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Post by Threnn on May 27, 2008 13:39:18 GMT -5
It started out as a thought: Please be home. Please be home. Please be home.
When she stepped into Old Town, skirting the long way around Cutthroat Alley, it became a chant: "Please be home. Please be home. Please be home."
By the time she turned her key in the door, it had become a prayer: Blessed Elune, let Cylinn be home.
Yet, Annalea had never had much time for the goddess, and had no right to expect her favor as a reward for neglect. She knew as soon as the key met resistance and the bolt clicked back that her prayer had gone unanswered; Cylinn wouldn't have left the door locked if she was home. Even when the girl was sound asleep, she didn't fear anyone breaking in.
Anna paused with her hand on the doorknob. Go in, you git. No one's there but the cat. But was she sure of that? If I run, I can beat Fin to the gryphons. She was two steps down the stairs before she caught herself. Asking him to stay the night would raise questions - why would she be afraid a drunk had followed her all the way to Stormwind after a barfight in Shattrath?
Or, worse, he'd think it was some kind of pretense. "Oh, Fin," she said in a mocking, breathy voice, "I'm sooo frightened, and you're sooo strong. Won't you come stay?" Anna snorted and turned back towards her door. "Might as well undo a few buttons and bat my eyelashes, while I'm at it."
It'd keep him from asking questions, though, wouldn't it?
She shoved that thought aside. He planned to go and ask her parents for their blessing soon - how would it look if she dragged him into her bed after, what, a night of drinks at the Pig and a picnic in Southshore? Why would he even bother with courtship, then?
Men like him don't court girls like me, anyway. He gets wind of this and he'll be gone.
Still, was it so wrong to want to try?
She sighed. No, going to Fingold was out of the question. The same with Threnn - she'd want to know where the sudden fear came from, why she'd picked the fight in the first place. Very little got past her sister; the only way Anna had ever been able to keep a secret from Threnn was to keep her bloody mouth shut. She wasn't about to spill this one now.
I'm on my own tonight.
She forced herself to climb back up the stairs and turn the knob. The door swung slowly open, revealing the darkened apartment she shared with Cylinn bint Dante. Shadows swirled around her at her bidding. They were only a small comfort.
The lantern sat on a chair just inside the door. Anna reached in and brought it out onto the landing. She fumbled a book of matches from her pouch and lit it. Lantern in one hand, belt knife in the other, she stepped into her room.
Nothing seemed out of place. Their beds were both unmade, the rumpled covers exactly the way she'd left them this morning. Fragrant herbs hung in the window, drying for her to use later in various potions. She examined the stalks and stems; none were broken from an intruder climbing in the window.
Harvey, their white cat, poked his head out of a pile of laundry and mrrred as she traversed the room, shining the lantern into every corner and lighting every candle she could find along the way. By the time she was finished and let her shadows go, the room glowed like noonday.
But it didn't feel bright enough.
She pulled the curtains closed and dragged a chair over to the window, so she could sit and peek out every now and then to be sure no one was watching from the street. Harvey hopped onto her lap and purred as she absent-mindedly petted him.
What the hell was I thinking? I don't even think he recognized me, before I started in on him. I should have left him alone. I should have... She hadn't even been sure it was him until she'd seen his right hand.
Firebloom, essence of agony, maiden's anguish. Get the mixture on the skin, and you may as well have reached into a fire. Drink it, and you'd die screaming for water as your insides burned. Some victims drowned themselves before the poison took them.
Firebloom, essence of agony, maiden's anguish. She'd found the last ingredient poetic, even though she was hardly a maiden.
But he couldn't have known that she was the cause of the ugly, twisted flesh on his claw-like hand, couldn't have known that it was Annalea's vial that had shattered when he snatched it away from his gibbering cohort.
She'd been so very careful.
But now he was in Shattrath, and the leer on his face when the Peacekeepers asked for her name told her he remembered her. How long until he told his master? How long until they came looking?
She peered out the window again. The street was quiet.
It was his fault that she'd come stumbling up here two years ago - back when this was Threnny's room - her stomach cramping and terror in her throat. It was his poison that had made her spend a night in blood and pain, in this very bed. He'd been the one who, a week later, had thrown a bag of coin at her feet in the Lion's Pride, conveying his lord's regrets on her unfortunate tragedy, and the suggestion that the matter was now closed.
It didn't take much imagination to figure out what would happen should the matter be reopened.
Fear thrummed through her, its taste electric on her tongue. She flicked on her buzzbox, intending to ask someone, anyone, to come sit with her. Maybe Delion would be willing to start teaching her better Darnassian. Or Alishe could use some help studying plants from Quel'Danas.
Before she opened her mouth to ask, her eyes fell on her work area.
Blindweed, ground swifthistle. She had some of Erika Tate's hot spices in her pack, too. Once, she'd made the mistake of touching her eyes while cooking with them - they'd been red and itchy for days. If someone comes through the door and it's not Cylinn, I'll at least buy myself some time.
Whether she'd use those seconds to run or fight, she didn't know, but she'd take any advantage she could get. Anna pushed Harvey off her lap and set to work. The grandfather clock downstairs tolled the hour twice before she was done, but this time, when she sat down to wait, she was a little less afraid.
She stayed awake through the night, until the candles had burned themselves down and the lantern had nearly run out of oil. Downstairs, she heard Mrs. Stone, the chandler, chivvying her apprentice out of bed. Soon enough, the room smelled of lavender, roses, and warm beeswax. Anna felt her eyes slipping closed. She peeked out the window once more.
Dawn was breaking, the sun just beginning to tinge the streets pink. The women's voices drifting up to Anna calmed her a little more. Mrs. Stone wouldn't let anyone she didn't know come up the stairs.
She'd been clutching the vial of homemade blinding powder in her hand for hours, ready to throw it against the doorframe if she had an unwelcome visitor. Her fingers cramped as she opened them to tuck the vial away in her nightstand.
She hid her belt knife beneath her pillow for good measure, crawled into bed, and waited for sleep to claim her.
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Fingold
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Post by Fingold on May 28, 2008 21:27:34 GMT -5
This just doesn't make sense. Anna has dealt with troublesome drunks long enough. What did this one do? Fingold kept going over the few scenarios that seemed plausible: The man, while unable to match up in a fight, was well connected enough to be a threat if angered. Or maybe he was dangerous enough, just too drunk to put up a good fight and Anna knew it. Why would he pick up a fight with Anna in the first place? Probably tried to get his hands all over her, that git. Shaarubo, the bartender at the World's End had promised to tell him if that man came again to the tavern. That bit of information cost more than Fingold would've liked, but it was the only way he could be certain the Draenei wasn't holding anything from him. The Barkeep hasn't contacted me. That's a good sign, I s'pose. The ride to the Lower City seemed to last far longer than usual.
There was the usual mix of orphans, beggars and many kinds of lowlifes surrounding the tavern. There's probably a thief relieving somebody from his coin right now, and the guards do nothing. Yet Anna defends herself and they're right there, ready to threaten her with an arrest within minutes. Peacekeepers only care about keeping the peace if fine folk is involved. The rabble is free to do as they please, no doubt. Fingold walked slowly into the Tavern, looking around for any suspicious faces. It was crowded as usual. The smell of cheap rum was everywhere. And so were the pleas of drunks to get Laetei to dance for them. Just another night at the World's End.
“A pint of ale, mate” Fingold exchanged looks with Shaarubo as he gave him the coins for the drink. So he hasn't come back, huh. It was the only conclusion after seeing the subtle yet clear hint of a head shake from the barkeep. At least he didn't forget about it. He better, I paid him bloody well, aye. “Anything you may have remembered, perhaps?” Fingold pointed at the leather pouch in his hand. This bastard's gonna cost me lots.
“Nothink, sir. I told you all I's seen.”
He's either an honest fool or getting paid more by someone else.”Alright then, I guess I'll go see if anybody else in here has a better memory.” Fingold, pint in hand, left the bar and looked for an empty seat.
“Laetei seen the fight, boy. I tolds you. Good luck getting'er attention tonight, heh.”
Honest fool, it seems. Fingold reached into the pouch and put a couple extra gold coins in front of Shaarubo. “Thanks, old man.” Better keep them grateful, aye.
Ten seconds. Ten seconds is the longest she's lasted not wrestling drunks away. He had been keenly observing the dynamics of the dancer and her patrons for near a half hour, sipping his ale. So she goes in a circle around the place, sure way to have clients with full pockets all the time. Smart lass. He knew he had to be quick and subtle about it when she finally came near. Don't just offer her coin, she gets that from everyone in here just fine.
Laetei was finally within earshot of Fingold. As soon as she made eye contact with him, Fingold raised his hand and spoke just loud enough to be heard. “Lass, let me know when is your next break. I would very much like to talk business with you. Absolutely legitimate, worry not. I need your brain, not your hips, I promise.”
The draenei gave half a grin without missing a beat from her dancing. She pointed towards the exit in the back of the Tavern with her eyes as her mouth said “Twenty minutes” without making a sound. Not wasting an instant, she moved over the next group of ogling drunkards dying to offer her coin.
A couple of braziers lit the otherwise dark alley behind the World's End, the polar opposite of the crowded and noisy main entrance. Fingold waited, a cloak keeping his face safe from the gaze of the curious.
As soon as Laetei came out of the door it was all business. “Don't waste your breath, blondie. Let me guess why you're here: Your pretty singing bird was all worried and wouldn't say a word about it. Right?” Even when she spoke her body moved as if dancing.
“Not quite, but close enough.” he grinned. Fingold thought carefully of what his proposition would be. “First, this is what I need from you: I want to know -in detail- what happened last night.” For the first time, Laetei broke eye contact, if only brief moment. “I have a feeling this may not be something you would be happy to share. Hell, Anna is not easily scared and whoever that scumbag is, he was capable of leaving an impression. So really, I do understand.” That better be reassuring enough.
“Look blondie, I don't want no trouble. I'm busy enough getting rid of drunks who think dancing is flirting to worry about your new creepy friend, alright? Take good care of your girl. Light bless and all of that.” With that she turned around and headed back towards the door.
“Hold on. You didn't let me finish. Just give me one more minute. That is all. I'll make it worth your while, promise.”
The draenei girl turned around, head tilted and rolling her eyes at Fingold. “I am not trying to squeeze money out of you, blondie. I even like your girl. I am not playing games with you. Don't try to play games with me, alright?”
Fingold smiled, trying to sound as reassuring as he could. “I wasn't talking about money, Laetei. I apologize if that's how it sounded. I don't know this git, but I know he's good at scaring the life out of good girls.” Laetei's outrage faded, and Fingold proceeded. “I have instructed a Peacekeeper to make sure there is somebody standing guard every night outside your apartment for a week. Her name is Anca and she will stand guard herself tonight.” Good thing she owed me from all those damned demon tokens she kept 'misplacing.' Always have as many people owing you as you can afford, aye.
Fingold reached for an inner pocket in his cloak and took out a small, thin, black box. “Here, I gave Anca your description, but just to be sure she identifies you, I told her to look for the girl wearing this necklace. Wear it tonight and wait for her to nod at you before you get into your home. After that, it's yours to keep. I made it myself. It's rather pretty if I may say so.” Fingold smiled, waiting for a sign of Laetei's approval.
“Make it three weeks. That bastard gives me the creeps. Wait until you see him, blondie.”
Heh, she knows I have no option. I like this girl. Fingold tried to hide a grin and nodded.
“That's not all, boy.” She started to sound hesitant.
Quick, Edour! “Don't worry, she doesn't know your name, who you are, nor why you would need protection. Specially from some tall, thin, brown haired man.”
The girl's eyes opened wide. “She told you about him? I thought what you wanted was information on that bastard.”
So it's at least somebody who reminded her of that stalker Threnn described. Let it be just someone who looks alike him, please. Fingold exhaled. “I certainly do. Come, let's take a walk. I promised you safety. But I need to know what you saw and heard. To better keep both you and Anna safe, of course. And I know just the place to have a quiet chat, far from any impertinent eyes and ears. You have nothing to worry about now. Trust me.”
Fingold unfastened his cloak and took it off. “Now, why don't you wear this yourself? It would be better.” Fingold smiled as he draped the girl in the cloak, which barely fit her. “One more thing, Laetei. This man didn't come to you for your silence, aye? It is important you don't keep things from me at this point.” Guards are good as gone if you do, I hope you realize it.
She tied a knot with the cloak's laces before lifting her head, and spoke softly but firmly, “He wouldn't know who to look for if he wanted, unless I was dancing. I know his ugly mug well enough, but he's never so much as glanced anywhere above my shoulders nor below my knees. He never tried to talk to me, no. Bastard just left as if nothing happened and hasn't come since. But he may.” That taken care of, they headed south. The draenei girl kept her face down all throughout. Invisible to lustful eyes for the first time in many hours.
Small chat was made along the way. Fingold learned she knew Anna sang at Inns and Taverns. She learned Fingold had heard her sing but once. “She sang to you? That's hard, boy. You don't understand, but it ain't easy to perform for someone special, certainly the first time. Consider yourself lucky, blondie” She grinned.
Out of nowhere, a little girl rushed towards them. “Mistah Edoooor!” It was a little Draenei girl that shouted.
Fingold couldn't help but laugh and hold the girl up in his arms, threatening to tickle her. “Nuri, This is Rennie, a very good little friend of mine. Rennie, this is Nuri, a new friend of mine. Say hello to her.”
Before little Rennie could say so, they started speaking in their own tongue, incomprehensible to him. It didn't take long for the little orphan girl to giggle. “You don't have to lie to her, I told her my real name. She thinks Nuri is a terrible name, too.”
Fingold tickled the girl. “I am sorry. I owe you more icecream, Rennie. OK?” The little girl's eyes glowed immediately. “Now, you girls chat for a second, I need to have a quick word with Miss Nicole”. After a few words with the Matron, Fingold signaled at Laetei. “Rennie, we need to have a grown up talk. But I will come soon to see you, alright?”
The girl nodded, gave him a big hug and went back to the other kids, leaping and hopping.
“The orphanage kitchen is sadly, the emptiest place you can find in any City. We can talk safely.” And talk they did.
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Fingold
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Post by Fingold on May 31, 2008 20:04:23 GMT -5
**The following appears to have been written in haste**
Dear Threnn,
I have just spoken to Leatei, the dancing girl at The World's End. She caught most of it, it seems. I am confident she is telling the truth, and that she didn't keep anything from me. This is what she remembers:
While Anna was at the mailbox outside the Tavern, this man bumped into her. They traded insults for a bit. Then, and this is what I don't understand, Anna struck him. Hard. He then attacked her, Anna defended herself. Then that goblin cook -who keeps shop not too far from the tavern and came out of nowhere- kicked the bastard in the balls groin. At this point the Peacekeepers showed up and kept them apart and started their interrogating business.
The girl doesn't remember what Anna was telling the Peacekeepers, but that bastard gave her “A smile that would scare Illidan himself”, she says. Anna's face turned whiter than milk and the poor dancing girl just lost all composure. She doesn't remember much after that. She doesn't know what Anna did after, the draenei girl was crying and scared out of her mind. She still seems to be concerned about this man. Enough to not be easily swayed to tell me what she saw, at least.
Now, as for that bastard. She says he's been to the World's End a few times. He almost fit the description you mentioned, except for a disfigured hand that she says is hard to miss. She doesn't know his name, but believes he's based in Honor Hold.
Does any of this make sense to you? I haven't seen Anna, so I don't know if she's already fully over this incident, but I will see her later today. I should be in Honor Hold soon for business. I will see what I can find there.
I wish to thank you again for everything, Threnn. Light's blessings. -Fingold Edour
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Post by Threnn on Jun 18, 2008 21:02:20 GMT -5
"Bloody. Fecking. Hell." Threnn rubbed at her eyes and tried to force them to focus on the ledger in front of her. The Pig's booze order had taken her twice as long as usual to put together, even though it was mostly unchanged from the previous week's. She kept taking Fingold's letter out of her pocket and poring over it, as though she might gain some insight into Anna's actions on the fifth reading, or the seventh, or the tenth.
Talking to Anna directly hadn't borne any real fruit, either. Her last visit had been an exercise in frustration. She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried recalling the details of their conversation.
---
Fin and Cylinn had mentioned her sister's odd behavior a few nights ago, but by the time Threnn arrived at the apartment Anna and Cylinn shared, things had seemed back to normal. The closet door was thrown open and every drawer in the room had been pulled out and emptied of clothes. Dresses and blouses were strewn over the backs of chairs and covered every inch of the bed. The only thing not buried beneath pieces of Anna's wardrobe was the desk where she brewed her potions. Even the cat peered from beneath the hem of a skirt, irritated at this indignity.
Threnn had tried steering the conversation towards the fight as Anna fussed in front of the mirror. "I hear you're lucky you won't have a black eye to match that dress."
Anna's shoulders grew stiff as she glared at her elder sister in the glass. "It was just a scuffle. I got my hair pulled a bit, is all." She gathered her hair in her hands and piled it on top of her head. "No, it's not the hair that's the problem; it's this shirt." Off it went, into what must have been a pile of prior rejections.
"Sounded like you had the guards on you."
"They always come when there's shouting." She began to do up a row of buttons. "It was nothing, Threnny." Halfway up, her fingers faltered and her lips turned up in a saucy grin. "Too many buttons."
"Anna," said Threnn. "Cylinn said you were frightened after. Here, in Stormwind, on the other side of the Portal. That you didn't sleep."
Her sister managed to shrug as she wriggled into another blouse. "I didn't sleep because I was too keyed up. My nerves were jangling until the night was nearly over. It's been a long while since I've been in a fight." She turned this way and that, not meeting Thenn's eyes in the mirror. Reaching for a handful of pins, she swept her hair off her face and took a step back. "Hair's right, but... Hell, this isn't even mine. It's yours. You must have left it here when you moved out." She tossed the shirt at Threnn, then bent to pick up another armload of outfits from the bed.
It was then that Threnn saw the purple smudges high up on Anna's right shoulder.
She stood slowly, taking a dress made of crimson silk from the back of a chair as she approached. She'll see the dress, and not follow my eyes at first. Four spots in a rough line, close together. More than a scuffle with a drunk, then.
The ruse worked - Anna, her back to the mirror, was already shaking her head by the time Threnn was within arm's reach. "I already tried that one on. It hangs funny. I can't let Fin take me out looking like some frumpy - Threnny? What is it?"
The dress fell as Threnn reached up and laid her right hand on her sister's shoulder. She curled her fingers around and matched them up with the bruises in the glass; her thumb rested along the side of the shorter girl's neck. When she squeezed gently, Anna winced.
"Just some hair pulling?"
Anna tried to lean away, but Threnn's grip held her in place easily. "Bloody blacksmiths," she muttered, and stopped squirming with a heavy sigh. "The guards collared me to break up the fight. I told you that. He must've had me tighter than I realized." Her eyes were locked on a spot just over Threnn's shoulder.
Threnn let her thumb drift down to Anna's throat, just above her windpipe. The sudden flinch and widening of her sister's eyes said everything. "You're lying. Healed up the front yourself, but didn't see those underneath your hair, did you?"
Anna's lips moved soundlessly as she tried to find a denial that Threnn would believe. In the end, she hung her head and let her shoulders sag; she'd never been able to lie to Threnn successfully. Ever. "He only had me like that for a second. I got out of it just like you taught me to."
"Someone crushes your windpipe, little sister, you won't be doing any singing ever again." Anna looked up at her, startled. Threnn forced the harshness out of her voice and let the Light flow through her fingers until the bruises faded. When her sister's skin was once again unblemished, she moved her hand away and tugged gently on a lock of gold that had escaped its pin. "You going to tell me who it was?"
For a moment, she thought Anna was going to give up the name. Then the girl's eyes turned stony, and her chin tilted up. "Let it go, Threnny," she said, regal as a queen despite standing there in her underthings.
They stared at one another, preparing to settle in for a long match of stubborn wills. Then, from inside her pack, Threnn's buzzbox crackled. Bricu had switched on, but it was Fingold's voice that made them both turn: "Bricu. How many more trips to that cursed place you think will be needed to find whatever that old man wants?"
Both women glanced towards it, the battle between them temporarily suspended. Anna dressed hastily as Threnn retrieved the box, as though Fingold would be able to see her when it was switched on.
The chatter was about the expedition into Naxxramas. Its halls had had a keen effect on the crew Bricu had led in there. "Didn't get much sleep myself. Today felt long." Fingold sighed. "Doing alright otherwise!"
"Well, Anna's got that look on her face that says I'll have to dunk her in the canals to get her talking," she said, hoping he'd catch the warning in her voice. If her sister found out Fin was asking around about the fight, too, there was no telling what kind of hell he'd catch. She put on a teasing tone before Anna could get too suspicious.
"She does, huh?"
Before she could answer, Jolly joined in. "Oy, gotta be ah moah pleasan' smellin' way tae do 'at."
Anna's smack carried across the box. "Ow. But, she at least says she's looking forward to tomorrow, Fin."
Fells saved her from another blow. "Anna! 'Lo! Threnny, tell Anna I say 'lo?" Anna waved, and Threnn conveyed the greeting.
"She's alright, aye?" asked Fin.
"Half her closet's on the floor. I'd say s- OW. Yes. She's fine." Threnn rubbed at her shoulder. Not only had she taught Anna how to get out of various holds, she'd also taught her how to throw punches.
"Oi!" said Anna, but a glance around the room served only to confirm Threnn's observation. She picked up a broom and began to sweep futilely at the few bare patches of floor that were visible, but her brow wrinkled as she looked back at Threnn.
"Look at your mailbox tomorrow, Threnn," said Fin, his voice low.
"Will," said Threnn, but not softly enough.
Anna's head snapped up. "What's he sending you that he needs to whisper about?"
Think fast. "I asked him to see what he could find out about this Olaff that Bricu's got us working for. Something about him I don't like."
"Why's he being vague, then? Why not just come out and say it?" Anna stepped closer and leaned on the broom handle the way Threnn sometimes leaned on the hilt of her sword. Her eyes flicked between Threnn's face and the buzzbox, as though either might help her catch a lie.
"I don't know, probably just being careful. Sounds like he might be in Shattrath and we don't know who's in that git's pocket. Anyone could be listening to Fin and report back."
Anna mulled it over for a moment, chewing her lip as she waited for her sister to betray something, but Threnn met her gaze evenly. She allowed the scrutiny as Fells said, "Gold. I wanna know wha's in her mailbox too."
At last, Anna backed off, satisfied. "Not a word to him about this, Threnny, yeah?"
Threnn nodded. Fingold was already eager to get his hands on the man for simply being drunk and disorderly near her sister. If he knew Anna hadn't had the upper-hand through the whole fight... We need to know more first. "Not a word." She turned to her buzzbox again, eager to switch off before someone asked the wrong question. "Right. I'm going to head home before she starts hitting me with the broom. You lot have a good night."
She stood up as the chorus of goodnights echoed over the channel and held it up for Anna to call out a farewell.
"Threnny." Anna followed her to the door, the broom trailing behind her in one hand.
"Yeah?" She turned to look, and was struck by how much of Anna's usual bravado had fallen away in the few minutes she'd been concentrating on the guild's banter. She'd slipped on a pair of soft breeches and an old, shapeless sweater of Threnn's in her haste to get dressed. The sweater had belonged to someone else before Threnn acquired it - Kaven, maybe, or another of the soldiers she'd trained with. It had been big on Threnn; on Anna, the hem fell to her knees. Yet, it wasn't the oversized garment that made her sister seem suddenly small.
It was the look of hope and apprehension in her eyes.
"I want this," she said, and laughed a tiny, nervous laugh. "I want this. So don't let him... Don't let him fret about it. Fight's over. It's fine."
Threnn pulled her into a quick hug. "Fretting's part of caring. Can't stop him from that. Wouldn't try, even if I could."
Anna sighed and looked back around at the state of the room. "Better clean this up before Cylinn gets home."
"Y'know," said Threnn. "She has this new helm, with skulls on it. Might be she'd let you borrow it. That way I don't have to follow you around on your date to make sure he treats you respecfully. Can't kiss a girl when you can't see past the face guard, and all..."
Anna switched her grip on the broom and swung.
---
This is getting me bloody nowhere. Threnn crumpled the letter, only to smooth it out a minute later and reread it. Nothing, and nothing, and nothing. Behind her, Reese Langston dried and put away the last of the evening's glasses. Elly had long since gone to bed, the stragglers all herded out the door and into the night.
Threnn tore the page with the booze order out of her ledger and passed it to the tavernkeep. "Should've kicked me out, Reese. Wouldn't've offended me."
He stifled a yawn. "You were hard at work."
"You're sweet." She took the rag from his hand; he didn't resist. "Go on to bed. I'll close up."
Once the polished oak bar gleamed to her satisfaction, Threnn turned down the few remaining lamps and locked the doors for the night. Most nights, she'd turn right out of the door on her way home to the Rose. Tonight, she went left, towards Anna's rooms above the chandler's shop.
The soft glow of candellight spilled out of the second floor windows. Still awake, or sleeping with a light? What's got you frightened, Anna? Why won't you tell me? She watched the shadows for a little while, but even the thieves were in bed, this late.
Threnn sighed and touched the letter in her pocket as she began wending her way home once more. There wouldn't be any answers tonight.
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Fingold
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Post by Fingold on Jul 1, 2008 20:40:32 GMT -5
Fane. Aumery Fane. Aumery fucking Fane.
He couldn't stop thinking about that name. Not since three different people around Honor Hold had given him the same name. Certainly not after it had become clear that he wasn't some harmless drunk.
The draenei girl had mentioned Honor Hold as a place to look for the bastard with the claw for a hand. Luckily, Fingold had the excuse of having to visit Honor Hold often on business. Anna can't get suspicious. She knows I have to go there for my gemwork.
---- First he approached Tatiana, from whom he had learned all he knew about cutting gems. He mentioned there was a tall, dark man, with a “funny looking hand” who he'd been told was fond of flashy rings and would very much like to get in touch with the fellow. A complete fabrication, certainly, but one he hoped Tatiana would give not a second thought.
“Sounds like Fane to me, Edour.” Is all Tatiana shared. “Now, let me see your work with Star Rubies. If you're still unable to get them to truly shine, no use in even bothering showing them.” In her usual rushed way, she demanded to see the rings Fingold had promised to show her.
Any other day, Fingold would've thought of nothing but how Tatiana was being unreasonable again and just trying to delay teaching him how to cut Spesarites and Blood Garnets. Not today. Today he had a name.
Fane.
That was the first time he heard the name.
---- Humphry was as busy as always. There was not a day when the town smithy was not cursing about falling behind with his orders. “Wut ye want, lad. I'm ne takin' ne orders. Not fer two weeks, none. Th' Commander needs 'is swords faster than I kinna make.” The dwarf worked just as fast while talking as he did silent, if visibly annoyed.
“Pardon, sir. I didn't mean to slow you down. I was told you could help me find an old friend.” He's barely paying me any attention. Hasn't even taken a good look at me. Thank the Light for the Commander's insatiable need for blades. “Fane. Tall man, about my age. A bit taller than I.”
“Aye, aye. Aumery Fane. I kin the lad.”
Aumery Fane.
It was clear in Humphry's voice that he couldn't wait for the man to get out of his shop. “Lord Fairfax's dog with the broken paw. Go pester one o' the guards! Bugger off! Haven't seen him in some time.” He waved his hand, almost unconscious of the hammer he was wielding, shooing Fingold away. “When ye see'm, tell'm ta come 'ere and pay wut'e owes. I dun care wuz 'e Trollbane's 'mself!”
Lord Fairfax's dog? Sure as hell it's him. How many Fanes are there with “broken paws”? “I will.” Fingold walked away before the smithy decided to take his eyes away from his work. That was the second time he heard the name.
---- That one right there. Perfect. Fingold had been working on his gems for quite a while at Honor Hold's tavern, looking around, taking note of the evening's clientele. Old enough to have been in the Hold's defense forces for a year, still young enough to be careless.
The young man kept getting louder and louder as the ales kept coming. He was loud enough so that Fingold could hear the man boasting about his romantic conquests to anybody who sat near him at the bar.
Fingold arranged a few rings and necklaces he had just given the finishing touches, put them in a neat black silken bag and approached the young man's table. “Ales for my friend and I, lass,” he told the maid behind the bar. Fingold smiled at the soldier and sat down. “How are you doing, lad? Mind me joining you for a pint?”
“I wouldna say no to a free pint! Have a seat, aye.” The young man rushed to finish the ale he was drinking before the new one arrived.
After a bit of small talk, Fingold reached into his cloak and took out the small black bag. “I'm sure a man such as yourself could use a rather pretty yet cheap ring. You know how women can be.” He took out a cute shiny ring from the bag. It was a simple silver circlet with a brilliant jade gemstone, shaped like a teardrop, sitting atop. “This one is almost as cheap as a half decent bottle of wine, and will get you far better results. Trust me. I -guarantee- it.” Might as well practice my sales pitch.
“I don't need no rings, mate. I'm a bloody soldier. Women see me in my armor and jump into my arms. But thanks for the pint.”
“Tell you what. I'll give it you half price if you do me a favor.” Fingold would have given it to him for free in return for the information he sought, but subtlety was required here. “I've been trying to find someone. To pay me for a gem he bought from me over a month ago. That's what I get for offering him a week to pay me the other half! I just need his name. Half price, lad. Just look at the ring and tell me you couldn't put it to good use.” It is a damn nice ring, no doubt.
“Maybe another ale would persuade me.” The man had already finished the previous one. Free beer seems to always go down twice as fast as the non free kind. “Bloody stupid to let him walk away with your gem without a name, if you ask me.”
“Fair enough. Another ale for my friend...”
“Call me Duston.”
“Another ale for my friend Duston here, lass.” About bloody time. Fingold described once again the tall, dark, creepy fellow with the disfigured hand. If he works for a noble, a soldier oughta know him, aye.
Duston almost spilled his beer as he heard Fingold describe Fane. “Ah mate, I wouldn't count on getting paid if I was you.” After he managed to stop laughing, he chugged down the rest of the ale. “You're looking for Fane. Aumery Fane, I reckon.”
Aumery fucking Fane.
“He's good at getting away with things, 's what I mean.” Duston grabbed the ring and put in his pocket. “He's supposed to work for Lord Fairfax, but I can't say I've seen them together. Good luck getting your money back, mate. And thanks for the ales.” He took out a few silver coins and left them at the bar. After stumbling into a couple chairs, Duston left the tavern.
And he works for a certain Lord Fairfax, it seems. Shit. This is not good news. Not in the least. Time to talk to Threnn, alright.
Three times was confirmation enough for him. Three times and the name of Aumery Fane would be stuck in his head for weeks to come.
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Post by Threnn on Jul 7, 2008 20:53:47 GMT -5
All she wanted was to pull up the mana thistle by its roots and run like hell. The Irespeaker was looking the other way, dropping a demonic salute to yet another massive Emissary of Hate coming through the portal. Every time we destroy one, another comes through. Are there multiples, or does the same one keep getting resurrected out in the Nether? And if it is the same one, isn't it extremely pissed off by now?
Maybe she hesitated a moment too long pondering demon-kind, or maybe it was the slight tear as the roots came free from the ground. The Irespeaker whirled around and saw her. Its blast of fire knocked Anna back a few steps as she rolled, cradling the mana thistle and drawing up a shield. She could have handle it. She could have handled it easily, even when it chattered at the hellion nearby. When the flamewalker also came to investigate, she clenched her jaw and dug in her heels. Sure, she might come out of this a little worse for wear, but she'd be fine.
Really.
A bit singed, at the end, but fine.
Another Irespeaker wanted to know what the commotion was about. It didn't like its sister-at-arms falling over dead at its feet.
Bloody sweet blessed fucking Elune, give me strength. Anna closed her eyes, trying not to smell the sulphur. She could do this. She could.
One of the demons stopped hitting her. The familiar touch of the Light washed over her, healing her newly acquired bruises faster than her own magic could draw life from the demons. Who the hell? The last demon corpse fell to the ground, and Anna opened her eyes, ready to give her savior an earful. She didn't need rescuing, not Annalea al'Cair.
Fingold stood before her, the Light fading from his hands as he finished patching up her wounds. "Hello there, pretty lady!" he said, his face breaking into a grin.
The lecture, she decided, wasn't so important after all.
They retreated to the inn. The common room upstairs was oddly empty for the late hour, but perhaps it was too easily mistaken for a storage room - with so much of the Isle still under enemy control, fixing up the inn was probably at the bottom of the to-do list. Boxes were piled everywhere, even beside the few tables. No one seemed to even be working. Fingold didn't let that deter him, pulling a bottle of wine from his packs and producing two tin cups from his mess kit to pour it into.
It had been a long few days. The casual banter with Fin felt good, a better alternative to throwing herself into the jobs she took for the Shattered Sun. She'd been seeing Fane in every shadow these last few weeks. Whatever business he was on in Shattrath now brought him to the Scryers' Tier as well as to Lower City, but the slick ears were keeping mum about whatever had him up there.
So much for her standing within the organization. All well and good when my questions benefit them. But when I want something in return, you'd swear I'd only just arrived in the city. Each time their paths threatened to cross, Anna had wrapped herself in shadows and hurried the other way. Whether or not he'd seen her - or if he was even looking for her - she didn't know. It didn't matter; it made her nervous.
And he was back in Stormwind, too. She had yet to see him, but Grace was still at the Lion's Pride, and Anna'd overheard her gossiping with some of the other girls about his return to the corner table. The senior waitress mostly seemed to be trying to spook the other girls in case he stopped by again. But how much of it was out of concern for their safety, and how much was greed talking - Grace had received a fat sack of coins from him two years ago, simply for passing along a letter. Did she remember who the letter was for, or did she only recall the payment for her services?
Anna hadn't hung around the Pride too long in case her presence jogged the girl's memory.
Sitting here with Fingold in the deserted common room, she let herself relax a bit. The wine helped, too, and if she'd been ill-at-ease before it loosened her tongue, Fin didn't seem to have noticed. Their conversation drifted comfortably as they recounted the last few days for one another, flirting all the while.
It was while Fin talked about his training in jewelcrafting that Anna felt her blood run cold.
"I'm bloody tired of going to Honor Hold," he said. "Southshore is about a hundred times more peaceful! And the people, I'm starting to think all those Honor Hold Infantrypeople aren't there to fight the demons but to keep the peace."
She peered at him. "Fighitng each other?"
He nodded. "I haven't really seen any fights break, but the place is as filled with seedy characters than the Lower City. If not worse."
"I can imagine." She took another sip of wine, thinking about her own brief stop in Honor Hold. It had been too bleak for her to stay long. "I'll bet there are some who only have enough money to get that far past the portal, then just stop there."
"A man who would raise all kinds of stares in Stormwind just sits in the Inn like that." Fin stared out the window for a moment as a dragonhawk wheeled by, close to the building. It must have belonged to a rider for the Shattered Sun; no arrows followed its flight. "I swear I saw at least one man with a hand that seemed to be chewed by a bloody Netherspawn, spit back and somehow reattached. And I doubt anybody even realized it. It's like that's normal there."
Fane.
Annalea did her best to keep her voice neutral. Maybe he hadn't noticed her pause. "Well, those hellboars... have this venom..."
"Whatever demon it was. Well, it did quite a number on that creepy bastard."
"Strange that the medics let him stay there." She wanted to change the subject, but curiosity won out, letting Fin continue.
"Doubt he's on speaking terms with any Priest or Paladin."
Go on, then, you idiot. Keep him talking. "Is he a soldier?"
"No clue, I don't think he was wearing the uniform. Though I didn't mind him all that much." Fin poured another glass of wine for each of them. He seemed more interested in measuring out equal amounts than the current conversation.
She couldn't let it go. "Why's that?"
"I was just minding my business, after a few times there I have decided that socializing there may not be entirely a good idea. Seems that his type is more the norm than the exception." He smiled at her and raised his glass.
"Lots of men with mangled hands?" Say yes. Say yes.
"Heh, not really. More the 'there's something wrong with this lad' general type." He rubbed at his chin, thinking. "Can't say I had ever seen a hand like that."
"Did he seem to be getting along all right with it? Well, aside from staying in the inn, that is." Maybe Fane had found a new calling, better work, better pay. Maybe what she'd done to him had been boon rather than bane, and he'd be inclined to leave hear alone. He can't know it was me. I was so careful...
Fin shook his head. "Can't say I remember." He glanced at her. "Does he sounds familiar?"
She hesitated. "Might've seen a mangled hand or two in my travels. Did... did you talk to him?" If he had, would he even be sitting here?
"Hell no." Fingold wrinkled his nose as though the very thought was distasteful.
Relief washed over her; she hid her sigh in her cup. "Probably best not to."
He arched an eyebrow and grinned. "Well, you are the one that knows how to deal with creeps at Inns!"
The wine had been a nice cover a moment ago. Now she nearly choked on her mouthful at his words. "I... yeah," she managed when she trusted herself to speak. "I mean, you don't want a creepy man thinking you're suddenly his new best friend."
"Aye," he said. "Light knows what he's involved in."
Change the subject. NOW. Her mind raced, all her years of training as a bard and an entertainer failing her. Panic made her forget how to move smoothly on to something else.
Luckily, Fingold did it for her. "Something good came of being there at least. I had a brief audience with Trollbane."
She latched onto that, steering their conversation towards safer ground as best she could. For his part, he went along with it, eventually veering away from talk of Honor Hold altogether. Sometime later, he asked if she'd deliver a letter to her parents. He still wanted to meet with them.
They bartered for the cost of her service as a messenger. The currency was a kiss. Several, in fact, to keep her warm during the long flight home. After a while, she laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. Even if she hired a gryphon right now, she wouldn't arrive in Stormwind until mid-morning. And she'd only brought her thin summer cloak; flying over the mountains in Dun Morogh would be freezing.
"The Innkeeper at Menethil Harbor owes me a favor or two, I could make sure you have a warm room for the night," said Fin, after she admitted to her pitiful lack of cold-weather clothing.
She didn't need much more convincing. While they'd been talking, the heady effects of the wine had started to wear off and thoughts of Fane had begun to creep back in. A night in a different place might be just the thing she needed to shake the paranoia.
There were still a few hours of darkness left by the time they arrived at the Deepwater Tavern. The innkeeper, roused from a deep sleep by their knocking, only nodded curtly at Fingold's request and handed over two keys before tottering back to bed.
The rooms he'd assigned to them were adjacent to each other. After one last kiss goodnight, Anna watched Fingold disappear into his room. She bolted her own door and checked the window latches. No one knows we're here, she thought, slipping out of her dress and pulling back the covers. Especially not Aumery bloody Fane. It was a comforting thought.
The wall separating their rooms wasn't terribly thick, and Anna's bed was pushed right up against it. As she settled in, she heard the soft thumping of Fingold's footsteps as he got ready for sleep, and the eventual creak of his bedsprings when he laid down. She felt a little guilty for listening, but neither did she turn away from the wall, nor bury her head beneath the pillow.
Anna reached out and traced the wallpaper pattern in front of her, faint but discernible in the moonlight. She knew if she called out to him now, neither of them would get any sleep before the sun rose. She wanted to call his name, and yet, she didn't. It was enough, tonight, to have him just out of reach.
It was hard to acknowledge, even to herself, but there in the early morning darkness the truth was impossible to ignore: having Fingold nearby made her feel safe.
Blessed Elune, I'm such a git. She snickered at herself and turned her back to the wall.
A moment later, she sighed and rolled over once more. "'Night, Fin," she whispered, and closed her eyes.
For the first time since she'd picked her fight with Fane, Annalea al'Cair slept soundly.
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Post by Threnn on Jul 14, 2008 14:25:39 GMT -5
He hadn't recognized her, at first, cloaked in shadows as she was. She'd been just another denizen of Lower City - beneath his notice and certainly not worth his deference - so he'd pushed past her to drop his master's packages into the mail, and she'd started making a scene.
He'd had half a mind to backhand her and shut her up, but the guards tended to frown upon that sort of thing, even when it was only a refugee left nursing a bruise or a split lip.
When he'd turned to face her and trade insults, she'd swung. So maybe his hand was coming up to give her a shove -- so what? Women tended to clam up when you knocked them on their asses. But this girl had seen it coming, and rather than running away, she'd clocked him right in the jaw.
Fisticuffs ensued. She fought like a hellcat, especially when he got his good hand around her throat and squeezed. The little bitch broke the hold, and when he was able to lock his arms around her from behind, she'd whipped her head back, hard, slamming her skull into his nose and breaking it. The guards came, then, as he dripped blood into her blonde hair, and he let her go.
They had to tell her three times to push the shadows away, and ask for her name just as many.
And when she'd let them go, and stood before them all, defeated, and said her name in a hollow voice, he'd smiled. Wider and wider he grinned, as the color drained from her face. The Draenei whore burst into tears and ran inside the tavern, but Annalea al'Cair couldn't escape his scrutiny until the guards were done with her.
Hartwell had convinced their employer to spare the girl's life. The baby was gone; she had nothing to gain. Watch her, he'd said, and if she causes trouble we'll make it look like she drowned herself in the canals. And everyone agreed. As long as she stayed silent, the al'Cair girl was unimportant.
Three months later, Merrock Hartwell was dead, in the same moments of horror that left Fane himself useless with a dagger. In the aftermath, he'd forgotten all about the bard.
She hadn't been there, that day at the Slaughtered Lamb.
Had she?
It was easy enough to learn that she worked at the Pig 'n' Whistle, doing secretarial work for ap Danwyrith. The night he'd swaggered in there in Brom and Faral's ale-soaked footprints, she'd been at a table sorting mail. One look and she'd fled to the basement and didn't resurface until sometime after Langston closed the bar.
But she didn't go sobbing to her friends, either. No one wearing the Riders' black and red had come to drag him away from his bottle of bourbon and shove him out the door. No one had come looking for him later, to slip a knife between his ribs.
She was keeping her secrets, then. Good.
It only took a small bit of coin to have a boy lounge around in the entry to Cutthroat Alley and follow her to where she lived. Another handful bought the boy's next few evenings, to see who came and went from the apartment above the chandler's. A sturdy warrior girl shared the priestess' room. Breaking in to look around would take timing and patience, but he could wait.
He'd already been up there once, on a night neither of the apartment's inhabitants were home, but some old instinct had twinged at him and he'd left before jimmying the door. Not five minutes after he'd hunkered down in the shadows of Cutthroat Alley the bitch's sister came sauntering by, sword in hand. The paladin stood for a long time, looking up at the second floor windows and casting her gaze along the street. By then he'd become just another drunk, sleeping off the whiskey in some shopkeeper's doorway, and she'd passed on.
His hand still gave him agony. Over the course of several months, the skin had knitted together and the muscles twisted into a painful claw. There were still nights he woke screaming, two years on, the smell of burnt flesh in his nostrils and Hartwell's screams in his ears. He always spent those first few minutes convinced his whole arm was on fire and spent the rest of the night in whatever kind of whiskey-induced stupor he could afford.
No one had ever owned up to it. Not one person had ever hinted at who might have been behind the attack. Not a single whisper had ever reached his ears with the name of someone boasting about damage the fire oil had done.
It couldn't have been the al'Cair wench. If anything, they'd done her a favor. It couldn't have been her -- she'd gone back to singing at the Lion's Pride as though nothing had happened. Surely she'd decided to put the incident behind her and keep her parents' good name - and the reputation of the business that would be hers, someday - intact.
But she'd picked the fight.
And her eyes had flicked to his hand, just for a second. And her pretty lips had curved into the tiniest of satisfied smiles before she'd had to dodge his other fist.
He'd find out. And if it was all her doing, she'd pay.
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Fingold
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Post by Fingold on Jul 14, 2008 18:58:47 GMT -5
The forced gryphon ride to Lakeshire was unexpectedly pleasant. It had been a while since Fingold had stayed at the Lake town. The eastern end of the Elwynn Forrest was a lush green sea from above this time of the year, a fact he had near forgotten. He was feeling almost thankful to the crazed elf who had refused to stop following them in Stormwind. It is much easier to relax when you have a placid Lake and a small, picturesque town during sunset as backdrop.
Threnn had arrived a few minutes before him, and picked a nice spot on the southern end of the lake. She quickly made the most of the situation, sitting against a Maple tree. When Fingold arrived, he found her enjoying a chunk of bread and a few grapes.
“There you are!” He joined her for a quick snack, sitting beside her. It was hard not to feel at ease when around Threnn, specially not when she was in a good mood. Is there a southern girl that can't soothe you with a smile? As much as this was certainly a pleasant break from the usual activities, they both knew the reason they were there: Anna. And that bloody Fane bastard, of course.
“I spent quite some time with Anna yesterday, Threnn.” News are bad, I'm afraid. He reached for the flask of bourbon he was carrying in his bag.
“Did you do any talking?” Her grin broke into an infectious laugh.
Sweet Light, did Anna tell you I accompanied her to the Harbor? “Of course we did!” Oh my, I hope she doesn't think I'm trying to take advantage of her little sister. Fingold tried to cover his embarrassment by taking a deliberately long sip of liquor. Nah, she's just teasing.
They had decided a week ago to let Fingold mention a man that fit Fane's description casually, hoping to learn something from Anna's reaction. She was not going to talk to them about him; and more information was needed. There had to be a reason behind Anna's fear of the man.
Fingold leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs; setting the flask aside. “I did mention I saw a certain creepy bastard just like the one we know.”
Threnn's eyes perked up. “Oh. How'd she take it?” She seemed more curious than worried. Still her southern smile was gone.
“She certainly remembers him well.” It -is- him. “She did seem a bit unsettled, Threnn. She kept asking me if I talked to him. Of course I said no. It is true, after all.” Fane. “I am fairly certain it is him who she fought with.” Aumery fucking Fane. Pray to The Light she just overreacted, Fane.
“Bloody hell,” she muttered under her breath, shutting her eyes for an instant. Threnn took a second to breath in slowly, and that was it. The paladin was calm once again. “How did she seem?”
“She remembers him well, she asked me about him, what he was doing, if I talked to him, all that.”
Threnn nodded. “Best to draw it out of her slowly. She catches wind you're doing more than idle chatter, she'll shut you down.”
“Aye, I told her I avoided the man. Better if she doesn't give it a second thought.” Fingold looked down, fixing his eyes on a random blade of grass. “I didn't have the heart to press her on much.” Not like you haven't been lying to her all this time, Edour. Quite the gentleman you are, not turning into one of those Scarlet Interrogators around the woman you claim to care so much for. You sure bloody well deserve a commendation from the King himself over this. Aye, she will fall at your feet when she learns of your thoughtfulness. Fingold shook his head, trying to rid himself of thoughts.
Threnn found herself amused watching Fingold's sudden contriteness. She reached for another handful of grapes, wishing to conceal a little smile out of politeness.
Drop it. You don't need to burden her any further. He finally raised his head and met Threnn's stare. “So we turned to more, well... -pleasant- talk.”
“Oh, pleasant talk?” She raised an eyebrow, “good.”
Fingold couldn't help wandering back to the topic at hand before long. Fairfax! “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you, Threnn. I managed to squeeze the name of that Honor Hold noble that seems to employ him.”
“Excellent! What is it?”
“Daniel or Danyll or something that sounds like that. It's as much as I could gather, I'm afraid.”
Threnn closed her eyes as she seemed to be running a list of names and faces through her mind, humming the name over and over. “I can think of a few Daniels.”
Excellent. “Anybody of notice?”
“None that I've ever heard Anna mention, outside of court gossip,” she shrugged. She remained focused a while longer, trying to remember more of the names she'd heard so many times from the lips of her mother. “Look Threnny! Anna! That is young Lord Rodrick Bartell riding behind his father. Don't slouch, girls. Mind your posture and smile. He might grace you with his eyes. Uglier merchant girls have ended up ladies.” Halfway through that thought, her teeth began grinding.
“Threnn, I don't know what to do. Talking directly to Fane about Anna is not an option as far as I can tell.” It is the -only- option, and you know it. “And I doubt there's anything Fairfax would know about the bar fights his guards get into.” Anna is not going to say a damned word to either of us. And she will probably hate us both for going behind her back. I would.
“Seems to me, if she doesn't want questions asked of him, might be exactly what needs to be done,” she said firmly.
Of course that's what needs to be done. Stop deluding yourself into thinking this thing will magically go away. “I guess you're right about that. If I've been lying to her this far, I can keep it up a while longer I guess.” Aye, keep lying to her you idiot. Lie to her and then kiss her like you have been doing all along. And lie -good-, or this thing falls apart. Don't forget you're doing all this for her.
“Aw, now.” Threnn put her hand on Fingold's shoulder, trying to comfort him.
“I know it's for her own good. I -do- know that, Threnn,” he said as much for Threnn's ears as for his own. Enough with the self pity. You're not the only one conflicted about this. Don't embarrass yourself in front of her.
“Fin, you don't have to. I can talk to him, if you'll point him out to me. Not that I'd imagine he's easy to miss, with a mangled hand.”
“He might recognize you, if he saw you standing guard when Anna sang. I think it's safer if I approach him, then. He doesn't know me. I really rather not have any more people involved in this.” Fingold knew they couldn't risk letting Fane trace them back to Anna. Not yet, at least. Who knows what kind of danger we'd be putting her in, if he found out. Not to mention having to confront Anna. Not under those circumstances, no.
“We don't look so much alike that he'll recognize me in a helm.” That was certainly true. One had to see them together to pick up on certain al'Cair mannerisms that would identify the women as sisters. Well, there was the smile, but that was not a concern. Threnn would not be smiling in front of Fane.
“I appreciate the offer, Threnn. But I don't think that is our best option. I'm talking to our disfigured friend, it seems.” What the bloody nether am I going to ask? “Hi. What did you do to Annalea al'Cair?” Why would he even tell me the truth, no matter how or what I asked?
“You sure, Fin?”
“Well, there's nothing else to do at this point, aye? And it sounds to me like there's still something Anna, and probably this man, know that we don't.” Talk to her or talk to him. Either way, she's gonna end up pissed. There was still a part of him that hoped it had been widely blown out of proportion. That it was nowhere near as bad as they had been fearing. She's gonna be pissed, that much is certain. You better make those lies worth it.
“Not that I can think of, aside from waiting to see if anything else comes of it.” Only her mother rivaled Threnn in experience dealing with Anna's stubbornness. Her attempts at bringing the subject up, always met with her sister's elusiveness, were enough to conclude she would stop talking to them altogether before discussing the matter further. “I just don't want you doing something you're not comfortable with.”
“Well, however not comfortable I may feel about talking to him, I'm far less comfortable leaving things as they are right now.” Sometimes lying is necessary. A man must know how to lie. “I'm just hoping this is over soon. The sooner I'm done doing things behind Anna's back, the better.”
“I know. I don't like it either.” Anna had left them no option. She would have to understand.
“I'll think about how to approach this Fane bastard.” First gotta find out just how dangerous he is, aye.
“We'll figure it out, whatever it is. And put a stop to...whatever it is.” Thrennody al'Cair was not going to allow her mind to wander into darker places. “I should get on home. Been walking past her apartment before bed these last few days, making sure she's locked up tight.” She started gathering her belongings. “The doors are solid oak. No one's getting inside.”
Good, and there's Cylinn inside, if somebody's crafty enough to get in. “Does she seem to be getting a decent sleep?”
Threnn shook her head and exhaled. “Some nights she's either working late or leaving a light burning. I don't know how her sleep's been.”
If she's not sleeping well, it doesn't show. “Well, she seemed alright last night.”
Threnn stopped sorting the contents of her bag and raised an eyebrow.
It didn't show the day after the fight either, and she must have spent the entire night awake, scared. “Guess the sooner we figure this git out, the sooner Anna can go back to sleeping soundly.”
Her right index finger was aimed at Fingold. “Go back to where you might have just suggested you spend the night with her. As in, the whole night.”
What!? Oh dear Light, she thinks...
“ 'less you just meant-”
“I didn't suggest th-” Oh Light, she must think think I'm some sodding scumbag only trying to get her sister in bed.
“-she seemed well-rested.” Despite her hardest efforts, Threnn let out a hint of a grin.
“I guess I -could- offer my protection services to your sister.” Please let her be just teasing. “A girl has to get a good night's rest, aye?”
With a fully realized smile now, Threnn went back to reading herself. “Beauty sleep and all that.”
“Alright, then. I'll find a way to talk to Fane and find out what he knows of Anna.” Pray to The Light, you arse. “If I sense trouble, I'll let you know.” Fingold stood up and offered Threnn a hand.
She got on her feet and brushed off a few bits of grass that had stayed on the side of her knees. “You keep safe, yeah?” Threnn waved goodbye to Fingold and reached for her hearthstone.
“Promise.” Fingold bowed before Threnn and watched her disappear; before approaching the Gryphon Master for a flight back to Stormwind.
How do you get an answer without asking a question? That was Fingold's assignment. It called for a full kettle of boiling water and the strongest Stranglethorn Black. There was work to do.
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Fingold
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Post by Fingold on Jul 23, 2008 2:30:03 GMT -5
Here we go.
Aumery Fane had just walked into Honor Hold's tavern. He went to his usual spot; a small table by the wall. Close to the hearth and with excellent view of the small stage, in case there were singers that night.
Same table as the previous four times.
For his part, Fingold was sitting on a table near the stairs, a few steps from the bar. His Jeweler's kit laid across the table, keeping his blood garnets company while he had a bowl of barley soup, terribly under seasoned. The chunk of bread was half stale, and the ale a tad too warm for his taste. Bloody everything on Hellfire was a tad too warm for his taste. He forced himself to forget manners and be louder than usual while eating the soup. Better not stand out. Even if it meant behaving like a damned uncouth grunt. Better get just a little drunk. To blend in, aye. “Another pint, lass. As cold as you got.”
Dagger on the table as soon as he sits down. Nothing new yet.
There were always eyes on Fane, wherever he went. He was too proud to hide his mangled hand. The man took pleasure in knowing he made people look away; have people fear him. Fear is about the only fucking thing I can still do with my knife hand. What is a Lord's Guard to do when he can't use a dagger anymore? Alcohol for the most part, it seemed.
That damned smile at the waitress. Poor lass.
Fingold set aside the bowl of soup, still half full, and went back to his gems. After a bit of thinking he had decided to put away the blood garnets and work instead on the cheapest gems he had. Deep Peridot. What a piece of shite. There's no coin for these. No use in ruining a good one because I did not paying enough attention.
Two bourbons instead of one? First thing out of the ordinary.
“I'm not takin' his table no more. I'm done. Your turn, Lara.” Poor Nora Young. She was the newest waitress at the tavern, and as such, had been told to service Fane's table every time. He tipped too little and grabbed too much. Sometimes with his bad hand, which petrified her. And that laugh of his.
“Don't care what you say, girl. It's yours all the same.” Lara had heard all the stories, and she was not interested in being the one telling them. “Go talk to Sid, if you wish.” She waited for her turn at filling up pints behind Nora.
“If he runs his hand up my leg once more, I'm throwing the ales at him. I don't care he's become a regular. Tell Sid that, if you want. See if he still wants me to serve that creep!” She huffed and went to the back to the small group of Infantrymen who had ordered two rounds of ale at once. Once her hands were freed, she looked around for empty plates to bring back for washing.
The young barmaid can't stand him. Good.
Fane had been looking all night at Nora. Most intently when she walked away. The girl had the widest hips from all the barmaids. It was unsettling to see him grinning, staring at the girl's curves, all the while playing with the dagger with his bad hand.
Never with company. Seldom sober. Sometimes muttering under his breath. Often harassing the serving girls. Always running a finger through the dagger's blade.
Fingold had spent a good part of the last two weeks working on his gems and rings at the tavern. At least, that's what he hoped everyone thought. Still not one inch closer to learning anything useful about the bastard. As aggressive as Fane seemed, he had yet to see him start a fight. Rumor was that nowadays he preferred to channel his anger on whatever unlucky wench he was taking upstairs that night.
“Come on, Lara! You go this one time. I'm sick of him.” Nora had her face turned away from Fane's table and the tavern was loud enough that she didn't feel the need to lower her voice. She had been saying the same every time Fane raised a hand, calling for her.
Fane put away the dagger as he stood up, and waited for the serving girl to come to him. He smiled as he leaned over, whispering something to her ear.
Sweet Light, that bastard's got his hand on the girl's arse already. At least it's not the sodding claw. Come on lass, hit him! As much as he was honestly sympathetic to the girl, what Fingold truly wanted to see was his reaction to being slapped by a woman, in public.
Nora pushed away Fane's hand. She said something to him, loudly; which was still lost in the tavern's din. The girl was suddenly fierce, she kicked him in the shin, which likely hurt her more than it did him. Neat, open shoes are no match for sturdy boots.
Come on, bastard. Do something.
Fane quickly grabbed Nora's arm with his good hand in a strong grip. The girl tried to break free, unsuccessfully. Still smiling, he ran his mangled hand through the girl's head. He whispered to her once more. An instant later his caress turned into a brief and violent hair pull; forcing the girl's face backwards. He let go of her arm, passing his hand through her breasts and holding onto her neck. Visibly angry, he said something to her, overemphasizing to the point of near spitting.
What the... she bloody spat on the bastard. Come on Fane, show me what ye got.
The girl was desperately trying to break free. She attempted to kick him, but fear and disorientation made it hard to strike her target. Her arms were too short to reach his body, all she could do was grab his arm as forcefully as she could. That was not enough to have him release her.
Abusing a damn serving girl. You pathetic bastard.
Before more than a few people had noticed what was going on, Fane shoved the girl. He turned back to his table, finished off his last glass of bourbon and reached into his pockets. He turned again to face the girl, who was now visibly shaken and crying, laying on the floor. Fane approached her, knelt down and tossed a few coins at the girl. And just before rising, he spat on her face.
“You better teach your wenches some manners, old man.” Fane scoffed at Sid, who had just left the bar and was walking hastily towards him. Turning to Nora, he gave her a smile. “I'll let it pass this one time. When I'm back, you better have learned how to behave around men way above your -pathetic- status.” He grabbed his bag and walked away.
A bitter, useless drunk who can't deal with woman that fight him back, aye? I suppose that's a relief of sorts. Sweet Light, let that be all. Fingold sighed and started putting away his gems. On his way out he made sure to pass near the girls, who were now consoling Nora.
The girl was sitting on a chair, still as shaken as before, explaining to her boss what had happened. Before long, they took her back to the kitchen, a scarf conveniently covering the large bruises Fane had given her. A minute later, the girls went back to serving tables, as if nothing had happened.
Where did you go? Fingold first looked towards the barracks. There were only a few guards stationed outside, and no sight of Fane. After a minute looking in every direction, he decided to call it a night. He was made aware of every Ale he had drank that night, and approached the outhouse. Of course. The more you need to relieve yourself, the likelier it is that someone will be using the damned pisser.
The door finally opened, and a man rushed out, bumping into Fingold's shoulder. “Fuck off!” The man said as he tried to push him away.
Aumery fucking Fane. Just give me an excuse to beat you up.
“Outta my way, idiot” He didn't as much as look at Fingold, and headed east. Fane walked away, his strides describing anything but a straight line.
What the nether can be gained by picking a fight with him? Not to mention he'd remember me. What if he asks around about me? What if he links me to Anna? No, far too risky. I can't blow it. Not while we still don't have a clue of what and how he knows about Anna. “Get lost, you drunk.” He shouted at him, still hoping he'd turn around and pick a fight. Fingold walked into the latrine before he had a chance to start second guessing himself. He is just a sad, sad man. Picking on helpless girls. Maybe it's time to ask Anna. What if we've been making too much of it? The man does leave an impression. Doesn't mean poor Nora knows him from before.
Aumery Fane went looking for Easy Jenn, who was at her usual spot; near the eastern gates of the city, south of the Armory. She wasn't the prettiest girl around, but Jenn was at least familiar with his special requests. Fane knew she felt repulsed by his hand and afraid of his temper, but so was every other whore he'd seen, and it had been some time since he cared about either. I need a good fuck to clear my mind, tomorrow I find out what that singing bitch knows.
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Post by Threnn on Jul 23, 2008 20:44:27 GMT -5
Annalea stood in the center of her room, hands on her hips, dust in her nose, her frustration rising.
It has to be here somewhere.
The room looked like a small hurricane had passed through, leaving everything in disarray. All the dresser drawers were open, clothes hanging out of them or strewn on the floor. Items spilled out of the closet - books, a broken fishing rod, clothes Threnn had left behind when she'd moved across town. Anna had no idea how she'd ever be able to stuff it all back in.
She'd even yanked the bedclothes off of the bed; now they sat in a tangled heap on the floor. When she'd first pulled them off, Harvey had finally come out of hiding. Now he sniffed them warily, looked up at her and yowled. "The hell's gotten into you today?"
The cat had been acting strange since she'd returned from Shattrath this afternoon, tucking himself into small spaces, slinking about when he surfaced for food, even growling now and then. Anna scooped him up and sent a tiny thread of the Light through him, just in case he was sick. Nothing out of the ordinary. "You're fine, you big baby. Now help me find my book or go curl up somewhere." She plopped him down on the unmade bed and went back to her search.
The book was nowhere to be found. Two years worth of notes, missing. They could be recreated, sure, but it would be a painstaking process. Anna mentally retraced her steps since the last time she remembered having it. She was so certain she'd left it in the drawer of her desk, but she'd run errands today, and worked on Tarq's mail this morning.
Maybe... "Cross your paws for me," she said to Harvey, and headed to the Pig.
---
She made a beeline for the bookshelves as she entered the bar, not even bothering to look around and see if any of the Riders were already there, drinking and bantering. Maybe one of the Langstons had picked it up and put it away, thinking it to be a book one of the patrons had borrowed to entertain themselves during a meal.
"Elly, have you seen...?" she muttered, but the barmaid's hands were full as she carried a tray upstairs to a table full of boisterous new recruits. "Nevermind."
She turned around to check the other set of shelves and found herself face to face with Fingold.
"Oh," he said. "Not fair. Just when I was coming to suprise you." He smiled at her. "Hello, pretty girl."
She grinned. "Oh. Should I turn back around?"
"Too late."
"'lo, Fin."
Fingold bent to kiss her. "Hello."
"Hi. Um." Color rose to her cheeks. It's just a kiss! Blessed Elune, what's the matter with me?
"Threnn and Ulthanon were here a bit ago," said Fin, his arms still comfortably around her waist.
Conversation. Small talk. Remember how to do that without making a bloody fool of yourself? "Oh? Relaxing, or plotting?"
"Heh, I think they were too tired for plotting. Ulthanon is probably already asleep downstairs. He chose to spend the night here."
"Downstairs?"
Fin shrugged. She tried not to focus on the warmth of his hands on her hips. She'd start stammering.
"Ghost had better not be in my chair. Tarq's chair," she corrected. That's right, bore him. He must think I'm an idiot. Annalea glanced around the tavern, trying to think of something to say before the lull became awkward. Her gaze swept over the other bookshelves. "Oh!" Slipping out of Fin's arms, she darted to them. There it is! She pulled a slim volume out a couple of inches, then sighed and put it back. Not the right one after all. "Damn it."
"Everything alright?" Fingold joined her by the railing.
"Yeah. I just... can't find my book." Anna held her hands up to demonstrate its size. "It's 'bout... this by this. Leather..."
"Oh, I can go downstairs and wake up Ulthanon, if you want," said Fin. "Likely you left it in the office?"
"Yeah. I'll go down and look. No need to wake him." She took a couple of steps towards the stairs, but his voice stopped her.
"Want me to come with?"
She was blushing again. "Sure, if you'd like."
"'course I would." He smiled at her. She smiled back. They stood there like that for a minute or so, each waiting for the other to step away.
Anna finally shook herself. "Two sets of eyes and all."
"Aye, should be quicker." Fingold followed her down to the Pig's basement, grinning.
They tried their best to be quiet as they went downstairs. Ulthanon was a lump under the blankets in one of the several bunk beds the Riders occasionally used. Anna could see his shoulders rising and falling with his breath. She wondered if he was actually asleep, or just pretending to be; she had the sense that Ulth was probably a light sleeper, alert to any noises that didn't belong.
Ghost was sprawled out in front of the office door. He opened one eye as Annalea found her key and leaned over him to open up, but he didn't move out of the way. She sighed at him and stepped over the massive wolf to get inside.
Tarquin's office was pretty much the way she'd left it earlier - all of the mail opened and separated into piles, a stack of things for Tarquin to sign still awaiting his signature, everything else neatly put away. The desk was her domain. The rest of the office was more cluttered, books scattered here and there, a few stray pieces of Tarquin's engineering materials .
Fingold peered at a small pile of books on the floor. "Leather, aye?" he said quietly.
Anna sat down behind the desk and rifled through the drawers. "Yeah. Dark brown. It's a ledger." Oh, hell, he's going to think... Her head snapped up as she glanced at him. "Not, um, not as in a diary."
He moved a few piles of paper around, looking for books underneath and grinned at her. "I wouldn't dare look into your book, Anna." His voice was low, whether to keep from waking Ulth or to convey his sincerity, she didn't know.
She closed one drawer, opened another. "No, really. It's not! It's for the things I brew."
"Oh. I see."
"Recipes and lists and things. Bloody hell." She looked under the desk. Just dustbunnies. No books.
Fingold mumbled to himself as he examined a stack. "Blue, blue, black, blue, yellow?" Soon enough, they ran out of places to look. Fin stood up and dusted off his knees. "Can't be absolutely certain in low light, but I don't think any of these are the one you say."
Annalea sighed, got down on the floor and tried to roll Ghost over with both hands. He gave her a doggy groan, but shifted over enough for her to see beneath him. "Not under the wolf, either."
"Want to come tomorrow?" He offered her a hand and helped her rise. "We can turn it upside down, if you wish."
She shook her head. "No, it's not here. Hell."
"Maybe you left it at the Laboratory on the elves' island? You say you spend time there brewin' and learnin'."
"I don't remember taking it with me at all. It shouldn't be anywhere but at home." She tapped at her lip, deep in thought.
"I could help if you want to move all your furniture around."
The part of her that knew the lyrics to the bawdiest tavern songs whispered that there was more than one way to move furniture. Once, not so long ago, she'd even have spoken the thought aloud. Now, though... Don't blush. Don't bloody fucking blush He's shared my bed several times in the last two weeks. We're past the part where I should be turning red at the slightest suggestion. "Hell. Come upstairs. I'll buy you a drink. Maybe it'll jog my memory."
Fingold grinned. "Can't say no to that."
They claimed a table and Anna flagged down Elly to bring them some wine. She looked around as she sat, making note of new faces in the bar. None of them were Fane. Elly set two glasses down in front of them and scurried away to take care of the large party that was still going on upstairs. "Right. So."
"So the book is not downstairs," said Fin.
"Nope. And I had it yesterday, so it can't be on Quel'Danas. I haven't been out of Stormwind."
"And I suppose you've looked home. Want to go back to your place and make sure it's not there?"
She nodded. "Everywhere. You should see the room."
"Oh, I see. You've already moved things around."
"Well, no. I've just looked under things."
"Well, we could make sure to look everywhere. It's got to be there somewhere. I'm good moving things around."
This time, she managed not to blush. "If you don't mind helping, yeah. It's got..." She tapped her finger against her lip and counted. "More than two years' worth of notes. I mean, I can recreate them, but it's a hell of a lot of work."
"Oh, sweet Light. We'll find it. Promise." He offered her a reassuring smile.
"It's probably somewhere obvious. Like, beside the desk, or in a pocket of a cloak, or something."
"Cyl wouldn't have borrowed it, I assume. Doesn't sound like her... does she read at all?"
She shook her head. "Nope. She thinks it's booooring," she said, mimicing one of Cylinn's favorite phrases and eliciting a snicker from Fin. "It probably just fell off of wherever I left it. But I looked all around."
"It happens."
"Well, I won't turn down the help, if you pretend not to mind the mess." Oh, seven hells, the room is a disaster...
"'course not! Don't be silly."
"And the pissed off cat. No idea what's gotten into him. He was under the bed when I got home, yowling his lungs out. Wouldn't even come out for a treat until I started tearing the room apart."
"Odd," said Fin. The last time he'd been up to her room, Harvey had sniffed at him warily, then rolled over and demanded a belly rub before giving his approval of the newcomer.
Anna snickered. "Probably tried to chase a mouse and the mouse chased him back." She sighed and finished her wine. They were going to have a lot of work to do.
Fin seemed to recognize this, too. He stood up and held out his arm. "Come on," he said, "Let's finish the bottle back at your place. I'll bring another one. To celebrate when we find it."
"I like the way you think." She gave the Langstons a wave and stopped short. "I'm going to have to remake the bed."
"Pardon?"
Hell. I said that out loud. "Just, y'know, thought maybe it could've been in the bedclothes somewhere. They're all over the floor."
"Ah." Fin smiled. "Aye, we'll look everywhere. Promise."
"And if you're. Um. Staying." She looked away from him and started for the door. Of course he's staying. Stop acting like a goose. Anna stopped at the door, slowing her stride to let him catch up. "Right," she said as he took her hand. "Searching to do."
It was nice, she realized, having someone to keep her company while she looked for her lost notes. More than that, it was nice to simply have someone holding her hand.
She slowed her steps a bit more as they walked down the street, enjoying the solid feel of him by her side. When she stole a glance and found Fin looking back at her, for once she didn't blush.
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Post by Threnn on Jul 24, 2008 0:21:48 GMT -5
Fingold paused in the doorway and blinked. Even in the softer light of the oil lamp, the room was a terrible mess. "You were pretty... thorough," he said.
"Yeah. Told you it was bad." She lit a few more, wincing as each pool of light revealed more of the carnage from her earlier searching.
"You must be dead, this looks like a lot of work." Gingerly, he picked his way over to her, careful not to step on anything she'd left lying on the floor.
"Nah. It's mostly just frenzied looking."
"Where's the cat?" Fin did the world's worst meow imitation.
She stifled a giggle as she looked around. "He's..." Hiding again. Lovely.
"C'mere kitty."
"Catnip, Harvey." Anna went to her worktable and took out a small jar of catnip she'd grown in her garden. Usually, the cat came running as soon as he heard the cover unscrewing. This time, there was no sign of him.
"Heh," said Fin, "probably still scared of mice."
"Must be." She frowned at the jar.
"Maybe roaches."
"Hey. I don't have roaches." With it this cluttered in here, though, he must think I do. Should've asked him to give me five minutes to shove everything back into the closet. Hell.
But Fin was on a different track. "True, you'd need to be in a dirty place. Like that damn Inn. You wouldn't believe this one I saw in the ceiling of my room."
"Remind me never to stay at that inn."
"Please don't. Can't wait to leave, myself."
It was a bit of a relief to hear, though, as disgusting as the thought might be. The other night, Cylinn had been home in Stormwind, and Anna'd offered to walk Fin home, half-hoping for an invite to his room. He'd balked and insisted on walking her home, leaving her wondering if she'd been too forward. There were times he could be so proper, so careful to protect her reputation. Guilt plucked at her when he did that. He's defending something that's one whisper away from ruin. I'm going to have to tell him. I'm going to have to--
Not yet. Soon, but not just yet. She wasn't ready for this to end. Not just yet. Something on her worktable pulled her away from the gloomy thoughts. She set down the catnip and picked up the jar beside it. Thick brownish-red liquid filtered the light from the lamp she held it against. Dark red flower petals were suspended in the concoction. "I know I had more of this."
Fin was busy surveying the room, trying to make sense of the chaos. "So, where shall we start?"
"Moving this thing, I suppose." Anna gestured to the workbench. "Remind me, when we find it. I need firebloom." She put the jar down and pushed up her sleeves.
He took off his cloak, hanging it on the doorknob. "Firebloom, aye. Just a moment, these things are not very helpful." Off came his chestplate, too. He leaned it beside the entrance. "All right, let's start moving things around."
Anna took one end of the bench, Fin the other. They only moved it a few inches before Harvey flew out from beneath it. Anna almost dropped her end as the cat shot across the room in a streak of white. "Harvey! Blessed bloody Elune, that scared me."
"The nether! Where did it come from?"
"Hiding underneath. Let me check on him." She lowered her end of the bench and went to peer at the cat, who had wedged himself under Cylinn's bed. He yowled pitifully.
"Should we move that, too?"
"Nah. I can see under here." Harvey was a pale smudge in the darkest corner. His eyes caught the dregs of lamplight and glowed.
Still by the bench, Fin shuffled his feet. "Did the cat just... relieve himself in here?"
She sniffed the air, but couldn't smell anything. "I sure as hell hope not."
"Ah bloody hell. I'm already making a mess."
"Can't get much messier than it already is." Anna sighed at the cat. "Fine, stay there."
She stood up in time to see Fingold get on his knees and take out his handkerchief. He bent to sop up something on the floor. If he's cleaning up after Harvey I'm going to be mortified.
"I'm really sorry Anna," he said as she came around the bench to look. "I didn't see the.. liquid."
"Aw, no need to clean up... liquid?"
"I must have stepped on it. Now I'm leaving marks." He shook his head and scrubbed harder.
Why does he sound nervous? Anna knelt beside him to see what he was worrying at so intently.
It wasn't a mess from the cat.
There was no shattered vial, or scattered packet of herbs. Instead there was a viscous patch of brownish-red gel. Firebloom oil congeals and sets when exposed to open air. In the middle of the spill was a single large footprint, too big to be her own. Fin had managed to smudge the edges of part of it, but most of it was still there, sharp as a deer track in thick mud.
They both stared at it. Fin looked at her, waiting, his handkerchief held above the footprint.
"Easy with that," she said, forcing herself to be calm. "Don't touch your eyes."
"Alright." He wiped his hands on his pants.
"Here." She stood up and tugged on his sleeve so he'd stand, too. She reached into to her rack of potions and selected one, uncorking it as she passed it to him.
"Should I wipe my hands with it?"
"Yeah. Sort of counteracts the oil."
"Oh, thanks." He poured a little of the solution on his hands and thoroughly rubbed them together.
When she was satisfied that he wouldn't irritate his eyes if he touched his face, she looked down at the footprint, then at Fin's boots.
"I'm... I'm sorry Anna."
She didn't respond, lookind at the footprint again.
"Please, let me clean it up." Fin bit his lip.
Very, very softly, she said, "It's not yours, is it?"
"What?" He looked away. "I'm really sorry Anna. I promise I'll clean my mess."
He knows he didn't do it. "That jar's closed." She pointed at the container of firebloom oil she'd examined earlier. Now that she gave it a better look, she realized the label was smudged, too. She was always meticulous with her labelling; you had to be, as an alchemist. Sloppiness could kill someone. "And... Show me the bottom of your boots."
Fingold looked down. His boots were pristine - maybe a little dusty from everything they'd kicked up while moving the bench, but there was no trace of the oil on them. "No, it's not," he said. Then, half-heartedly, "Probably Cyl's. Don't get mad at her."
But he avoided her eyes.
"She hasn't been home." Someone's been here. In my room. Where I sleep.
"Was it you, then?" Fin was still trying. "When you were moving things. You probably didn't notice."
Anna stepped over to the print and measured her own foot beside it. It was much bigger than her own, no mistaking that. "No."
"Hmm. Come on, what else could it be? Maybe she came during the day?"
She wanted to let the possibility stand, if only to keep Fin from drifting to the same worry that was already gnawing at her, but she couldn't. Cylinn might not be petite, but there was no way this bootprint belonged to the warrior. "I don't think it's hers."
"Sit down, let's have a bit of wine."
"Yeah. Okay." She'd been safe here. This place had always been a sanctuary, even before it was hers. How many times had she lay sprawled across this bed when it was Threnn's, chatting for hours while her sister sat by the window mending her armor? And now someone had been here, shattering that feeling with one footprint.
Fin guided her to the unmade bed and sat her down. He busied himself for a moment, uncorking the bottle and pouring two glasses. The old springs creaked as he joined her and handed her one.
"Hell."
They sipped their wine in silence. After a moment or two, Fin put his arm around her. She hoped she wasn't shaking.
Nothing was missing. Cylinn, always horrible with money, had left a pile of gold coins on her dresser for the rent the day before. They were still there. Anna's jewelry box was untouched; her fine silk dresses had all still been on their hangers. The only thing missing was her ledger.
Fane. He must have thought it was a diary. She could tell Fin, right now. Tell him the truth about her fight in Shattrath, and why that person would want to break into her room. She could tell him, and he'd help her sort it out. Fin was a good man; he wouldn't let a woman be in danger if there was something he could do about it.
But once that danger was past, once the threat was gone, he'd leave. Men like him don't court girls like me.
She would tell him right now. She should tell him.
She couldn't. "It's... you're right. Probably Cyl's."
"Who else could it be, right?"
"Right." She laughed, nervously.
"Anna..." Fin frowned at her. "Are you alright? You seem a bit stressed. I know the book represents years of work. I do."
Tell him. "I'm fine. It's... it's fine. I've been looking since this afternoon. Probably not even really seeing anything anymore."
"Aye." He hesitated, but didn't say anything more.
"We can leave the moving 'til morning. The light'll be better."
"Aye, more rested as well." Fin took another sip of wine. "I... I think I should stay. To have an early start tomorrow."
Relief coursed through her, but she tried not to let it show. "You sure you don't mind?"
"I was hoping you wouldn't mind." He offered her a sheepish grin. "This is embarassing, y'know. I can't stand spending another night at that tiny, roach infested, room. But I don't want to impose either."
Safer territory. "You're not imposing. If I'd known it was that bad, I'd've insisted."
"I'll make it up to you. Promise." He smiled.
"Nothing to make up for. I'm going to owe you for..." She faltered. For lying. For letting you believe I'm not a waste of your time. For keeping secrets because I'm too bloody selfish to let this end like it has to. "For all the furniture moving," she managed.
"It is my pleasure, Anna." He pulled her a little closer.
"Well. Thank you."
Fin leaned in and lowered his voice. "But, if you say you do owe me..." He waited until she peered up at him. "Well, you'll have to spend some nights at my new apartment. To repay. You can help me move furniture as well."
"I always repay my debts," she said, and forced a grin.
"I expect you to, Annalea al'Cair. We should go to b-- get some rest now." Fin bit his lip.
"Right. Might as well... " So careful with me. He's going to be so angry. She smiled, pushing the thoughts away a second time.
"There's lots of moving in store," he said.
"Easy part first." Annalea stood and scooped up an armload of sheets. She tossed them at Fin when he looked up at her, questioning. "Making the bed."
"'ey!" He laughed as he put them aside and caught her hand, gently tugging her down for a kiss.
I'm going to miss this, and it's hardly even begun. She tangled her fingers in his hair and forced herself to think only about this moment, right now, and to let tomorrow take care of itself.
For a little while, it worked.
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Fingold
Guild Member
CTAI Token Mexican
No entiendo lo que ustedes escriben.
Posts: 268
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Post by Fingold on Jul 25, 2008 13:44:06 GMT -5
((I apologize for the repeated scene. But I really wanted to show Fingold's side during the events.))
Shite.
It was definitely not his. Certainly not Anna's. And Cylinn hadn't been home for some time. That, and the missing book. It couldn't be just a coincidence. That was certainly a man's footprint.
Aumery fucking Fane. It' must have been him. Sweet Light, he's been here. He's following Anna.
The realization shocked him. Fingold had tried to convince himself that Fane was simply a bitter drunk who enjoyed mistreating women. That maybe there was nothing more to it. Perhaps he had harassed her some years back and she sought revenge that night, and it backfired. The man left an impression on women, after all. Laetei had been left shaken, and so had Nora. Yet neither of them knew much of him. It was possible. At least, it had been until now.
Who else could it be? Who would break into her apartment? And leave everything but her journal? And... Harvey. He's scared. He wouldn't be so rattled if it was a mouse. Who else could it be? It has to be him. Threnn said she was keeping something to herself.
Fingold panicked, he tried to scrub away the footprint instinctively. But it was not nearly fresh enough. All he managed to do was roughen up the edges. He had pretended it was his. That he had just made a mess when he stepped on that strange smelling liquid on the floor.
He wasn't quick enough. Anna was now on her knees, next to him, staring at the footprint. Too large to be hers or Cylinn's. Too old to be Fin's; she had seen him scrub long enough to turn any fresh footprint into an unrecognizable mess. And it was still there.
“I'm... I'm sorry Anna.” I am so sorry. He avoided her eyes, still trying to pretend to be concerned about causing the mess on the floor. “Please let me clean it up.” I promise you I will take care of this.
“It's not yours, is it?” Anna's words barely came out, sighing.
“What?” Don't look away, git. Lie to her face. She'll start guessing otherwise. “I'm really sorry Anna. I promise I'll clean up my mess.” I should have not believed for half a second that he was just a drunk.
“That jar's closed.” She pointed to the one that she suspected had been poured. Anna turned to Fingold, waiting for him to meet her eyes before she spoke. “And... Show me the bottom of your boots.” She jerked her index, waiting for Fin to raise his feet.
It's useless. She knows somebody broke in. “No, it's not.” He shook his head, knowing this one lie was untenable. Give her alternatives. Anyone but Fane, damn it. In a fit of desperation he went back to the already discarded names. “Probably Cyl's. Don't get mad at her.” Look up. Lie to her face. Be a man.
“She hasn't been home.” She knew that Cylinn had not been home for over three days now. That was two days too many.
Anyone but Fane. “Was it you, then? When you were moving things? You probably didn't notice.” I can't tell you tonight. I need to find the bastard first, and get your book back. Fingold finally raised his head and faced Anna. I am so sorry.
Tired of seeing Fingold avoid what was clearly obvious, Anna stepped into the footprint, demonstrating it was far too big to be hers. “No.”
You're only scaring her, git. You are not helping matters. “Come on, what else could it be? Maybe she came during the day?” Fingold tried to smile, reassuringly. He felt sick before even a grin formed. I let this happen. All of it.
“I don't think it's hers.” The girls had shared an apartment long enough. Anna knew that Cylinn couldn't have left a print that big, not even wearing her newest boots. Why would Cyl poke around Anna's workbench in the first place? Potions were boring stuffs. Her shoulders dropped, so did her face. Her knees were weakening.
Anna, please forgive me. “Sit down, let's have a bit of wine.” He knew they would need to have a talk soon. Not tonight, no. So much for hoping he could take care of the problem without Anna finding out. You have to understand. I had to lie. To protect you. Not that I succeeded.
“Yeah. Okay.” She sat down on her bed. Her breathing was slow, and her face was the color of milk.
Fingold poured down two glasses of wine. They just sat there and took a few sips in absolute silence.
Now Anna was the one keeping her face down. “It's... you're right. Probably Cyl's.”
What are you really thinking about? “Who else could it be, right?” He still couldn't make himself give the littlest of smiles.
“Right.” She laughed, not in her usual cheerful way. Annalea was still looking down.
“Anna, are you alright?” Come on, give her an excuse. Anything. Get her mind off of this somehow. She knows somebody broke in, for Light's sake. “You seem a bit stressed. I know the book represents years of work. I do.”
“I'm fine. It's... it's fine.” Anna finally looked at Fingold. “I've been looking since this afternoon. Probably not even really seeing anything anymore.” She breathed in and exhaled slowly.
“Aye.” He decided that he would have to go have a talk with Mr. Cross about moving in to his apartment above the Shield smith's shop before they had agreed to. Whatever the cost. Fane won't look for you there.
“We can leave the moving 'til morning. The light'll be better.” Anna looked tired, from what, he couldn't tell.
“Aye, more rested as well. I ...” I can't leave you alone, definitely not tonight. “I think I should stay. To have an early start tomorrow.” He was still afraid to sound as someone trying to talk his way into her bed. Manners be damned, you are not spending the night alone.
“You sure you don't mind?”
“I was hoping -you- wouldn't mind.” Finally, an excuse came to him. “This is embarrassing y'know, I can't stand spending another night at that tiny, roach infested, room. But I don't want to impose either.”
“You're not imposing, if I'd known it was that bad, I'd've insisted.”
“I'll make it up to you. Promise.”
“Nothing to make up for. I'm going to owe you for...”
You are going to -hate- me for it. Lying to your face since near the start.
“...for all the furniture moving.” Even worried and tired, Anna remained as graceful as ever.
“It is my pleasure, Anna.” I had him at Honor Hold. He was drunk. He has one bloody useful hand, for Light's sake! I should have done something then. I am a Knight of the Silver Hand. It was my duty. “But if you say you do owe me...” You are far too kind. What the nether can you possibly owe me for, love? Anna's thoughtfulness only made him feel worse. “Well, you'll have to spend some nights at my new apartment. To repay. You can help me move furniture as well.” I'll tell you everything soon. Promise.
“I always repay my debts.” Always courteous, she grinned at his proposition.
“I expect you to, Annalea al'Cair.” Please understand. “We should go to b--” He caught himself before, yet again, letting his manhood do the talking. Or at least give the appearance that he was, which was just as unbecoming. She's far too forgiving. “...get some rest now.”
“Right. Might as well.” If she had been made uncomfortable by either the comment, or Fingold's repeated corrections, she didn't show.
“There's lots of moving in store.” Aye. Remember, we're still looking for the book tomorrow.
“Easy part first.” Anna reached for linens from a nearby pile, and playfully tossed them at Fingold. “Making the bed.” She hadn't smiled quite like that all night.
Fingold couldn't help but laugh. I cannot lose you, Anna. I didn't want to be lying to you all along. It was the only way. He grabbed her hand and pulled her in for a kiss. Please don't walk away when you find out.
Anna embraced him, her hands running through his hair.
I'm not going to let anything happen to you. This business with Fane ends soon. I promise. I am not letting him walk away again. I'll be damned if I didn't learn that lesson.
Fingold kept an arm around Anna all night; the only thing he could do to feel like he was protecting her. The roosters were about to start crowing when he forced himself to get some sleep. They still had to turn the entire apartment upside down in a few hours, after all. As futile as they both knew it was.
The only comforting thought that night was that soon he would need to lie no more. Until then, he would pray. For retribution and forgiveness.
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Fingold
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Post by Fingold on Aug 24, 2008 14:58:41 GMT -5
One must pay extreme care to establish that one's cause is indeed Righteous. Once that fact is established, cease to doubt and act with the utmost resolve. Hesitation invites weakness. Pray to the Light for the strength that pursuing the greater good necessitates. The hot air, with a scent reminiscent of rotten eggs, burned Fingold's nose every time he inhaled. Hellfire was an apt name for the Peninsula, he thought. Demon dog shit smelled at least ten times as foul as the regular kind. And there was never a shortage of Hellboar around Honor Hold. Far from it, judging by the Inn's menu. He had been thinking about the teachings of Brother Renaud ever since he arrived two nights before, from Stormwind. Back at the Abbey, every so often somebody would whisper about the teachings of the man some claimed had left the Silver Hand to join the Scarlets. Some others claimed Brother Renaud never existed, that it was the name people used to speak their minds on sensitive topics without fear. Fingold would start the day with morning prayers, before heading downstairs for a breakfast of bread and whatever fruits the tradesmen had brought in from Terrokar. Then it was time to walk around town, keeping eyes and ears attentive for any hints -any information- he might find use for. Fingold didn't expect to find Fane before dark. He hadn't seen him yet. Sid said it'd been at least a week since he saw him in the tavern. Good, he thought, with some luck I may catch him before he even sets foot on the hold. He decided that his best shot was to ambush Fane by the ruined towers a mile east of the gates. Fingold had spent the past few hours by the towers, taking notice of people traveling the road east. Traffic from the Portal was not that of a year prior, he realized. Thank the Light for this relative privacy. There had been only one caravan and a dozen scattered riders so far, asides from the Hold's cavalry hourly patrol. And nobody gave as much as a glance to the towers. They had become part of the landscape, as worthy of notice as the myriad cracks on the ground. According to the barmaids at the tavern, most travelers arrived after the fourth change of the guard. Compassion is the least understood of the Three Virtues. True compassion lies in caring deeply for the pure hearted, often at the expense of the wicked. When we let others abuse the innocent, we become as evil as they. Never forget: you are the Light's Retribution. Doubt not using the Light's Might to protect those in need. Pray to the Light that you may never falter. Fingold waited for the change of the guards before he rode back into the Hold taking notice of the last few travelers riding by; content that he had not overlooked any details. One can never be too careful. The brother was right about that much, mad as he might have become. The words used to justify the killing of peasants in name of fighting the plague seemed to make much more sense when used in the context of dealing with the clawed bastard. With a little kick to his charger, Fingold raced to the gates in hopes of catching the conversation between the arriving and leaving guards. The grimaces on the guards' faces hinted at bad news, which the mocking laughter of the others confirmed. The four men retreated into the town, resigned. Damned glad I'm not a guardsman for the church anymore, Fingold thought, as he snickered; memories of menial tasks and ever-changing assignments coming back to him. Lords' whims can't be as bad as bishops'.Fingold tied his charger by the stables outside the Inn, took off his dusty gloves and walked towards the Inn's entrance, stopping by the mailbox. There he reached for a small package he had kept in his bag. It was a collection of gems, some of his latest and best work, to be delivered to the Merchant Guild's office back in Stormwind, as a sample of his products. The first of many steps he needed to take along the long and winding road that led to legitimacy as a businessman. “I'm buyin' the first round o' ales, lads.” Somebody said, a few feet behind Fingold. “Bollocks, we're all buyin' a round a' least. Ye want the first as excuse to dart off.” Said a second, as two more joined in laughter. “Still 's what I'll do!” The four men, the guardsmen who had just been relieved from duty passed Fingold and entered the tavern. The tavern was loud and busy, as the maids had promised it would be at this time. The smell of ale on wooden floors; hell, even the hints of day old vomit was a welcome change to the nauseating foul air of Hellfire. Fingold went straight towards the bar, breathing through his mouth until the smells coming out of the kitchen were noticeable. His stomach was not yet ready for food, but an ale would not hurt, he thought. Long ago the Light showed our ancestors an important truth: wild beasts will always attack, no matter your kindness. Today's beasts are no different; incapable to yield, repent, or even realize the pain and sorrow they bring. The Light offers redemption to those with a heart for it. Do not fall for the fallacy that every creature, including men, can be redeemed in life. For those beyond the Light's graces, redemption can come only in death. Pray to the Light for the courage to be an instrument of its divine salvation. Merde! There he was: Aumery Fane, at his usual spot, mug in hand. Three of the guards stood by him. It seemed as if they were talking to him, but Fane was doing his best to ignore them. His attention going from one serving maid to the next. With the Light's help, I'll wipe that damned grin from your face. He seemed particularly interested in Nora, the poor girl he had near choked last time he saw him. He quickly realized his plan had been rendered useless. Think fast, Edour. There were plenty of people who had seen Fane at the Hold now. They had seen him without a single bruise on his face, nor the slightest limp. And the bastard was hard to miss. For now, he paid attention to Fane and the guards who were still trying to get his attention. The fourth guard soon joined them, offering Fane a new pint. As the tallest of the four talked, the one to his right put a hand on Fane's shoulder. Then Fane moved faster than Fingold had ever seen him. He had turned towards the guard in an instant. There was a small dagger on his left hand, pointing at the guards' hip; the weak spot where plate gave way to leathers. All four of them took a step back. Fane appeared to find this worthy of a laugh, his stare finally away from the women and fixed on the guards. After some words, he put the dagger on his table and went back to ignoring them altogether. The guards were back at arguing with Fane when Nora started walking back towards the bar as fast as the crowd allowed her. It had been over two weeks since her incident. There was no doubt she'd seen Fane's reaction, judging by the expression on her face and the way she had crossed her arms, hoping to conceal her sudden shivering. Sid came out of the kitchen holding a tray with a half dozen bowls of soup on it, and waved at Nora. He almost dropped it when he saw Fane sitting at his usual spot, with a group of guards visibly mad at him. “Girl, come in here! I don't want you out there. You are washing dishes, tell Emma she's waiting tables tonight. Guards can afford to trouble Lord Fairfax's man, but we can't.” She rested her hand against the side of the bar, to stop the trembling. “It's alright, Sid. I swear.” Nora breathed in slowly, trying to calm herself. “He won't be here long, from what I heard them say. I walked away as you told me. He didn't say a word to me. Please let me stay, I need the tips.” “You're washing dishes as long as he's sitting there, and that's the end of it!” Unable to gesticulate, Sid punctuated his order with a firm nod. “But they are taking him -now-. He's been summoned by his Lord, that's what the men said.” Nora took the serving tray away from Sid, her hands steady again. “They will probably be gone before I deliver these bowls, you'll see.” She turned around and started walking towards a table by the stairs, where a group of hungry men were waiting for her. “One word from him and you're washing dishes for a month, ye hear me!?” Sid shook his head and sighed. He turned around and walked back into the kitchen, one hand on his belly and the other scratching the back of his neck as he muttered to himself. Fingold had been close enough to catch the entire exchange between Sid and Nora. He hurried to finish the remaining half pint, and left a handful of coins on the bar. I need to get out of here now. He walked out of the tavern, backpack in tow. Only a just man can do the Light's bidding. And even the most pure and pious amongst us needs to know the Light's truth before he can be a fair judge. This is why you must never quit when your task is to discover the truths the Light wants to show you. No obstacle is insurmountable, no quandary unresolvable on the quest for veracity. Never compromise, for a partial truth is as good as no truth at all. There is no price too high to pay, no sacrifice too big, if you give yourself whole to this most devout of endeavors. Pray to the Light for the tenacity to extract even the most hidden of truths. He had been waiting for over an hour. It must be tonight, I'm not letting him walk away again. Once was too many a time. Light, show me the way. Fingold's previous service for Trollbane's forces in the Peninsula paid off, as he was able to secure a bed for the night at the Hold's Keep on such a short notice. All of the Lord's halls were in the second level, he knew. He had seen Fane walk into the huge stone building shortly after he leaving tavern. If he had been summoned by Lord Fairfax, he must have gone up the stairway down the hall from the room where he had been praying for the past quarter of an hour. Fingold opened his eyes, having finished an old prayer. He nearly missed it; a man passing by, hardly making any noise. Instinctively, he raised to his feet and swung his bag around his shoulder. He counted to five before walking out and checking if it was Fane he saw. He stood at the corner of the hallway, his back against the very end of the wall, as quiet as he could. Fane's steps stopped. “Harrison, I am going to need travel rations. Enough for two days. If you pack another hunk of stale bread, I'm coming back to shove it up yer ass.” “Certainly, sir.” A young man's voice, followed by the sound of a few hurried steps. “One more thing,” Fane said. “I want this book on my desk's top drawer. And lock the door to my room as you leave, understand? Do that first, then grab my food and meet me outside. Do not make me wait, Harrison.” I need to see this book, just for a second.The only response was the sounds of a man running, each step louder than the previous one. Fingold stood in the middle of the hallway, waiting. Soon enough, a young man, looking no older than eighteen came rushing around the corner. He took a step forward then, making no effort to avoid the man. Harrison bumped into him hard. Fingold fell on his back, his arms easing the fall. Harrison fumbled the book, as he struggled to stay afoot. A few steps and he lost the little balance he had kept after the collision. The book was right next to Fingold, laying open. He quickly sat on the floor, held the book and started reading the page in which it had fallen, while the boy slowly recovered from the hit. “Netherbloom. Mostly found around Netherstorm. It has a thick stem. The leaves are thin, a light shade of violet...” The writing was neat and precise, there was not a single correction on the page. There seemed to be endless annotations, on different colors. This is Anna's. No doubt. For just an instant, all he wanted to do was hold on to the book and walk away. It was hers, after all. How could anyone object? But that initial feeling faded away quickly. He knew he would never make it out of the keep stealing a book from Lord Fairfax's man. Harrison rubbed his knees for a few seconds, moaning. Then he stood up and walked towards Fingold, his eyes fixed on the book. “My apologies, I did not see you until too late.” Fingold knew he had to hand the book over. One can never be too careful. He closed the book, stopping briefly on the very first page. “Property of: A. aC.” It read. He offered the book to Harrison. “I hope it isn't damaged,” he said with a smile. “I am sorry, sir. I didn't see you. Now, if you excuse me.” He took the book away from Fingold and ran. That's it, Fane. There are no excuses anymore, if there ever was room for any. You attacked Anna in Shattrath. You broke into her apartment. You stole her book. There are no more doubts. None. Light, give me strength. Fingold shut his eyes close, and exhaled slowly as he recited a short prayer. He stood up, taking his time. Then he started walking towards the keep's entry way. Now you will tell me why you've done it.Do not fear pain. Just as we come to this world though our mother's birth pains, so does the pain we suffer allow us to be reborn in the Light onto a better, more pure self . Pray to the light for the wisdom to see meaning in pain. Fane was drinking from a small golden flask. He stood near the gryphon mistress, waiting. The young man was running toward him. Fane wiped his mouth on his sleeve, “I told you not to make me wait.” He put the flask into his vest's pocket. “Pardon, sir. It won't happen again. I had to chase the cooks, there was nobody in the kitchens. It was too late.” Harrison bowed before Fane and handed him a small bundle. “It better be still warm when I reach Nethergarde, boy.” Fane shoved the package into his bag. “You can leave now.” Judging by his angry tone, one would have never guessed Harrison had been running without rest for close to an hour. For his part, Fane had kept himself busy, procuring the services of Easy Jenn. Fingold was watching, while he brushed his steed's hair. There was nothing he could do in Honor Hold anymore. Maybe I can wait for him on the other side of the Portal. He continued grooming his charger with his eyes on Fane and his mind wandering. Nah, there's always troops on the other side. I need more bloody time. “Give him a full bucket o' oats, and take a look at his shoes, please.” Fingold gave the stable boy a couple gold coins as he walked towards the gryphons. “I trust that's enough for the feed, shoes and a couple nights here.” Fane spoke briefly with Krill, the gryphon mistress. There was a large golden gryphon waiting for him, it had four or five bundles strapped to it. He mounted it, spoke a few more words to the dwarf, and gave a pull to the bird's reins. Starting with a slow ascent, they flew away. I can catch up to him. Fingold unfastened his own gryphon, attached his backpack to the laces at the back of the saddle as fast as he could, and mounted. “Like the wind, boy!” With a strong pull of the reins, they flew eastward. A few minutes later, he recognized Fane's fat bird, not too far ahead. “Come on, time to catch up.” He tapped the gryphon on its side, and they started gaining speed. He steered the bird to fly lower as they got closer and closer to Fane. “Now steady, boy. Fly gentle.” Fingold ran his right hand over the bird's head, softly. They were flying a few yards behinds and some more below. Now's the time to do something. Light, give me courage. He let go of the reins on both hands, and closed his eyes for a second, as he started calling for the Light with his hands close together. A piercing bolt of holy energy left his hands violently.
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Fingold
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Post by Fingold on Aug 24, 2008 19:57:41 GMT -5
The bird shrieked loudly. Its wings had frozen. From fear or pain, Fane didn't know. Not that it was his main concern. The rapidly approaching ground was all he could think of. “Come on, you fucking animal!” he pulled the rains repeatedly, waiting for a reaction from the motionless gryphon. It was hard just staying on top of the animal while they fell together. That Krill bitch will pay for this. Fane slipped his right arm under one of the leather straps, to steady himself, he continued to pull the reins with his good hand, unsuccessfully. He was running out of time fast.
He could smell the ground. The fat bird was hopeless, he realized. Fane let go of the straps, held onto his bag as a cushion and got ready to try to jump away. The downpull of falling was too strong, he feared. Fly you fucking pig of a bird! He punched the bird out of frustration.
A sudden gust of warm, clean air surrounded him, the air around seemed brighter. The bird's eyes opened as it let out another loud shriek. The bird was regaining its strength, and its wings motions grew in vigor. They were still approaching the ground below, but now it seemed like there was a good chance they would avoid a fall. About damned time. Now just make it to the portal so I can gut you.
Before he could grab the reins again, a violent shock went straight to his spine. Fane didn't know what hit him. The spasm made him lose control for an instant, long enough to lose his balance, as he fell to his right. Desperate, he swung both arms hoping to reach anything to hold on to.
He was lucky, as his right elbow hooked onto a single leather strap on the side of the bird's body. The weight of his body was too much, and he knew his right hand would be useless if he tried to grab the strap. He tried to will his claw into moving, hoping a miracle would keep him from losing his weakening hold on the strap. While the gryphon was no longer falling, he was still barely hanging on, half a tower's height above ground. Fane did not intend on discovering how badly falling from such a height would hurt. His limbs still ached from whatever it was that made him convulse.
He could feel the leather slip upwards, away from his body. With two good hands, I'd be up in the gryphon already, the thought agitated him further. He swung his body, and stretched his left arm as far as he could. Yes! Holding onto the straps with a hand and an elbow was far easier, his body felt half as light. Fane tried to catch his breath, relieved at last.
That's when he convulsed a second time, the zap of another damn burst of warm energy through his spine. He had lost control of his muscles again, he realized. Fane watched in panic as the gryphon became smaller in his eyes. He dared not look down.
Half conscious, Fane hit the ground. It took a second to feel the pain of broken bones fill his insides. That's when he screamed in pain. He managed to roll himself over in what felt like an eternity. Now He could see the Outlands sky above him, at least. Somebody would find him soon, he thought. I didn't stray far from the path east from the Hold. He looked ahead and saw the two big pillars at the end of the Path of Glory, not a hundred paces away.
Not long after, he heard somebody approach. Aumery Fane screamed for help. The figure of a man in armor loomed above him. He looked down on him, inspecting his body. The man was wearing a dark mask, he had seen paladins wear them before. A chill ran down his spine; he's the reason behind those shocks, he thought. The masked man knelt down next to him. Not saying a word, he took a good look at Fane's face. He tried to spit at the paladin, but nothing came out of his mouth. He watched as a bright sphere of light built up between the man's hands. Then the whole world turned the brightest kind of white he'd seen.
---
A shooting pain running through the back of his thighs awakened Aumery Fane. Fucking nether. He was lying on his side, his legs extended. When he tried to sit, he realized his hands had been bound behind his knees, his feet tied together. The memory of the fall and the Paladin came back to him. Great.
He was lying on cold stone, the familiar smell of Hellfire meant he couldn't bee too far from where he'd fallen. An incredibly tall wall was in front of him. He swung his whole body, resting on his other side. There was the familiar landscape of the peninsula, red rocks, some islands floating in the distance. Who the nether does this idiot think he is? “I'm awake now, light-fucker. You better let go off me soon. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into!”
While his muscles were sore, his legs about to cramp, he distinctively recalled the feeling of at least a broken arm and leg. That pain was gone. Still hurts like all fucking hell.
He heard steps behind him, and before he could swing back to face him, a hand grabbed him by the hair. “Get your fucking ha-”. His head went up and down in a swift motion, smashing against the floor on the way down. He fought back a scream, unwilling to give this coward the slightest satisfaction. Still, his head was hurting and there was the unmistakable taste of blood in his mouth. He spat on the ground. You have no damn clue.
When he opened his eyes, the man was standing right in front of him, silent. He stretched an arm towards his face, and Fane soon felt the warm embrace of the Light around him. His head still hurt just as before, but at least there was no more blood coming from the inside of his mouth.
“I don't need your healing, coward. Now let me go, or I promise you wi-” The wind was kicked out from him. He coughed, desperately swallowing air. He felt the man's hands on his neck again. His head hurt worse the second time around. He didn't know if his face had been smashed harder than a minute ago, or if pain was accumulating. It doesn't make a difference, he knew. Just like before, the man made his bleeding stop.
He looked up at the man, still wearing the same bloody dark mask. Caught by the fucking church, this is rich. “I get it. What do you want? If you wanted me dead, you would have left me out there, plenty o' demons around.” A rebellious grin formed on his face. “Do you have any fucking clue who I am, and who my master is? I'm sure he'll extend you the same courtesies. Brother o' the church or not.”
This time the kick came inches below the stomach. He forgot all about his headache, the pain in his groin was all he was aware of. You are fucking good as dead, brother. Not being able to move made it worse. This time the man didn't call the light to heal him right away. His eyes closed, he heard the man walk away. A minute or so he was walking back to him. I'll rip your fucking balls off.
The man dragged him by his feet towards the wall, he left him sitting against it. There he was, still standing silent, the coward. “Afraid I may see your face or hear your voice, brother?” He saw the man put a finger across his mouth. If you don't want to talk, I will. Afraid somebody will hear me?
The man knelt down, and dropped a few pieces of parchment on his lap. Then he took a couple steps back, and crossed his arms. “The only thing I want to hear come out of your worthless lips is the answers to those questions. If you want me to continue keeping you quiet, that is your prerogative.” He put his hands together, and he saw the same sphere of light form between them as when he first saw him. This time, the light faded away.
Fane looked down at the notes. “Why have you been following Annalea al'Cair? Why did you steal her book? Why are you trying to hurt Annalea al'Cair?” Ah, not such a noble cause then, eh brother? He looked up at the man and started laughing. That bitch should've listened. “The songbird whore, eh?” He grinned.
“As you wish.” The man bowed his head.
That bloody light again. He felt the pain of his muscles contracting for a split second. Then the world turned white again.
---
He didn't know how many times he had passed out. It could have been twice, or five times. He was tired of the routine. The man would stand in front of him, waiting. Fane would snicker. “My gentleman's honor wouldn't allow me to discuss the matter, brother. I'm afraid you'll have to ask her if you want any answers. -She knows.-” Was his answer every time.
And every single time that coward would return violence for his honesty. Sometimes he would kick him, sometimes he would punch him in the face. And every now and then he would use that fucking light's shock. Invariably, moments later, he would heal his bruises, or cure his wounds. But the pain stayed with him. And the man would not say a word. Then the routine would start over, until he lost consciousness.
Aye, go and ask her, fool. Fane had learned about Anna's new crowd in the past weeks. The Wildfire Riders, people seemed to call them. A collection of people of varying reputations and capabilities, including the girl's sister. One of the street boys he had offered a coin to keep an eye on Anna's apartment had told him of a blond man who was often seen with her. Sometimes entering her apartment at night and not being seen leaving until the day after. She hasn't told you, has she? Pity.
Fane was tired of the useless aggravation. “You can keep hitting me like the coward you are. But if you want to know how I know your girl, you'll have to ask her.” He spat at the man. “You think just because you wear that silly mask I don't know you're the man who's keeping the al'Cair girl warm at night?” He wished he could see the coward's face now. “Pray to your light, brother.”
The man just stood there, the palms of his hands together. Motionless, like those statutes by the Stormwind gates.
Do something already, coward. He tried to ignore the pain that refused to leave his bones. “You think you know the girl, eh?” He laughed at him again. React, damnit. “I know your girl far better than you, trust me. She's not worth half the trouble you're in now, brother.” Fane didn't know what he was trying the man to do. At this point, near anything was preferable.
The man's hands started glowing, drawing in the light again. “Pray to the Light for wisdom, Fane.”
Not that fucking shock. Fane raised his chin, defiantly. “I piss on your Light, coward. At least make it hurt this time.” A world of white pain engulfed him.
When he woke up, there was a knife next to him, and one last note. “What makes you think you'll be worthy of the Light's mercy if we meet again?” What a pompous bastard. After some struggles, he managed to cut the bonds open. He slowly stood up, his legs still sore. Things looked different now both from his new perspective and the day's light. The building's familiarity finally made sense; he had been kept in the rear of the stone base of the Portal. Far from the many men traveling either way.
Fane walked back to the front, where soldiers ran back and forth as usual. His gryphon was there, waiting with the rest of his belongings still tied up. He hated that fat bird.
Ah, you should have done as you were told, Annalea. What a shame that you chose to let it come to this.
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Post by Threnn on Aug 25, 2008 20:23:09 GMT -5
Annalea always got lost in the Exodar. The curving ramps never led where she expected. Getting directions from the guards meant playing a bad round of charades. Tonight, though, Fin had rescued her from turning exasperated circles. The inn he led her to was nothing like the taverns back home - everything sleek and smooth and lit from within. She wondered what kind of entertainers came here, or if any did at all. Somehow I doubt they're looking for bards.
They drank wine and made small talk until dinner arrived. The stew the Draenei woman brought was very nearly what you'd find served in any Westfall farmhouse, but with just a hint of otherworldly spices. Anna inhaled deeply, the smell of chicken and potatoes making her mouth water. She'd been out on Quel'Danas most of the day, and Sin'dorei food was notoriously unfulfilling. It was all she could do to wait for Fin to finish ladling some into his own bowl before digging in herself.
Fin hardly ate at all, finishing off his glass of wine and pouring another before he even picked up his spoon. One bite, maybe two, and he set his plate aside again. Reaching into his vest pocket, Fin took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. "It's a bit hot in here," he said, and lifted his glass once more, ignoring the food.
The hell is going on? Anna peered at him. This wasn't like him at all. "You all right?"
"Aye, just a bit tired I guess." His smile was far from reassuring, but he turned the conversation to the labratory on Quel'Danas, and his gemcutting training in Honor Hold coming to an end. Yet even that came out stilted.
"Oh!" said Fin, when their chatter at last trickled into silence. He leaned down to retrieve a thin bottle of port wine from his bag "A little something for after the meal." He opened the bottle and put it back on the table, letting it breathe a little.
Are we celebrating something? Her box had been off most of the day. If there had been good news, she hadn't heard it. "You're spoiling me."
"It's my prerogative." A hint of his usual grin flashed across his lips, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.
"Well, I won't complain." she said. She pushed her spoon around in her bowl, her appetite ebbing away as Fin sighed and wiped his brow again. "You sure you're all right?"
He kept his head down, thinking. For a long moment, he didn't reply. Finally, he raised his face and looked at her. "I am all right. But I need to tell you something."
The worry that had been gnawing at her since they sat down grew ten times worse. "Um. Okay?" This is never a good start. Not ever.
"Before that, please let me say that I care for you very, very much Anna."
Her blood went cold. "But," she said flatly. 'I care for you, but... It's been fun, but...' I should have known this was coming.
"You are the best thing that's happened to me in a very long time," he continued. She struggled to keep her face neutral. "And I want to be with you. Part of that is taking care of you. Now, I know you can take care of yourself, I do." Fin paused to pour himself a glass of Port.
Anna could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, the humiliation making her eyes sting. A low throb of anger threatened to bloom, too, but she didn't want to give in to it, not just yet. He brought me all this way to call it off. Why? To spare embarrassing me by doing it in the Pig? And he has a speech prepared. For what, letting me down easy?
She didn't want to hear it. "If you're leaving, Fin, just... Hell." Just go. Just walk away. But her voice failed her. If she finished the thought, the tears that threatened would spill.
And Annalea al'Cair would be damned if she'd let him see her cry.
"I am not," he said. "But it's about time I tell you some things I've done, trying to protect you."
She blinked at him, stuck on the first three words. He's...not?
"I am very sorry I've kept things from you. I really am. Please believe me when I say I wish I didn't think it necessary."
Her brain finally caught up with the rest of what Fin was saying. "Protect me from ... from what?"
"Well..." He sighed and took her hand. "When you had that little fight at the World's End."
"That's all it was. Just a little fight."
"Anna, I know you could not sleep the night that happened. I know you were worried. And that worried me."
She smiled weakly. Salvage this. "Nerved up, y'know?"
He ignored it. "So... Well, I did a little asking around." Another long sip of port. "Aumery Fane. He is the man that attacked you that night."
The name hit her like a physical blow and she started, her free hand jerking to the side. Somehow she caught her wine glass just before it tipped over. No, oh no.
"Are... are you alright?" He tightened his hold on her hand as the color drained from her cheeks.
"I... told you to... To leave it..." Her voice was hushed.
"Well, I tracked him down to Honor Hold." He looked down. "I'm sorry I kept this from you. I really am, Anna."
She drained the rest of her wine. Maybe that's all there is, just the name. Stay calm. "So you found him. And then what?"
"I... studied him. And first I thought he was a bitter drunk. Who enjoyed abusing women."
"That's about right."
"Well, I stopped believing that when you lost your journal. He has it, Anna. I went looking for him again, after that night back in your apartment. I knew it had to be him."
She looked down. "Oh gods, oh blessed Elune." He has it. He knows, now. He has to. "Does he know you saw him with it?"
"With the book?"
"Yes."
"I didn't see him with the book. But he didn't deny it. I am... I am sorry, Anna."
Anna moaned softly. "You talked to him."
Now it was Fin's turn to look down. "Not precisely. That bastard doesn't deserve to be approached like a gentleman."
"What does 'not precisely' mean?"
"Well... A civilized discussion is a waste on people like him. So, I took a different approach. I was very careful."
"What did you do?"
"It's not important."
From the way he wouldn't meet her eyes, wouldn't even raise them off the table, she thought she knew. But she wanted to hear it. "Yes, it is."
"I... well, I wanted to ask him why he was breaking into your apartment. And to, well, let him know that it was not a welcome gesture. People like him only understand with a more physical approach."
"You went after him?"
"The bastard didn't say much, but he didn't deny for a second that he'd been following you. I had to, Anna." He put his free hand over his face.
"What did he say?" Her voice came out as a whisper, as much from her fear over the answer as from the fierce rush of... pride? awe? gratitude? that was sweeping over her. He did that for me. He shouldn't have, but he did.
"Well, he called me many things. I didn't let him see me. But... He knew I was a Rider, one that's been courting you. He didn't say much of use. No matter how hard I asked."
She closed her eyes. "But he knows who you are."
"A bloody animal. I didn't know that at the time. He didn't say my name, but I wouldn't be surprised if he knows it."
"He's not going to forget that."
"He better not. If he even tries to bother you again, I'm done with asking."
"It's going to make him angrier." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this."
"No. I am sorry I wasn't able to keep you safe. I won't let it happen again, Anna. I promise."
She smiled sadly. "It's my own fault."
"It's not."
He's been honest with me. He could have been hurt, going after Fane. He ought to know. Deep breath. "I picked the fight, Fin. He didn't start it. I did."
"He attacked you and broke into your apartment." He stopped. "You... Well, you know him from before. He did something to anger you before. He wouldn't say."
"He wouldn't?" Why the hell wouldn't he? He knows what I did, by now. Why not let it come out?
"He had the nerve to play games with me. He would... well, go into variations of "Ask her" no matter what I asked. I will spare you the language. I should've done something before he broke into your room. It's my fault, Anna."
She shook her head. "It's not."
"So, that's the state of affairs. I've been lying to you for Light knows how long. But please believe me, I've only tried to keep you safe." He let go of her hand. "Still, not something I'm proud of. Anna. I am so sorry. About everything."
She could only stare at her fingers, feeling the fading warmth of where they'd intertwined with his these last few minutes. "Fin, don't. You were only trying to help."
He looked away again, at the glassy surface of the table. She had to lean in to hear his words. "I've been lying to your face, Anna."
"Because you were trying to help. You shouldn't have, but you're a good man that way."
"I was lying to you our first night together. Most days before and every day since." He shook his head.
Our first night together. Not so long ago - a few weeks at most - he'd walked her home, and she'd invited him to stay the night. It had been so alien to her, the awkward dance between propriety and desire whose steps she'd never bothered to learn. Fin was so careful, though, so afraid of insulting her or presuming too much - she hadn't wanted to frighten him away by seeming too forward.
In the end, though, desire had won, likely helped along by the drinks they'd shared at the Pig, and they fell into bed. And in the morning...
In the morning he'd remained. And he'd been there every day since.
She could leave it here, just like this. He wouldn't press for more, wouldn't make her tell him why she'd attacked Aumery Fane. Fin still hadn't lifted his gaze, expecting her to... what? Get angry? Yell at him, maybe throw her napkin or her stew? Slap him and stalk away? She was a bard; she could feign anger, push an indignant tremble into her voice and give him the storm he was bracing for.
She could do that, and leave it all out, lie by omission. Lie and keep him. Tell the truth and watch him walk away. Men like him don't court girls like me. Let him see the ugly truths she'd kept buried and watch him clear out within the week.
But he'd fought for her, sought out Fane and tried to protect her, putting himself in harm's eventual way. Fane would come for them both, now. Fin deserved better than her lies.
Annalea looked away for a long moment. When she turned back, her jaw was set, her mind made up. "Gods damn it. Ask me, Fin."
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