Fantasy Dappled Light [Closed]

[Lucyfer]

It was a crisp, cold morning, like every morning that week had been. The clouds floated over them like a film of smoke, which would not have been so unusual, even in Hilbes, except it was early summer, and the temperature caused what little moisture had gathered on the wilting and dark grass to freeze.

“There, there,” Ava cooed as she lifted one sheath of grass with her finger, tilting its tip up towards her as if somehow gentle words and gentle touch would be enough to restore it.

So far, nothing she had found would restore it, nor the plants around her. Her gaze lifted to the various other plants in the garden that was just outside of the library. It had once been a wonderfully relaxing area, but now, the basil that had once smelled so sweet was pungent, the white lilids were stained yellow, and the ground beneath her was cracked and dry, even though the clouds screamed with moisture that wouldn’t fall.

‘And it calls for you.’

Her gaze lifted to the sky, not thinking of air but of water, of sea, of away.

Not that it would be better anywhere else.

With a sigh, she lifted herself up from the ground, bent for her gloves to put back on, and returned inside the library, wood stacked to the ceiling on each of the three floors, and windows open to the world. “Henry!” She called, not concerned with her raised voice right then.

The black-haired man looked up from his perch, long legs on a table, back slouched on the seat of a chair, the backrest of the chair used instead to support his head. He was never comfortable. “I’m going to go out and look for minder, it’s all spoiled in the garden.” The purple, minty plant was good for much, but right then all she had wanted was a bit of tea before she started her day.

“All right,” he waved her off.

Ava left without further ceremony, walking along the cobblestone road. Or, what used to be a cobblestone road, anyways. It was broken up more, in spite of how often the cobbles were replaced. They weren’t so strong. Many were blaming it on the traffic of cy-horses, as if those hadn’t existed prior to the dying of Ersetu, as if traffic hadn’t been worse before that.

No, even stone felt it.

She bundled here arms around herself as she walked, wishing she had grabbed a cloak on the way out from the academy, but accepting her own stupidity with as much dignity as she could muster – which was basically a sheer stubbornness not to shiver and to clench her jaw.

Main Street was still one of Ava Vining’s favorite places. It wasn’t far from the Academy, and she had pleasant memories of numerous evenings hanging out on Main Street before stumbling back to her home, or to a room at the Academy. It had once been brilliantly illuminated with electrical lights, but no longer.

Of course, in the day, it wasn’t so necessary, but posts for gas lanterns now lined the street, trying to give it that same breath of life the electrical ones had done.

The dust rose up when people walked over the cobblestone, or horses zipped by. One golden cy-horse was tied to a post, recognizable both by hue and build.

The storefronts were opened, but not so many as before. There was still the sweet scent coming from the bakery, where she hoped she could sweet-talk her way into fresh minder. It was used often enough in some of their sweets, so she hoped there was some to spare that she could add to her tea leaves.

However, before she walked in, she noticed a familiar uniform within – that of Rina Terst, for some reason already within the bakery that morning. Ava pursed her lips together.

She didn’t know Rina personally, but she was no fan of the Renascence, and had no desire to end up on her radar, either.

Thankfully, a distraction was also on the outskirts of her vision – the darkly robed Father Brean. Local beggar. Town drunk, really. And yet, Ava had a soft spot for him and the way he hadn’t abandoned his title, even with all the Renascence presence in Hilbes.

So, moving on tip-toes despite the surge of pain that caused, with some small hope of giving him a bit of a startle, Ava approached the man from behind to tap his shoulder.

She would rock back onto the heels of her boots regardless of how quick he turned – if he turned at all, that was, prepared to greet him with a smile even if he did reek a bit of alcohol right then.

A bath. Shoes.

‘Shoes!’ It dawned on her what she might do to distract herself from the obstacle in her path to getting fresh minder – especially as she heard Rina’s voice rising in argument, able to make out enough that it was about rations for her companions that had not been delivered to Reamun’s manor.

She rather hoped it wasn't loud enough for Brean to hear; she was never great at gauging human hearing.

 

[Melpomene]

The air was different since the day of the burning.

It was not just the temperature or the smell, but there was something which seemed to have been lost, as though the burning of Ersetu had marked the moment someone had pulled a switch that would pull all vitality from around the world. Somehow, even without seeing, it felt as though the air around them was dying. Everything, in fact, was dying. There was no denying that. Because those who burned the tree had never stepped back for one moment to think on the consequences of such a thing. They only thought they were doing some grand service the nobody that had demanded it happen.

At the very least, that was all Brean could think as he stood, hopping from one foot to the other on the cold ground, his beggar's bowl turned upward as he bowed his head, watching as another person passed by. A woman, riding along on her cy-horse, with a look of disdain on her lips as she saw him. Her brow furrowed as she turned away, but she dropped a few coins into his upturned bowl. All the thoughts of the day of burning had been forgotten, it was the first donation of the day.

"May Ersetu bless your day!" he called. It was his own rebellion, saying that to everyone who dared help him. Letting the Renascence know exactly what it meant to go against Ersetu. It was to deny all things good. All things holy. He lowered the bowl to spare a glance at the coin. It would get him a nice enough piece of bread, but he wished for a hot meal today, and more ale. He could use a lot more ale. He felt as though it was getting more expensive the longer he had been in Hilbes, an uncanny ploy by the tavern owner to make more money in this time of need. When the rebirth came, the regrowth, that man would be cursed, Brean would ensure it. He tightened his hold on his bowl, for a moment remembering the time he had spent eating among the mighty, Grand Father Fillis at his time, his sermons heard everywhere.

Now preachers like that bitch Joanna were getting all the glory. She had only shown up a few days prior and people were already falling at her pale feet as though she shat gold. Half of the men just liked looking at her, Brean could tell it from their faces when she first arrived. He could not deny it, he liked looking at her as well. Where was she now?

Brean was suddenly pulled from his musings the moment he felt someone tapping his shoulder. He tensed, spinning around and lurching back. His heart thudded hard in his heart before his eyes landed on Ava. A lovely young girl who had somehow ended up in this Hell of a town. He managed a smile, his head dipping forward as he let out a soft sigh. She was a lovely sight for sore eyes.

"Ah, Ava!" he said as he lowered his bowl, letting it hang at his hip, though ensuring the coins did not slip out. He raised a brow. "Bit chilly to come out like that, no?" He was lucky his robes were thick enough to protect him from the worst of it. If only he had boots...

The sound of metallic hoofs hitting the ground brought Brean from his musings once more. "Hold on a moment, darling," he said as he spun, lifting his bowl again towards the road. The cy-horse stopped before him. He lifted his bowl, raising his green eyes to look upon the man. And he was met with a smoldering black stare. The man was a foreigner, with black hair swept back and out of his face in a low ponytail, his skin was honey-brown, obviously, he spent an abundant amount of time in the sun. One eye was covered with an eyepatch, and his head was covered with a hat, his shoulders with a dark cloak. The holsters at his hip were enough to tip Brean off about weapons, but he did not risk seeming to stare too hard.

"Hilbes?" the stranger asked, his accent was there, though not too thick. He must not be that new of an arrival.

Brean had forgotten he had not answered. The stranger furrowed his brow in annoyance.

"Hilbes?" he asked again, an obvious edge to his words. Brean mutely nodded. Then he stepped away without dropping coin into Brean's bowl, instead going to tie his cy-horse at pole. Brean let out a breath he did not know he was holding in, unable to find the will to be annoyed at the blatant refusal of payment as he turned back to Ava.

"Uh--" he said, attempting to keep his eyes off the stranger and instead on the young woman before him. "Did ya need something, little one?"

Perhaps the man was just passing through.

But Brean had been a cleric for awhile. And there were certain men he had some... urge around. Gwaine Ivantes was the only other one he could recall feeling so strongly about.

That was none of his concern, nor did he want it to be. He wished to concentrate on the woman in front of him. So he did.

 

[Lucyfer]

Ava had only just started to nod her agreement with Brean’s observation of her attire, an explanation on her lips, before she was also drawn to look at the stranger upon the horse, a dark and imposing figure – almost moreso than Rina herself. Ava stepped back, as if she could find some shadow to step into and vanish. The sight of the holsters was more than enough for her to want to reconsider drawing unnecessary attention.

They had been more common, once upon a time.

Now, the ones that worked, like the electrical lamps, were rare.

Rina had such a thing, although it was dear to her. She preferred combat by other means, to preserve her stock of useful bullets.

This man did not appear to be in her group. He also offered nothing to Brean, demanding information and then heading off to tie his horse up somewhere. Ava frowned, peering a bit around Brean a moment to wonder at what he was looking for in Hilbes. She bit the inside of her cheek, before banking her curiosity as something to consider for later, and looking back to Brean.

Yes, she’d come for a reason – and that reason was still obvious as she could hear the flustering of the clerk inside the bakery, trying to explain that they were working on it, but….

‘But the mold. The rot.’ Bad bread.

Ava nodded happily as if she didn’t hear those comments inside. As if everything was absolutely, completely, fine. “Yes, Father, I was on my way to get some minder for tea, but it seems I have to wait a little for that, so I thought I would come see you. I know a very good cobbler,” she lifted her green skirt a little, showing off the boots.

They added to her height by necessity. The arch of her foot was too uncomfortable in anything flat, but for a normal human woman, and likely, any man, they looked hellishly painful. “I promise, he just does this for me, he can make you a good set, I’m certain. I wanted to help you get a pair – it may be cold for me, but your feet are going to freeze off if you don’t get them covered soon.”

Even though it was summer.

In theory. And it wasn’t far – she’d see when the bakery opened from the window and she could go get her minder while Steffan took a look at Brean’s feet.



Thimble – golden cy-horse of Rina – gave an annoyed huff as the stranger came up to his post. Still, he made some room, not wanting to be nearer to the new horse than he had to be. He could have probably pulled the pole and broken it in half, but he didn’t know he had such strength to do it and avoid this discomfort entirely.

Rina was blissfully unaware, but her temper was quelling within, as the clerk showed the blooms of black on fresh bread.

 

[Melpomene]

Brean brushed off the encounter. It was not his business, nor did he feel that he wanted it to be. It would be best for all of them if the stranger would ride from town just as quickly as he came. Perhaps who only came for the sake of a simple stop, perhaps to get more meat, hard sausages to eat on the rode. Or perhaps it was only his want to find an old friend or family here. He brought no trouble there. At the very least, that was what Brean hoped.

Instead, he smiled at Ava, his teeth were yellow, but they were straight and had not yet rotted from his mouth. He looked down at his feet, rather aware of the cold that was currently permeating the air. He curled his bare toes. The soles of his feet had hardened to the point that he could hardly feel anything beneath them. He was surprised he could still feel the cold, in truth, it felt as though much feeling had left him. Well, at the very least it all left him whenever he had a bottle of ale in his hand. But unfortunately, ale cost money and he had very little of that in recent times.

He glanced at Ava's footwear. It certainly looked unpleasant, though it briefly crossed his mind that some footwear would be better than none at all, especially in weather such as this, however, as he looked down at his coin he felt a sad smile come to his lips.

"Ersetu certainly has blessed you, child, hm? Looking after some old man who can't drop his bottle?" It was nearly shameful, him, a preacher of high regard, having been known for his word and his way with the sermon now being pitied by some local woman of a town that was puny in comparison to Solvit. He nearly wanted to turn her down for that very reason, however, as he tapped his fingers against the bowl, he could not help but wonder how much easier it would be to beg when he did not have to worry about frozen feet.

But it was summer. It should not have been so cold.

Blasted heretics. The fires had been said to have burned so hot that it scorched the guards who had once stood around the tree, had that fire used the last of the heat?

"Yes," he said, letting one last glance go to the stranger who was tying his cy-horse. A bit too close to the Captain's for comfort. The morbid curiosity had returned, but Brean kept it at bay.


Lucan slipped from his horse, it was a dull grey, nothing special. Grant, he had named it rather cautiously as he was unsure when it would give out. It was an old cy-horse, it got the job done, but in moments like these one would think Lucan had it at a full gallop for two days in a row rather than a simple trot since this morning. Grant was going to die soon, Lucan knew that well, but he still patted the side of his neck as he glanced at the golden cy-horse they had come to settle beside. It was the right place, that was for sure. Lucan was no genius, and he would never claim to be, but as he approached the bakery he was well aware of the battle which was going on within. He could not see it, but he had a feeling. A very strong feeling, just as he had the first he had laid eyes on Gwaine.

His holsters were heavy on his hips, he licked at his chapped lips and pulled his hat down, letting the rim of it partially hide his face. He had done this before. It had become a routine. But this was Reanum's home. This was Reanum's town.

And now it's gone to shit.

But it was still there. And Reanum's manor still stood. He had heard the rabble about it the closer he got, of the Renascence having all but taken over this town.

He stepped to the front of the bakery, he could hear the battle which was taking place. One could mistake it for a great war it was growing so loud. And over bread. He lapped his top lip again. It was fate, if it was who he thought inside. He did not need much, not yet, just to get a look at them. At what he was up against. He fumbled with his pocket, pulling out tobacco and a wrapper, using the railing as a table as he rolled up a cigarette and shoved it in his mouth, striking a match alight with the seat of his pants and putting it out after his cigarette was lit.

It was going to be a fine day. He willed it would be at least.

 

[Lucyfer]

Ava couldn’t help but mimic that sorrowful smile that pulled at Brean’s lips. No, Ersetu had not blessed her in this case, except that she was able to provide. Ersetu has blessed her with a longer life than many, and a silver tongue that got her plenty of gold when she needed it, and time to ponder mysteries and learn. Not so much as vampires, but…time, and comforts, she’d had, before Ersetu died.

“Blessed enough, Father,” she answered, with just a little derisive mirth. “Follow me, then. He’s not terribly far,” she encouraged, stepping out from the sidepath and onto the road, to cut across it and towards the storefront, with the sign of a shoe hanging down.

It wasn’t open, but the flickering candles inside told her enough that Steffan was in. So, she knocked on the door. “Steffan~,” she called in a sing-song, “Steffan, it’s me~, open up, please!” The please shifted pitch, shifted inflection, turning what was a simple polite gesture into something nearly a command to most ears.

It didn’t work so well on Steffan, for he knew what she was, and knew to recognize the subtle shifts that pulled at heartstrings, the way a cat’s meow was trained to sound like a baby’s cry. He could ignore both amazingly well – to the disdain of his ever grumpy store cat, which was the first creature to respond.

“Prissy!” Ava responded as she heard the mewl from inside. “Prissy go get him!” Another annoyed meow, louder, as if it might encourage Steffan to do the thing.

But she could hear Steffan's steps, “Hold yer britches, I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” he called, making his way, and soon appearing in the door, dressed comfortably in loose slacks and a long brown button-down, white beard falling to his chest. “G’morning, Father,” he greeted Brean with some wariness, already suspecting what this was about. “Did ya break a heel already, Ava?”

“No, I wanted to see him fitted.”

“He have the coin?”

“I have the coin.”

Steffan sighed.

Prissy, the white cat with the gray stripes, meowed. “Fine, fine, the Priss still needs me to get’er food, I reckon, and I need coin for that still.” He knew he was going to be talked down in price. Not by any magicking voice, simply because it was damn hard to tell Ava ‘no’. At least, he convinced himself it wasn’t the voice, for the sake of his pride, as he unlocked the door. “Who’s big and broodin’ back there?”

“Someone rude,” Ava answered without a glance back.



There was nothing to gain here. Rina Terst knew it as soon as the bread was shown to her with the black blooms on it, but it didn’t truly lessen her fury much. She tried to restrain it, though. These were the growing pains of a new world. “Fine. I’ll take whatever you have left. Have it delivered in the next hour. You’ll be compensated.”

What was left was mostly sweets, too sugary by far, but it was sustenance, and they would like such things for breakfast, anyways. She wouldn’t, but there was still enough dried meat. Meat, at least, seemed more accessible, although she noticed it wasn’t keeping as long as she remembered unless it was turned to jerky.

“I…but…,” the woman wrung her hands on her apron, then sighed, “Yes, Captain Terst. Of course.” Any protest she had about feeding others died under that imperious gaze. She bowed her head, and the Captain accepted that as the end of it, and turned to walk out.

There seemed to be someone waiting outside.

Someone with guns, and for a moment, Rina paused to assess him.

He looked…familiar.

A phantom from a dream. ‘The Branches are dead.’ Though he looked like someone she had admired, in those long-gone dreams of a worse world.

He was a stranger, though, in Hilbes. Of that, she knew. Rumor would have reached her of one such as him, and so she opted to approach, “Who are you?” She was blunt. To the point, “What is your business in Hilbes, and why do you carry so openly?” So brazenly. Where did he even get the guns?

 

[Melpomene]

There were days, in summer, when children could run about barefoot without a care in the world. Hell, adults would run around without shoes on their feet, the Roots of Ersetu often did themselves. It was a symbol of piety and humbleness to walk along the grass barefooted as a peasant would, connecting themselves further to the dirt that their maker had grown from. In the winter they would only walk about the ground with their feet bare for a bit, but it was quickly decided that their feed need be covered, as while a cleric could have a prosthetic, it was not something anyone actively looked to do.

Brean was, of course, somewhat acquainted with everyone in the town. On the street's one learned to be cautious, and in that caution, he began to take note of everyone who had arrived and everyone who had lived. Some were nicer than others, though they did not get many visitors. At least not many like the fellow packing heat on his hips. That was rarer than finding someone else that openly practiced the father of Ersetu.

Steffon, however, was never someone Brean had paid much mind to. An old cobbler attempting to make his way in this world, and Brean nearly felt guilty as the man clearly did not want to be bothered, but damn it, who could say no to pretty little Ava? Especially with the way she spoke-- Brean could not put his finger on it, but when she asked for something, he felt compelled to give in.

"Someone packing," Brean said as he stepped in, glancing back at the stranger one last time. The stranger that just calmly smoked as though he was waiting for something. Brean shook his head and came in further so he could sit and get his feet measured. "I think he had two guns, at least."

One thing Brean was good at was gossip, and he missed it from his days in the Trunks. He could talk about every single person he had seen, their demeanor, he just never spoke of their confession. That was between him and Ersetu.

"Foreigner as well, don't know the accent, but it ain't from anywhere around here. He's here for something," and once again Brean felt a large pit in his stomach. But he swallowed it as quickly as he felt it. "Trouble..." he said with a certain uncertainty. "His type is always looking for trouble..."


Captain Terst.

Lucan thought she was a man at first glance, she was so tall and broad that she stood over him. Though he was not a particularly tall man, it was still unusual to see a woman so tall. He kept his hands loosely at his sides. He took another suck from his cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs before plucking it from between his lips, shaking the ash off the side of the railing as he let his lips curl into a slight smile and nodded in acknowledgment.

"Captain, was it?" he asked quietly. Plenty had defaulted to the way of the Renascence. Gwaine was like that. Gwaine had always been like that, so capable of turning people to his way. Lucan rolled the cigarette between his fingers, waiting for a beat, he knew she was waiting for an answer and expected one, so he obliged. "Ivan Leonas." His father's first name. His uncle's last. No one knew them but him, and she would not see any type of familiarity. He was a nobody to most. How could they remember him when Gwaine was always there to take the light? Or rather when Gwaine was there to set the light.

"Came to visit, needed a place to stop. I have needs, the world's gone to shit, or haven't you seen?" he asked brazenly. "And a man needs to keep safe," he said as he pat his side, his hand landing firmly on his six-gun. "Don't worry, I ain't about to use 'em..." he whistled low, his brows furrowing further. "Heard this was Reanum's town, before he burnt with the tree," Lucan took another drag of his cigarette. "Thought I would look at the place of legend myself."

 

[Lucyfer]

There was a chair for the purpose of measuring, an old wooden thing with a stool near it, so someone could put their feet up. Steffan idly gestured towards it, as he listened to what Brean had to say of the stranger, which was far more enlightening than Ava’s comment of him being ‘rude’.

He would move about to get his measuring board, as well as his pencil and paper to make notes on sizes. Feet weren’t always the same for a person, so he would want to make sure to measure both, and make sure both shoes would fit, with consideration for the arch, and anything else.

Although Brean wasn’t likely to need anything elaborate.

Ava didn’t follow, exactly. Prissy went back to stare out the window, and so Ava brushed the curtains aside for her, and so they could all continue to see what went on across the street, should it turn interesting. The Stranger was likely to be interesting to many for at least the rest of the day – adding in a conflict, or even a brief meeting with Rina would give it more life.

Mostly, she’d use the excuse of Prissy, though, and wanting to pet the cat. And ignore the occasional pang of hunger that reminded her she had not, in fact, eaten that morning, and Prissy was an appetizing bit of food. She’d eat soon enough anyways, she wasn’t at any risk of starvation. It was just breakfast.

“Well, so long as he keeps his trouble out of my shop, he can have all the trouble he wants,” Steffan said, coming back around with his board, “Now just put your feet up on the stool, father, so I can get my measurements,” he almost wished to have brought a washrag to tell the man to clean his feet up a bit, but the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

At least it didn’t look like he’d stepped in shit recently.

~***~

Rina gave only a curt nod to the relatively pointless question that was thrown her way – whether or not she was a Captain. She held her silence after that, waiting for him to identify himself. He didn’t leave her long in suspense, giving a name she did not know, and an explanation that was sensible enough.

He sought to fulfill needs. Food, water, shelter – or perhaps what some men considered needs that were somehow more base in nature. At least he didn’t claim to be there looking for a fight; she’d taught enough men what a foolish idea that was.

Reamun’s Town.

She didn’t smile at dubbing Hilbes so, even if there was no denying it any longer. Reamun’s Town was once Hilbes, but now it seemed only Hilbes by tradition, rather than truth. Reamun’s sacrificial act had sanctified him above most, no matter what his treacherous kin thought, and so it made this a place that many would come to visit on their way.

She would pointedly ignore his comment about the world going to shit, though.

“This was,” Rina would allow that much, “You are certainly welcome to remain here, so long as you don’t cause any trouble. Reamun’s manor is, however, off limits.” It shouldn’t need to be said, but so many still tried to come up to it to see it for themselves.

She had no reason to linger. No reason to question him further, although it still felt…off. She wanted to know where he acquired his weapons. She wanted to know if he favored Reamun or not.

But she had no reason to, and other duties still called. This was already a delay to the morning, “I wish you health, Leonas. I’ll be on my way then,” she moved off to begin untying Thimble from his post. She noted they were being watched, which hardly surprised her, but it did make her scoff to see the audaciously opened window just across the street.

No matter.

 

[Melpomene]

Brean was, truly, just happy to have anything to cover himself. Already his toes were feeling better being inside the humble shop rather than freezing on the ground. He had not even noticed how filthy his feet had gotten, having gone barefoot for so long now. They were caked in mud and dirt, one may have not known their color if they could not see the rest of him. He could not remember the last time he had a bath.

"S'pose you're right," Brean said as he put his feet up, his head tilted back as he let his eyes drift close for a moment. The chair was more comfortable than most he had been in, he was used to the barstools and then managing to find a place which was warm enough sleep without freezing to death.

He wriggled his toes. "It's none of my business-- I'm sure I prefer him to that preacher-- what was her name again? Joan? Joanna? Yeah, riling everyone up every time she steps out to get a hunk of bread to eat. Such a nuisance..." In truth, her presence worried him. He was already unwanted, but with someone there stirring up the rabble, making them think Ersetu was something to be scorned rather than loved, bid goodbye rather than mourned, he probably only had days before she came back with an army all ready to send him packing out, if he was lucky that was.

"Least he ain't a preacher..."

Steffan was right. Brean should not have found it in himself to care. What he should care about at the moment was making his life just a bit easier and getting new shoes on his feet. He'd pray for Ava that night, certainly. May Ersetu bless her.

~**~
Lucan kept his fingers by his lips, they were chapped and dry. The last time he had taken a drink was the night before, though that did not bother him now. Instead, he took another long drag of his cigarette. He had to keep his fingers by his lips or else they would go to his guns. He wanted nothing more than to shoot the traitor before him full of holes and leave her bleeding out on the road. He could probably do it, just a quick draw and then a few bullets, then he would be done.

The Renascence deserved worst, in truth. They deserved far worse to choose damner of the human race over its savior. The masochistic delusions that had to befall them to think their way was best were near pitiful.

"'S'the big ol' manor down yonder, right?" he said as he pointed the direction he was told it was in. He knew well what it looked like, where it was. But instead, he shook his head. "I'll keep my distance. Ain't lookin' for no trouble. Won't be here long no way."

"Wish you the same, Captain," he said tightly, sucking in another deep breath of smoke as he watched her off. They had found a massive woman to hold down Hilbes. There would be more at the manor, no doubt. He needed to see what it was like, what she was like before he made too bold of a move. It was what he learned as a petty thief. Don't go getting into things you couldn't get out of. He took another drag from his cigarette.

He did not lie. He did not plan on staying there long.

 

[Lucyfer]

Ava looked back as she heard Brean’s words, a little mumbled, about the preacher. “Joanna,” she confirmed. Really, quite a warm woman, pretty, Ava had looked from the outskirts of her gatherings a few times but never stopped for long. Even if she tried to consider that maybe, maybe, they weren’t all wrong, it was still hard to believe what was right after seeing Solvit and the ruins of the tree.

After seeing today, and yesterday, and the day before.

Whether they were wrong or right didn’t concern her so much as how to make things better, though. Ersetu was gone. They had to live with that world now, and make it better. That was what concerned the little siren.

That, and Rina’s departure from the area meant she could go get her minder!

“Steffan, Brean, I’ll be right back – I’m going to go get my minder,” she supposed she could quite leave when she needed to pay Steffan for the work, not until she had an idea of what this was going to cost, but she didn’t want to risk missing out on a chance. Nevermind the strange, rude man across the street. “I’ll tell your new friend hello~” it was playful, as she moved to exit.

Steffan just grunted, “Don’t bring another’un in here,” he complained, before the door shut behind her and he shook his head, having the measurements of one foot jotted down, and jotting down the other. “Looks like your feet are mostly the same,” he said, as if that was likely to be any surprise to the father.

He set the measuring board down, “Should have enough material to set you off with something.” Leather, at least, didn’t seem to be rotting away any quicker than usual. Wood wasn’t doing so great, though. He rose, putting his knees on his hands as he did so, “What do you know of Joanna?” He asked as he made his way further into the store to go grab some leather and get it cut down to size. “I keep hearing people mention her – I haven’t seen’er myself.” Didn’t care much one way or the other, truth told.

He did think it funny that something so worshipful as Ersetu could die, though. Made him wonder what all the fuss was really about.

~***~

“Mm.” Rina hummed, looking up around Thimble just enough to see where Leonas gestured. It was obvious, really. The only building that challenged the manor was the academy, after all, and the academy wasn’t as…well, quite frankly, run down. Near the end, apparently Reamun hadn’t done much housekeeping.

‘Transient indeed.’ And yet his impact remained greater than any vampire before, and likely, any vampire after, him.

She barely acknowledged his well wishes as Thimble was freed of the post. She slipped one foot in the stirrup, balanced herself with a hand on the top of him, and then swung up into the saddle. The Captain looked back down on the stranger and gave a brief nod of farewell, before she pressed her heels to Thimble and set him off down the road, now that the matter of bread was taken care of.

She ignored the watcher from before as she exited from the cobbler’s place of work, and was soon off, back on her way to Reamun’s former home.

And Ava didn’t so much as paused as she went by the stranger, saying, “Hello from me and the nice man you jilted!” intending to be in the bakery before he even thought to react.

Although a reaction would have probably made for a somewhat amusing story to go back to Brean and Steffan with.

 

[Melpomene]

Brean was about to tell Ava to not cause the stranger too much trouble, not for his sake but for hers. Men like that tended to not be the type to want to take much mouth, but Brean felt there really was no stopping Ava if she wished to do something, especially now. It was hard to tell her no.

"Joanna?" Brean said, turning his head back to Steffan before he scoffed and shook his head, crossing his arms, taking his feet from the stool now that they had been properly fitted. "Oh she showed up a few days prior, the high and mighty bitch." If there was a place for Brean to spit, he would have. There was no doubt he saw the woman as some long bitter enemy despite having only seen her, not even meeting her, two days prior.

"She comes from up North, one of those pretty blonde gals that thinks she can swoon any man she wants her way by giving a pretty little smile." To be fair, she was doing a fine job of it, as many men and women both seemed to have fallen at her feet. "She's been giving all these sermons for the Renascence, saying that they were right all along and all of that horseshit. Tell me, Steffan, have you felt things have gotten better at all since Ersetu burned?" he asked, his green gaze flickering up to the face of the cobbler. "Do you feel like we have been brought through some enlightenment and looking at better times rather than being lost in a world of shit?"

He scoffed again and leaned back, bringing his elbow up to rest on the back of the chair.

Perhaps it was not fair to judge so blindly, he never did really listen to her sermons, unless he managed to scrap up enough coin for a bottle, but people seemed to be getting singer and stingier with him

~**~

Lucan was never one to linger anywhere for long. It was like that since he was a boy, bouncing from one place to the next, or rather from one person to the next. Speed was his ally, as was discretion. It became difficult when he had to balance the two, as he was only a man and there were certainly groups there to protect the manor of the traitor who had once lived there. It was certainly their will to see that a man like Lucan never entered.

He tapped a single finger against his holster, his eyes peering just beneath the brim of his hat as he watched the Captain go. Perhaps she was suspicious, but for now he would like her to think Ivan Leonas is just a mysterious stranger with plans for elsewhere.

And at the moment, it seemed he had caught the attention of the woman that had been with the begging father. He raised his brow as she passed.

"The remaining products have been ordered to be sent to the captain if that's what you're looking for, missy," he said, without acknowledging her little pass at him. He went back to smoking his cigarette, glancing in the direction she had just came.

The begging father... a man with no home and one who would certainly know the place like the back of his hand. Lucan tapped his finger against his holster again.

 

[Lucyfer]

Father Brean obviously hated this Joanna, which clearly meant she was part of the new movement that hated Ersetu. The way he spoke was as if he’d known her for a while, but his continued explanation showed that wasn’t quite true, as Steffan came back with his leathers, his carving knife, his stitches, and much else he’d need for the shoe.

He started to work on it at his table as he listened. “Ask her if she thought that, did ya?” Steffan was a little amused with Brean’s description of Joanna as some jaw-dropping blonde. He supposed he might have to take a step out to see if she was as described. Curiosity. And it wouldn’t hurt to have something nice to look at for a bit.

He should have expected it to be turned on him. Steffan sighed heavily. “I don’t much know, Father,” he said, “some things seem to be going downhill, but that just seems how life is. You have your low moments, and then it picks back up.” It made sense to him, “I don’t much like how much seems to be dying and rotting right now, but I’m sure it’ll fix itself eventually.”

He had seen enough violence, enough drought, in his life not to think too terribly much of one new problem. It would pass. It always did. “I suppose you don’t believe it can without Ersetu, though, do you?”

What a hopeless life to lead. And yet he didn’t end it all – he stood out there, begging for bread, for life. “Why do you keep going on?” That was a curiosity, he supposed. Why he kept on, when Ersetu was gone.

~***~

Did Ava pause to take the stranger’s advice?

No.

Perhaps he was telling the truth, but there were always excepts, and Ava was used to being the exception to so many rules. Magic, or generosity, it tended to blur together, and she imagined a few people wouldn’t have been able to answer honestly – likely not Steffon.

Certainly not the oblivious, like the baker who was regrouping after seeing Rina leave the area. “Oh! Miss Vining,” she greeted with a wain smile. “I’m sorry, I just sold everything to Captain Terst.”

“Just the bread, right?”

“Um, well, yes, everything baked,” she supposed she hadn’t sold her flour, starters, or things that were not yet edible. “Why?”

“I was hoping you might have some minder?” she clasped her gloved hands together in front of herself, leaned forward a bit, “All of mine’s rotten – the whole garden is rotting up at the academy, really, even the basil. I’ll pay you well for any you have left!”

The woman bit her bottom lip a moment, “I might have something – let me check, just, wait here a moment.” And she vanished back into her store, with Ava cheering her likely victory internally.

 

[Melpomene]

For a long moment, Brean let silence overtake them. It was a difficult question to answer, despite all the years he had spent on his lonesome to quietly wonder himself what the purpose of this silent rebellion was. At times, it was not even so silent, yet it was for naught, as no one would turn on their heel as he wished, no one would kneel over at him and clasp his waist as they once would, announcing loudly and proudly that he had come and saved them from a life of sin, a life in which they had doubted the power of Ersetu, because no longer was there power for them to doubt. And that power seemed to be long gone.

So truly, his silent rebellion seemed pointless.

"That is the question, eh? The Roots have been scattered, if not burned, I would say. And here I am, a lone reminder of what once was. The world has moved on. Ersetu has been burned by the heretics who feared its power. I heard by the very Vampire that once was in this town, pah! Ain't that just life? A Root shriveling up in the home of the poisoner." For a moment, all Brean could do was shake his head, desperately wishing he had something to drink or smoke as he spoke. He lightly scratched at his wrist.

"Ersetu is gone. The world ain't gonna live long without it. Might as well burn myself along with it, eh? If I down a bottle at the tavern, I bet I'll burn fast." he chuckled darkly at his own joke, his hand gripping tightly to his knee. "But that wouldn't be fitting. No, sir cobbler, I gave my life to Ersetu, I avoided giving my death to it. And I think that may be the only mistake I have ever made after I heard of the tree burning."

He should have stood with his Grand Father. He knew as much. His cowardice seemed to know no bounds, and now he was paying for it, begging for coin just to feel warmth in his belly for a few petty days just to find himself in an unending cycle.

"I don't get to just give up, Steffan, not with the life I chose to lead. You either live for Ersetu or die for Ersetu, I missed the dying part when I could have had it, now I gotta live."

~**~

Lucan was not surprised to see her not even turn her head to acknowledge what he said. It seemed he made a bad impression on her already, though he was not surprised of that fact. It seemed that beggar had a friend. Or, at the very least, she was someone that did not like seeing others be rude, which Lucan admittedly was. There was a time when he would have been more worried about public appearance. The very nature of a Branch was to sow peace and goodwill, not to bring out the animosity and hatred in others. Yet, he had managed to do all of that the moment he stepped into towns, his holsters heavy on his hips.

He was going to turn, to look into the bakery when the sight of a pretty blonde woman with her hair tied up into a bun and a babe at her chest came to view. She looked older, older than him at the very least, but her face was round and soft, and her eyes warm. She raised her hand in a wave as she walked over, the babe continued to coo soundly on her chest.

"Stranger?" she asked, a smile painted on her lips. A nice welcoming one. "Haven't seen you around at all. I like memorizing faces."

"Just got here." He mumbled around his cigarette.

"That explains it. I'm Joanna, it is a pleasure mister...?" She smiled expectantly.

"Ivan." he said shortly. She did not look any less pleasant. Joanna placed her hand out, one which Lucan met with his own. Hers were soft and warm, a sharp contrast to the hardened calluses that had formed on his own. He looked back at her, it was not like townspeople to be so... friendly towards strangers. He wondered, for a moment, if she was a Mayor's wife or something of the life. But she stepped away and he did not allow himself to become distracted with such a curious question.

"I hope to see you at one of my sermons, Ivan." she said as she turned to the bakery. Lucan did not respond. He simply watched her as she stepped into the bakery, the babe still at her chest as she smiled pleasantly at Ava.

"Did you come for breakfast too?" she asked, her hand idly playing with the babes blanket. "Of all the places I have been, I believe I love this bakery the most."

 

[Lucyfer]

Brean was silent. This didn’t surprise Steffan, and he did not interrupt this silence. He worked in it, waiting for the moment it would break, and he would be curious to hear what Brean had to say. And hope he wasn’t inadvertently encouraging something like suicide – certainly wasn’t his intent, but he didn’t know what possessed the man to go on, when it all must seem so hopeless.

Any Root of Ersetu, really, needed to reconsider their position.

His gaze cut harshly across from his work at the dark joke, not finding it terribly amusing when he was concerned he might be responsible for a truth, if it happened. If the Father did go off the deep end. Wrong or not about matters of faith, Brean didn’t need to go doing that.

He didn’t much care for the hopelessness in the old man’s voice, though.

And it didn’t seem Brean really knew what to do. Likely, too much to ask, in truth. His whole world was shattered. He never thought of a life without Ersetu. “Aye. I suppose you must do what you must do, if you can’t die for the tree anymore. Penance of some sort, then, for not dying?”

What a miserable way to live.

That was probably the point, though.

~***~

Ava turned her head towards the door as it opened, a smile touching her lips at the sight of Joanna. The edges softened at the sight of the cooing child. No matter Brean’s opinion, which she knew, Joanna seemed to mean no harm. It could be that she was terribly pretty, and terribly warm in disposition, but Ava found it difficult to imagine a woman with as many children as she had, would truly want a terrible world for them to grow up in.

Ava may disagree with her on the religious aspect of it all, still though Ersetu should be standing, but that didn’t much matter any longer. “Good morning!” She trilled in greeting to the woman, “I’m just here to get a bit of minder,” she informed, “it’s quite good for tea, and I seem to be out of it,” she wouldn’t say to her, that it all rotted away.

That could sound too much like an accusation.

Which, in some ways, it would be, even if Joanna hadn’t burnt the tree herself.

The baker returned to the storefront, smile on her lips that faltered at the sight of Joanna and the babe, if only because her news was as bad for her as she had thought it was for Ava, “I had a spot of minder, Ava,” she said, offering a white cloth bag out. Ava quickly stepped forward to take it, and dug into the satchel she had tied at her side for the requested silver. Steep price – but that was the problem with things now, too, wasn’t it?

“It’s good to see you, Ms. Joanna,” she greeted, trying to keep that anxiety at bay, “How can I help you this morning – and how’s the dear one?” her own eyes dropped briefly to the child.

Maybe the baker would get lucky and all Joanna wanted was raw material? She was thinking she could get away with selling a bit of that, like the minder.

 

[Melpomene]

"I suppose you could say this is my penance, yes." Brean breathed out a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing as he stared down at his own lap, his mouth set into a firm frown. His hands twitched, his fingers splayed wide across his knees. They trembled lightly despite him not exerting their strength on anything. They were older than he remembered. Wrinkled and spotted, his nails jagged and yellowed. Dirt was caked beneath them, embedded deep within his cuticles, just as it was within himself. He tightened his hands into fist, forcing them as small as they would go as though he hoped that would cause them to disappear from view.

He sighed internally. "Yes, it is a good one. If I had known what life would be like after Ersetu, I would have been more happy to stand with Grand Father Filils when the end times came. Let me tell you, though, It ain't as easy to stand and die when death is rattling your chains. Then all of a sudden you get this wind in ya that tells you that you gotta live."

Brean leaned back, his head turned slightly upward so that he was looking at the dim ceiling, tracing the cracks he could find in it as he idly tapped his fingers against the armrest. He did not like to be forced to feel that growing well within his chest. He did not like the turn this conversation took, making him think on the past, his own sins and those which were still to come. More than anything, he hated thinking of Ersetu, that tree which had taken so much up into flames with it. No, it was no time to be held down by emotion. So he forced himself to think of better things. "But one good thing about not having to answer to anyone now..." a slow smile spread across his lips. It felt nice. This was one of the closest things to a friendship he was able to feel since his arrival with someone other than Ava.

"I can ogle any lady I want without having to wash my eyes out now and oh my it feels quite nice. Ain't like the good days when I had 'em at my feet ready to be taken up to my room, but let me tell you, being able to feel lust again is mighty nice. Ersetu, may I be forgiven. But if it doesn't, you will cobbler, your forgiveness is good enough for me."

Perhaps the other Roots that had fled were thinking the same.

There were several others. And he wondered... he certainly wondered... For some reason that man, that stranger had latched on to the back of his mind, something so familiar about him that Brean wondered if he was one of the young men being trained to become a root. Or perhaps he was once someone who had cleaned the trunks... but it was unlikely, very unlikely. Yet at the same time, Brean could not stop wondering as he peeked out the window to look at his dark visage, the mystery hanging around him begging to be solved.

Either way, he would not wish to speak to a beggar. Yet still...

"Can I tell you something, Steffan?" he said lowly as he stared out the window. "That... stranger. I..." he swallowed thickly. "I felt something when I saw him, and by Ersetu, Steffan, I have not felt anything like that since I had seen Gwaine Ivantes... May sound silly, but I think I know him. Some how he seems so familiar... And that worries me, sir, very much." Because by Ersetu, Gwaine could not even exist in the same place as the tree, if there was another like him, Brean doubted the could exist in the same world at all.

~**~

Joanna smiled at the young woman before her. It was her mission, in every town, to make some type of friendship there with as many people as possible. It was the best way to get everyone to see the light, to adopt the faith, was to allow them in the way she was never able to step in when she was but a young girl. A bastard girl, at that. That was the mistake of those who followed Ersetu, the blind sheep who believed they were supposed to strike all who disagreed with them like misbehaving children rather than caress them and coo until the eventually gave way under their gentle hands.

Unlike the stranger, Ivan, outside, Ava was far warmer, and to that Joanna was grateful, holding her little one, Georgie, to her bosom tighter as she continued to play with the blanket he was bundled in. "Oh that sounds quite nice," she said. A few golden strands of hair had fallen from her bun, framing her face. "May it help keep you in good health, the weather has been awfully chilly..."

Some would blame it on the burning of Ersetu. Perhaps it was that which caused it. Such did not matter, as the world would correct itself soon enough. It took time, however, and a lot of patience for such things to happen. The moment the baker stepped out, however, Joanna turned her attention the woman, a bright smile lighting up her face as she held Georgie to her chest more tightly.

"Oh, Georgie is just fine... He's quiet now, but he is usually quite the babbler-- takes after his father," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "My husband would disagree." That was par for the course, their disagreement. Though, it was agreed on that the burning of Ersetu was one of the best things to happen to them. "I was just wondering if you may have some sweets to buy... me and the other children love 'em."

 

[Lucyfer]

Steffan would not have the sort of courage to stand and greet death. He wouldn’t die for his shop, he wasn’t about to die for something he didn’t believe in. He might die for his family. Maybe even at least put his life on the line for Prissy, who groomed herself at the window.

When the father did find a way to shift the conversation, that wasn’t coming so clearly to mind for Steffan, the cobbler paused, looking up as his breath caught in his throat in a choked laugh, before he let it out. “Aye, father, though you may want to be careful. Some don’t like to be ogled and might strike ya for it,” he still chuckled, though. The father likely knew that by now.

“Maybe if you get cleaned up some, you’ll have them at your feet again,” he shrugged, though he supposed the ‘power’ aspect of who he was long gone, and without a penny to his name, and age stealing what looks he might have had, that was unlikely.

Still, a better dream than the nightmare ahead.

“Shoes will help with that.”

Shoes not paid for by the father. He wasn’t all that surprised that the father had indulged in some sins. He did choose life, after all. “But I forgive you for it. I’ve done my share of looking, I can’t be a hypocrite now.”

It was in the lull that followed that, which the father opted to address another matter. The stranger outside. Steffan turned his head to see he was still standing outside of the bakery where Ava had gone. “Maybe you ought to go introduce yourself, father. Though if he’s like Gwaine, seems the sort you wouldn’t want to meet,” Gwaine had ruined it all. Still, “you said he was carrying, right? Would have made him a Branch, or something? I didn’t think the Roots carried.”

He wouldn’t be surprised, in general, though.

He wasn’t really surprised by much when it came to people going against the grain. Living in a town like this did that, though. So much happened here, with so many besides humans, it was hard to be surprised anymore.

Prissy, of course, with the thought of someone getting up and moving, immediately left her window perch to go hop onto Brean’s lap and resume her grooming there.

~***~

“Thank you,” Ava inclined her head towards Joanna with her well-wishes, as she stepped away from the counter with her treasure. And looked at it.

She had to make sure it smelled right, and didn’t seem to be rotting. Thankfully, that heavenly minty scent rose up, as crisp and cool as the morning outside, but so much more pleasant. When it hit her face later, it’d be as warm steam, not, well, brisk. Not like a slap to the face, as the weather threatened to turn.

“Maybe it’ll warm up soon,” maybe not, but Ava again didn’t intend to enter into any sort of debate, or toe any lines. This was easy small talk, and she intended to be on her way now that she had her minder, and it was all good.

Though she wasn’t out soon enough to not overhear Joanna’s question, or the answer that followed. There was a bit of a nervous laugh at the comment on Georgie, as it was followed by Joanna’s request, “I’m sorry, Ms. Joanna, but Captain Terst has already ordered all our prepared products,” her way of explaining why Ava was about to leave with something.

Ava paused, “Do they really need sweets? I’m sure she wouldn’t notice just a few small treats gone, right?”

Again, the baker bit her bottom lip, uncertain. She hadn’t given the Captain a rundown, it was true, but she was concerned about what fallout may happen if Rina became aware of the situation. Still, a mother and baby were hard to resist – and soldiers didn’t need too many sweets, right? “I suppose she might not notice…and for a family with an infant she wouldn’t complain,” maybe. “Let me just take a look again.” And again, the vanishing act to the back.

 

[Melpomene]

A smile twitched on to Brean's face as his fingers hovered before his lips. The forgiveness, though coming from a man he barely knew, was still nice to hear. Even though he had never once searched for it before, especially not when he was back at his prime. It was a disappointment, as he desperately wished the people of the town could see him when he was confident, tall, his hair brushed and perfected, his eyes alight with fire.

"Carrying... Yes he was, two nice sized guns right his hips..." For a moment, Brean thought, but then he shook his head. "All the Branches died with the tree," he grumbled, letting out a sharp breath through his nose. "I didn't see it, but I saw all the bodies laid out before the Renascence turned to the Roots. The Branches didn't have a chance with the way Gwaine had just swept in there like a flame... You should have seen him, he was terrifying yet..." Brean could not think of the right word. He lapped at his dry upper lip. "Like a damn mystical creature descended down to bring forth his might. Even before the burning... It was hard to not look at him."

Brean let out a breath, his hand idly coming to pet Prissy, barely noticing her new arrival on his lap before he slowly nodded his head. His curiosity was beginning to overcome him. The man could not be a Branch nor a Root yet something about his face looked so familiar, the ghost of a memory.

"Perhaps he does need a welcoming... Ava sounded like she was gonna give him a sour one." Brean chuckled despite himself. "Couldn't have been that sour, though, that girl is as sweet as pie." Though he was certainly biased seeing as she was the one paying for him to not freeze his feet off in the cold. His hand curled in the cat's fur. "He doesn't look like the type to care..." the longer Brean stared after the stranger, the more the feeling of familiarity. Had he blessed that man before? Had he been there when his family had a loss? His mind kept on leaping back to the Branches, desperately searching through the faces he knew, but they were all dead.

His hand stopped shifting through the cat's fur for a moment. Perhaps he would...

~**~

A soft frown came to Joanna's lips, but she simply nodded her head. It was a disappointment, perhaps, but she knew better than to fight the Renascence. Captain Terst had never given Joanna any problem, quite the opposite. Joanna always attempted to be warm to the woman, showing her as much appreciation as she could for her ability to help the cause. It was an honor to serve in the town which had once belonged to the Grand Vampire savior of the race. He who set fire to Ersetu had to be honored to the fullest. What she worried for was the townsfolk, however... with the right spin they may still have gotten as worked out as they had the day before.

"Thank you," she said with a sigh, Georgie had begun to babble, fussing, though not yet letting out any of his earsplitting cries. Joanna did not know what it was about the girl, but something about her compelled people. Joanna had the power herself, and she was happy to see it in one so sweet. "I suppose if it is for the Captain, I should not try to take too much, the Renascence need their energy after all."

Especially in times such as these. Dissenters were now few and far between, but they were getting more desperate.

"I hope the town is fine, I know I probably ain't the only one disappointed. Especially if we keep getting visitors to this town," she brought her finger to her lips as her mouth curved into a smiled. "Me and that stranger out there, who's next? I think Hilbes is beginning to get more popular as we speak."

 

[Lucyfer]

‘Could they really all be dead?’ It was hard for Steffan to fathom. Were none off on missions elsewhere? Roots were scattered, why not Branches? Probably because their entire job was Ersetu. Being too far from it, meant they weren’t protecting it, but he knew Branches had extended their reach in serving Ersetu.

Rooting out heresies. “That’s what I hear of Gwaine,” he agreed, “Never seen’em for myself. Probably never will unless he comes to Hilbes,” Steffan noted. He wasn’t soon to make any pilgrimages to Solvit. He had no reason to do so, after all. Tree wasn’t there. He didn’t care enough to see Gwaine, although the reverence…even in the hatred, the reverence that Brean seemed to hold was notable.

And the seriousness of that feeling broke with his statement on Ava.

Steffan just laughed to himself as Ava was called sweet as pie. ‘Meat pie.’ “You haven’t had the misfortune of seeing her angry.” Steffan was certain most people, even the father, would assume she’d be about as threatening as a kitten. Steffan hadn’t had the misfortune of having her anger directed at him, but he’d seen it.

Didn’t want to see it again. Didn’t think he would, either.

“Still, you’re probably right – can’t have done much harm to’em, he’s still calm as ever out there,” the stacked leather was finally put together in the right shape for two shoes. Now he just had to start attaching that softer leather to form the shoes around the feet. “It’s going to be a bit with your shoes,” he said, so that Brean both knew to anticipate that – at least an hour, maybe a little more, depending on how finicky the leather wanted to be. “You’ve got time if you want to go run’em down, just don’t go getting yourself shot. Wouldn’t want you to just have the shoes to be buried in them.”

He’d make his money no matter, but still. Best on living feet.

~***~

Poor Georgie was starting to babble and fuss a bit, and Ava’s brows knit together both in some mix of concern and amusement at its furtive, but mostly futile, fussiness. Infants were so terribly helpless. Ava still couldn’t help but think of how much other creatures had advanced when they had their children; she knew, apparently, that her father thought she could have managed without him.

She wondered sometimes if pure sirens were born speaking.

“Oh, Hilbes has always been popular,” Ava spoke with knowledge one of her age shouldn’t have, “it has an academy, after all – that’s not so common. We get lots of people here!” And always had, it seemed. She had even lived here. It seemed she was living here again, until she finally convinced herself onto a boat, to find…well, whatever there was to find.

To answer the siren call she so often resisted.

Answering sirens wasn’t the best idea – or at least, that’s what she thought. She didn’t know as much as she’d like about that. “There are still other places to get food; I doubt the Captain will clear all of them!” She hoped, anyways. She didn’t know for sure. Armies ate a lot, from what she could gather. “I hope you have a good day, Joanna – I need to get started on my tea,” she needed to go back to Brean, really, but Steffan would probably let her make tea. It was just some hot water she needed from him, after all.

She waved, as the baker returned to the front, with another bit of white cloth, which she laid out on the counter, showing a few round, shortbread cookies – slightly ornate, resembling flowers that should have been growing outside. “It’s not much, but I think I can spare a few of these,” she thought Georgie might like to suck on one for a while.

 

[Melpomene]

"Don't look for 'im," Brean said in regards to Gwaine, shaking his head solemnly. "Don't know your faith but you would regret it. And pray he doesn't come here... " In truth, that was for Brean's sake more than anyone's. Perhaps Steffan would not regret seeing Gwaine, but Brean did not need anyone else falling to his ways, not even being swayed. Not in a world that was already far too harsh to navigate.

Ava angry was something Brean thought he may have wanted to see. He could not imagine her doing anything other than, perhaps, giving someone a harsh tongue lashing. Perhaps one day he would see it in all of its ardent glory. For now, he only felt the need to make his way to that stranger that still stood outside the bakery. His hand drifted to prissy, gently pushing the cat, no matter the complaints his ears rung with, to the floor as he stood, dusting off the front of his robes as thought cat hair was truly the worst fo what he had gotten on himself.

"If you hear a gunshot then save those boots for someone that happens to be the same size. Hate for them to be a waste of time." An hour. He would have as much to go greet the stranger properly, without a beggars bowl this time. It would be worth it for the sake of satisfying his curiosity. Brean pushed out of the shop, shielding his eyes from the light as he looked across the way at the stranger whose head had tilted up in some subtle acknowledgment. He straightened himself off of the wall and Brean began to step over, his hand raised in a wave and a smile placed on his cracked lips.

"Stranger!" He said as he came forward. The stranger arched his brow but nodded, he seemed more welcoming this time, plucking his cigarette from between his lips as he gave the father a once over. "We did not seem to have a proper introduction, pardon me, it is a bit rude. Father Brean, pleased to meet you." he held out a hand and for a moment he thought he caught a flicker of recognition cross the stranger's features.

'Damn right... I know you and I know I do...'

Lucan reached out and took the father's hand, as he had before in a much different time. The man looked far older than he remembered, far frailer, and the overwhelming stench of alcohol had skewed his memory, but it was all the same, as he peeled back those wrinkles, those tattered robes and that beard he was able to see the face of a man who had once been an overpowering force in Solvit. Lucan supposed he himself had been an overpowering force in Solvit as well, back when he was with Gwaine as a brother in arms rather than against him. For a moment, he worried, though if anyone would be best to recognize him, it was the father. As, from what it looked like, he had yet to abandon Ersetu.

"Father," Lucan greeted kindly enough. "Didn't notice at first-- You have time?"

Father Brean smiled. "My boy, I have nothing but time... Could pass faster with a smoke of my own." Lucan glanced down at his cigarette and shrugged, taking his pouch out again to begin rolling the father his own smoke. It would not hurt. And perhaps it would make the Father it bit more loose-lipped.

~**~

Joanna shrugged. "I s'pose I should have come here before the burning, I am sure it was more bustling than it is now. Especially when Reamun was alive and well here-- Oh bless his soul and all he sacrificed for us to continue on as we do." she clicked her tongue and then offered Ava another kind smile. "Oh, don't let an old woman like me keep you from your tea. Go on, I won't bother you with my stories any longer."

She turned to the baker, gratefully placing a few coins on the counter before taking some of the goods for herself. "Thank you, Miss, if the Captain ends up feeling upset then feel free to send her to me, I'll try talking to her myself-- I'm sure she is a reasonable woman."

Joanna let Georgie take one, his babbling, and fussing stopped the moment he brought it to his lips and began to suck on it with his toothless gums. Joanna let out a low chuckle as she hummed. "I wish you well, be sure you keep yourself warm these days," Joanna said as she turned to leave. However, at the sight of the father, as she stepped out of the bakery, her smile tightened. He was like a blemish on the face of a fine lady. A pocket that was old and ugly where freshness should be. His look of contempt always was something she wished to meet with her own. But instead, as always, she turned away, not wanting to even look at him.

 

[Lucyfer]

Steffan could only nod, allowing a hum of agreement to follow the sound as Prissy was pushed to the ground. No doubt, she’d shun the father the next time he came in, for a bit. It’s how she earned her name, after all. She held grudges like no other cat he’d ever known. He’d had to coax himself back into her good graces more than once, with treats and cream.

It was unlikely to bother Father Brean, but Steffan would take some mild amusement from it, all the same. And find her an extra bit of fish, if he could. That wasn’t yet in short supply, but he supposed it would be, eventually.

The cobbler did observe for a few moments, all that occurred outside his window. He could not hear, but he could see well enough to watch the greeting of Brean and the Stranger. He could see some woman avoid it all together. By description, that might be Joanna. She seemed disgusted enough with the Father.

Apparently, she had no warmth for him, where she may have it for others.

And Ava, of course, pausing to consider.

He could only chuckle to himself as he wondered at the odd grouping, and the way she’d taken a strange liking for the Father.

Well, perhaps that wasn’t so strange, in truth. She’d spent enough time looking after her own biological father, after all – a wasting away minstrel. They didn’t do so well in old age. Part of their charm was vigor, after all.

~***~

Ava was out a few moments before Joanna had gathered her own things and given Georgie his cookie. She stepped away from the door, but was a bit surprised to see the Father now with the Rude Stranger – who she had half a mind to show off her prize to, given he’d tried to say she wouldn’t be getting anything.

She held back on that petty little desire in the curiosity of the situation, and the internal debate of whether or not she ought to leave it well enough alone.

She wanted her tea already, after all.

But she didn’t want Brean to get shot for saying the wrong thing about Ersetu to the wrong person. “Is everything okay, father?” Ava inquired gently, keeping some distance. If it was all okay, and he seemed content, she’d head back to Steffan, but if there was some issue, some problem, she could linger about and try to make sure nothing escalated.

Still, her hand fidgeted a bit with the cloth holding her precious minder.

 

[Melpomene]

Lucan peeked up over his heat as he finished rolling the father his smoke, handing it to him. "M'not trying to kill the father if that's what you're asking, just trying to talk."

"Everything's fine, Ava," Father Brean said as he waited for Lucan to light his cigarette, taking a deep inhale once he did and then letting out a contented sigh out, one which quickly turned into a cough before he shook his head. "Been so long since I have had one," he coughed once more then took another inhale, now knowing what to expect. "Missed the taste for you don't know how long."

"I'd bet roughly a year," Lucan drawled as he brought his own cigarette back to his lips. Brean chuckled.

"I would have to assume you're right... Ava, I just decided to introduce myself. " he waved his hand back toward the stranger, who still did not have the name of. He turned back, one thing which had caught his attention was that he was noticeably taller than the man, not exactly towering but the larger than life aura which had been exuded kept making him think the stranger was so much larger. It was something he had felt before. With a stranger, so small, yet so noticeable in his own way. After a moment, Brean felt it click, his mouth falling open as his eyes widened.

"Lil' Lucan?" he murmured quietly. For a moment, Lucan's gaze hardened.

"Ivan Leonas, Father. " he said quickly before his eyes flicked to Ava. "And I just want to know more about the town. That's it."

Of everywhere he went, he did not expect some rundown cleric in Hilbes to recognize him. He had never been to Hilbes nor had he planned on it before now. But the town held Reamun's remains and he needed to see it. Everywhere else he went people treated him as the stranger he was, most would not know him from another, but obviously this cleric had a knack for remembering faces and names. He was one of the only Roots Lucan had found alive.

 

[Lucyfer]

It was, more or less, what Ava had been asking, and even if she didn’t hear any deceitful inflections, she also knew she didn’t know this stranger yet to be certain of his patterns. So, she waited until at least Brean had given some clear indication that it was okay. She got that, soon enough – and it became only too clear why as he enjoyed his smoke, and then, blurted a name.

No name that she knew, but the tension, and the quick correction, told Ava it was the correct name – and someone from the Father’s history. Clergy? That didn’t seem likely, but she wasn’t sure who else it could be, given the Father’s life beforehand.

If he wanted to know about the town, though, she saw no reason to be immediately excluded. “Well, Lil’ Leonas,” she couldn’t help it. She rarely could. The man wasn’t little compared to her, even with the heeled shoes, but the tease remained in her smile as she came closer into their bubble, resting a hand on the post that now only one cy-horse was tied to.

This Lucan's cy-horse. She would have to ask Brean about that, later. She was curious who Lucan had been to him, but obviously, that was a conversation not meant to be on the table right now. This Ivan figure didn't want to be known by that name.

Trouble.

“If you want information about the town, I’ve been here a lot longer than Father Brean. I grew up here.” And then left, and came back, after Father Brean had made his way here.

He may have suspected he’d been here longer based on that. She hadn’t really divulged much, of course. She didn’t speak at great lengths with anyone of her personal past. It wasn’t important. “What do you need to know about Hilbes?”

 

[Melpomene]

Lucan grimaced. He hated the nickname and always had. It had stuck when on of the branches-- Galhad -- decided to name him that when he was brought in and trained to become a Branch for Ersetu. The moment the name left his lips, it immediately stuck with just about everyone that Lucan was forced to meet with. He had reacted near violently against it when he was younger, but had learned quickly that violence against the branches would leave one black and blue if they were lucky, and dead if they were not. However, even as Father Brean spoke the hated name aloud, Lucan felt a certain warmth upon hearing it. But more than anything, he felt annoyance that someone had so easily seen through his ruse.

He was not a hard man to recognize, in truth, if someone knew him well enough. But he was forgettable, at least in comparison to those he rode with. However, this cleric seemed to be able to remember all the faces he had seen. And what annoyed him further was that he could not lie well enough to pretend like the father was wrong. He was a good enough thief and fast enough at running, but the art of the fib had eluded him.

Brean was a gossip, he would not be a good one if he did not know about the the people he spoke of.

A near tender smile had come to his lips. As soon as the name had come to his mind, he knew it was right. Lucan may not have been the most outspoken of the Branches, but Brean would never forget one which rode with Gwaine. However, that thought then made a frown come to his lips, his brow crinkled as his lips parted, the silent question already beginning to leave his tongue.

"Later," Lucan said before he could ask it, holding up a calloused hand. He turned to address Ava instead. Any chance at information was a chance he needed to take, however...

Lucan looked between the two. He did not trust his secret would be kept with the father, this woman would know it as well. He could not make a scene now. But he could get the information he needed.

"Reamun," he said, dropping the butt of his cigarette and putting it out with his heel. "You were alive here when it was still Reamun's town? Have you seen his manor?"

He saw no point in tiptoeing now. He did not have the grace or expertise to do that anyways, it may have been good someone saved him the attempt.

 

[Lucyfer]

There was a history that Ava was interrupting. That was obvious enough, but Lucan-Leonas wanted information, more than he wanted to reminiscence. He wasn’t there for friends. ‘But if you are a friend of Brean….’ Then his question was an interesting one.

Her mind ran through several assumptions, even as she bobbed it up and down in a ‘yes’. “It’s hard to miss,” from the outside, of course, “I’ve been inside it.” More than once, but from an early age.

It was, after all, Reamun who had sealed her wings so that she’d have a better chance at living a normal life. “Why?” Ava folded her arms over her chest, trying to figure out which of her assumptions were most likely correct.

Did he want in Reamun’s manor?

Was he here to harm Terst?

He wasn’t just a sightseer. He wanted to see, or find, something in particular, and Ava knew it couldn’t be any good.

“Actually, maybe we shouldn’t talk on the street, hm?” She knew he probably wouldn’t want even another person involved, but talking out in the open like this was an easy way to be overheard. She stepped down into the street proper, off the walkway, and gestured back towards the cobbler’s place.

“I mean, I don’t mind, but….”

 

[Melpomene]

Lucan raised a brow, looking sharply at Ava the moment she claimed to have been inside the manor before. He was not expecting anyone to have been, and though he had no reason to believe her, he no reason to disbelieve her at this point either. And it was the luckiest lead he had to go on, Terst and Joanna-- getting information out of them was risky, someone like him could only do it through intimidation, and none of the town's people likely knew much about the manor, no matter how long they had been there, it was still the manor of a Vampire, after all, he likely was not open with it.

He shifted his gaze to Brean who simply shrugged at Ava's declaration. "She's never been one to lie before," he said. At least as far as he knew. And he did not know of many others to bring the stranger to, as Brean himself did not even know as much about the manor.

Lucan looked up, then he slowly nodded his head. "Alright, alright, we'll go inside." he did not need someone hearing him talk about Reamun's manor at all, let alone breaking into it since Ava seemed like she was going to refuse any information until he coughed up details, and in truth, it was hard to think of a reason other than what he planned to do. He did not have the right demeanor to pass off as someone who was just curious, and he did not have the ability to force information out of her without causing a scene, and he did not have the patience or time to root out someone else, with every passing second the world died a little more. And it wasn't going to die before he found Gwaine again.

"C'mon then, Lil... Ivan," The father corrected himself, once again a mysterious and tender smile touching his lips.

"Ivan, father, remember it well. " He snapped as he turned to the cobbler's building and began walking. He grimaced when all Father Brean did was snicker.

"Hm. Haven't changed much."

 

[Lucyfer]

Lucan-Leonas was agreeable enough to going inside, and the Father defended her honor, to which Ava offered the hint of a curtsy. Knees bent, head inclined, and she spread her arms a little out but didn’t pull up her skirt with the mock-gesture. Just kept that impish smile on her lips. She did have a fairly good reputation. Thankfully.

She spun on her heel as she straightened up and he agreed to speak inside, giggling as he was referred to as Lil Ivan instead of Lil Lucan this time.

While nothing about the stranger suggested ‘fun’, terrible nicknames for stoic people were always fun. Ava would have it where she could.

Ava opened the door for them, and held it open for them to walk through, intending to enter last. Steffan cast them all a weary look as they came tromping into his store. “He doesn’t need shoes,” he pointed out once the stranger was in, “Who are ya, anyways?”

“This is Lil Ivan!” Ava introduced, and Steffan snorted at the nickname, “He doesn’t need shoes, just information, and we wanted off the street for it. Is that okay?”

Steffan sighed, but lifted a hand with his needle to wave it off. Prissy was already moving to this Lil Ivan to sniff at him, and likely to more openly, obviously, snub the Father who had left her behind to go see this stranger in the first place.

“And can I make some tea?”

“Fine,” he said, “But make me a cup as well.”

“Okay! Anyone else?” She supposed she shouldn’t try to hold onto the minder. Even if it wasn’t rotted now, that didn’t mean it would still be okay tomorrow. The minder in the garden had been just fine yesterday, after all.