet, up at the man behind her, and down once more. Her mind simmered with uncertainty, happiness, and bewilderment. "Oh. I, um..." Awkward, tentative silence sat between them for a moment. "Thank you," she said, finally smiling, looking a little embarrassed. "Should I open it now?"
Valas nodded, feeling slightly ridiculous. In the mad dash to get home to safety, it had slipped his mind completely. He hadn't the slightest idea how he had actually wanted to present the gift to her, but he was fairly certain that it had not been her finding it by accident that he had in mind. He was a spy, for god's sake, and an assassin; he had long since forgotten how to give gifts, just as she had long since forgotten how to receive them. It had taken them gradual, awkward months to be able to do little favors for each other, even, without both parties feeling strange about it. Exchanging a physical gift felt like another leap entirely, though. Kiri had some working memory of receiving small acts of kindness, memories of loving family and friends giving birthday gifts, entertaining little trinkets and baubles. The closest Valas had were memories of receiving new arms and armor from various masters, over the years, and he wondered what might have been the last gift he ever gave, as Kirdan. A pretty dress for the wife he barely remembered? An amusing toy for the children he might have fathered? He would never know, of course, but it was somewhat comforting to be able to wonder, at least, to think in such terms.
Carefully and precisely, Kirjava unfolded the soft paper that crinkled and rustled under the pressure of her pale, swift fingers. Opening it into a white square the size of a handkerchief, there was a little silver circle sitting in its center, a small ring fashioned as a tiny loop of gently curving chain. Dumbly, Kiri picked it up between her thumb and forefinger, watching the polished surfaces glint in the lamplight.
Still unsure how to deal with this, Valas felt obliged to explain, and with nothing else happening, he did. "There was this little jewelry shop, back in Braca. I wanted to, ah... I wanted to, well, get you..." He looked away slightly. "Your illusion always wears gobs of pretty silver jewelry. I thought it might... I thought that perhaps you might like to have another piece, beneath, that's real."
It was more than that, really, the tiny length of chain she held. He hadn't even been sure, at first, what had made that piece jump out at him, when he'd been furtively studying the little rack of simple silver bangles that the jeweler had taken out of the case for him to inspect. It was more than just another piece of solid silver, beneath the dozens of illusory ones. He couldn't find the proper words to describe it further, though-- a pledge, perhaps, or a promise. His eyes sought out hers. "I hope it's alright," he said slowly, hoping that somehow, she understood.
The girl turned the little piece of silver over and over in her palm, before trying it on her index, middle, and ring fingers; it slid easily onto the ring finger of her right hand and stayed there.
There was no charm or enchantment on it, but she could feel herself sitting up a little taller as she rotated it on her finger. She studied each link as she turned the little circle, running her fingertips along the miniscule indentations and irregularities. Finally, her hand came to rest on his. She was blushing a bit, but her smile and heart were sincere. "It's perfect. Thank you."
Valas felt a rush of relief at her pronouncement. He drew her to her feet and kissed her hand quickly, almost shyly. Her hand lingered at his face for a moment, resting against his cheek, before she withdrew it and set to busying herself wit the dagger once more, wiping it clean and carrying it, with the sheath, belt, and pouch, to the wide chest of drawers under the mirror.
She lingered there a moment. Valas saw her regarding the reflection, self-conscious and critical of what she saw there. Padding over to stand behind her, his arms settling around her small, straight frame, his chin resting on the top of her head, he just held her, gently squeezing her against his aching ribs. She laughed softly, buried in his arms.
They lay down together shortly after, one curled around the other, both bodily exhausted but quietly, deeply happy. Sleep eluded them for close to an hour, but neither cared; they were content to just lie there, warmed by each other's touch, wrapped in a comfortable, soporific haze, bound together by promises, love, new-found hope, and a tiny length of silver chain.