shitlords!

[onefellswoop]

placeholder title above! hmmmm


1) Prelude: Ill-Natured Shrubbery.
2) The Party Gathers: If a Tree Burns in the Forest...
3) Death House Pt. 1: Family, If You Wish It.
4) Death House Pt. 2: Onward and Downward.
5) Awich: The Dead All Know, The Dead All Go.
6) Awich: Investigations.
7) Awich: After the Battle.
8) Loch Bien: Complications, Concerns, Frogs.
9) Loch Bien + Onward: Things Go Very, Very Wrong.
10) Through Forest, Into Mysos.

Comments

[withoutrhetoric]

An hour or so later, Rin and Sen arrive at the Lion and Boar. Is there anything Rin would like to do before entering?

<.>

Rin is going to make sure they have their weapons and the Bag of Holding, and tell Sen they'll find something good for him. Otherwise, they're ready to stealth and go—

Oh, wait!

Not without blowing Sen an air kiss with a wink, and a "For good luck ;D."

<.>

Sen catches it and sends one back their way, and Rin makes a stealth check.

[STEALTH: 22; Rin's gonna catch that kiss and put it on their cheek as they go stealth mode >;3]

Rin melts back into the shadows, leaving Sen to approach the Lion and Boar alone. He leaves the door open behind him; a servant whose task is specifically to greet guests tuts and hurries to close it - though not before Rin has the chance to slip through.

The servant eyes Sen up and down with an air of superiority, but with cool cordiality asks, "How may I assist you, Sir?"

<.>

Rin, grinning to themself, Messages Sen, [ Manners, manners, Sen!

Well, you have the best manners, since you let me in. ]

They'd like to give the servant a kick in the pants, but it's far too early to take that risk. Instead, Rin takes a look around the room, scanning for possible exits, signs of any sneaky someone watching, or other points of interest.

<.>

The main foyer of the tavern has a rustic chandelier and a plush rug, but little else of note. The wood of the walls and bannisters of the stairs leading to a second floor is a rich reddish-brown, polished to a high shine.

From this room, one may go up the stairs, or take a door to the left which leads toward the dining room where Rin and Sen met Calabra. Another door leads off to the right - presumably to a dining area, from the sound of low murmuring. If there are other rooms, one must pass through these to reach them.

Sen doesn't bother with formalities - no bowing for this man - and gets right to the point. "I'm here to speak with Umbero Calabra. I'm expected."

The servant arches a brow and replies, "Lord Calabra is out and won't return until tomorrow morning. You aren't that expected, it seems."

If this surprises Sen, he doesn't show it. Instead, he says, “…Lord Calabra, is it?"

The servant stares at him, stone-faced, so he continues, "That must have happened sometime overnight. Pity I missed it, running his errands for him. Did 'Lord' -" he air-quotes, yes, "Calabra say where he was going?"

"I certainly wouldn't tell the likes of you. Be off with you before I have you removed."

Sen, assuming Rin has gotten the idea that maybe they ought to sneak upstairs, drawls, "'Lord' Calabra is going to be displeased with you when he learns you turned away someone with vital information."

[PERS, s: nat 20]

<.>

Rin is absolutely going to make their way up the stairs, Messaging Sen as they do, [ You know what's up. ] And, just to be clear, [ Me; I'm going up. ]

They're going to be quick in their movements, careful with their steps, and check over the landing before they reach it.

<.>

Nothing's particularly notable about the landing; it's a fine establishment (for Awich). The second floor is decorated with more plush rugs, a few alabaster statues, and paintings. From the landing, a single hall stretches down the middle of the Inn; there are three doors on either side, suggesting the quarters are quite large and multi-room, intended for an entourage rather than a single occupant.

Of these doors, one is open and a woman stands fanning herself in the doorway. There's a voice from within and she turns back to the room, then enters and closes the door behind her.

Downstairs, the servant is trying very hard to undo offense and assure Sen that Calabra really is out, he took his guard and didn't say where he was going, and the servant is only doing his job.

[q: did the voice sound like calabra? and, are there distinguishing marks on or beside any of the doors?
a: The voice did not sound like Calabra. There are no distinguishing marks on the doors.]

Rin's going to move down the hallway, alert for any signs of sound. If nothing catches their ear, they'll move to the end of the hall, and check for signs of sound behind the last door on the left.

[PERC: 7; Rin can't hear anything unusual or informative.]

Rin is going to cast Disguise Self to appear as an androgynous human of Rin's height, wearing the same uniform as the servant below.

They're going to fix their hair and make a go at unlocking the door they're standing in front of (last door on the right).

[SLEIGHT: 27; The door unlocks easily.]

Rin is going to step inside, posture kept in imitation of the Very Upright Very Not Fun servants they've seen around this place, and see whether 1) anyone is immediately visible or audible and 2) what the room holds.

[dm: The room looks bare in the way unoccupied rooms appear; a quick search will verify no one's staying here.]

Rin's going to diP out of the room, check the hall to see if anyone's appeared, and if no one HAS appeared, they're moving on to the middle door on the right.

[dm: Nothing in the hall has changed; it's the middle of the day, so they can be pretty secure in the knowledge that most people are out and about.

SLEIGHT: 23; The door unlocks easily.]

Same approach as before! Entertain as if they are in fact a servant, checking for signs of anyone present at the moment or of whether the room is occupied.

<.>

The moment they step into the room, a voice from the other side of a door across from them calls out, "Is that you, Herbert? Oh, I thought you'd never arrive! I've been absolutely - You're not Herbert."

The owner of the voice is a middle-aged human man with a bit of a paunch, greying hair, and spectacles. He stares Rin up and down appraisingly, then says, "Well, I'd prefer Herbert, but I suppose you'll do.”

<.>

And Rin is going to bow to the man, then speak, "Beg pardon, Sir. Herbert sent me to tell you he has been delayed. He—" Rin screws up their face, as if trying to recall the message, "He said that he regrets every instant not spent in your company, and he sent me to assure you that he will be here in ten minutes' time, no matter what." They nod, and bow again. "Good Sir, if you'll excuse me, I must be onto my duties."

[PERS: 6]

<.>

The man looks visibly hurt, one hand pressing to his middle and the other raking through his thinning hair. "He's not coming, is he? I knew I'd gone too far last time, I knew by the look on his face."

Hopelessly, he heaves a sigh and drops into one of the chairs that furnish this sort of receiving area.

"I suppose you think this is all pitiable, but I assure you, it's - Well. It is - nothing more than a fascination. Really. And -"

As he's talking, a young man slips into the room - barefoot. "Sorry I'm late - really, I - Who the fuck are you? Ansel, who the fuck is this?!"

<.>

Ansel?

Fascination?

—And presumably-Herbert is looking right at Rin.

Oh well shit, this isn't great.

Rin offers a nervous little laugh, and speaks, "I was told you had a message? It's my first day, and now I think maybe this was some sort of— Of— Oh, a prank. I'm terribly sorry, Sir, Lord? Sir Ansel? Herbert. I'm so sorry—"

It's at this moment that Rin is going to cast Thaumaturgy, to produce the sound of a vase smashing from the next room.

If Ansel and Hansel... Herbert. Turn around. Rin is going to try slipping out of there.

<.>

The sound of a vase crashing does indeed cause both Ansel and Herbert to turn; Rin has just enough time to slip out before they turn back. The sound of an argument can be heard as Herbert flings accusations and Ansel pleads and assures he's innocent. Rin can, if they listen carefully, hear Ansel say, "Please don't punish me again."

<.>

Rin in fact is listening carefully, and they're just going to— Not. Think about that information, or where bare feet and punishment intersect.

They're just going to slip over to the last door on the left and trying giving that one a pick. As they continue to try noT to hear that argument.

[SLEIGHT: 16; The lock takes longer to pick than their patience probably allows.]

They make it about half a minute before huffing in frustration and moving to the second door on the left, scowling at the other door and mentally vowing to finish the job if they must, and when they do, they'll jam that lock with tomatoes or something.

So! Next pick attempt is for second door on the left!

[SLEIGHT: nat 20

dm: Unfortunately, the door opens to another unoccupied room.

The first door on the left is the one with the woman and the unfamiliar voice.]

Hmmm while they're IN here, Rin would like to head over to the wall that would border the third room on the left. And see if they can hear anything from the rooms with the VERY rude door.

[PERC: nat 20

dm: They can in fact hear two voices in the next room: a man and a woman discussing their daughter's upcoming nuptials.

q: Can Rin hear any details of the conversation? And. Does either voice sound familiar?

dm: Neither voice sounds familiar. The details suggest the daughter's wedding is taking place here in Awich, and would lend Rin to believe the couple is here exclusively for that purpose.]

Rin is curious, but this doesn't seem worth sticking around for, and since time's ticking, they're going to return to the hall in order to pick the first door on the right.

[SLEIGHT: 28; The door unlocks easily!]

Rin gives the door a gentle little pat, then straightens their back and enters the room. Once again, checking for signs of occupancy in general and any present and accounted for occupants.

They enter a receiving room with a single bench against the left-hand wall. Around the room are round end tables with floral arrangements - many of these, clearly imported. A small chandelier hangs in the center of the room, its candles as yet unlit.

There are two doors: one straight ahead, and one to the right.

[PERC: nat 20 (??? rin wtf???)

Listening closely, Rin can hear several voices emanating from behind the door to their right.]

Rin would like to quietly, quietly approach the door on their right and try eavesdropping on this here convo.

[dm: Pressing their ear to the door, they can hear the general, everyday conversations and gripes of servants. Presumably, behind this door are the servants' quarters.]

They'll linger for twenty second, and if they hear no mention of names or locations, Rin's going to check the door straight ahead, giving a listen outside of it before attempting to open said door.

[dm: There's no mention of specific names, but 'he' and 'godsdamned bastard' crops up occasionally in the midst of the aforementioned everyday complaints.

Listening at the other door, Rin hears nothing.]

And! Rin is going to open the door and step into the room, closing the door softly behind them.

[dm: The last room they were in would appear to be some sort of foyer; this room is a receiving room / parlor type space, with a chaise against one wall and three plush chairs in a semi-circle. A few knick-knacks decorate the space, all of them too large to reasonably be thieved at the moment.

Again, there are two doors: one to the right and one ahead, both standing ajar.]

[withoutrhetoric]

Rin going to peer into the one ahead!

[dm: This room is clearly the master suite; from their vantage, they can see the entire length of it, decorated with a massive, ornately-carved four-poster bed, a desk, a claw-foot bathtub, several chairs, a wardrobe, and a fireplace. There are two windows, each on either side of the bed. And two nightstands.]

Rin is verY interested in this room— But before moving into it, they'd like to double back and peer in the door that was on the right.

[dm: This room is filled with trunks of various sizes. Some are stacked, some lie open with clothing tossed haphazardly into them. Against one wall is a twin bed with a nightstand beside it.]

....Oh god Rin wants to look in these trunks so badly. So badly. And they're interested in this haphazard clothing toss, but for now, they're going to head into the bedroom. They'd like to begin to searching the desk.

[INV: 11

dm: It's hard for them to really know what's important and what's just noble pocket lint. There is a pile of correspondence in the desk. Some random piece of jewelry. A weapon of some kind. Something that smells nice. A piece of cloth.]

Rin would like please and thank you to put all of these things in the Bag of Holding. They might not know what to make of any of this, but they're sure Sen can work it out! (Or maybe, ugh, Dmitri.) If nothing else, the jewelry's probably hockable.

For the rest, they would like to examine, in this order
-inside the wardobe
-under the bed
-in the fireplace
-the nightstand

[dm: In the wardrobe, they find some clothes. Under the bed, they find a chamber pot and one piece of gold. In the fireplace, they find a dying fire. In the nightstand, they find another piece of jewelry in a box, two books, and a bag that feels a little heavy and makes some noise when lifted.]

Rin's going to leave the clothes because they trust nothing of Calabra's 'fashion,' THEY WILL NOT BE TOUCHING THAT CHAMBER POT OR THE GOLD PIECE in case it was peed on by Calabra (Rin knows there is always a chance that money has been soiled but it's no good knowing who BY). They're going to look into that bag pls.

[dm: The bag contains a mixture of gold and silver coins.]

Into the bag of holding it goes! Along with the jewelry in its box!

Rin would like to flip through the books to see if anything's inside, and will also look at their titles.

[dm: The books appear to be deeply boring treatises on law in Mysos.]

Rin would fling them across the room if they weren't sneaking. Instead, they place the books on the bed and tuck them in.

Rin would like to carefully carefully take a peek out the windows just to see what the view's like.

[dm: The view from the room is of the river and a clean, upper-class street directly below the inn.]

Rin nods to themself; yes, this seems like the kind of view this room would have!

Rin would like to check the room with the trunks, and would like to give a look through the trunks; just a quick look to start!

[dm: Several of the trunks have heavy padlocks that would probably deter one from attempting to pick them without several hours to spare. The ones that are open appear to be the rest of Calabra's clothing. One trunk is unlocked, though closed. Within, Rin finds carefully folded clothing more suitable to a commoner and probably belonging to Calabra's guard. At the bottom of this trunk is a miniature painting of a woman and a lock of hair tied with a ribbon.]

Well Rin is putting that painting in the Bag of Holding. ...And also the guard's shirt. Who knows, it might be useful! (And Rin feels like taking one thing from this room isn't really enough.)

They'd like to look at the nightstand, as well pls.

[dm: The nightstand contains some oil for sharpening a blade, a small whetstone, and a piece of cloth.]

Rin's taking the cloth and the whetstone. And with that, they're going to make their way out of this room and then out of this suite of rooms, or they'll attempt to anyway.

[dm: They meet no one on the way out; from the landing outside, they're able to see Sen and the servant are no longer in the entrance hall of the inn.]

...Rin's curious about where Sen may have gone. They pause on the landing, then start downstairs. Is there any sign here of where Sen or the servant may have gone to? That is, signs of a scuffle, a door cracked open, anything Sen might have left?

[dm: They can hear the sound of Sen and several others singing quite loudly in the dining room of the inn. It's a pretty good indicator.]

Smiling to themself, Rin cocks their head, and is going to take a quick peek into the dining room where they first met Calabra, juuust in case there's anything to see.

[dm: The room is empty and the place settings have all been removed from the table.]

In that case! Rin's going to crack open the door to the other dining area and attempt to catch a glimpse of Sen!

<.>

Sen and the servant, along with several other people - some of whom may be patrons of the inn - are currently engaged in some ambitious day-drinking and are singing a very inappropriate take on a song that might be called 'Mysos Boys'.

<.>

Rin would very much like to pick some of those pockets, but given their current mission, they're going to behave their null self and simply Message Sen, [ Over and done; I'll be outside! ]

And, slipping the door shut once more, Rin's going to drop Disguise Self and step out of the inn.

<.>

Several minutes later, Sen disengages from the group and meets Rin outside. He is clearly sober, and smiling in a self-satisfied kind of way.

[ Job well-done, us. Find much? ]

<.>

Rin likes that smile, and they bounce a little on their toes as they respond, [ Found some things! Not sure what they're worth or if they MEAN anything, so maybe when we get back to the rooms, you can take a look. ] They nod, because this strikes them as a good and necessary idea. And if Sen looks like he'll follow, Rin's going to start back toward the inn they've been staying at. [ Also found his chamberpot. And someone who, mm, Sen, I think there was some foot stuff going on.

That was a good song you had going though! Anything interesting happen downstairs? ]

<.>

He can't say he understood all of that, but it sounds like Rin had an adventure while he was downstairs. [ Nothing particularly; the shit was so eager to make amends, he had a drink with me, then another, and by then, I'd convinced the innkeeper to have one with us. One thing led to another, as it tends to do. ]

He offers his arm to them to hold as they walk. [ Suppose we make our way back to our own lodgings and wait for the lovebirds to return, then go over the things you've found? I know a game we can attempt with those ball bearings of yours. Nothing salacious! A game to pass the time, nothing more! ]

<.>

Oh, that sounds like fun! Sen's conjured revelry downstairs, and the prospect of a game. Rin nods, taking Sen's arm with a little nod of their head. [ That suits me very well! And I can tell you all about what I saw, and YOU can tell me how much of an ass Mr. 'Lord Calabra is out' made of himself. ]

Tail flicking, tail occasionally winding around the back of Sen's legs, Rin begins to tell the whole of what they saw - with many, many meanderings, of course - as they walk back toward the inn.

<.>

[onefellswoop]

On to Dima; with the knowledge that Calabra and his entourage are staying at the Lion and Boar, what would Dima like to do?

[q: based on what dima knows/has heard about calabra, does he have any sense of where in the city calabra is likely to have gone or sent his servants, or know of anyone in the city who would be familiar with calabra?

a: He has no sense of where calabra might have gone; because the man is from Mysos and Awich is just a waystation, there's really no telling where he's gone or what he's been doing. The only people who might have a clue are the employees of the Lion and Boar or Calabra's staff.]

Dima would have asked Faolan if Fae would be all right with Dima casting (or attempting to cast? if he knows whether it'd be effective) invisibility on wolf, since he doesn't want anyone marking Fae's wolf as sus.

<.>

Fae would consult with the wolf and decide it's all right to try.

<.>

Dima is in this case going to begin by attempting to cast invisibility on wolf, after explaining to the wolf why ofc.

[dm: The spell succeeds and the wolf is now (probably) following Dima while invisible.]

Next step: Dima is going to cast Disguise Self on himself. No change to his size or the shape of his clothing. The change is mostly in his face; eye and hair color changes, deffo nose shape change, and he'll appear as a human man in his early sixties. He'll change the appearance of his clothing's design, and alter the color to deep greens and gold.

[note: Dima likely can see Fae trying not to. Look at Older Man.]

Dima is. Going to mark *that* in his mind. And feel a certain something about it that he will not be focusing on just now because he has a task to accomplish but also that’s… maybe… nice?

<.>

This is very confusing for Fae because he finds Dima hot and Old hot and doesn't want to pursue anything with Dima and also doesn't want Dima to see him thirsting.

<.>

It is still a nice thing for Dima to notice. And maybe sometime he'll mention it. But Fae maybe he didn't notice at all!

(He noticed very much.) (Did not expect this. Does not dislike even a little.)

He will wish Faolan good luck and give Liviana a goodbye scratch— Which. Somehow turns to settling an hand on Faolan's arm and offering a smile and nod before Dima heads off to the Lion and Boar.

<.>

And as for the Lion and Boar: after the thieves are gone, the place is quiet and the staff who were drinking with Sen have moved their party to back rooms.

[note: Remember, Dima doesn't know Calabra isn't there.]

<.>

Dima, having entered, is going to seek out a staff member. Either one of Calabra's, or one of the Boar and Lion's. He'll start by looking at the main hall, then into the dining hall where Sen sang his famous Senly songs.

Dima is slightly wary of encountering the thieves, but as it's quiet, he suspects Sen and therefore both of them are gone.

[dm: There are a few diners in the dining hall, but no staff to be seen. However, as Dima returns to the entrance hall, he encounters a group of men coming down the stairs.]

Dima, standing with his hands folded behind his back, looking for all the world like he is waiting to be attended, is going to just have a listen to anything these men might be saying.

What do the men look like, and does he recognize any of them?

[PERC: 19

dm: He doesn't recognize any of them, but they're all wearing livery that he does recognize as denoting them servants of Calabra.

At the moment, they're idly chatting between themselves, on their way out.]

Dmitri is going to clear is throat and step toward them.

If he notes any designation of a senior staff member, he will address this man directly. Otherwise, he speaks to the group as a whole—

"You serve Lord Umbero Calabra, do you not?"

<.>

There is a man whose clothing is a little more elaborate than the others; he steps forward and gives a formal, if perfunct, bow and replies, "We do. How may I be of service?"

<.>

Dima offers the slightest, slightest nod of his head. "Is your master in?"

<.>

The servant turns his head ever so slightly, as though he had the briefest impulse to trade glances with the others. "Lord Calabra is not receiving visitors at this time, I'm afraid. Is there a message I might deliver on your behalf?"

<.>

Is he not.

There's a question in Dima's mind of whether the thieves are responsible for this non-reception. There's a question of what that little head turn suggests. (Something, something isn't quite right here.)

It isn't Dima's foremost concern, and he only nods at this information, unperturbed. "Not at present, no.

"Are you off on an errand for Lord Calabra?"

<.>

It seems like this has pricked something in the servant's Weird Shit O Meter. "I'm not at liberty to discuss Lord Calabra's affairs. By your leave, Sir-"

He takes a step towards the door.

<.>

"No." There's a suddenness of command in Dima's voice; the sound of a man not only accustomed to having his way, but knowing the aptness of his own authority.

He steps toward the servant, lightly, with precision, chin canted slightly upward.

"It is in everyone's interest that you speak precisely of your master's affairs: More aptly, of details regarding the alleged attempt of assassination on Lord Umbero Calabra."

Now Dima does offer a bow of his own; shallow, with a slight extension outward of one arm. "You are speaking with Sir Carlyle Donovan. I've been sent by the Alliance Council of Juridical Remediation, of the branch headquartered in Loch Bien, representing the Subcommittee of the Investigation of Perfidious Dispatch and Works of Despitous Intent.

"News of your master's... trouble has reached our ear, and we fear this act of calumny may represent a larger threat. For the sake of our territories' peace and well-being, I suggest that you comply."

[DEC: 21]

<.>

The group seems collectively concerned. The servant who did the talking has forgotten all about leaving, apparently, and stares at Dima in bare shock.

"Sir - I meant no disrespect, I -" he stammers, then looks back at the others, who shake their heads, at a loss for how to handle this. "It's true that you can't speak with our master; he departed with his guard and valet early this morning and won't return until tomorrow. I - I - You must understand, we've not been given leave to speak with anyone about his affairs, even of such potential calamity -"

Another man steps forward, more assured in movement, and places a hand on the other's arm, then gently draws him aside. This new servant takes a steadying breath and replies, "How can we be of assistance? We wish only to protect Lord Calabra, even in his absence."

<.>

Dima permits his tone to relax, though he maintains his stillness of posture, and looks to each servant in turn with keen-querying eyes. Returning his focus to the new speaker, he returns, "Of course. Your caution is to be respected; the Council would be alarmed to find Lord Calabra's staff utterly loose-lipped— Though it would explain a thing or two." 'Sir Donovan' seems to fall into a thought for a moment, then clears his throat. "Should you offer your full cooperation in this investigation, I'm certain we can forgive a moment's disrespect."

He glances again over the servants. "We will require a room in which to speak. If one among you would be so kind as to fetch a member of the inn's staff, I should like to begin as swiftly as possible.

"Pelor knows what cost delays might wreck."

Dima's intention is to ask the staff member whether there is an empty suite - or, otherwise, any other empty room - that he might put to use for an hour. He intends to pay for the cost of a full night's stay, of course.

<.>

The servants rush to comply; one of the inn's staff ushers them all into one of the empty suites upstairs, assures them they won't be interrupted, and departs.

The servants - five men in total - can't seem to decide if they should sit or stand in the receiving room, or if they should line up as they do with Calabra. The second speaker, who identifies himself as Faza, is a half-elf with reddish-dark skin, dark hair, and light eyes. He could be in his mid-forties. The first speaker, unidentified as yet, is a human barely over the age of twenty.

The other three servants are a halfling and two humans, all of them clearly terrified.

<.>

Dima takes in these details briefly, committing each servants appearance into memory, then turns on his heel and moves to settle himself in a central chair.

After a moment, he gestures to the room before him, casting a half-glance toward the servants: "Sit. All of you. I seek honesty above ceremony."

That said, it is absolutely a command.

<.>

The servants all scramble to find somewhere to sit; one of the humans passes into the adjoining room and returns with a dining chair for himself. The halfling is left standing and appears to decide he's going to make it look like he chose to remain standing by clasping his hands behind his back.

<.>

Dima gives the halfling a long, long look before deciding - apparently - not to remark on the halfling's choice.

"As I said: I ask honesty from each of you. Speak what you know to the best of your abilities, in truth and in completion.

"What you say here will be known only to The Subcommittee of the Investigation of Perfidious Dispatch and Works of Despitous Intent; your words will go no further, and no names or identifies will be given, save that you are Lord Calabra's dedicated servants.

"Now.

"Whom among you was acquainted with Payl Gower? And what did you know of the man, while he lived."

[PERS: 9]

<.>

The servants exchange uncomfortable glances and one swallows hard before speaking up. "We all knew him, of course. But we didn't know him well. There are almost a hundred servants in regular employ and hundreds more that come and go. Gower kept himself to himself."

[PERC, d: 17]

As Dima listens and looks around at the group, he'll notice one of them - the other, unnamed human who has yet to speak - seems to have cringed a little and is looking particularly anxiety-riddled about all of this. He fidgets and then tries to stop himself from fidgeting. He meets Dima's eyes and looks down immediately, shoulders hunching defensively.

In short, the man seems terrified.

<.>

Eyes fixed on this servant, Dima speaks, voice traced with a chill, "That is not the full story, is it?"

Then, tone easing again, "These are difficult questions, with difficult answers; I do understand. I sympathize." He might not sound like he can quite sympathize - presumably, Sir Carlyle Donovan has heard a plentitude of wrenching stories - but it's probably clear that he's making the attempt.

"The more you tell me, the more ably the Council can safeguard your master's life, and your own." He clears his throat, taps one finger at his knee. "If what the Council has discovered holds true, Lord Calabra is not the only figure in harm's path. And we have heard... conflicting accounts of the man Payl Gower was.

"Remember: Nothing that you say will be heard beyond the Subcommittee. Nothing will be traced to any one of you.

"I only need to know the truth."

<.>

[onefellswoop]

The servant's eyes lift to Dima's and his brow furrows as he listens. At the mention of who will hear what they say, the man's brows knit further and his eyes dart to the other servants.

It's clear he's not worried who will hear outside the room, but rather inside it.

The others begin to offer mundane observations about Gower - hard worker, always smiling, no one saw this coming at all, and certainly Lord Calabra never invited it.

The only one not speaking is the human, who has folded his arms and is now rubbing a hand at his forehead. The others don't seem to notice this behavior; their attention is almost exclusively on Dima, or on following Faza's lead.

<.>

Dima takes in this mostly non-information with an appearance of intense interest, nodding, then asks for clarification regarding duties, including whether Payl Gower typically worked with Lord Calabra's meals.

After posing this question, he Messages the silent human servant, not focusing outward attention on him or any one servant for long. [ You know something; you are concerned.

You need not worry. Speak to me this way; respond within thought.

What do you know of Payl Gower? ]

[PERS: 17]

<.>

The man darts a look around the room; he's aware of what Dima's doing but terrified of saying anything in front of the others.

[ Please, I don't want any trouble with Lord Calabra. You swear to me no one will know. No one can know I know about any of this or he'll get rid of me the way he got rid of Payl. ]

<.>

If Dima's surprised by this information - and he is - he keeps his expression schooled; keeps his eyes on whichever servant has taken to responding about Gower's household duties.

[ No one will know.

Whatever you tell me stays in its specifics between you and I; the subcommittee will hear what you say in summary, but the details will be in my mind alone. No one else will know a thing. No one in this room will ever know.

And, know this: In dire straits, the Council will protect you.

Please. Tell me what you know. ]

Meanwhile, when the account of Gower's duties has completed, Dima will ask the group, "How and when did you learn of the attempted assassination?"

<.>

"We were all there serving dinner; Torrio did it right in front of all of us," Faza is saying.

The man swallows hard and seems to be having a conversation with himself to screw up his courage. Finally: [ Thing is, Sir, there's something weird about it all, to my mind. Not - about Payl, mind you, but everything around him.

He didn't like nobility much. Doesn't surprise me even a little, him trying to murder Lord Calabra. If someone hired him for it, probably it just hurried him along some. He hated cooking all those meals with spiced Arboreal Quail egg or whatever else his lordship got it in his head to eat. Said it was a rancid shame for him to eat like that while others starved, and he wasn't any kind of wrong about that much. Murder's a little far. He had a daughter and all - ]

He wrings his hands, then steadies himself to continue, [ No, you don't need to keep chasing down that mystery. But the thing about it is, before we came to Awich, I heard his Lordship shouting at Visento to find Payl's girl, Manon. Torrio - that's his guard, begging your pardon. Torrio, he's a superstitious one, but he's smart, you see, and it was him that suggested the Nightmare Market and finding Payl's spirit. ]

<.>

...Shit.

Dima shakes his head (he's worried) (of course he's worried) (there's no telling what Faolan might find, which was the case from the start, and yes Liviana is with Fae, and no, worrying around the question now won't help anything) (but Faolan, Faolan; please be safe), and again clears his throat. "'Torrio' would be Lord Calabra's guard, correct? It is fortunate that your master keeps such a swift agent at his side.

"I commend each of you for maintaining your heads in the wake of such a harrowing scene.

"How did your master fare in that moment? And who discovered that the food had been poisoned?"

And, [ Breathe steady. Breathe.

You are not alone in finding the incident strange. Given the evidence, I find - and the subcommittee finds - Payl Gower an unlikely choice of assassins.

Was the daughter found? ] And, [ Has Torrio mentioned this Nightmare Market before? ]

<.>

There are some uncomfortable glances exchanged and the half-elf who first spoke admits, "I saw him put something strange in the food. He thought he was alone, and he acted so oddly when he saw me that I thought - maybe I ought to tell someone."

From the human: [ Torrio? Yes. If anyone believes in a thing, it'll be him. He loves to tell stories in his down-time about the Nightmare Market, the Feywild, the Midnight Carnival, and about things the Gillmen say they saw. He's always on about something.

The girl, though - I don't know if they found her. Visento came back yesterday while I was serving his Lordship's afternoon medicinal and said he might've found the Market. Some folk were at a tavern by the docks and he saw a likely group. Motley, with a too-clever raven, he said. ]

Rubbing his eyes, he breathes out a slow, heavy breath. [ Torrio, Visento, Loras, Indir, and Bly went and followed them through the woods and right into the Market. They came back early this morning and I could hear them talking - it's thin walls here and I'm a light sleeper. They were talking about how they posed as this group of necromancers and that fucking - Pardon my language, I'm only quoting. 'That fucking Voronin dog' tried chasing them out, but they still overheard most of what Payl's ghost had to say. They all packed it up right quick and were gone before the sun came up. It was Bly that came back and told us his Lordship and them would come back tomorrow, then he took himself off again and hasn't been back. ]

<.>

In this moment - in this series of moments, unfolding like minor explosions - Dmitri is glad of the years spent enduring ridiculous tales, tantrums, and revelations from others among the nobility, all of which have taught him how to appear impassive, no matter what he might be feeling.

No matter how sharply the gears in his head, the tickings in his nerves have turned. (No matter how he hates to think that any fuck of Calabra's witness Liviana or Faolan, let alone fucking trailed them.)

(He needs more information.) (He also needs to share this information with Faolan, with Liviana, with Sen and Rin.) (Well— Well—) Breathe; he needs to breathe, and does, calmly, evenly.

To the group, Dima offers a small sweep of his palm. "You acted well. No small measure of catastrophe was averted owing to your actions.

"Our trouble remains that the subcommittee has discerned no identification for the responsible party. It is clear Payl Gower did not act without encouragement. Nor is it likely that he lived in knowledge of his plan for long.

"Next questions, then: Was Payl Gower witnessed speaking with any suspicious characters?

"And were you or any of your fellow servants approached by an unknown figure, who may or may not have proposed illicit deeds?"

Then, to the human: [ The Nightmare Market has been located? If this is true, it is a—

Remarkable, and all that you have told me is invaluable. It is an invaluable service you are doing for the Alliance, and for your household.

A few further questions. Did this Bly give any sense of where Lord Calabra might have gone? Does Lord Calabra often disappear so suddenly?

And. Have you seen, or do you know of, a man with several scars - patterned very much like a claw's swipe - upon his jaw? ]

<.>

There's a shaking of heads all around; no one knows the answer to any of Dima's questions.

The human looks distinctly uncomfortable, because he, as well, must answer 'no' to all of these questions except for one: [ If they went to find Payl's girl, I don't know where they'd go after that. I don't think they'd do her any harm, though. She's only a child; what would she matter to his Lordship? ]

<.>

Dima entertains a brief expression of frustration at the lack of response from the servants, sighs and shakes his head. "At times, there simply are no answers.

"Perhaps this, then: I understand that this will be a fraught question: Has Lord Calabra recently received death threats, or expressed some manner of fear for his life?

"What can you tell me of the household's mood following the assassination attempt?

"And do you have any notion of where your master has gone for the day? I hope, at the least, that he is safely guarded in his travels."

[ It seems she matters a good deal, if he sent a party seeking information on her whereabouts. Do you know anything about this girl?

And these names you have mentioned: Loras, Indir, Bly. Who are they? ]

<.>

Again, there's some uncomfortable shifting and glances exchanged, though this time, the nature is decidedly more of a desire not to speak poorly of Calabra.

It's Faza who speaks, carefully selecting his words. "Lord Calabra...often expresses fear for his life. I suppose if someone were to want to assassinate him, Gower would have been the likeliest choice. No one else could get close, and we are loyal to him, you understand. It's a mark of honor to be in his employ, or that of any other Merchant Lord of Mysos."

He clears his throat. "That..said. How should I put this, to be delicate? Lord Calabra is cautious to an extreme. Not without cause, mind you - obviously. But at times it proves, ah, rigorous for his household. The security measures."

The human listens carefully to Faza before responding to his own questions. [ I don't know anything at all about the girl; only that she exists and likes tarts. He mentioned that once, Payl did.

Those three have seniority over us. They've been with his Lordship since before Zara and Nephala were born. Eh - those are Lord Calabra's daughters. They're marrying age now. But what I mean is, he trusts them. Visento and Torrio most. Like his friends, they are. The other three are kept in confidence with him in ways we aren’t. ]

And after a beat: [ What Faza's saying-not-saying is his Lordship is paranoid. He sees assassins everywhere. Sometimes he's right. Sometimes it's just a delivery boy. ]

<.>

[onefellswoop]

A nod, as if approving of both the servants' circumspection and their efforts toward an honest answer. "I take your meaning well.

"Given these security measures, do you find it likely that Payl Gower was approached outside of the household, rather than within?"

[ Most men of means do tend toward paranoia. I can only hope his staff does not suffer for it.

...More than has already happened. It seems a shame, what happened to Payl Gower.

Two final questions: Do you know the identities of the individuals hired to seek out the Nightmare Market? I may need to put them to question.

Then tell me: Do you feel safe remaining in your present position? ]

<.>

A moment of thought from the human before he replies, [ He only talked of 'Voronin' being with them. I suppose he meant the firstborn; the other two are in Morovsk, last I heard. Don't know his first name, but that's easy to find out, isn't it? Heard there was a tiefling and an elf in the bunch - ]

He pauses with a sudden thought and purses his lips before adding carefully, [ No, he mentioned another person, too. He said 'the Rhys whore's working his way up the food chain like the scraper he is'. I remember thinking - well, there was that big scandal, wasn't it? Half the territories heard about it, three years back - at the youngest Voronin's fete. I remember thinking it's strange that boy would be in the company of a Voronin after what happened. ]

He clearly looks ashamed for having spoken so unpleasantly, even if only relaying what he heard. Still, he manages a weak smile. [ Anyhow. No, Sir. I don't feel safe. Does anyone? ]

And, [ I'll get by. ]

<.>

Dima sees red. At the words regarding (slandering) (fucking speaking where no one has the right) Faolan, he doesn't quite catch the anger that flashes across his expression, brief but evident.

He.

( He's going to fucking kill Calabra and his godsfucked minions himself.)

Dmitri exhales a shape breath, rubs his forehead and speaks: "Take no mind of my frustration. You have all answered well, and - I believe - truthfully. Baseless embellishments would prove no aid to our cause, and there is use in all that you have shared today.

"A final question: When will Lord Calabra be available tomorrow? I should like to speak with him as early as is possible.

"There will, of course, be no mention of our discussion here today."

[ Guard yourself with care. Take care not to flinch at the mention of Payl Gower's name or death. And know that what you have told me here may well preserve countless lives. ]

<.>

While Dima has been interrogating the servants, Faolan has made his way to South Ward; it takes him the better part of an hour to find someone willing to even speak with him. The community here is especially distrustful of strangers. However, he does find someone he persuades to direct him to Morwenna Gower's home. (Persuasion 15)

What he finds is a door ajar and, within, a ransacked house. The girls are gone.

He doesn't think it's been long since the invasion took place; there's food on the table that can't be more than a few hours old, and the ashes in the hearth are warm. ( Investigation 18 )

Outside, he tries to find someone who witnessed what happened to Morwenna and Manon; the only person who'll even look at him is an elderly woman who seems to be terrified of what she witnessed. He gently pleads with her to speak with him (Persuasion 15 again); she very reluctantly tells him she saw a group of men forcing the girls from their home and into a carriage.

She goes on to say she tried to run and call for help, but Faolan can see she's infirm, able only to hobble at best. By the time she found aid, the carriage was gone.

Faolan has no reason to believe she's lying, but he really can't tell. (Insight 11)

He looks up to Liviana and, trying to keep his worry in check, asks her to find Dmitri; he intimates he'll be waiting at the inn where the four of them are quartered.

Once there, he finds Rin and Sen; once sat at a table apart from the meager tavern crowd, he tells them what he discovered, but urges them to wait until Dmitri joins them to detail what they found out at the Lion and Boar.

<.>

He receives the message from Liviana before he sees her (feels relief that at least, at least it sounds as if Faolan is safe), and cautions her against joining him until he's dropped his disguise and the Boar and Lion is out of sight. When they arrive at their own inn, Dmitri ushers them up to his room, cautioning against speech until they're safely sequestered.

There, he tells what he's learned: That they were tailed to the Market and the meeting with Gower. That Calabra meant to find Gower's daughter before ever reaching Awich. That Calabra and his elite retinue are supposed to be returning tomorrow, having left no note of where they've gone. Everything gleaned from the servants, Dima shares as quickly as possible (leaving out, of course, the way Faolan was spoken of), concluding with—

"The bastards followed us. We'll need to tell Nerys—" He shakes his head, looks at Faolan (and feels again a surge of warmth, twined with anger at the words those bastards dared to speak), and asks, "They weren't in Morwenna's home, then."

<.>

Faolan looks a like maybe he's in a bit of shock, shaking his head automatically at the question. It's only just beginning to sink in that the girls were taken, and this is compounded by the surge of guilt he feels for exposing the Market's whereabouts. He should have been mindful of anyone following them. He shouldn't have spent all the time on the dock with Dima. He shouldn't have slept. He should have gone straight to Morwenna the moment Gower told them about her.

Sen isn't feeling quite so guilty; he only says quietly, "We'll find them. If he'd wanted them dead, there would've been bodies."

Faolan only shakes his head again. "The Market's there for one more night. We need to go at sunset. We need to warn Nerys, like you said. As soon as possible. No more delays. No more - diversions."

He's wringing his hands in his lap as he speaks.

Sen frowns and gives Dmitri a subtle shake of his head. [ Don't take that personally. He's in no state. ]

Almost imploringly, he turns to Rin and says, "Why don't you show them what you found?"

<.>

"We'll go; of course we'll go." It's the one thing Dmitri can promise right now. The rest - the whereabouts of Morwenna and Manon, Calabra's intentions - is beyond prediction at the moment. And the talk of—

Of diversions.

Dmitri has some notion of what Fae might mean; Sen's Message only further seals the notion. And though Dima feels a sinking in his chest, he tells himself to remain focused.

He does also attempt - carefully, lightly - to settle a hand on Faolan's back, and Messages: [ We'll fix this. ]

Then, to Sen, [ I can't imagine what Calabra wants them FOR. ]

At Sen's cue, Rin immediately begins setting their findings out for view: The pile of Calabra's correspondence, the jewelry (one piece in its box), the weapon the piece of cloth and the nice-smelling item from the desk, the bag of coins, then the shirt and whetstone and piece of cloth from the room with the twin bed.

"I'm not sure what any of this is supposed to mean. There were also a bunch of locked trunks in one of the rooms - the guard's, I guess? - and a lot of clothes. And a pisspot.

"So. All right, what do you think?"

Dima will be particularly interested in the correspondence, though he will of course take a look at all of the items, and will try to determine whether any of them is touched with magic.

Rin is going to start counting out the coins.

<.>

The first piece of jewelry proves to be a signet ring. The piece of cloth is a handkerchief embroidered with the letters "N C”. The nice-smelling thing is a small tin of solid perfume. The weapon is a jeweled dagger. It looks expensive - and also unique and therefore recognizable. Rin counts out 105 gp, 33 sp, 4 cp. The miniature portrait is of a young woman. The shirt is a shirt, the whetstone is a whetstone, and the rag is a rag.

Of those items, would you like to make any checks?

<.>

Dima would like to check the signet ring and determine whether it's recognizable as Calabra's. He would like to check the dagger, both to see whether it's anything he recognizes, and whether it bears any magical properties. The portrait, to see whether he recognizes it. Also tbh is the perfume/its scent recognizable.

also a q: what is Calabra's wife's name, if Dima knows it?

<.>

For the signet ring, make an insight check.
The dagger quite overtly has no magical properties and is in fact somewhat dulled; it's just a showpiece.
For the portrait, make a separate insight check.
The perfume is a commonly-used scent amongst nobility and Dmitri has smelled it on men and women alike.
Calabra's wife's name is Naja. Both are human.

[INS, d: 6 (for both wtg man)]

<.>

Is the showpiece anything Dima might recognize? And. Dima. Is going to ask Sen and Faolan if they can make anything out of the ring or portrait.

<.>

It's literally just Calabra's show-off-y dagger

[Fae check: nat 20]

Fae identfies the ring as belonging too the baronial household in Riversdown.

[Sen check for portrait: 15]

Sen says she looks an awful lot like Calabra.

<.>

Rin is going to lean over, look at the picture again, and nod in agreement despite not really at all remembering what Calabra looks like.

Dima asks Faolan what he knows about this household.

[q: and i'll ask if dima knows anything about this household]

<.>

Being nobility, Dmitri of course knows the household and has found all his interactions with the Baron to be amiable, honest, and enjoyable.

Faolan reports he has heard much the same.

In short, they're good people and good leaders, and it's strange Calabra has the Baron's signet ring.

<.>

[onefellswoop]

Dima is going to remark on this out loud, noting the extreme scarcity of good leaders, let alone good leaders who manage to be decent people.

<.>

Also, Faolan hasn't recoiled from the touch, and in fact seems more present each time he glances at Dima.

<.>

Dima is going to keep his hand where it is, and begin to give a slow and pressured back-and-forth brushing of his thumb. He's trying to be reassuring (comforting) without imposing too much presence on Fae; he wants Faolan to know Dima is here, and both aware of and sympathetic to Fae's unease.

Dmitri will remark that the handkerchief may possibly belong to Calabra's wife or daughter.

Rin is dividing the coin into equal shares, and toss the remainder in the pouch into the bag of holding, calling it their 'party fund.'

<.>

The first letter—

My Lord,
At your command, we have withdrawn to the borderlands and await further instruction.
Forgive me my forwardness, but there is much confusion about this decision and I have no answers to offer my men. Perhaps some small explanation of your plans would go far to assuage them.
- L. Hillcarver, Gen


The second letter—

D-
I am pleased to hear of Nephela's eagerness to be wed; she has been nothing if not cold to all prior suitors and I began to fear she might see spinsterhood. I have no doubt you will please her in every way, as a good husband must.
I will remind you, my friend, of the concerns I expressed in my previous letter, as well as the need to maintain strict silence about this union until Zara marries. You have my oath on this: if, in one year's time, Zara has yet to make a match, I will give Nephela to your stewardship, that you may enjoy her delights as you will. In two years' time, regardless of Zara's nuptials, I will see you and Nephela wed and on that day shall proudly name you my son.
Know that Nephela pines for you, often calling out your name in the midnight hours, seemingly in states of misery and joy. She lives for your letters, though I must wonder what you write that causes her to blush so.
Continue your correspondence as you will; what pleases Nephela pleases me.
- U


The third letter—

Calabra,
I know what you're up to, you godsdamned ratfuck scraper. I'll smile as they shell you from the feet up and feed you your own bastard hide. You won't get away with this.
- Jannos

<.>

qs!
-would dima have some sense of what 'the borderlands' might refer to?
-does he recognize the name 'l. hillcarver'
-has dima ever encountered nephela, and if so, when did he last see her?
-is zara the older daughter?
-does dima recognize the name jannos?

<.>

The borderlands refers to the borders between territories, which, rather than a line, tend to be more like five to ten mile stretches of forest, or a river or some other natural feature.
Make a history check for Hillcarver
The last time Dima would have encountered Nephela was when she was ten or so, before Calabra began arguing for taxation on the canal.
Zara is the older daughter
And make a history check for Jannos.

[HIST for hillcarver: 10
HIST for jannos: 15+ with Bardic Inspiration from Sen]

Dima recognizes Jannos as 'Jannos Stonehand', on the council of Merchant Lords of Mysos. He's a rough-spoken dwarf whose father was among one of those who hewed the Canal; Jannos is currently involved in establishing trade routes to points south.

Hillcarver's a big ol blank. For Sen and Fae, too.

So, while this is going on, Sen is idly spinning the miniature in its frame on the table. He stops it mid-spin with a single finger to its center and looks oddly at Rin. "Where did you say you found this?"

<.>

"Oh! It was in one of the trunks. Closed and unlocked and—" They think. Think. "...Shit, Sen. It was in the guard's trunk. I think? This shirt was in there too." They toe said shirt toward Sen.

<.>

Sen blinks, then turns the miniature so it's upright from his perspective. "Now, why would this be in the guard's trunk? My supposition - from the strong resemblance - is this is one of his daughters."

<.>

Rin helpfully remarks that they sure hope there aren't a lot of Calabra-looking people in the world. Because it'd be miserable for those people of course because of how much Calabra sucks.

Dima would like another look at the portrait, though he's nodding: "I take that as a logical conclusion.

"And the question, of course, is which daughter. And whether Calabra knows of the guard's - Torrio's - apparent interest— if interest it is."

[q: does the baron of Riversdown have any children?
a: Yes, a son around 11 years of age.]

<.>

Sen slides the portrait over to Dima; meanwhile, Faolan is reaching for the as-yet unopened box.

<.>

Dima is going to look at the portrait. He'll look for any signs of marking or writing on it, and while he's at it, try to discern how recent the portrait is and whether the clothing tells anything about which daughter this is.

[PERC: 8; There are no identifying features that Dima can pick out.]

And is going to hand the portrait back to Sen, shaking his head. It's been too long since he saw Calabra's daughters, and they were never really worth his noting.

<.>

Sen will just pass that back to Rin for safekeeping.

<.>

[q: has dima heard rumors regarding calabra's intentions to marry off his daughters or people who seemed particularly keen on getting on that marriage train?
a: Y u p. Zara in particular.
q: what rumors pls?
a: Namely what's in the letter: both daughters have been quick to reject suitors.
He's probably also heard a lot - a LOT - of men express interest in marrying them, a handful of women as well.

And there's also a pretty salacious rumor about the way Calabra talks about the girls. Or stemming from. He speaks very openly about their attributes and also in not-that-coded language about their sexuality / what other men will enjoy about them.]

Dima has not been prone to giving much credence to this rumor. Though he's not not thinking about that monogrammed handkerchief.

Dima is ps reading the letter again, brow very furrowed. Dima is inclined to take the words in this letter as embellishment... But. It is very mm interesting. Either way.

<.>

[onefellswoop]

While all this speculation is going on, Faolan has opened the box and is sitting there staring mutely at its contents.

<.>

Dmitri, noticing Faolan's stillness, is going to give a brush of his thumb and look over.

<.>

Faolan's head turns as though he wants to look at Dmitri, but the item draws him back. He doesn't look wounded, but rather as though he'd like to crawl into a hole and die.

Picking the ring up from the box, he inspects it, then offers quietly, "I've seen this before."

<.>

Dima continues with the brush of his thumb, and moves just a little, little bit closer to Faolan. Considering how best to approach the question - and what might best be avoided; what might prove thorniest for Fae - before asking, "Faolan. What is it?"

Meaning the ring, perhaps. Meaning also, 'are you all right?'

[q: is there anything about the box or ring dima might identify without picking either up?
a: Not particularly. The ring is clearly an expensive piece, filigree gold with a blue stone, made for a larger hand. He has never seen it before.]

<.>

Faolan carefully sets the ring back in the box, which he then closes and pushes aside. He rests his elbows on the table and grips his hands together, pressing them without force against his mouth as he stares off. After a minute, he draws them an inch away and says the part he really didn't care to say to...anyone. Ever.

"One of my...Someone in Loch Bien wore it. When he'd come to me."

No, that's not the worst part, he decides. The worst part is saying out loud, "I didn't know his name."

<.>

Faolan.

What Dima would like to do is draw the man into his arms, draws his head to Dima's neck, and let him rest in quiet, tell him there's no need to say another word.

He can't do that. If there's meaning in this ring— They need to know.

What Dima does do, or will attempt to do, is to continue his thumb's caress at Faolan's back, and to move his free hand to settle on Faolan's arm. Speaking softly, "It's all right."

And, Messaging: [ Faolan. It's all right. ]

Rin, who has been watching Faolan with a somewhat guarded expression, seems to decide on something, and offers, "There's a lot of names in the world. And a lot of men." A shrug. "Sometimes it's not worth knowing."

Then, from Dima, "If you can tell us about him. What he looked like. How he seemed. It might help draw these pieces together."

<.>

Sen doesn’t think this is the time for him to say a word; he lets Dima and Rin handle this, though he does reach for the box to have a look at the ring. It is a unique piece; it’s likely Faolan knows what he’s talking about here.

With the exception of a flicker of his gaze towards Rin, Faolan doesn’t immediately respond.

He thinks about saying, It was a bad time. Or maybe joking, If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. Something to diffuse this somehow. The problem is, the others don’t need diffusion (Rin knows what it’s like) (Dmitri didn’t slide his hand away in disgust; he drew closer, touched with his other hand as though reaching out-)

(How long will that last, really?)

He’s ashamed of himself, and he’s ashamed of being ashamed.

He’s ashamed that he stopped bothering to learn their names after a while.

(But Dima -

(‘My Dima’ was a name he could live on.))

He blinks a little too much and decides to just answer about his patron. He rakes a hand through his hair, the movement carrying it back and then before him again, where it settles very near Dmitri’s on his arm.

(Near, but ready for the moment Dmitri pulls away.)

“I saw him - saw him.” He huffs mirthlessly and shakes his head. “Accommodated him - maybe a dozen times. I suppose my shine wore off after that; I didn’t much care.”

His fingers drum the table. “He was a northerner, like me. Had to have been a noble - that’s all I’d take, and he had the means.”

Poking his tongue at the inside of his cheek, he summons a picture to mind. “Auburn hair. Green eyes. Thirties probably; slender, about my height. Had an average voice - not high, not low. Handsome, I suppose.”

He motions to the ring in Sen’s hand. “That would be his distinguishing feature.”

He finally cuts a glance at Dmitri, his expression stony, though not quite hiding fear of some oncoming loss. “He seemed like every other man who crossed my path.

“Predatory.”

Something in his expression weakens (softens the longer he holds Dmitri’s eyes) and he looks away, ashamed of something new, for once.

[ But not you. ]

Not yet. There’s still time, he tells himself.

To Rin, he says softly, “Most of the time, it’s not worth knowing. Better the name doesn’t haunt you after.”

<.>

Dima was unprepared.

For the settle of Fae's hand so near his own.

For the way Faolan seems to more-than-tolerate the lingering of Dima's hands, even as Fae struggles through his words, this difficult disclosure.

For the pain struck by a stony glance (stinging, but fairly dealt, to Dmitri's mind)—

And for Faolan's Message. For the way it resonates like seedlings that might yet find bloom; tentative but daring, daring to accept a silvered fall of rain. For the way his own heart stalls upon his pulse; the way the hand at Fae's back gives an encouraging brush, and the hand at Fae's arm moves to cover the man's own hand. To hold; to press.

It seems to Dima a gift of sorts and an unveiling; a daring to confess both a wound and the presence of some could-be-hope, known in spite of all the brutal lessons Faolan's been dealt. Faolan's offered him a revelation, and Dima swallows, nods; ignores the prick of burning at his skull.

And, returning: [ Not to you, Faolan. Never to you. ]

(To Calabra, though, and to the men who serve him in friendship. To the man who slandered Faolan so readily. Oh, Dmitri has predation to spare for those fucks.)

[ Thank you— For sharing this with me. For daring. ]

[q: does the description of this man strike any familiar bells for dima? slash is he aware of any prominent redheaded nobles of the northern variety?

INT, d: 5; The description could be of any number of nobles in the north. Red hair and green eyes aren't uncommon at all. ]

He could say more. He wants to say so much more: To tell Faolan that any man who could fail to see his shine in perpetuity must be a fool; to assure the man that Dima remains firm in his convictions and affections. Dima also gathers that now isn't the moment for these words, and that what Faolan doesn't need is an avalanche of words ahead of action.

And. And they need to determine what to do about this mess.

The auburn-haired man in question is unfamiliar to Dima— Rather, the features are so frequently found that there's little narrowing the field of possibility. Dmitri doesn't wish to push Faolan any further in his recollections; he also knows they'll need something more, unless Sen or Rin have somehow, somehow recognized this description.

Cautiously, gentle, he speaks again, nodding slowly, "I'm afraid I don't recognize the description precisely - or I cannot suit it to a name - but this is far, far better than a start.

"A question is whether this man freely gave the ring to Calabra, and where he fits into this entire picture."

Rin, who at some point leaned their head against Sen's arm, notes that they found that ring in the same place as the pouch of coins, so maybe there's a connection and maybe there isn't, and whatever's the case with the coins, they nod to Faolan. "I— Mm, I don't keep many names at all. Just the ones that matter, really." What they mean is that Faolan's words make a lot of sense to them. And they feel rather badly for this man, who really, really doesn't seem so much more than a kid.

Pressing Fae's hand again, Dima speaks, "Did this man mention any names, any locations?" There's a brief flash of worry in Dima's eyes, and he adds, "You needn't say, Faolan. What you've given takes us far further than what we had."

<.>

It's easier and not so, to have Dmitri's hand covering his own. He doesn't want pity - and he knows that's not what this is. He doesn't want amorousness, either, but Dmitri isn't being amorous.

He's being -

Gentle.

His heart could melt or break, and at the moment, it feels about the same to Faolan. He holds still under the touch the way a feral animal might if it once knew what it was like to be warm and fed. Frightened, yes, but likewise trying not to cause fright, itself.

(He said, never to you. As though Faolan is the exception.

As though Faolan is exceptional.)

The smile he gives Rin is more a pained curve of his mouth, because they're right. They are. That same smile turns into a laugh that carries the same pain in it: did the man mention any names or locations?

"We didn't exactly talk,” he says. He meant it as some sort of bleak joke, but it comes out flat, toneless. (And it's not true. He's just not going to tell Dmitri what words were spoken.)

That's as much as he can bear, he thinks. Saying that to them. Saying that to Dmitri, further illustrating what he did, who he is. Faolan starts to rise and slide away from Dmitri's touch, mumbling something about needing a rest, when Sen leans forward, arms folded on the table, and says in a perfect stage whisper, "You know, Faolan, if you run away to your room, you're going to be all alone with the only person who judges you for getting by."

Faolan freezes, not quite out of Dmitri's reach, half-risen from his chair, and gapes at the elf.

"Why don't you sit back down and enjoy having a few friends to act as a buffer between you and the witch hunt in your head?"

When Faolan, in a state of confusion, doesn't immediately act, Sen points to the chair. "Sit down. Let Dima pet you some more."

[PERS, s: nat 20]

Slowly, Faolan lowers himself to his seat. He's not entirely sure what just happened here.

<.>

Dima's first thought: Shit, he should have known.

Or should have suspected. Doesn't it seem most likely that any words exchanged would be... less than helpful for the current situation, and likely to cause Faolan pain in recollecting, let alone voicing?

His touch tries to follow Faolan; his hand drifts along the man's arm, not quite letting him leave, no without reminder of his presence; not without an attempt at some apology, acknowledgement that Dima spoke too far, and he's stumbling toward a Message, trying to decide what he might speak without causing further harm, when Sen speaks, and Faolan goes still.

The glance Dmitri throws to Sen is one of gratitude. (He can't even manage a feigned glare at the remark about 'petting.') (And Dima does want to offer continued caresses; at least that brush of his thumb, some steadiness to offer Faolan.)

And even before Faolan moves to sit, Dima's hand has found his elbow, to settle light. To let Fae make his own decision, while giving further proof to what Sen's said: That there's no judgment here, and that here, Fae will find only support.

As Faolan sits, Dima settles his hand again at the man's back— Then turns the touch into a loose embrace. Something Faolan can shake if he finds it too restrictive. Something that might turn into a twining, if Fae doesn't seem to find it unwelcome. He doesn't Message yet; he hasn't found the words.

So it's Rin who speaks next. (Rin, who watched Sen speak with wide eyes and a look like admiration, a look of adoration. Rin, who nudges their horns against Sen's arm, even as they look at Faolan.) "Sen's right, Faolan. You're okay here. You're okay wherever; just maybe it's harder to see on your own. Especially since—" They wave a hand vaguely, pulling a sour face. "Nobles have a lot of ideas about shit that doesn't mean anything. That's not your fault and, you know. They can [pound shit of their own prodigious assholes]."

And finally, Dima speaks, "Please, Fae; stay with us."

And, feeling a catch in his throat, thinking 'Stay with me,' he adds, [ I'm here with you. You've done nothing to be sorry for; you have no cause for shame. ]

<.>

He's too stunned to shake off Dima's embrace. (Would he have done so if he had the wits? Maybe.

Maybe not.) The nearer the man draws, the more the memory of last night solidifies, and Faolan wonders if he gave Dmitri the wrong idea. Or the right one.

But it feels softer than anything he's ever known, a safe haven - not just with Dmitri, but all three of them. He doesn't feel quite so alone. He wants to leave, oh, he always wants that, but just now, he doesn't want to leave them.

The final straw, the final blow that isn't a blow at all, is Dima's voice asking him to stay. Not messaged, but spoken for everyone to hear. (Stay with us, not with Dima specifically, but if he says 'us', he means he'll stay, too. He can't be part of 'us' if he's gone, Faolan reasons.)

(But he says I'm here with you, and why didn't he say that part out loud? Shame?

Or something else, something better and fonder?)

Sen's watching him expectantly still, and when Faolan blinks in further confusion, Sen nods subtly towards Dmitri. Hesitantly, Faolan shifts to draw an arm around the man, then looks at Sen to confirm that's what he meant, but Sen is turning away to flag down a barmaid.

"We'll have several rounds. That one's paying." 'That one' being Dima, of course.

Faolan sits stiffly like this for a beat or two, then slowly relaxes into a mutual, loose hold.

While Sen is busy detailing what drinks he'd like in what order, Faolan Messages back, [ I have plenty of cause. I've done plenty to be sorry for. ]

He looks down at Dmitri as though peering out through a cracked door. [ I'm here with you, Dima. All right. I'm here with you. ]

<.>

At the press of Faolan's arm (an intentional gesture, or one offered in a moment's confusion, loss?) (either way, it remains) (either way, Dima has to keep himself from a strangled breath, though he can't keep his pulse from stammering its beat), Dima leans in a little nearer, and lets his own arm wrap a little nearer, firmer. Not quite daring to look at Faolan for a moment (feeling, perhaps, the moment as a vibratory string near to breaking) (wary of what his own imposition might cause), but he can't keep from looking for long, and when he finds Faolan looking back, he can't help a small, a warm and fragile smile.

[ I could ask little better, Fae— ] (Fae!) [ Than that you remain. ]

('As long as you're able.') ('Forever; please, for always.')

[ You speak harshly of yourself. You think harshly of yourself. Please— I don't doubt you have been dealt with censure. I know you have been—

It hasn't been easy, has it?

But there is nothing you have done, nothing you can have done, to make me think or— Feel. Any less of you. ]

A pause, a huffed breath, and— [ And I am far from faultless. ]

Dima's aware, vaguely, that Sen's been speaking with a barmaid; that the barmaid has departed, and drinks are expected. He's aware of a relentless clock ticking down to some uncertain issue. And he's aware that the man beside him - sitting half-twined with him - is dear, his heart battered but beautiful, endless.

And, caught in eyes like deep amber, like honeyed, he speaks softly, aloud, "You're safe here, Faolan. I'll see to that."

<.>

[onefellswoop]

This man is nothing like he's heard. Nothing like the cruel, vindictive portrait painted of him. (Or maybe. Maybe it's that he's not like that for Faolan.) (Or maybe he's biding his time.) (Or maybe there's truth to be found in the uncertain jumble of thought, of rumor, but Faolan can't get past the smile Dmitri gives him.)

That smile.

It's so tentative, so frail, like hope, and Faolan wonders how it would look if Dmitri smiled without any fear of loss. If he was happy, if Faolan made him happy -

(If they could find some happiness together.)

He's going to get hurt. He knows it. It's set in stone, it's waiting for him at the end of the road north, and Dmitri will smile a different smile, a cruel one while he laughs -

(His faith in that has a fracture in it. There's a blue cast over it the same shade as Dmitri's eyes.)

Faolan looks as though he'd like to speak one thing, but shakes his head and carefully answers, [ You haven't known me long enough to say any of that, Dmitri. ]

Somehow, his hand has found Dima's and he looks down now, studying it. How it looks, held in his own. (Perfect.) (Dangerous thought.)

It's unwise, he knows, but he still says, [ A month might be long enough to know one another. ]

Sen, meanwhile, has been occupying himself and Rin while the lovebirds talk; the game has become one of exotic drink ingredients and what the names of said concoctions might be.

<.>

For a moment, his smile faltered. Not his touch, no, but there's that worry again (not only a worry; a very real chance): That he's pushed too far, spoke with too much claim or asked Faolan to step further than he safely can.

(He isn't used to this: The wanting to see someone happy; the wanting to provide both warmth and aegis for anyone at all. Dima has little practice in speaking words of— Of affection, let alone the feeling he knows now, a certainty wrapping through his veins, suffusing every action.

He feels more for this man than he has words for; he knows such certainty in Faolan.

And though all of this is new, though he knows the way ahead requires care and knows himself ill-equipped for its discernment, he wants and means to learn, to try.)

Faolan speaks, 'a month,' and Dima's smile returns, he, blinking rapidly. Shutting his eyes for a moment, only briefly - only to let the words (the promise? the hope) settle into place - before meeting Fae's once more.

[ Give me a month, then, and I will cherish every hour.

Let me know you, Faolan. And I will— I'll show you what I can. What I am. ]

There's a tilt of his hand; subtle, graceful in the motions that bring his palm to Faolan's, and twine the man's fingers with his own. [ I'd like that very much. ]

Rin is in the middle of holding up three fingers, the better to signify three particular varieties of frog, and how a drop of the not-terribly-toxic poison from each, muddled with citrus and a garnish of crocus petals, might make for a sweet drink with a sharp bite, and that they would call the drink 'Til Drink Croak-Us Part.' It doesn't make sense, exactly, but they'd argue that that is part of the point: No one partaking of this drink would wish to bear an ounce of sense!

<.>

Like the night before, Faolan draws Dima's hand to his lips; there's pain in the way he closes his eyes as though he's certain of the loss facing him, but he knows there's no avoiding it now. Why not give Dmitri more cause to smile like that?

As though he's been given all the world. (Like no one's ever smiled at Faolan.)

It's a promise: their joined hands, the kiss he offers. If by some miracle Dima still smiles at him like that in a month, he'll believe in as much time as Dima gives him.

His attention returns to the thieves and their lively discussion; he's not particularly good at this, but interjects tentatively, "You should add ale to it."

At Sen's bewildered stare, he continues in the same low, somewhat meek voice, "So it hops."

<.>

Rin.

Is.

Grinning.

Grinning and tugging Sen's sleeve, pointing at Faolan. "See, I like him."

There is a good chance that Rin will, at sporadic moments for the next day or so, say aloud to themself 'So it hops.' And they're certain that if they ever were to make this drink - which is unlikely, as catching frogs requires patience and also Rin prefers drinks with cherries! - it would of course include ale.

Dima isn't entirely processing this conversation. Dima is in fact look at his hand in Faolan's, feeling the subtle afterburn of his kiss (like the seal upon a vow, or the casting of a breakless spell), thinking how strange it is, that after decades of existence, he should have found new life; some part of himself that's never had a chance to breathe.

Thinking how fortunate he is, to have this month, and know Fae will be with him through it all.

(Thinking of the sorrow, the pain that runs through Faolan, and thinking that a month may be time to learn small steps to pain's alleviation; to giving Fae - his? Fae? - cause to smile, and know there's life, there can be so much life beyond the ills he's known.)

When Dmitri manages to turn his eyes back toward the group, he finds the barmaid's begun to set out drinks, and reminds himself that there's work to be done yet, there's the haphazard puzzle before them, and— And he need not forfeit Faolan's company, or Faolan's touch in order to address the issues.

So he looks over the correspondence, thinks, and when the barmaid's departed, speaks: "What I cannot fathom - one of the many pieces of the mess I cannot fathom - is the cause of Calabra's fixation on Gower's daughter. What he thinks he can gain through her, and why he went to the trouble of locating Gower and—" A tick of his lip, a sneer he doesn't hide. "Of setting us after the Market. There would have been a simpler way to locate the girl, surely."

"We have the debris of several mysteries; there must be something binding this mess together."

<.>

"Not if Calabra thought she was still in Mysos," Sen muses. "And not if Gower never mentioned where he was from. I don't suppose it ever came up in casual conversation between master and servant."

The man he met didn't appear to give a single shit about his employees beyond their service.

"This was in the nightstand, you said?" he asks Rin, prodding the ring now replaced in its box. "Dima, have you known Calabra to tend towards men that way? Oh, fuck alm- Dima. Pay attention. He's not going anywhere."

If Dima's attention has been diverted, it might be because Faolan's other hand joins the first and holds Dima's tightly clasped against his thigh. There's a fearful quality to this, as though he's certain it'll all be snatched away. It's rare and precious, how Dima seems to want him. It's different from the possessive, self-assured way others behaved. (Predatory.) (Never to you.)

Faolan's own attention may have been on their hands and a faint smile has been playing at the corners of his mouth: a little break in the clouds, a little grain of hope shining through. The look fades when he remembers the enormity of the puzzle before them, and how much there is ahead.

"Maybe we ought to start off for the ruins now and see if Nerys is camped there. We can worry through the rest while we walk. Unless he gave you a way to contact him?" he looks quizzically at Dima, wondering how he's meant to inform Nerys when he finds Seddum Madin.

[q: doeS dima have any notion of whether calabra will or will not get it on with men? AND! does the contract from nerys happen to. mention. any way of contacting him?

INS, d: 19
ARC, d: 22

dm: Dima is aware that Calabra has rejected every man who ever approached him, and by all appearances and accounts, is heterosexual.
For the latter: Dima has a sense that the contract scroll itself has a spell on it that could (and probably does) alert Nerys when Dima's side has been fulfilled. That said, otherwise he has no way of contacting Nerys other than marching out into the woods.

q: does dima have a sense of whether the nightmare market is on another plane?
a: It's not on another plane, nope]

<.>

Dima’s attention was in fact entirely diverted, as much by Faolan’s smile - almost, tracing hint of a smile, and Dima’s heart could break in its beholding - as by his touch. He does let himself be drawn back to the conversation, though he doesn’t lose sensation of the warmth he knows at the way Fae’s clasped his hand, at the way he almost seems to want Dima and Dima’s guarding close.

To Faolan’s question, Dima frowns just slightly. “I’m afraid I have no way to reach him; not directly. As I understand, the scroll is touched with a spell that will alert Nerys on completion of the contract.

“So. Short of locating Seddum, I have no certain method of communication. “

There’s a click of his tongue, a cant his head. “I suppose— I might try writing a message on the contract itself. There isn’t much chance that it would reach Nerys, but it shouldn’t harm anything.

“There is also the option of burning the document, but I’d rather not run that risk; it might sever any opportunity for further return.” Dima’s tone suggests that he’s willing to try it if necessary, but would rather find another option.

It occurs to Dima that if they had access to Gower’s corpse, they might be able to raise an alarm— But that suggestion’s liable to go over poorly, include an unpredictable host of consequences, and anyway, they don’t know where the body is. Still—

“There are spells that could hypothetically allow us to contact Nerys, or even Gower himself. They are—“ His brow furrows, he shakes his head with a huffed breath. “At present, I am unfamiliar with this magic. And Messaging won’t manage what we do.”

He asks Liviana whether she holds any magic that might aid them; then looks over the group again. “If it comes to seeking Nerys in the forest, I’m not opposed. But if any of you have a way of reaching him or Gower— Or anyone we met last night. We might spare more time and energy to direct elsewhere.”

A blink; a thought. “Faolan. What you gained last night—“ The tattoo. The scimitar. “Does any part of it carry a connection to its creator?”

If Faolan isn’t certain, Dima will ask Fae if he can take a look and attempt to discern any potential for connection.

<.>

[onefellswoop]

Faolan isn't certain and so he'll start to lift his tunic to show the mark on his back - though Dima never actually gets a chance to look at it.

While Dmitri has been asking everyone at the table for some method of contacting Nerys, Sen has been staring at him with a puzzled expression.

Before Dima can get his hands on bare Fae back, Sen asks in a carefully amiable tone, "Short of locating who, Dima?"

If his late timing means there's confusion about his question, he clarifies, "You said something about locating someone as a means of communication. Who was that?"

<.>

The elf's timing is and always has been abominable.

Or.

Maybe it is, maybe it isn't; when Dima's moved past his moment's exasperation, he turns a mostly neutral, slightly curious expression to Sen. "Seddum Madin."

And— "Sen. What do you know."

Dmitri hopes to fuck there's information to aid the present conundrum, but really, no matter what, he now needs to know what that careful look is about, Sen.

<.>

What does he know?

Sen's own expression goes carefully neutral; his hands fold delicately on the table, then unfold so one can extend just a little in an invitational sort of request. "Maybe nothing. Maybe something.

"You mentioned your contract, as well. May I see it?"

<.>

"You're joking."

He doesn't trust that look. He doesn't particularly trust an open hand from Sen, certainly not when the elf's playing circumspect, and while Dima's fairly certain Sen doesn't intend to abscond with the contract, and while Sen might not intend to tear it into pieces, Dmitri isn't particularly keen to work in blind trust on this.

"I can just as easily tell you of the content."

Rin might be throwing Dima a sour look right now. Rin absolutely is throwing Dima a sour look, and is currently very cross with themself for not picking the damned thing from Dima earlier. They do speak, "Just let him see it."

Dima is still not willing to just let him 'see' it.

<.>

Sen's hand withdraws.

He stares hard at Dima, then nods. "All right. Tell me the content. If you want any help at all, though, I suggest you stop being a paranoid twat."

<.>

Rude, Sen.

Rude, but not entirely unfair, or untrue.

Dima is going to roll his eyes and sigh, just to show that Sen is being unnecessarily troublesome right now. "I'll cease to be a paranoid twat when you cease to steal my gold at every given opportunity."

That isn't entirely fair, and Dima waves a hand as if to brush away any argument, as if to signal that yes, yes he knows, Sen, Dima's simply being demonstrative right now.

He'll then tell precisely what is in the contract, augmented by what he and Faolan heard from Nerys and Moloch about the absconding warlock.

And: "Does that ring any bells."

<.>

Sen listens with a furrowing brow, mouths 'Moloch' with a bemused expression, then snorts and shakes his head as he hunches, arms folding on the table. For a moment, there's silence while he considers.

A frown forms. He glances at Rin, then stares down at the table.

He swears some deep-seated aggravation.

Faolan casts a perplexed sidelong look at Dima, but before he can say anything, Sen speaks quietly, "To be clear. The Nightmare Market is in peril because we were duped into seeking it, and then we were incautious and led Calabra right to its very door. It's our responsibility to mitigate damage by warning Nerys.

"And short of locating your bounty, you have no faster method of reaching him than making the journey, which will almost certainly bring us into a scrape with Calabra and his thugs, assuming they're lying in wait at the ruins. Have I understood all of that correctly?"

<.>

"You know where he is."

What and how does Sen know? There's a moment in which Dima almost continues, but he stops himself short, reminds himself to consider the situation at hand because Sen's correct: They've brought potential peril to the Market.

So there's a pause before Dima speaks again: "Assuming they've gone to the ruins - which is a not inapt supposition, but a supposition nonetheless - then yes: I imagine we'd find ourselves facing whatever 'force' Calabra might muster."

It's unwise to think the man - or, at least, his guard, his close-kept servants - won't be prepared; Dima knows that, and there's no good letting personal animosity veil the possibility. "Calabra and his entourage of bastards may be better prepared than I should like to admit— And I don't relish the thought of what they might do with—" A tick of his lip and a sideways nod of his head; he means what they might do with their hostages, if Manon and Morwenna are with them still, and gods' sakes, if they are, why take them to the ruins?

...He doesn't like the answer that presents itself most immediately. And there's no using getting caught up in this string of 'if's.

Dima shuts his eyes, breathes, and looks at Sen once more. "Are you suggesting that there's a faster way of reaching Madin."

<.>

Sen would laugh; he almost might. His expression seems to be a complicated mixture of pity, amusement, and aggravation - though not all of this is directed at Dima.

"Oh, yes," he replies, and now he does laugh. "There is a faster way, because I do know where he is."

Settling back in his chair, he picks up his drink and holds it out in a benevolent sort of toast. "Sitting at your table, drinking on your account."

With that, he drains his tankard, sets it down firmly (and with some finality), and announces, "All right. Let's get this over with."

[note: The contract says Dima has to find Seddum Madin and bring him to Nerys. But the contract sort of "activates" when Dima holds it and says anything suggesting he's found Seddum]

<.>

Dima has gone stock-still.

Rin has gone stock-still, though they're faster to break, to rise and grab Sen's elbow and say, “No.”

Messaging, [ You don't have to do this. Sen. Sen, you DON’T. ] No, Rin doesn't know what precisely 'this' entails, and *no* they also don't *care*. [ We can go. Now. ]

Dima, meanwhile, has started speaking, eyes fixed on Sen, voice steady but hushed: "You thrice-fucked dunce.”

He has. Questions. Many, many questions.

This isn't the time for any of them. Instead, shaking his head, pressing Faolan's hand and beginning to rise—

"You'd best shine that silver tongue of yours."

Meaning, Dima is in fact thinking ahead to the conclusion of the contract, and any loopholes in its language.

Meaning that as much as he might like to leave Sen to wallow in the mess he's made (fucking how??), he doesn't intend to do any such thing.

Fucking Sen.

Fuck's sake.

Dima, gritting his teeth, reaches for the contract, and hands it out to Sen.

[ Might as well take a look now, you absolute shit. ]

<.>

Sen covers Rin's hand with his own and smiles at them, then kisses their forehead. Before responding to anyone, to anything, he touches beneath their chin with the tip of his finger and urges them to look at him. [ It's not the gallows. Trust me, if no one else. ]

With a little smirk, he adds, [ Trust that I still want that kiss. ]

Turning back to the table, he - stares at the contract. He thinks touching it might just be the trigger for the spell it holds. He could back out, he could run with Rin - ugh, but he'll be hounded by this forever, won't he?

Faolan reaches out and presses the contract down as though preventing Sen from taking it. Surprisingly, he's the one who says it out loud. "You don't have to do this."

Sen considers for perhaps a heartbeat, then replies, "I don't. But I will. I'm not all thievery and stories."

With that, he grasps the contract, which glows briefly.

From the right of the table, a voice says, "That took less than a day. Impressive."

Nerys approaches, hands clasped casually behind his back, and smiles approvingly at the group. "I lost a bet, you know. I thought it would take months. He's very good at obfuscation, your bard. Watching him last night, I was sure he'd lead you on a grand chase."

<.>

Well. Rin does trust Sen; if nothing else, they're sure he can get out of any scrape, and they can help him get out of whatever's even going on (Seddum??) (a warlock??), and that kiss, that smirk goes a long way to set them less on edge. Still wary, still waiting for anyone to try anything, but they gave Sen a nod, and now they're going to stay very, very close to him, and anyone who tries to change that is going to losing a fucking finger or three.

Dima is currently watching Nerys as if he'd like very much to strangle him.

Then strangle Sen.

Then strangle Nerys again, for good measure.

(Well. The upside to this absolute mess: The problem of contacting the wood elf has been solved.

Never mind that it's opened a host of other problems Dmitri can't begin to track. Fucking. Sen.

Fucking 'Seddum.' Shit.)

What Dima thinks, and keeps from saying: 'Nerys, what the fuck.’

What he does say: "Grand chases seem to be his forte." And, after a sharp exhale through his nose, "We will, of course, need to discuss the matter of this contract's outcome. Given what we have learned.

"Given what you apparently knew when you sent us off."

<.>

Nerys seems perplexed by Dima's ire, as well as by Sen's apparent calm in the midst of all of this. He cocks his head at the necromancer and replies, "Suspected, Dmitri. If I'd known for certain, I wouldn't have wasted anyone's time."

He hums and regards Sen appraisingly, now that he's a little closer than he was the night before, then returns his attention to Dima. "I'll admit, it was a little bit of a 'gimme', wasn't it? But I wanted to know what sort of caliber men you are. Ah, men and tiefling; my apologies."

"What I mean is, I hoped to learn how quick you are on the uptake, and how you might react to learning one of your own is - well. Him."

With an expression of quiet exasperation, he says to Sen, "Now. Would you please be so good as to come collect your demon."

Faolan slowly leans nearer to Dmitri and whispers, "Dima. I don't understand what's going on."

Sen, for his own part, sits casually sprawled, though one hand rests against Rin's shoulderblade and rubs slow, soothing arcs. "Business first, pissant collection second. You've got a problem heading your way."

Nerys looks around at the faces of the party and shakes his head. "I'm afraid you've lost me."

<.>

Looking over to Faolan - feeling a sudden, if likely to be short-lived, easing of his tension at the sight, the reminder that whatever the mess around, Faolan is here, a presence worth the world - Dima shakes his head slightly, speaks low, "I don't believe I have the scope of it, myself." And, [ The godsdamned elf's dug us all into a hole; that much I see for certain.

Moloch's eloquent high elf— Perhaps I should have guessed. ]

Then, addressing Nerys, brusque, "We were followed. Last night."

Rin, scowling, cuts in, jamming a finger in Nerys's direction: "You could suspect Sen, but you didn't catch the fake necromancers stumbling into mirrors??"

Dmitri close his eyes. Messages the tiefling, [ Rin. Please. ] (Absolutely ignoring Rin's response, [ ’Rin please' WHAT. ] Presses Fae's hand and breathes. Looks at Nerys. "Calabra's men followed us, led by the guard who murdered Gower. From what we understand, they sought information regarding Gower's child—

"And through our... Negligence. They gleaned that very information, along with access to the market.

"Your greeter must have noticed them." A click of his tongue, a cant of his head. "Dependent on the skeleton's awareness, I suppose."

<.>

Faolan still doesn't really grasp what's unfolding here; he does, however, notice something crucial: Dima seems to relax when reminded of his presence. (He takes comfort in Faolan's nearness? In the fact of him, maybe?) So, as something of an experiment, he shifts a hand to rest on Dmitri's thigh: light, intimate, and soothing.

[ Hindsight has eagle eyes, Dima. Why would you suspect Sen, of all the eloquent elves in the world, hm? ]

Nerys, meanwhile, considers this information, then responds carefully, "If you'll recall, there was a situation last night. I - might have said it was routine, though it was anything but. The 'greeter', as you call him, was found pieced apart and scattered by the river. We still haven't found all of him.

"But before you level any accusation or condemnation: the Market doesn't turn away visitors. Until now, we've had no problem enforcing the rules.

"Granted, no one's thought to threaten our generally peaceful host of more than three hundred undead before. There's always a first time."

He purses his lips and thinks for a moment, then reaches out to grasp Sen and Dmitri, who in turn are touching Rin and Faolan. Without warning, the five souls vanish from the tavern and reappear on the outskirts of the ruins, where well-disguised caravans sit idle, waiting for tomorrow's departure.

<.>

[onefellswoop]

Rin is about to shoot back that they will level both accusation and condemnation and even execration however they please, when the world shifts around them. The good thing is that Sen's still with them. Actually, they're all still together just... Back at the ruins, it looks like.

Still, Rin hisses under their breath, in irritated and impulsive Infernal, "[ Could've fucking given a warning. ]”

At Faolan's touch, Dima had felt the red-run threat of a headache recede toward nothing. Felt thought clarify, the restrictive mingling of frustration and concern turn less choking in his chest. He'd turn to Faolan; of course he had. With the ticked trace of a half-smile, with a feeling like relief. His response to Faolan comes less fraught, as if melting into Fae's keeping, [ He has a habit of showing up at the very center of trouble. Of placing himself precisely in that center.

Still. I suppose it matters little what I did or didn't see; we know now. ]

And, drifting one hand to cover Faolan's, he squeezes softly. [ Fae. I'm very, very pleased you're here.

Thank you. ]

In this renewed almost-ease, Dmitri takes the news of the skeleton almost in stride. Alarmed, yes, but his calm remains; the information doesn't sharpen the situation's direness any further than it already seemed. And in the wake of unexpected teleportation, Dima only makes certain he has Faolan's hand in hold, and presses it again. [ It's progress, at least. ]

And out loud, to Nerys (after glancing to ascertain that Sen and Rin are still with them, as well), "Have you or your host noticed anything strange in the area?"

<.>

Faolan squeezes his hand reassuringly, and finds himself reassured by Dima's nearness. (He could, he thinks, exist like this. Always, perhaps. (It's a fantasy.) (It doesn't seem like one just now.)) Even the teleportation doesn't shake him; he makes a noise of disapproval, but otherwise takes it in stride.

Sen was sort of expecting this. If they want him to come retrieve his 'demon', of course this would happen. It's the addition of Rin, Dima, and Faolan that he didn't anticipate. That worries him.

Nerys returns his hands to their clasp behind his back and unflinchingly endures the profanity from Rin, the stink-eye from Sen. Dmitri's question garners a cagey expression, but he admits sheepishly, "No. To be fair, though: most of them keep away from the sunlight. This isn't our time, so they rest."

From this vantage, he glances towards the ruins, then exhales a heavy breath. "Well. Seeing as the fault for this lies with us all, I would ask you four to go flush out this Calabra fellow and his cronies.”

"'And you'll be doing what, exactly?" Faolan snaps. "Watching and betting?"

Nerys looks as though he swallowed a lemon, but Faolan's stare doesn't waver. With a tsk, he rolls his eyes. "Oh, very well. I'll find some of our mudmen to help."

"And you'll come," Faolan adds for him.

Nerys blinks back a look of disgust, then relents in a much-aggrieved tone, "And I'll come along."

(Faolan's intimidation: 15)

<.>

Oh, that was—

That was very attractive, that assertion and unwavering stare, and Dima doesn't precisely hide a pleased little smirk. Messages Fae, [ Very well done. ]

There's a quick consult with Liviana, and then Dima addresses Nerys, addresses the whole of the group in a low voice, "Keep watch for Gower's daughter and sister, as well; Calabra may have brought them along.

"I suggest into two groups, perhaps three, depending on your mudmen's capabilities." He nods to Nerys. "I can cloak one of you in Invisibility. For the rest, stealth if you're able; Liviana will search from above. "

<.>

Faolan is going to cast Pass Without a Trace on the party, giving +10 to stealth checks.

Since Fae cast Pass Without a Trace, Dima is going to cast Invisibility on Liviana. He us Concerned about Calabra’s men having identified her already as an uncommon creature.

Nerys will have the golems hang back. And everyone else make a stealth check.

[STEALTH
f: 32
s: nat 20
d: 31
r: 30
nerys: 16]

Fae is going to suggest Sen and Rin stealth ahead and *not engage anything*. And Dima seems to be the most Adult here, so Fae suggests he leads. But not like. Physically.

<.>

Dima agrees that this is probably the wisest call, especially since he'll be the one to hear from Liv if she sees anything.

Rin is already giving Sen the 'all right let's do this >:o' look.

<.>

Sen nodding and blowing a kiss.

Fae giving Dima a hand press before letting go so he can use his hands for possible fighting.

<.>

Rin catching it, setting it on their cheek! And blowing Sen a kiss of his own!

And Dima letting himself have the briefest Moment, little smile and a strong squeeze back before getting himself into search mode.

I would like to begin with Liv taking a sweep around the immediate area, looking for signs of movement or any disturbance/shape that seems out of place among the ruins.

[dm: Everything seems quiet; the stalls are mostly gone right now, and the rest of the area shows no sign of movement.]

Liv conveys this to Dima; Dima conveys it to the party, and requests that Rin move to the left, checking the area with the beds and fire, moving toward where I've placed Liv. He asks Sen to head to the right, aiming toward where i've temporarily placed Dima's marker.

[PERC
s: 9
r: 24
liv: 11]

<.>

Sen, preoccupied with thinking about Moloch now that he's away from Rin, doesn't notice anything unusual. Liv likewise can't seem to make out anything.

Rin doesn't find anything of note.

Sen and Rin move ahead and see nothing of note.

<.>

Dima asks Sen what the walls look like.

<.>

“Stone, asshole.”

<.>

Rin nearly reports that they've found some earthworms, but they remember that's not the point here.

And Dima rolls his eyes at Sen.

Next step: Dima, Fae, and Nerys are going to head over to where Rin is rn.
Dima's sending Rin to join Sen. Mudmen, keep muddin.

<.>

More moving, more moving, and—

Sen stops at the top of the stairs. And then sloooowly backs down when he sees a human male moving quietly between the tables with his sword drawn.

<.>

Rin is. Very tempted to just sneak in as close as they can.

But they're going to hold at the stairs right now. Back down two steps. Message Sen, [ Okay, fuck. ]

And to Dima, [ There's a guy up here. ]

<.>

[PERC
f: nat 20
d: 5
nerys: 12]

Fae reaches out and taps Dima's arm, then points straight ahead. Moving somewhat stealthily through the ruins are two more human males.

So. At the moment, everyone has the element of surprise on these three individuals.

<.>

Dima Messages Rin first, giving them a particular warning to noT back in that direction. He Messages Sen to give the other men's location.

Dima's going to tell Rin and Sen to hold positions outside the single man's sight. He'll ask them to report immediately if the man comes within ten feet of either of them. He asks Fae to keep an eye on the two men, and report whether they begin approach Rin.

And he's going to have Liv take a quick swoop southward, just in case.

[q: Does Liv catch a glimpse of those two? O.o
a: She sure does.]

She tells Dima; Dima lets everyone know and asks for reports on the movement of any of the first three men.

[note: The one facing Sen seems to be making an inspection of the tavern area.

Nerys is going to, against advice, slowly start to circle around Dima's left.]

Dima is absolutely feeling the tick of time and is fairly certain they're not going to BE in a better position to surprise at least these three.

So.

Dima is going to grab Fae's hand. He’ll Message Sen to watch Rin and move when they move. Messages Nerys to move when he sees Fae and Dima move. Messages Fae to tell him to move when Dima squeezes his hand. And now waits for response from Sen and for confirming look or response to Message from Fae before giving Rin the go.

<.>

Nerys Messages back to let him deal with the nearest one.

Nerys will also Message to hold attacking until the other one passes.

<.>

Dima does not promise anything, but does Message [ Noted ], lets Fae know, and will plan on directing his own attack elsewhere while keeping an Eye on Nerys just in case.

And!

Rin moves to where I've put them just theRe. And they're going to make an attack using the hand crossbow. Hits at 12 for 7 points, and they’ll use bonus action to Dodge.

Dima casts Burning Hands on a shithead who saves with a nat 20, so takes 5 points fire damage.

<.>

Nerys sneak attacks a shithead with a nat 20. He appears behind the thug and, with a hand over the man's mouth, thrusts his rapier clean through.

He's going to head for somewhere he can drop back into stealth now, which he manages to do with an 18.

Fae is going to just helpfully finish off that one guy, likewise with a rapier attack. And likewise with a crit! So that's 10 points of damage with the rapier. And he gets a second attack with off-hand dagger, which hits for 4 points. Fae is staying on him to avoid Awkward Opportunity Attacks.

Sen uses his shortbow, hits for 4 points, and he's going to duck behind the wall there.

<.>

Liv, still invisible, is going to stay in the area she's in so she can watch where those two fuckers get to.

…Those three fuckers get to.

<.>

And with that, everyone roll initiative.

[INIT
d: 8
r: 21
liv: 9
f/wolf: 21
s: 19
nerys: 12
thugs: 17
golems: 14]

<.>

[onefellswoop]

Rin! Is going to hold their position for the moment and make another attack with the hand crossbow! Which they miss the shit out of with a crit fail.

[d4, r: odds; The hand crossbow misfires, but seems to be in working order still.]

Rin takes their movement and attempts to use their bonus action to hide.

[STEALTH: 2; with disadv]

<.>

Rin attempts to hide sort of behind a chair? Just kinda. Half. Hid. He can see you, Rin.

So we're to Fae, who is going to try to take another stab at this asshole here. He will not go, and in fact will miss spectacularly, with an 8. He can't move but he can summon the wolf as a bonus action.

Mr. One Remaining Hit Point Dildo makes his saving throw with a nat 20 and takes no damage from wolf’s summoning.

Sen is up, Fae is mad.

Sen's going to come around the corner and shoot the guy again. Crits for 17 points of damage. While the thug is turning to look at Rin and starts to open his mouth to say something about their stealth, an arrow hits square in the eye. And down he goes.

And he's going to move towards Rin from there.

Onto the thugs. Rin's focus has been on the guy at the "bar", so they didn't quite notice this guy about to rush them. He's taking a swing at Rin with his mace, hits for 5 points bludgeoning damage.

[note: Rin is going to point at this motherfucker and cast Hellish Rebuke. Dude saves, takes 8 points fire damage.]

Mr. One Point Wonder has been too busy to shout, but #11 there comes up and sees a goddamn flaming wolf and starts shouting, "WE'RE UNDER ATTACK! READY YOURSELVES!" Bringing the others converging towards Fae and Dima.

Sen has been spotted by #6, who is going to fire off a light crossbow. The bolt goes whizzing past Sen's ear, causing him to belatedly duck and shout, "HEY!"

And #4 is going to make the same attempt on Fae, which hits at 17. Fae takes a crossbow bolt to the shoulder and jerks backward with a shout of alarm and pain; he taaakes 5 points of piercing damage.

[note: Dima fucking shouting 'FAE' thanks. ;.;]

And last attacker is One Point Wonder. He's going to try and stab Fae in the side, and misses.

So we're at the Golems and Nerys; the golems need to move, so they'll be doing that. That one's going to jump down into that recesses area with a THUMP and start towards Dima. F R I END ?

Nerys is back in stealth, so he's going to try and start towards 11.

<.>

Dima's going to go for the one-hit wonder with Chill Touch— And misses.

Liv is going to use this stealth advantage while she has it and move to make an attack with talons onnnn the one that tried to hit Sen. She’ll multi-attack, going beak attack for the first, then she'll hit with talons. Beak hits for 10 points. Talons hit for 11 points.

[dm: Liv. How do you want to do this? You deserve a Moment because you literally took out a guy ALONE. ...while fae, dima, and the wolf wrestled with some asshole.]

Liviana’s divebombing out of nowheRe to jam her beak into the guy's left eye. And while giving a twist in that eye socket, takes her talons to his neck in a sharp slash. She is angry also.

[dm: The thug screams, the sound turning into a sort of choked, wet, gurgling noise as he falls.

Sen is shouting "WHAT THE FUCK SORT OF BIRD IS THAT?!”]

Liv takes off overhead.

<.>

Rin’s going to attempt Mind Sliver on the jerk who attacked them. Said jerk saves, and Rin is real ready to start biting people. They're going to very, very loudly curse in Infernal, use bonus action to Disengage, and move.

And Curio is going to pull the Curio trick that Rin has I believe never yet seen. They go full-size Jerbeen mode, and take a shot with their hand crossbow, hitting for 11 points.

[note: All right; 10's still up but looking pretty rough. And everyone is very unclear what happened.

Sen over here all what is this, pet show day?]

Curio would actually like to just try to bonus action Hide behind Rin— They do not roll well for this, and so Curio literally does what Rin just did. They are HALF standing behind Rin. Tail and back half clearly discernible.

<.>

Fae is mad he keeps missing his weapon attacks and is just going to try and break this fucker's neck. Rolls a 19.

Fae drops his rapier in disgust, grabs the thug by the sides of the head, and twists until there's an audible crack. He gives the body a shove out of the way, picks up his rapier again, and just as a not really anything, is spitting on the corpse.

[note: Dima having a moment nbd nbd nbd]

And he's going to start for #11, Stopping there letting the fucker come to him.

The wolf is also going to attack 11. The wolf from a spot beside and hovering near Fae is going to make a ranged Flame Seed attack, hits for 7 points.

Sen’s up! Going for the hat trick and shooting 10 with his shortbow. Hits for 4 points, which eliminates 10 from the board, thank you everyone who was instrumental in what the fucking that guy.

Thugs are up. Thug 4 is coming at Sen with a shortsword, hits for 3 points. 11 is going to make for Fae and multiattack with shortsword and dagger, fucks his roll. He swings at Fae, who kind of :/ at him and leans back out of range as the sword swishes by harmlessly and embeds itself in the crumbling masonry. 11 will be trying to pull that free now.

Golems take their movement.

<.>

Nerys! Is going to go for the one between Dima and the golem. Hits for 21 points.

And down goes the thug.

Dima's going to cast Mind Spike on 11 over there. 11 saves, takes 8 points.

[dm: The thug's still standing, but he releases his stuck sword and grasps his head with a cry of pain, falling backward from Dima, Fae, and the Wolf. Not retreating - just stumbled.]

Dima trying very hard not to just. Gaze. At Fae tbh.

And Liv's going to get in on this guy. Talons hit for 9.

[dm: And that'll be him out.]

Rin's taking a crossbow shot, hits for 8 points.

Curio is going to follow Rin's lead 100% here, readying their crossbow—

<.>

Sen calling out while trying to hold 4 at arm's length, “IS THAT THING ON OUR SIDE?”

<.>

Rin shouting back 'SEN THIS IS CURIO! :D!' Absolutely BEAMING at Curio right now. they have no idea what's happening but they're here for it?

<.>

Sen: "...Growth spurt?"

<.>

Curio takes their crossbow shot, hits for 12 points.

[dm: Curio. How do you want to do this?]

Curio is going to hop up on a table, aim the crossbow, and call to (or Message?) Sen, "Kind of :D!"

And, "Watch out though!"

Before shooting a bolt into the guy's ribcage right between the ribs.

<.>

4, who was likewise pretty baffled by this entity, barely has time to react to tthe bolt coming his way; he jerks away from Sen, but this only exposes his chest further to the oncoming attack, and it rips through him, through the open doorway, past Nerys, and embeds in the far wall.

The thug falls to his knees, still staring at Curio, then slumps over.

I believe Fae is going to suggest everyone regroup in the tavern area; the golems can guard the two "back" stairways and they'll see anyone coming through the "front" two. Maybe barricade one to bottleneck them.

<.>

As soon as the final guy in the current area died, Rin and Curio kind of jumped at one another. Rin holding Curio, Curio hanging on Rin's neck. Both saying hello to each other just :D!!!

Before Curio presumably shrunk back to jerboa size and needs their nap.

Rin's so excited Curio's so excited!

And! Also of course! After, Rin turned to leap hug Sen.

<.>

Sen is going to hang on tight

Fae is going to slump down against a wall and pull the bolt out of his shoulder. The wolf will hang out around him.

<.>

Dima absolutely running over, kneeling besides him, hand on his good shoulder. And Liv's going to fly down to Dima's shoulder and would like to Healing Word Fae thanks.

<.>

Fae's going to wave that off; save it for when he's hurt bad.

<.>

Dima and Liv both giving him a look oh hmmmmm.

But. They will accept this. Only because they know this shit's not over.

<.>

Fae leans his head back against the wall, then lolls it to look at Dima with a complicated smile. "Want to play doctor?"

Then, "Could just bandage me up if you're worried."

<.>

Dima. Might. Have blushed just a little. (It doesn't help that he is absolutely replaying that necksnap.)

He's also going to tear a piece off his old cloak and use it to bandage Fae's wound thank yoU.

Not not lingering a little on every touch.

[MED, d: 19]

Meanwhile, Rin is going to bandage Sen.

<.>

RIN HOLD STILL LET SEN CHECK THAT CONCUSSION.

And Fae regains 2 hp.

Fae is currently blushing himself, and Dima has managed to elicit a soft, puzzled smile.

<.>

Oh.

Well.

Shit.

Dima has the smallest, smallest version of the trashman doofy, stricken smile right now. Feels like he's done more good with that bandage than with anything else tbh ;.;

Meanwhile, Sen checked Rin’s head very well, and they’ve regained 4 hp. Rin is going to wrap a bandage around Sen’s slash wound, and then put a kiss on their palm, put their palm to the bandage— Then kiss Sen on the cheek.

<.>

Sen regains 4 hp!

And. If Dima's going to remain with him, Fae's going to give him a little tug to sit beside him.

[note: Dima absolutely going to take that sit thank you ;.;]

Nerys, meanwhile, is cleaning gore off his rapier and ignoring all of this.

Nerys eventually comments, "I think I may suggest a permanent installation here. We're going to all the trouble of fighting off a small mob, there's no sense in abandoning the property, is there?"

<.>

Dima, who is absolutely holding Faolan's hand at this point, is going to look over, curious. "You might draw more of this— Particular variant of onlooker. Though I expect you have ways to plan for that."

<.>

"I'm sure something can be arranged. A likewise permanent ward deterring violence." He smiles his youthful, blithe smile, and continues, "The question is, what manner of person would be interested in being tethered to this place. Not permanently, but oh, in a managerial sense. Personally, I'm fond of my position as adjudicator, and there is the issue many of our host have: they are bound by the dark moon. No, we would need someone alive, I think."

If a palpable silence follows, he looks around and sheathes his rapier. "It could be a very nice tavern with some elbow grease. Nice taverns bring nice shops. A little undead haven in the woods."

<.>

Dima is not precisely sure where Nerys might be going with this, and he throws a slightly puzzled look to Faolan, then a longer look at Sen.

Then, clearing his throat, "You are aiming toward a point, yes? Given present circumstances, directness might not go amiss."

Rin, who is currently very likely sitting on Sen's lap, is looking around, thinking, then looking at Nerys with cautious interest. "I don't know; I like the sound of it." A little haven, yeah; like a little home for the undead, or anyone out here in the middle of 'people don't much care for your ilk' country.

<.>

Faolan has been listening quietly while staring at Dmitri's hand in his own. (Or rather, at the rings.) Before Nerys can reply, he says softly, "He's offering you a place here."

As though the word's strange to him, he amends, "Us. He's offering - us. A place."

Nerys clasps his hands behind his back and smiles approvingly. "There you are. Obviously, nothing's assured until we clear out the vermin, but think on it. If not you, then I'll look for other takers -"

Sen, who is holding Rin on his lap and pleased with this situation's occurence despite recent revelations about himself and who hears Rin's approval, interrupts with, "We'll take it."

Nerys turns an unimpressed look on him. "'Vermin' includes Moloch, Seddum."

<.>

The glance Dmitri shoots Nerys is wary; not certain why the offer's been extended; feeling as though he's missed some crucial point. It's not the worst idea; it's also not a viable idea, not for Dima; he can only keep away from Morovsk for so long, and every day he's absent means a further piling up of duties.

But.

But wouldn't Dima like it? To have some role connected to the Market?

To— Whatever may or may not come out of this month, to have at least this connection to Faolan; to have this with Faolan?

Looking at Faolan, Dima's expression turns toward approval, appreciation. Letting the way Faolan said 'us' settle into his chest; letting himself think maybe, maybe, there could be a life here, as well as in Morovsk. And he's smiling again at Faolan, running the fingers of his free hand slowly, light along Faolan's unwounded shoulder.

Softly, to Faolan: "It's a wonderful idea."

And to Nerys: "Forgive my momentary obtuseness. Of course we will."

Rin's smiling at Sen, tracing their forefinger along his jaw and humming to themself, thinking how much fun it could be, and how they've never really, really had one place to return to, to think of like a home, and if Sen's in it with them, isn't it just— Maybe, actually perfect?

Except there's that last thing Nerys said.

Except there's been all of this kind of sort of sideways talk about 'Moloch' and about Seddum, and Seddum's Sen of course Rin understands that, it's just... Everything else that's cloudy.

The look they throw Nerys is sharp, a silent 'how dare you speak to Sen like that >:o,' and a verbal, "Well we'll just take care of everything then!"

And, turning to Sen, voice quieter, uncertain, "What is it about Moloch?"

Dima, hearing all of this and offering what might almost, almost be a sympathetic glance, consults with Liviana, who flies upward to find a perch with the best vantage, to help the golems keep watch.

<.>

Faolan wants to believe in it. He wants to believe the smile Dmitri is giving him and the possibility of this could-be-home.

He could be happy with the undead; the living were never very enjoyable. He could be happy with Dmitri, with Rose and Thorn, with the thieves -

It's too much to hope for. (A month from now, he'll know what kind of man Dmitri Voronin is; he'll prove he's just like the rest -)

He caresses the backs of his fingers down Dima's cheek when Liviana has gone, then returns his attention to Nerys and the thieves.

Sen has an arm wrapped around Rin's waist and is giving Nerys an insolent little smirk. "Oh, Pretty Rin. What it is about Moloch is exactly what Nerys says: it's vermin.

"No, I'll amend that. It's a fucking parasite, and I'll wager you every gold piece I ever see that our good benefactor here knows it, don't you, Nerys? Trying to pawn it off on me so it stops eating you out of house and home?"

"Parasite it may be, but you agreed to a symbiotic relationship with it, and then you broke your contract -"

Sen leans forward abruptly, a finger out in emphasis and anger clear on his face; Nerys, though a good eight feet away, jumps back. Remembering he's holding Rin on his lap, Sen slowly leans back and settles his hand on their knee. Assuming a light tone, he replies, "I'm not debating this with you. When you produce my little "demon" -" air quotes with one hand "- we'll have it out at that time. Me, you, and the prevaricating little shit."

With a note of disgust in his voice, he echoes, “Contract.”

[PERC, liv: 22]

While the humanoids below are bickering or canoodling, Liv is able to see from her perch at least 10 life forms gathering into formation not that far away.

So. The party does not have the element of surprise, they have disadvantage on stealth rolls, and at least ten people are preparing to take them out.

<.>

[onefellswoop]

Liviana is going to immediately convey this shit to Dima, who is going to very suddenly sit up straighter - simultaneously gripping Fae's hand tighter - hissing a breath and instructing everyone to "Quiet. Now.”

He's rising, drawing Fae with him and moving over toward the bar to share what Liv has just told him, indicating that it looks really, really not good.

<.>

All right; the party gathers at the bar and begins to quietly discuss options; Nerys is going to right now send the golems walking around the exterior of the space so they'll be useful when attack time comes.

[note: Dima's going to ask Nerys if there is anyone else who could lend a hand.

PERS, d: 23]

Sen is going to suggest giving Rin a boost up to the top of the wall so they can peer over and see where these aggressors are.

[note: Rin accepts the boost!]

Nerys, meanwhile, looks uncomfortable with Dima’s request. He ponders this for a moment, then hums as though he's had an idea.

<.>

Dima giving Nerys The Most Intense trashman stare right now. Taps his finger on the bar sharply. "Yes?"

<.>

Nerys smiles, but not at Dima.

Sen, from underneath Rin, groans loudly.

Nerys won't be facilitating this reunion just yet; he's sending Moloch with the other golems. Moloch appears to be inhabiting a fresh-er golem.

Rin considers setting a snare, butaAt the moment, there's nowhere to the right of the tavern that isn't being watched, so it'll be difficult to set one in that direction.

Nerys and Rin successfully go stealth mode, despite disadvantage on roll! And! Because Fae’s got Pass Without Trace, Fae, Sen, Dima, and Liv all manage to stealth as well.

The wolf will not be attempting stealth and will in fact head up to pace the top of the wall.

Rin and Sen scheme a possible distraction tactic. For Rin’s part, they decide that once they're in A Determined Position, they’ll be creating a loud sound of falling rock smash originating 30 ft away from them, at a point where no one else in the party will be. When Rin does this, Sen will cast Minor Illusion to make a dropped weapon (alas, cannot make a running away gnome!) appear where the sounds come from, like someone slipped, dropped their weapon.

Sen gives inspiration to Dima and to Fae. He’ll hold onto his third one for the moment until Dima needs it again— Which, yes, Sen does say out loud. Dima flips him off. While offering a very gracious bow of his head. (New shithead secret handshake unlocked!)

Nerys has acquired two daggers from somewhere in the tavern and is outfitting himself with them for throwing purposes. Otherwise, he has his rapier.

Liv’s glance for any open fires turns up nothing.

And!

Everyone roll initiative.

[ INIT order
Fae: 19
Nerys: 16
Sen: 15
Rin: 10
Dima: 9
Thugs: 8
Indir, Loras, Bly: 7
Golems: 6]

Fae is going to start stealthing out and around towards 14. Annnnd I think he's going to stay stealthed right now.

<.>

Nerys jumps from the wolf’s wall and, maintaining stealth, leaps to the next, continues his movement.

[note: Too bad he was stealthed ;.; The wolf saw it!]

Nerys gave wolf a nod on his way by! And is going to hold his place and wait for shit to Kick Off.

<.>

Sen is going to hold his turn and follow Rin's lead this round.

<.>

Rin does a jump downward. They’re still planning to maybe cast Thaumaturgy but will hold it for the moment, and for now they're going to engage Dodge Mode as their bonus action, juuust in case.

<.>

Sen joins Rin!

<.>

Dima and Liv move into position. And! Dima's Messaging Faolan just one Message: [ I'm right here, Fae. ]

<.>

Fae messages back with a gentle, warm tone, [ I know. ]

And that'll bring us to the thugs' turn. 15 and 8 are both going to attempt to attack the wolf. 8 takes aim with a crossbow and hits for 5 points of damage. 15 attemps the same with a shortbow— And hits. For another 5 points.

Seeing this, Fae cries out in anger and pain, drawing a lot of attention to himself.

14 comes around the corner and rushes him, swinging a mace. Misses. And Fae now has evERYONE'S attention.

Loras calls out, "You two stay on him. The rest of you, find the others."

The golems are up. One of them comes thudding up past Dima and Fae, spilling mud as it shambles. That one is going to swing an arm at the thug and try to get in a hit; hits for 12 points bludgeoning damage. The golem draws its arm up and swings hard, slamming the thug down the nearby stairs annnd thug did not make the DEX saving throw, so he is now prone.

Back to a very angry, not-stealthed Fae. Fae is going to move toward Nerys and cast Flaming Sphere right on top of that fucker 15. 15 fails his DEX saving throw, takes 7 points fire damage. And as a bonus action, Fae moves the sphere to Loras, who takes 3 points.

Fae is now commanding the wolf to attack 8, hits for 7 points fire damage. And Fae is sending wolf down off the wall.

<.>

Nerys is going to jump down and rapier attack the prone shithead. Nerys crits, just kind of obliterating the guy's face, then uses his bonus action to Hide.

<.>

Sen just kind of [ Seems like that's our diversion. ]

<.>

Rin: [ Game is ON! ]

<.>

Sen moves and casts Dissonant Whispers on Indir. Indir fails the saving throw and takes 16 points of psychic damage. He's still up, but he begins screaming, clutching his head, and then begins to try and flee in the opposite direction.

As Indir flees, Sen will shout, ”YOU FUCKED UP.”

Note also, Indir fled right into that fucking fireball, taking 4 damage there.

<.>

Rin Messaging Sen just a very enthusiastic [ SHIT YES SEN! ]

Shortbow attack on 8! Hits for 10 damage. And Rin is going to draw back and make an attempt at Hiding— Which they manage, though 16 is looking Right At Them.

[dm: Rin melts away before 16's eyes.]

They're gonna flash their eyes black while they're doing this. Just for funsies.

[INT, r: 6; 16 spits after them and mutters about rogues]

Dima’s up!

[q: How’s Indir the Scared looking?
a: Indir is looking scared and a little burnt.]

Dima takes his movement and casts Burning Hands. Indir fails his saving throw and takes 16 points damage.

[dm: Indir’s looking a little like he's rethinking some Decisions he made.]

Liv wants to heal wolf because Dima wants wolf not to be blinked out, but! Time to attack one of the fucks that hurt wolf >:o! She’ll take 35 feet of movement, and coming out of stealth mode she's multi attacking with talons first, hits for 12 points. Goes for the beak attack, and murders this man who’d had all of 1 hit point left. :>

<.>

Onto the douches! The one that knows Rin's stealthing will be putting his back to a corner. 8 is going to take aim at Dima with his light crossbow, hits for 7 points.

[note: Dima Felt That.]

Annnd Indir is going to take a run at Fae. Because FIREBALL??? Takes a two-handed swing with a maul and OH NO FUCKING CRITS?? Fae takes holy shit 20 points of bludgeoning damage.

[note: DIMA ABSOLUTELY SHOUTING FAE HOLY FUCK. Liv crying out right along with him.]

Loras is going to start towards Sen.

And the golems are up. Our winner here is going to take a big fucking slam at Indir; hits for 15 points, and Indir is knocked prone.

Back up to Fae, who is angry and also in pain. So now he's just pissed, and he's drawing his new scimitar and whispering a word to it; the weapon erupts into a blaze of flaming light. He's going to make an attack with that, and FUCK YEAH HE CRITS. Does 22 total damage.

Indir, struggling to stop the world from spinning, tries to get up and falls back; Faolan steps a foot on his shoulder, pins him down into the ground, and holds the edge of the weapon at Indir's throat. Indir begins to plead, but before he can get a word out, Faolan swings, decapitating him.

The flame immediately cauterizes the wound, so there's that.

As a bonus action, Fae is going to pick up Indir's head and tie it to his belt. By the hair. He points across the river at Bly and shouts, "You're next!"

He's also moving the flaming sphere to Bly and 9 and 12. Bly takes 8 damage, 9 takes 9, 12 takes 2.

<.>

Nerys is going to go stealth mode, and is going to noT draw attention to himself. He'll use his Cunning Action to Dodge.

[note: Nerys has a spell called Shade Step; it’s like Misty Step, can use it to teleport up to 30 feet. Something he picked up from the dead, just, traveling through shadow.]

<.>

Sen is up so he's going to cast Dissonant Whispers on Loras because "Why are you coming over here, fuck off.” Loras makes the save, takes 6 damage. And Sen's just going to move BEHIND the golem thanks.

<.>

Rin’s going to take a shot at Loras with their shortbow, hitting for 4 points. They are becoming annoyed with the minimal damage they’re doing, but and they're going to use the last 10 ft of their movement and go for Dodge. And throw Sen a wink and a kiss.

Dima is currently equal parts Alert To Everything He Can See Because Holy Shit and also WORRIED ABOUT FAE and also FAE THAT WAS ATTRACTIVE. But he is going to maintain his self-possession and—

[q: 8's looking rough yy?
a: Yup.]

Dima is going to attempT Chill Touch on 8. Hits for 5 points necrotic damage, aaaand 8 is ouT. Uses his movement and ends up quite close to Fae.

[note: Fae is looking rough. But! A lot of it isn’t his blood!]

Liv absolutely received a message about where to direct Healing Word, and is going to cast it on Fae as a Bonus Action, healing Fae for 5 points.

[note: Fae mouthing thank you even though he really doesn't know where Liv is.]

Liv sees this! ;.; And! She's going in to attack Bly. Multiattack beginning with beak for 9 points. Talons hit for 11 points. And Liv uses the rest of her movement to fly a bit off.

<.>

[onefellswoop]

For the thugs— 16 is going to start pulling back.

[note: Rin Messages 16 [ Wow go piss your pants coward. ]

16 salutes with his middle finger.

Loras is going to make for RIn and Multiattack. Both attacks miss.

[note: Rin. Grins. With far too many sharp teeth.]

Loras makes a very angry snarling noise as the second one misses. Annnd Bly is directing 9 to shoot that "fucking bird.” 9 misses. 12 takes a shot at Liv, and hits for 3 points.

[note: She takes it in stride >:C!! Dima is not PLEASED. And is hissing under his breath something about tearing every last one of these fucks to pieces.]

Bly is going to snatch 9's crossbow and take aim, hits for 6 points.

FAE IS NOT PLEASED.

[note: Dima has now progressed to loudly, LOUDLY SNARLING THAT HE “WILL FUCKING FLAY YOU SHITS ALIVE AND FEED YOU TO YOUR MASTER.”]

And all three of the thugs are moving away from the sphere.

Golems up! Moloch is going to do a bit of a rampage here and dash. Makes a slam attack on 9 and crits, so that guy's basically mashed potots. Moloch swings both fists inward at 9's head and smashes it like a fucking watermelon. And then almost carefully throws the body away from the river.

Golem by Fae is going to move toward the bridge. The other golem is going for Loras— And rolls a crit fail. As the golem attempts to swing an arm to slam Loras, the arm. Falls. Off. These are not the FRESHEST golems. And it looks so hurt that this happened.

Sen calls out, "It's all right, you have a second one!"

The golem nods bravely. But that does end their turn.

Which brings us to an infuriated Faolan. He’s going to move 5 feet, Misty Step 30, move five more and attack Bly. He swings his flaming scimitar at Bly for a total of 14 damage. With his offhand, he swipes at Bly with his dagger, hits for another 4 points. Which ends his turn.

<.>

Nerys coming out of stealth to attempt a hit on Bly with the rapier, hits for 23 points. That is it for Bly, and Nerys is going to Shade Step out of there.

<.>

Sen is going to cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter on Loras— Who rolls a 20 on his save.

<.>

Rin Messages Sen that this guy just doesn't have a sense of humor. >:c

And Rin is going to begin by using their bonus action to Disengage. They’ll move away from Loras and take a shot with their shortbow. With Inspiration from Sen, they hit for 10 points. Rin will be blowing Sen an air kiss and using the rest of their movement, the ned.

Dima is livid. And also far, far away—

[note: The wolf is going to, at Fae's command, teleport Dima 15 feet closer. (!!Fae and wolf thank you!)]

Dima fixes sight on 12 aka the fuck who shot Liv, and on one hand, Dima knows Dima is low on spell slots. But. On the other. He. Is. Livid.

He does know there are more fucks around somewheRE, and Liv is telling him to shhh, shh. So Dima will do the smarteR thing, and cast Chill Touch on 12. Hits for 8 points with Inspiration, and Dima snarls aloud, “Feel it eat your flesh, shitheel.” A nice little creepy hand is now clinging to 12!

Liv goes multiattack. Beak hits for 9, talons hit for 11, and that fucker is down.

<.>

Thugs up. Loras is going to make an attack on the golem. First hits for 5 points, second is a crit and hits for 10 points. And Loras is going to disengage.

Golems are up, and this one's mad and is going to run at Loras. Swing its not-attached arm by the wrist and try to bludgeon him with it— Annnnd misses.

[note: Rin calls out that it was a great try!!]

Moloch is noticing the flaming sphere and Fae's sword. All three of the golems will be refusing to move towards that.

Fae is going to make an attack on 7 there, hits for 20 points. Second attack with the dagger hits for 3 points. And as a bonus action, he's moving the flaming sphere. 7 and 16 both fail their saving throws; 16 takes 9 points damage, 7 takes 8 and is fuckin dead.

<.>

Nerys goes stealth more with his very nice Expertise bonus.

[dm: He just winks the fuck out of existence.]

Stealths up to 13 with his rapier, hits for 25 damage. And since I don't thiiink he's bonus actioned? He'll Shade Step the fuck away.

<.>

Sen will give it a shot with one more Dissonant Whispers. “O LORAS YOU FUCKED UUUUP.”

Loras takes 9 points. Sen is maD.

...BUT also Sen is seeing a golem staring at him that he doesn't recognize and shouting, “WELL? COME FUCK THIS GUY UP, YOU SHIT.”

As he says that, the golem slumps. Sen momentarily stiffens, then makes a gagging sound, and as a bonus action, is going to make a melee attack on Loras.

A ten foot tentacle rises from the ground, water swelling through the mud at its base. It slams down on Loras, hits for 7 points of damage and slows Loras.

<.>

RIN IS VERY CONCERNED ABOUT WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH SEN. SOMETHING JUST HAPPENED?

[note: SEN DID STUPID THINGS WHEN HE WAS A YOUNG SEN. But he can make tentacles.]

Rin’s going to dart a look over make sure Sen is??? Standing?? Not disintegrating???

And they’re going to run closeR to Sen at least and take their shot at Loras with the shortbow, hitting for 8 damage. With that, Rin’s going to engage Dodge.

[note: Sen is now shouting, "A LITTLE HELP HERE???”]

Dima casts Chill Touch on Loras, hits for 5 damage and a clingy little hand— And that does it for Loras.

Dima. Looking at Sen. "Is that better." Blink.

Before immediately looking for Fae.

<.>

Sen, a Golem, Rin, and a tentacle are standing around Loras's body. Staring at Dima. Giving the shithead salute.

<.>

Dima returns that middle finger to the group, though his focus is on looking over at Fae.

<.>

The golem starts to fold back the fingers of its disembodied arm.

And holds it up.

With a two-finger salute.

[note: Rin now wants this golem to tend bar thanks. Sen wants to keep it too. ;.; That golem will absolutely be offered a position. Which, as it is one of the fighting pits golems, it would like.]

<.>

Liv goes for a multiattack on 16; both hits miss. She’ll take her flight off and away.

<.>

The remaining thugs are up, and both of them will begin converging on Fae. Both have multiattack. Both miss with their first attack, then hit with their second for a total of 5 points damage. Fae did succeed on saving throws against the shield bashes, but is down to 15 hit points.

The golems are still avoiding the fire.

That'll bring us to Fae and the wolf. Fae attacks 16 for 9 points, then another 2 points with his offhand dagger. As a bonus action, he moves the flame sphere.

The wolf is going to use fiery teleportation to get him out of there. 16 fails the save and takes 8 points, 13 succeeds and takes 1 point.

<.>

Nerys goes in for a rapier attack on 13. Hits for— Plenty, and 13’s out. Nerys Shade Steps the fuck away/

<.>

Sen is going to try and make his way up to the fight somehow. He'll use a bonus action to send that tentacle across as a present for 16.

[note: Dima just giving him A Look.]

The Sentacle hits, and that'll be it for 16; the Sentacle wraps around his throat and kind of swings him off his feet, then slams him into the ground.

The board is now clear of everyone but! The boss!

[onefellswoop]

Before reaching the boss, Dima gives Fae his potion from spooky house. Fae drinks it and regains 5 hit points. Because Fae bis a lot worse than he was letting on, he’ll also cast Cure Wounds on himself, which with Inspiration gives him another 13.

Everyone makes their way across the river towards the structure that seems to have once been a temple. The golems still hang back, pacing the river's edge and watching Fae's scimitar with fear.

Fae calls out, "If anyone else is here, show yourselves. We don't want to kill you. We're just looking for the girls."

<.>

Rin is currently resisting a very strong impulse to shout something lewd in Calabra's voice. They're also walking close with Sen just. Keeping an eye on him because Sen u okay??

<.>

Sen has a hand on Rin's arm to reassure them, but he also keeps having odd twitching movements; his eyes glow and then return to normal and his face spasms until he snaps, "Stop that!"

From behind the ruined temple's walls, there's a sound of laughter, ugly and low. The meek-mannered valet they met in the tavern emerges, his footfalls heavy. Visento is armored as a gladiator, with studded leather and a heavy sword and shield. Though prepared for combat, he sneers down at the group and calls back, "It's just you and me, I'm afraid."

With that, his smile becomes a snarl of bared teeth; he pounds his sword's guard against his shield, then lets out a roar that echoes through the ruins.

[WIS saving throw
d: 5
r: 20
liv: 20
f: 16
s: 18
golems 1 + 2: fail
nerys: fail]

Dima, Liv, and Nerys are all currently Frightened. The golems turn tail and flee.

And with that, everyone roll initiative.

[INIT
d: 14
r: 19
f: 20
s: 14
nerys: 7
visento: 8]

Fae begins by casting Entangle right on top of Visento. Grasping vines and weeds sprout from the rubble and begin to snake their way at the manservant— Who does succeed on his saving throw, but he is in Difficult Terrain, which will affect his movement. And Fae is going to start moving that way.

The wolf casts Flame Seed; misses. And that'll be their turn because Fae is telling it to stay on Dima.

<.>

Rin takes a shortbow shot, misses. Uses their bonus action to Dodge.

Dima shakes off the fear effect. He doesn't know what came over him; what it was that allowed fear to sink its claws deep. It doesn't linger long, though, and with a look to Faolan's wolf, he feels his agitation settle, then turns to stare down Visento.

Speaking with sharp enunciation, "You. All of you. Have calculated very fucking poorly."

And Dima is going to cast Mind Spike. Visento makes the save and takes 8 damage.

[note: Dima is now out of spell slots. The DM points out here that there are corpses with weapons scattered around. Checking would require either going to each corpse and checking, or rolling a perception check and then going to X corpse.

PERC, d: nat 1

dm: From where he's standing, he can't tell what those two bodies have. He'll have to go check each one.]

Liv shakes off her fear. Goes in for multiattack. First would hit, but Visento uses his reaction to Parry, raising his AC and warding off the attack. Second attack misses. And Liv flies off.

<.>

Brings us to Sen, who, seeing what just happened, is going to cast Dissonant Whispers. Visento makes the save, takes 5 damage.

And onto Visento, who uses his movement to approach Fae and multiattack. Sword hits for 5 points, shield bash hits for 3 points, and Fae is knocked prone.

Standing over Fae, Visento lets out another roar, triumphant and primal.

[WIS saving throw—
r: 14
d: …5 again
liv: …nat 1]

Everyone is now frightened. Except the wolf, so there’s that.

<.>

Nerys doesn’t shake fear; he has had A Very Long Day, alas.

He does use Shade Step to blip out of Visento’s sight, and uses this opportunity to Hide and go stealth mode.

<.>

Fae is going to use his action to stand, then use his bonus action to Misty Step away. And using his movement, he's going to back up just a little more.

The wolf is staying on Dima and Fae is ordering it to Dodge unless Dima needs teleporting.

<.>

Rin shakes their fear, and is going to cast Tasha’s Hideous Laughter, sending Sen a backward air high-five as they attempt it.

[dm: Visento fails the save, and is now on the ground, prone, and alternating between laughing and snarling angrily. And Frightened is now removed from everyone.]

Rin does find thiS pretty funny tbh. They call out, “Thanks, Vinnie!” and engage Dodge.

Dima, while he’s not frightened and can approach, is going in for Burning Hands.

[note: FAE IS SHOUTING AT HIM DON'T GET CLOSE DIMA.

Sen is shouting at him as well, but it's hard to hear over Visento]

Look Dima will back up as much as he can after, but he is frustrated. And with Burning Hands— Wulp. He went in there and hit with all of 7 damage. Dima maybe is going to have Some Regrets. But right now. It feels nice to burn something.

[dm: As Visento takes fire damage from Dima's spell, Tasha's Laughter ends. He's still prone but no longer laughing. And he is stARING at Dima.]

Dima still does not Regret. Yet.

And he will back up those five feet.

Liv’s going in for another multiattack attempt. She misses with both. Liv and Dima both Off Any Game They Ever Had.

<.>

Sen’s up. And he's taking the opportunity to shout, "I TOLD YOU NOT TO HURT HIM YET"

[note: He's getting a backwards-flipped finger.]

He's going to use a level 2 spell slot for Dissonant Whispers. Visento finally fails his fucking save, and takes 18 damage.

Sen moves the Sentacle; it misses.

It sure is Visento’s turn now. He's going to use his action to get up. And he's going to use his wonderful bonus action to start pounding his shield and roaring.

[WIS saving throw—
f: fail
s: fail
n: succeed!
d: 15
liv: 10
r: 12]

Dima passes; Liv and Rin do not. Sen, Liv, and Rin need to attempt to put 60 ft between them and Visento. And so they do.

[note: Rin is upset their laughter ended. :c]

<.>

Nerys, in his stealth zone, is going to move, use Shade Step, and attempt a rapier attack. Hits for 34 points piercing damage.

<.>

Fae remains Frightened, oh no. He can’t do anything from this distance, but would like to have the wolf use Fiery Teleportation to get Dima away from Visento—

But Dima. Unfortunately is in I Am Angry mode. Which in this case means he wants to stay.

Fae is not happy with this. But that’ll end his turn.

<.>

Rin shakes off their fear. They move and take a shot with the shortbow; they miss. Rin will stay where they are and Dodge.

Onto Dima!

[dm: He is staring down a very big man with a sword.]

He is going to KEEP staring down this very big man with a sword. I do not argue that this is a gooD thing he is doing. But. It is a Dima thing.

Dima's plan right now is to stand his ground and go full authoritative daddy trash
cold-eyed stare. Folding his hands behind his back, little head tilt. And give Visento The Full Bullshit. In an attempt to, god only knows, try to throw him off his game, scare hiM, or at least keep Visento's attention away from the people who haVe more at hand to use. So.

Dima stands, back straight, shoulders relaxed. Probably bleeding from a number of wounds. And speaks, "It's funny, isn't it.

"I know what your Master has planned with Kettering Wrothrun. What he's planning for Morovsk. Do you think my family hasn't been watching?

"Do you believe I don't know.

"Why on EARTH do you think I'm here?

"I know what he has planned for me— And I know what waits for you, Visento.

"My body may well end up at the bottom of a canal, but yours will be beside me, Torrio's dagger in your chest."

And that’s it. That’s Dima’s attempt.

Liviana is thinking about strangling him.

[INT, d: 13
visento: 5]

<.>

Visento doesn't blink at the name, but there's a moment where Dima's words strike through very, very hard; he falters, seeming to go a little slack in his stance; his head turns just slightly as though to say, How -

But then with renewed fervor, he raises his shield and bares his teeth; he doesn't roar, but he growls angrily, clearly thrown by this - and has disadvantage on his next attack.

[dm: You can take with you the knowledge that SOMETHING Dima said was accurate enough that it worked.]

<.>

Dima he will remain standing precisely where he is.

Liv is, to begin with, mentally shouTing at Dima for being a fucking dumbass. SHOUTING AT DIMA WHILE TRYING NOT TO BE SCARED.

Liviana does shake off her fear, and swoops o Sen, wing-brushing him with a cast of Guidance.

Liv thinking very loudly HELP THAT IDIOT. Realizing also that Sen. Is ALSO prone to Bad Decisions. But you work with what you have! And she'll move back a littttle bit and be done!

<.>

Sen shakes fear, and he is going to move in and cast Dissonant Whispers at level 2 again. Visento fails his save and takes 13 damage.

Sen relocates the sentacle, which does not hit.

And now it’s Visento.

First thing he's doing is attempting his roar, and instead of disadvantage for him, everyone else gets advantage.

[WIS saving throw—
s: succeeds
wolf: succeeds
nerys: fail
liv: 16
d: 19
r: 8

ROGUES SCARED! Nerys just cowering in the temple. Rin ZOOMING past Fae.]

Visento looking at Dima and grinning. JUST ME AND YOU NOW.

[note: Dima. Blinks back. Bring it. Who knows Visento; maybe Dima will enjoy it.]

Sword hits for 2 points. Shield attack hits for 6 points. Dima does make his saving throw and isn’t knocked prone.

[note: Dim’s bleeding profusely but still standing VisentO. MAY HAVE LOST THREE QUARTERS OF HIS HEALTH but Dima is Very Calm rn.]

<.>

Nerys remains Very Scared. And so remains very cowering. He does attempt and manage to Hide.

[dm: He is very well hidden.]

<.>

Fae shakes off his fear, and he is going to shout at Dmitri after watching him do this STUPID THING—

“IS THAT HOW YOU'RE GOING TO ABANDON ME, TOO?”

<.>

Dima.

Very suddenly. Looks aghast.

Self-possession goNe just staring over at Faolan, suddenly processing what he-himself just did.

He’s going to be replaying all of that for a good while.

<.>

Fae is going to try to get closer, and he will use Scorching Ray. Crits on two of the rays, rolls a 17 for the third?!?!

He is not even remotely fucking around. And that’s 37 points total damage.

SO FAOLAN.

HOW DO YOU WANT TO DO THIS OTHER THAN MAKING DIMA REGRET EVERYTHING.

Faolan takes a run up the platform, terrified after witnessing what just happened to Dmitri, and casts three rays of fire at Visento, whose attention is fixed on Dima; the gladiator has no time to react, and the force and heat of the rays quickly engulf him in flames.

The heat leaves very little of his flesh behind, and the speed of the assault gives him no time to do more than scream a single, pitiable note before he falls.

And Faolan lets his hands fall to his sides, his eyes on Dima. He looks like he might cry.

Faolan shakes his head and turns his attention to untying the head from his belt; he tosses it to the ground and steps off the platform.

<.>

Dima has registered Visento's disintegration— But only barely.

Mostly what he sees is Faolan. And what he feels is cold, and the seep of his own blood.

He tries to speak, to stop Faolan. Doesn't think far enough to Message, and what Dima does get out is a soft, strangled, “Fae—“

And, after a moment's mental stammer: [ Please. ]

Rin, meanwhile, suddenly very much NOT afraid and remembering how to be honest fucking funny it was when Visento fell down laughing, THEN remembering how not at all funny it was when something happened with Sen and that Moloch spirit whatever, is going to start dashing over to Sen.

Liv is going to fly down and give the wolf spirit a nudge of her beak before flitting over to Faolan, circling him, then landing near but not oN and not precisely looking at Dima.

Dima has eyes and mind for one point of focus, one very wounded Faolan, and notices approximately none of this.

<.>

[ XP awarded means everyone has reached level 5!

As for loot: Searching the bodies, Rin and Sen manage to find:
the light crossbow Dima ignored
a ring on Indir's hand
a stone embeded in Visento's sword
2 potions
a die carved from bone on Loras's corpse
a strange key on Bly's corpse
around 54 GP in various denominations
several weapons of varying types (mace, swords, maul, heavy crossbows, shields) ]

Awich: After the battle.

[onefellswoop]

Fae sits on the steps of the platform and waits for the wolf to trot over to him; he runs a hand through its flames, then breathes a soft sigh. The wolf steps closer and seems to vanish into him; Fae smiles sadly, but he closes his eyes and breathes again, in and out - alone but not alone.

And then he looks toward Dima, his gaze briefly lighting on Liviana in passing. Sullenly, speaking from a deep well of hurt, he snaps, "I gave you a month. You couldn't make it a day. 'Please' nothing.”

Nerys, who is just brushing off his clothing as he clambers from the temple ruins, falters in his step; both he and Sen have similar looks of Not Wanting To Be Involved In This. Sen sees something across the little river to inspect because it isn't here, and Nerys mumbles something about checking on the mudmen before vanishing.

<.>

It takes several moments for Dima to move. He knows Faolan's presence nearby. He feels Liv's disapproval, as well as her understanding. He's becoming aware of his own dizziness and the ash-dusted remains beside him (Faolan did this) (beautiful, the way he wields his magic) (but the way he looks at Dima) (the way Dima brought that look upon himself; brought that hurt to Faolan).

Faolan speaks, and of course Dmitri meets his eyes. Looks down, eyes shutting hard in the silence after. Nodding once, as if to say 'Yes, I understand.'

And he does. What Dmitri did, the way he handled himself in the fight—

Well. He can't say it was without a plan. But there wasn't much self-preservation in his actions, and there's no good skirting the truth of that, or of Faolan's response.

When Dima looks up again, he's beginning to move toward Faolan. Motioning to Liviana as he passes, and now she does hop to his shoulder; now he can feel her own weariness stronger still. (It was dire, what they all just endured.) (Dire doesn't necessitate recklessness.)

When he reaches the platform, Dima pauses at its edge, watching Faolan with one hand flexing, a nerve-strung gesture, behind his back. He catches at the edge of a dozen things he could say, and what forms into speech is—

"It was a calculated risk.

"...Somewhat calculated." A tick of his lip, a jerk of his head to the side, and Dmitri shakes his head at himself. "I won't say it was a wise one.

"I thought— I believed—" Again, he shakes his head, exhales a sharp breath. "No; that isn't to the point."

After a moment, he moves forward, lowers himself to one knee before Faolan and will attempt to take the man's hand. "I'm not going anywhere, Faolan.

"I didn't."

Rin, meanwhile, hasn't precisely been paying attention to this interaction - it doesn't seem much like their business or their interest, and they're still worried about Sen - and they follow Sen more for the sake of their own curiosity, and for continuing to keep an eye on Sen, then to avoid a conversation they've already decided not to mind.

They are going to ask Sen how he's doing.

Like.

For real, Sen. For real.

<.>

Faolan doesn't pull away from Dmitri's touch, but he doesn't do anything to encourage it, either. He only regards the other man sadly, thinking of how this loss would be far different from any other. How final it would be.

Without answering right away, he clasps his hands around Dmitri's and casts Cure Wounds, healing (12 points) some of the damage he sustained.

Then slides his hands free and lets them hang limply between his knees.

"You didn't. You might have." He looks off, contemplating his words before continuing, "I've readied myself for the moment you turn on me. When we're north and you're among your own kind, when you remember you're one of them and I'm not."

He finds Dima's eyes again. "I didn't plan on having to mourn you, too."

Faolan purses his lips, then grasps Dima's hand again and lifts it to indicate the rings. "Nevermind me. Nevermind Liviana, either; we'll be fine - one way or another. But the next time you calculate a risk, remember it's not just your life on the line."

<.>

How that warmth courses through him; the sudden surge of healing energy. The gift from Faolan that sets Dima's breath steadier, eases the strain on his own body to mend itself, or regulate the substantial loss of blood.

(It's apt, he thinks, when this man could cure his every ailment.)

(...If Dima doesn't get himself killed first.

If Dima doesn't shatter what little hope this man retains.)

He shakes his head, settling a hand on Faolan's knee. Breathing, looking down, then finding Fae's eyes once more. "I am skilled with speaking, Faolan. What I lack in— Current acumen for the arcane, I hold in the practice of negotiation. Of finding where to needle; where to pry." He thought— It doesn't matter, really. Not just now.

He glances downward, presses his hand at Fae's knee. "I promise you: I'm a harder man to kill than I may seem.

"But I take your meaning. I feel it— I do. And it wasn't fair.

"To Rose; to Thorn. To Liviana. To you.

"Faolan.

"I have no wish to leave you. I want— I would like. And I would like to strive for. The very opposite of that."

His eyes are locked with Fae's now, and take on a plea - along with, yes, the ghost of a command, an ardent request - of their own. "I need you to understand— Whatever else I may be, whatever I may do, beyond my own family, I have no allegiance to 'my kind.'

"Or I mean to give you cause to understand. I don't expect your belief; not now. Not when you have words alone to go on.

"But you, Liviana, Rosavalda and Thornboldt— There is no one I hold in higher esteem. No one other for whom I would learn to... Broaden the scope of my calculations.

"Well. You will see, Faolan. And I— For what worth it may have. I am sorry."

<.>

Faolan thinks - or doesn't think. It's difficult to think clearly at the moment, because anger is so much less complicated an emotion than the terror he felt when he saw that sword swing down on Dmitri.

(He thinks - Dmitri is trying to convince him it was the right decision.) (He thinks Dmitri doesn't understand. That it never should have been a consideration at all. That words don't win out against swords.)

The sound he makes is at odds with the look of disbelief on his face: a little laugh that dies abruptly. "I'll see?”

He shakes his head and says softly, "Dmitri, I'm not giving you another chance."

Rising, he continues speaking, now more to himself than Dima. "I'm going north like I planned - and then I'm going home."

<.>

Dmitri doesn't think.

(He ought to think. Isn't that part of the point: That impulse alone can't end well? He should be smart about this.)

(He knows the incongruity in that laugh; sees unfathomed depths of pain beneath Faolan's gentleness, written in the man's (Fae's) conviction.

And, yes. (Yes, of course.) Dima is terrified.)

He reaches; perhaps catches hold of something, some scrap of fabric, some piece of Faolan's clothing.

Whether he catches anything or not, he speaks again (aware of how little weight his words can hold) (aware of vicious irony; how certain he was his speech might hold sway with Visento, and yet here, here there is so little chance): "Faolan.

"Look at me.

"Please."

Dima hasn't stopped looking upward. Hasn't ceased to see the world straining toward shatters, or ceased trying to focus, focus, set clarity of sight on Faolan. (But he can't will things right.) (Can't will things right that he's shoved out of place.)

"We could have something here. All of us. You and I—"

A click in his throat; a jarred breath. "You'll travel with us? It is— Please. If nothing else, it is safer.

"And I don't want to—" 'Lose you,' he thinks, he means, but the trouble with speaking those words is the very present, glass-edged awareness that he already has.

<.>

He feels the grasp of a hand at his clothing and grits his teeth. (But even as he wills himself to just pull away, he thinks: maybe Dmitri will say the right thing. Maybe this time, he'll hear he's wanted, he's worth staying for, keeping, living for -)

(Stupidly, he hopes for it.)

(Again.

Every godsdamned time.)

He doesn't realize it, but the hoping makes him hold his breath; it's there in how he pauses, how he doesn't quite look at Dmitri, but listens.

All of us.

Travel with us.

Safer.

Whatever else Dmitri means (what Fae waits for, wants so badly to hear), it doesn't come.

His shoulders sag slightly, the movement faint enough to be nothing. Faolan pulls free and answers flatly, "I'll hire a guard if I want safety. You should do the same."

<.>

For a moment—

For a moment, he thinks he felt it: An inclination to remain; an ear offered in... in mercy, to Dima's feeling, but perhaps more accurately an ear offered in wanting, in an opening toward what might be ((might have been?)). For a moment, Faolan remained.

For a moment, Faolan might have remained.

But something breaks, or something doesn't catch, and Dima doesn't have time to process where it was he misstepped (failed to step) (he'll realize later, when the night runs on too long and sleep won't take him). He only feels the moment slipping. Feels Faolan, now absent.

(Sees in Faolan's weariness a sense of loss.) (A disappointment.) (A wanting ground into the dust, and left to wither, and if Dmitri can't trace the scope of what he's inflicted, he knows what he's rendered is monstrous.)

He sinks to his heel, barely balanced, his hand suspended in the air (knowing where Faolan was, so recently, in his touch) (thinking (knowing?) he won't have that again).

He thinks, 'Perhaps that's wise of you.'

He thinks, 'It isn't as though I'm fit to protect you, or anyone in straits like this.'

He thinks, 'I want you to stay.'

He thinks, maybe, it would have been more merciful if Calabra's lackey had ended Dima. (He flinches at the thought, his free hand moving instinctively to cover, to rub the rings. No; that wouldn't have been merciful, at all. And Dima draws the hand to his chest, holds it there, near-cradled.)

Not looking at Faolan now, not looking at precisely anything, he speaks just above a whisper, "For companionship, then.

"I can't see you go."

<.>

Faolan stops as though frozen, the breath knocked out of him. (He knows Dmitri didn't mean it that way.) (He - doesn't actually know that at all.) (He should have known this was all he could ever expect from them.)

When he looks back, all the hurt and anger lies bare in his expression and he bites out, "There's that, then. You couldn't let me walk away without a reminder?"

(Later, he'll remember how broken Dmitri looked. How remorseful.) (It might not matter then, either.)

"I knew better. I knew. It's you and yours that humiliated me three years ago; of course you'd want companionship out of me now. What else am I good for?" He doesn't keep his voice low now; with each word, he grows louder, angrier (more wounded, unloading years of pain into a single moment born from fear.) "If you want companionship, go to a fucking brothel.”

<.>

He doesn't understand; not at first.

He can hardly process anything beyond Fae's (Faolan's) sudden stillness, or the anguish written in his eyes, through his being ahead of speech.

And then there's the cutting blade.

A lash Dmitri understands he's brought upon himself. (A lashing he can't help but feel - somewhere deep and buried; somewhere he'd closed off long ago - as inevitable repudiation, as something both deserved and senseless.) A lash whose origin turns clearly writ as Faolan continues speaking, as Dmitri hears the unintended meaning in the word he used, and how could he be so fucking careless? (Because he was grasping for straws, anything to keep Faolan near.) (Will he never fucked learn to guard his impulse?)

He opens his mouth to speak, to tell Faolan that he's worth everything, good for everything, but Faolan's speaking still and the last words—

Dmitri's eyes churn with stark confusion, with regret, with disbelief (because how, how could anyone see this man in such meager scope?) (because how could Dmitri not have seen this coming, how could he not have guarded Fae against this error, at least?). He finds he's standing; finds he's taken a step toward Faolan, wary but unwilling to keep such space between them.

Thinking he wants to mend this.

(Thinking that, given his recent track record, he's more likely to turn this error into total ruin, or further ruin.)

He stops himself mid-step; he tries to tell himself to think about this, breathe and think, but already he's reaching for Faolan's wrist, he's trying to wrap Faolan's wrist in both of his own hands, shaking his head and gods help him, but he's speaking again—

"I didn't mean that.

"You know I didn't mean that. Faolan—

"You're so much more than anything. You mean so much more than anything, and I don't—"

He's losing his point; he's losing the tension in his shoulders, feeling an onrush of exhaustion, of frustration with himself, inevitability of his own errors. But he finally, finally makes himself breathe, and tries once more: "I want to stay with you. To be near you. To talk, and know the grace of your presence. Of your soul.

"That's— Closer to what I meant.

"It's my own folly that I didn't say it."

<.>

[onefellswoop]

Faolan's anger dissipates into confusion, then frustration at his confusion. He ought to know if Dmitri is playing him for a fool - and if that's not what's happening, Dmitri shouldn't be so withheld.

He thinks that must be what's happening. Dmitri is trying to be sly with his words like every other man, and he is: didn't he nearly stop Visento in his tracks with a sudden, well-crafted speech? The problem is, Faolan knows better.

Yes. That's what it is. He knows better, so he isn't taken in, so what would have fooled him before only makes him ache. (Because he wanted so badly for Dmitri to be different.)

(He looks frightened.)

(Faolan feels frightened and he doesn't like that.) (He said, though. You mean so much more than anything.)

(What is 'anything' - and who does he mean it to?)

Again he begins to shake his head, he's saying the first thing that comes to mind. "There's no grace in my soul. Only rot."

Before he can fully pull his hand free, however, there's a shout from the bridge of, “Get out of me, you fucking leech!”

He turns, hand still held captive in both of Dmitri's, to see Sen grasping his head with both hands, then doubling over and dry-heaving.

Sort of.

Something does come out of him, but to Faolan's eyes, it looks more like spiderwebs pulled away from Sen's form, the shapeless thing falling into the water below with barely a ripple. Sen rights himself and backs up a step, then points at the water. "You fucking parasite -"

A small waterspout begins to form, then shapes itself until a humanoid head barely breaks the water's surface, peering up with overlarge, oval eyes. Long strands of kelp-like hair float about it, and the whole of the being has an insubstantial, transparent quality. Jellyfish-like. Squid-like. Still, not quite like anything.

Nerys is running up with the two mudmen trotting behind him, and Faolan, perplexed enough to still be held by Dmitri, likewise approaches. (Assuming Rin is also near.) They all stare at the thing in the water and Sen snaps, "There. There's your 'Moloch'. Do you want to tell them, or should I?"

The thing in the water lifts itself up to reveal an almost human mouth, slightly too wide, with far too many teeth. It makes a noise like angry buzzing, but when it sinks again to eye-level, the sound takes on a different, watery quality - a deep-ocean hum.

Sen pulls a disgusted face. "'Pact'. I had a pact with a demon, not a fucking Vodyan-“

The buzzing grows louder and Sen blanches, then reaches down to pick up the nearest thing he can find - a broken bit of plank - and throws it at the thing in the water. The creature floats easily aside and watches the wood bob harmlessly away. "Fuck off with you and your 'game'."

Nerys appears to be the only one who can comprehend what's being said, so he quirks a brow at Sen. "You tried to lie to a demon about who you were? That's ironic."

"I was drunk and I was twenty!” Sen's indignation rises and he points at Nerys. "Stay out of this -"

Nerys is clearly restraining his laughter; he speaks over Sen, who begins shouting at the water entity again. "Your bard here tried to engage a demon into a pact by lying about his identity. Moloch thought it was a game and decided to give it a whirl."

"Its name is Mykola,” Sen interrupts, "And it's a parasitic little opportunist -"

"It's a vodyan," Nerys corrects. “Your vodyan. Names don't matter to it.

"Picked it up in Mysos like sailors' pox, did you? Serves you right."

[NAT, d: 24

dm: Dima recognizes the word 'vodyan' as a water entity that lives in the rivers and lakes of Morovsk, but has been known to travel up the canal to Mysos. The vodyan are related to the cecaelia in the way squid and octopus are related: similar but different. The vodyan are humanoid and have a lower body composed of tentacles, but are translucent like jellyfish.

He would know they are capable of "riding along" with a host; generally benign, but able to take control or resist being removed. They're not particularly harmful or malevolent, but they are considered pests.

The vodyan here, Mykola, appears to be a juvenile, or at least not yet at full sexual maturity, and therefore genderless.

Ah and. He would know that they make pacts in a very Desmond like manner. You don't break a deal with a vodyan or you both grow frail and slowly sicken. Unless it kills you, which this one doesn't appear to want to do.

note: Dima is giving Sen even MORE of a look right now. While continuing to clutch Faolan's wrist for dear life.

Note also, the vodyan is speaking a sort of Infernal. Which makes it comprehensible to Rin and Nerys. Sen is understanding it, if not the language.

q: does Dima have any sense of the typical lifespan of a vodyan?
a: This one is going to die in the not too distant future without a host; without its host specifically. But they can live several centuries in ideal circumstances.

Dima would as a wizard also know that a pact with a vodyan is probably very advantageous if Sen can keep the thing under control or come to some kind of agreement about body usage. But also he's probably never heard of a warlock pact with one. What he does know is that gillmen and cecaelia are envied for their aquatic abilities, and vodyan are kind of up there, too.

Not that it matters, but Dima also would know this is a particularly pretty one.]

<.>

Dima - wanting to addressing Faolan's words, how ill-fitting they are; feeling like finally, finally he's approaching a grasp on his own speech - doesn't precisely want to move from this moment, or give so much as a glance in Sen's direction. (Whatever's happening, the elf brought it on himself, and Dmitri doubts it needs immediate attention.) (Dmitri, after all, wants to mend a shattering he brought upon himself, and more importantly, brought onto Faolan.)

The thing is, Faolan is moving toward the bridge, and Dima has no intention of letting him slip away. So Dima moves, as well. Keeping step and Messaging Faolan, [ I don't believe that.

And if I did— I am no stranger to rot, and not liable to shy from its cover. ]

He means to add more, but their approach has brought them to the sight of Moloch, the supposed-infernal being who has risen from the water and looks very much like—

There's a hissed breath from Dima, an exasperated, "For shit's sake."

Leave it to Sen to enter a - so far as Dmitri knows, previously unheard of - warlock's pact with a vodyan. He listens to the conversation, looking from Sen to the vodyan, and thinking.

Thinking that it might not be the *worst* thing for Sen to entertain Mykola's presence.

Knowing that unless they find a loophole in the original pact, cutting the pact any longer bodes no good for Sen's continued health.

[q: would dmitri have any sense of what nerys means when he said 'names don't matter to it.' or more particularly, would he know anything about how vodyan engage with names and how much names do or don't mean in their pacts?
a: He would know Vodyan don't name one another; they abandon their young, so a name is just a current label used to indicate 'self’. If Sen said he was Seddum, he was still the entity who is right now calling himself ‘Sen’.]

Dima has a question - many questions - to pose here, but before he can speak, Rin's voice cuts in, speaking the strange (not entirely strange) buzz of Infernal.

Rin's crouched beside the water, eyes narrowed, tail flicking in a fit of pique as they study the creature who they were told and apparently Sen was told is Moloch, but who is also Mykola, and they don't fault having two names but they do fault hounding Sen and being opportunistic with him!

(Well. But also. They don't not see why it might've seemed like a game. It makes sense to Rin, even if they don't very much like the situation.)

[ What do you want with Sen, anyway? He's his own elf, and he's a very GOOD one at that! And what's so bad about the water? It seems like an all right place to live. ]

They think so, anyway, though it occurs to Rin now that they really don't know.

[ Also how'd you even hear him in the first place? You AREN'T a demon, are you? ]

<.>

Mykola floats backward a foot or so, its eyes fixing on Rin; a sad sound follows this movement and briefly, it vanishes below the water before surfacing again.

[ You ARE a demon. ]

The mournful little sound follows this proclamation; clearly, it thinks Rin is Sen's new patron. (Replacing it, of course.)

Sen looks lost: while he can understand Mykola, he can't understand Rin, and so he has no idea where that statement came from.

The vodyan swims nearer, its large, strange eyes reflecting Rin's face. [ We have a compact. Our game became a vow of magic. He must allow me and I must give my magic to him. There is no water for me without Seddum. ]

It lifts a webbed, clawed hand from the river and points at Sen. [ We die together, apart. Look and see. We die more with every tide. See how he diminishes. Breathes shallows.

Together, we are strong. I have Seddum and Seddum has magic. ]

Sen doesn't answer this, either, but neither does he meet Rin's eyes. Mykola suddenly whips a splash of water at him and buzzes accusingly.

[ Tell your demon, Seddum. Tell them you are killing us. ]

<.>

Rin would like to try to assess sen's health or/and whether Mykola is telling the truth pls.

[MED, r: 19
INS, r: 13

Mykola is exceptionally hard to read and they can't tell whether or not it's lying; they CAN see how Sen was misled into thinking it was a demon, particularly if he was drunk, because Mykola has the world's best poker face, apparently. (With its natural 20 against Rin's insight check.)

As for Sen - at a perfunctory glance, he looks okay. However, now that Rin knows what to look for, Sen definitely isn't well. Someone who's known him longer - like Dmitri - would be able to tell he's thinner, that his skin's not quite the right color, that he's not as hardy as he was when they first met.

Both he and Mykola look like they're not breathing the right mixture of air / water.

In other words - Sen needs to be in the water occasionally. Mykola needs to breathe air occasionally. They've both become amphibious thanks to their pact.]

Rin doesn't want to believe it. It'd be easy to tell themself that Sen just looks a little unwell because they've all just been fighting and things have been stressful and— Come to think of it, when was the last time Sen got any sleep? (Or, wait, aren't elves supposed to not really sleep? That's getting into too many steps and Rin's mind's going to wandering if they don't shove back on track and—) So looking not so okay would be understandable - and after all, Sen's so vibrant! how could he be... not... well? - and it's possible Mykola's playing another game, because Rin knows games within games can be fun for the one playing at them.

But it's hard not to be worried.

It's hard not to look at Sen with a puzzled expression, a look of growing distress, or to hear 'we die together, apart' over and over again, or to speak in a voice that sounds very lost, "Sen?

"Sen, is it true? Sen, do you know?”

Dmitri, meanwhile - still gripping Faolan's wrist - can't track a word of the Infernal discussion, but is beginning to understand a few things about why Sen's looked increasingly, if subtly, less well with every encounter. And Dima is in fact going to speak, voice even, curiously toneless—

"'Have,' not had.

"You have a pact with this vodyan.

"Sen. How have you been feeling."

<.>

Sen's non-response - a folding of arms and a look down at his feet against the wood of the bridge - is answer enough. What he does say, after an uncomfortable moment has passed, is a bitter, "Its fucking pact. I didn't choose it; I was young and too stupid to know better. It's an opportunistic, pestilent little -"

“Hey!” Faolan snaps suddenly, taking a step or two forward and finding himself still held tightly by Dmitri. It doesn't stop him from pointing an emphatic finger at Sen and continuing sharply, “It's young. Look at it. It's still a juvenile, Sen."

This appears to be something Sen didn't know and never considered - but then, Sen has no experience with vodyan, having never lived in Morovsk like Dmitri or Faolan. He looks at Mykola, seeming to see it for the first time.

Petulantly, Mykola buzzes, [ I am grown enough. I have seen four rivers now. ]

Sen's shoulders hunch inward a little; now, he nods and replies, "Yes. It's true. Yes, I know, though I didn't when I - escaped it."

Then, darting a chagrined glance at Faolan, he amends, "Abandoned it."

<.>

Silence, following Sen's emendation. Silence in which Rin looks at Sen, then at Mykola, worried for both, thinking it's a shitty situation and not able to tell whether there's a good answer. It's not really anyone's fault, as far as they can tell, but faultlessness doesn't seem likely to make anything better. (Rin also thinks Mykola's remark about four rivers is kind of funny, but they're not going to laugh right now.)

In the silence, Dima slips his hold from Faolan's wrist to Faolan's hand (or tries to, at least), where he resettles his firm hold; where he presses, briefly, with extra tightness, feeling the jaggedness in Sen's 'abandoned it,' feeling it can't have struck Faolan well. (Thinking Fae deserves and likely needs a rest, in body in mind in heart. It's been such a trying godsdamned day.)

Finally, Dmitri looks at Sen, and there might, might be just a little worry when he asks, "What precisely is the nature of your pact?"

And, "Pacts made among the vodyan are notoriously inviolable. And inevitably, inextricably linked to the health of all involved parties.

"It might be wise for the two of you to talk. About what you expect; about what you might want from an... Association. A partnership, if you will."

And, via Message, [ I expect you know your life depends upon it. ]

<.>

[withoutrhetoric]

Satisfied his words have taken root, Faolan eases only to find his wrist is no longer held captive. Dmitri's hand is palm to palm with his own, holding tight and thinking with a sharp ache in his chest that the firmness of this touch began with the word 'abandoned'.

An unspoken something he won't let himself read into. (You'll leave me somehow, he thinks - accusingly. Angrily. (With terror lining the thought's boundaries.)) He looks back at Dmitri and forgets he was thinking anything at all; his eyes sting with salt wetness.

He's tired. He's terribly tired and when he closes his eyes he knows he'll see that sword swinging down at Dmitri again and again, only a hundred yards from the docks where he called him My Dima and Dmitri called him My Fae. (How could everything go so quickly from perfect to nightmarish?)

He's tired and he wishes he'd never wandered into that clearing.

Dmitri is speaking to Sen, so he forces his focus that way. (But he doesn't withdraw his hand and feels craven for it.)

Sen, knowing well the things Dima says, if not the nuance, begins to bounce on the balls of his toes in agitation, then draws his hands up and back through his hair.

As the Message hits him, he retorts out loud, “Yes, I know my life depends on it."

He drops his hands and sighs. "I know."

Finally, he eases himself to the edge of the bridge, pulls off his boots, and lets his feet dangle in the water. Mykola swims nearer without hesitation and seems content to float close, one tentacle wrapping itself around Sen's calf. He watches it with a complicated expression, then looks up at Rin.

When he speaks again, it's low enough for only the tiefling and the vodyan to hear him. "Mykola, this is Rin. Rin, Mykola.

"If we're to talk, it will be the three of us. You see - "

He draws a breath and slumps forward, dangling his long forearms from his knees. "It's true: we die together, apart, you and I. But so it goes with Rin. I am their own, you see, in a way I am not yours -"

[ But mine another way. As it must be. Was promised. I was promised. ]

Forcing himself to be patient, reminding himself this is more youth than watery antagonist, Sen closes his eyes and breathes out slowly. "Yes. But I must be yours in a way that I am not theirs.

"If I am to keep both of my promises, you must agree to Rin."

[ You will die without them. ]

He hesitates, thinking he really hasn't known Rin well enough to start saying such things out loud. Clearing his throat and looking askance at them, he replies carefully, "I will wish it, because I would not wish for any life without them - which is very much the same. So, I suppose I would, yes. Little by little, without the life they bring."

Mykola stares, seeming to contemplate the tiefling; its tentacle winds and unwinds in a way reminiscent both of an octopus and, strangely, a child giving serious thought to a stranger.

[ You will die without them. We will die together, apart - from them. ] It speaks directly to Rin now. [ Stay together with us. ]

"Please," Sen corrects softly.

[ Why beg? If they wish it, there is no begging, and if they do not wish it, begging does not change them- ]

"Because courtesy matters. Just say 'please', for fuck's sake."

Bubbles break the water's surface as though the vodyan has blown out irritably, mirroring Sen's exasperation.

[ ’Please for fuck's sake.’ ]

<.>

Rin - wary, worried, and also just a little intrigued (Mykola doesn't seem like the worst not-demon, but also maybe it's messing with all of them, maybe Sen just doesn't want this, and it's all very tangled) - drops down cross-legged beside Sen, then cautiously, cautiously dips their tail into the water.

And, to Sen, "Is it okay with you?" Nodding toward Mykola, they then Message Sen, [ Does it hurt you? To be with them, however that means? ]

Out loud again, "I don't want to live without you, either." Which would be weird, if the thought didn't feel - if Sen didn't feel - right in a way no person or humanoid or place ever has. It isn't usual for Rin to want to stay around anyone, but that doesn't make any of this less fitting. Really, it only proves that they were right about everyone else being not worth time or trusting.

Flashing Sen a grin, blowing his a kiss, they add, "So I guess you're pretty much stuck with me."

Turning their focus to Mykola: "I'm not really a demon, by the way. Not much more than you are." And in Infernal, [ It's nice to share a language though. I don't run into a lot of people who know it, so mostly it's me talking to me, and that can get a little old. ]

A pause. A hum. And they look from the voydan to Sen, again, again. "Sen, I want you to be okay. And... Mykola, I don't really know you, but you seem all right, so I guess I don't want you getting hurt, either."

Again looking from one to the other, and back again, "How does it work? Do you share a body, or— I don't really know about any of this. Maybe these are rude questions to ask? I should be courteous, too; that's so." The nod, confirming this important fact! "Really, okay really, the point is if you two are okay with the... With this pact you have? It's okay with me.

"And in that case, I guess you're also stuck with me, Mykola."

And Rin's just going to blow Mykola a kiss now; much lighter, briefer than Sen's, more like a friendly greeting.

It doesn't not occur to Dmitri that the vodyan grasps Sen's ankle in much the same way he's gripping Faolan's hand.

He's not going to think about that. Whatever's occurring among Sen, Rin, and Mykola isn't his to touch just now. (Though it might be a relief, that Sen's at least willing to consider finding a way to accomodate the pact.)

What is his to touch is—

Well. Not Faolan's hand; that's a gift on Fae's part, that this contact's been permitted to remain.

Dmitri's purview is to manage the fracture he's caused, and as he and Faolan stand watching the scene at the water, he speaks softly, "The truth, Faolan, is that I feel for you what I have never felt for another."

Immediately, he shakes his head, huffs a breath; that wasn't as specific as it could have been. Fuck's sake, why is it so difficult to approach this man in words? He seeks Faolan's eyes, swallows, and: "What you are is astonishing; what you are stops my heart in its chest.

"What I mean is your being bathed in your own fire's light. Your hand wrapped in my own, or seeking mine out of your own volition. How your eyes reflect the stars; how your voice spilled reverberant across calm waters. How you allowed me— Welcomed me. To lie beside you, through til dawn.

"And Faolan. You may think yourself rotten; you may have been given infinite cause to wither. But your heart shines like no other. There is such tenderness in you— Twined, yes, with viciousness, equally to me taste." He attempts a crooked smile, nearly manages.

"There is no one and nothing like you, Faolan; this, I promise. And I should like to know your heart, and better offer you my own."

<.>

Mykola jerks backward from the kiss as though there might be something deadly about it. It sinks just below the water, its face distorted by the slow current as it stares unblinking at Rin. When nothing happens, it mimics the movement of lips, sending a bubble to break the water's surface.

Harmless.

Another of its tentacles finds Rin's tail and twines delicately, never taking any imposing hold.

After a while, Sen speaks again. "I'm not certain how it's meant to work. It needs a host, but it can exist on its own - obviously. I gather there's an element of protection in 'riding' - a symbiosis. Magic for me, safety and comfort for it. Experiences. It may feel what I feel, as well - we never really discussed it."

Raising his voice just a little to be certain the vodyan is listening, he continues, "The problem is boundaries, isn't it? It would take control of me while I slept, at first. Or while I was mid-fuck. Then it would steal entire days from me."

[ Borrowing. ]

"If you can't give them back, you aren't borrowing," he sighs, then leans shoulder-to-shoulder with Rin. "The other problem is it learned 'borrowing' from me - and lying. And gambling, as a matter of fact."

[ Cards-dice, ] Mykola bubbles, pleased to contribute to this recounting.

"Cards-dice. Yes, but you aren't very good at them, are you?" he replies without rancor. Mykola's response is another splash of water.

[ Played cards-dice as you play. ]

It's clear, despite Sen's grousing and the discomfort, the unpleasantness of the situation, there's a depth of relief for both himself and the vodyan - perhaps even dim fondness, relief at being together again.

"Broke and unable to recall entire weeks at a time? I puzzled out the culprit. It was joyriding, and that was not the deal, now was it?"

Mykola eyes Sen, then tilts itself back and summersaults slowly in the water.

"And this is generally how our conversations went. I talk, it -" He gestures to how the vodyan twists, seeming to chase its own tentacles. "I'm not sure whether it's ignoring me, but it seemed so, back then."

Sighing, he swings the foot being held by the tentacle and Mykola lets the movement carry it back and forth through the water. Bubbles float upward in bursts - laughter - and Sen smiles with something like nostalgia.

"But more to your question, Pretty Rin: yes, I would have to share. However, I think it's grasped the idea that even if it doesn't share with me, it will have to share with you. Which means it may only play cards-dice when I am aware, or when Rin is watching, yes?"

Mykola grasps Rin's tail and swings slowly between them, Sen's movements carrying it against the current, and the current carrying it back.

[ A sometimes-host for cards-dice, so it will be we three together? ]

"Ah. There was that." Sen snorts, then turns to look over his shoulder at Dima and Faolan. Turning back, he replies, "Perhaps if you ask Dima very nicely, he will find you a sometimes-host."

Looking to Rin, he mouths, Corpse.

<.>

"Oh, no." Words spoken below their breath as Sen talks about losing time. That is a serious problem, and the look Rin's giving Mykola says they really don't approve. Maybe Mykola didn't understand, but still, it can't have been okay for Sen, and Rin scoots closer to him, winding an arm around his waist. And softly, gently they sway their tail in the water, a way of showing Mykola that even if Rin doesn't look entirely happy about that 'borrowing,' it's all right for the vodyan to touch their tail like that.

They do like the idea of playing cards or dice or cards-dice all together sometime; that could be fun, right? But there's the other thing to address first—

"Mykola, you can't just borrow bodies like that, not even with pacts. It's really not fair, because— Okay, do you know dibs?" They do not wait to hear whether Mykola knows dibs; Rin is too focused on getting their point across right now. "Well, whoever's in the body in the first place has dibs, and you have to ask if you can join them. Like asking 'please for fuck's sake' and if they say yes, then you can hang around, and if they say no, you have to be okay with that.

"I'd like very much to play cards-dice, all three of us. There are all kinds of games we can play, and maybe we can all go for a swim, though I don't love water all the time, and— Did Sen teach you about pickpocketing?" They shake their head, give their tail a little flick, just at its end, so they don't shake off Mykola. "Pickpocketing's very different than taking over bodies. We need our bodies to live, right?

"I want all of us to play cards, but you have to promise not to borrow or get into Sen's body without his permission. You'll probably have more fun anyway if Sen's in on it with you.

"Besides, Sen needs to be able to remember things, because I never do, and none of us'll get anywhere if nobody remembers." Yes, that is a very good point they've made, and Rin nods emphatically.

<.>

Of all the things Rin says, the only thing that causes Mykola to still is this last: Sen needs to remember things.

Its hold tightens on tail and calf, not to cause harm, but to keep itself steady in the water so it can regard Rin very seriously. Abruptly, it releases them both and dives, vanishing into the murk of the water. A rippling trail evidences where it's gone: in a circle around them, under the bridge and back again.

"It's thinking," Sen comments approvingly. He looks down at Rin with an appreciative smile and thinks maybe if they'd been around all along, they might have been able to translate his sense to Mykola's...nonsense, really. Or at least simplify things he tried to overexplain to the vodyan, thus likely causing it to be inattentive.

He presses a kiss to one of their horns and, while Mykola continues its circuitous pondering, whispers, "You are stuck with me, as well. As long as you'll allow."

These words come punctuated by the wet return of tentacles; Mykola's eyes break the surface and it waits until both elf and tiefling are looking at it again.

[ No dibs. So Sen-Seddum may remember. ]

Sen hums as if to say, well, would you look at that, but the vodyan tugs. There's a 'but' coming.

[ Allow me. Dibs for you, allow for me, remember for Rin, and we live together, together. Apart only sometimes. We weaken together, apart, Seddum. ]

Sen considers this grimly; in the back of his mind, he wonders if maybe as Mykola ages, it will be able to remain outside his body for prolonged periods of time. If not, well. Any life is better than none at all.

"We'll discuss it again. How long and when you may have a turn at the reins. We agree only that right now, we are sick. Right now, we need to share."

[ You promised - ]

"I promised no specifics. You promised none. We need to deal better.”

[ …Unhappy with this, Seddum. ]

"Brilliant. Then you've learned to compromise."

Mykola's answer is another splash of water.

<.>

"Dibs, allow, remember," Rin muses, leaning their head against Sen's arm and nodding. "That seems all right to me." It's something, anyway, and Sen seems to think it's an acceptable something, and maybe all Sen and Mykola need is a way to start learning how existing together can working. And aloud, more like thinking out loud than making a precise point, "It's hard enough working out how to live in one body, so it takes time to figure out two, and sometimes sharing. That makes sense."

Against Sen's arm, they nuzzle a little bit, thinking how, really, how really nice it was to hear Sen say they're stuck with him, also. How that felt right. And how it's also kind of nice, just sitting on this bridge with Mykola holding on to both of them, then swimming around, then peering over the water jussst so.

Messaging Sen: [ Oh, I'll allow forever. I am VERY certain of you, you see. ] And there's a nudge of their horns against Sen's arm; there's a happy little grin.

Then speaking more directly to Mykola and Sen: "There's probably ways to make it happier for both of you. Between the three of us, I just bet we'll figure something out. Probably a lot of something."

And a thought, a cant of their head. "Mykola, where do you go when you're not sharing with Sen? Is there something we can get for you to make it easier? Like a way of travel or something, so you can be around with us even when it's not time for sharing?"

<.>

[withoutrhetoric]

It's strange; despite this unanticipated reunion with his, hah, outer demon, Sen feels content. He has Rin nuzzling him, and he leans his cheek against their horns, a perfect fit; he has Mykola in gentle contact: not a familiar, not a child, not a lover, but something else that has no real name, but shares a bond just as deep.

He has everything here that he could ask, including the possibility of finding a way to make it all work out right in the end, even if it's rocky along the way.

(He hadn't acknowledged how its absence was a hole within him. He hadn't wanted to think about it.) (Rin would leave a larger, more devastating hole. But Rin is so much more than he ever could have imagined, just as Mykola is, so much more than he bargained for.)

He winds his arm around Rin and Messages, [ Forever it is, then. ]

Mykola, meanwhile, responds to their question with a sloshing of water. Sen feels - it. The buzzing sensation in its translucent form like electrical currents, the sense of having spoken too much of such serious matters and the frustration that comes of just wanting to play.

Some things don't change.

He answers for it. "It can be in water alone - a tidepool, a pond. Somewhere it won't be preyed upon. Somewhere with space, though. Otherwise, we, ah, 'borrowed' some 'sometimes-hosts' for it. Those don't last long."

[ Water-rot. ]

"Water-rot." He nods and Mykola bobs in the water, seeming to nod, itself. "They bloated. Or, as with the flesh golems it seems to have inhabited here, developed mold. I suppose with time, I could sort out how to make something like Faolan's wolf -"

A protesting screech from the water and Sen reaches down a hand automatically, soothingly; Mykola grasps on and holds with several tentacles and one of its own hands, its face distraught.

"A water body, not fire."

[ Not fire. ]

"Not fire. I promise you, no fire." Cautiously, the vodyan releases him and slides back down into the water.

[ Promise Rin to remember. ]

Sen laughs his exasperation, then solemnly turns to Rin. "Rin, my darling not-demon, I promise to remember not to use fire to contain Mykola."

The vodyan stares up at Rin as if to say, We all heard it. In a buzzing whisper, it says again, [ Not fire. ]

<.>

Forever. Yes, that's very, very nice, and Rin nestles into Sen's embrace, still smiling; really, there isn't any reason not to smile, when Sen seems to be feeling better about all of this, and Mykola seems maybe okay with all three of them staying together. It could be nice—

It is and will be nice. Rin's certain of it, and they take Sen's hand, place a kiss upon it. A kiss to seal forever; yes, that feels right to them.

Nodding very seriously to Sen, to Mykola, they repeat, "Not fire.

"I'll keep all the fire for me, and make sure it never touches you. We'll both make sure: Not fire."

Then, flicking their tail to splash a little water at Mykola, grinning, laughing light, "Lots of water, though. There'll be a lot of water for you, and no rot, and never fire.

"It could be a lot of fun, having a water body to run around in. Something that's all for you, but made by Sen, so you'll always feel him there with you, and you can run around with us even if it's not time for allowing or sharing."

<.>

[onefellswoop]

After allowing Dmitri time to speak, Faolan feels - unsettled. He knows he ought to either reject the words as falsehoods or accept them, relish them, be joyful in what's been said to him.

But he feels so cold, as though he walked a middle road between two extremes, and rather than drawing him into warmth, Dmitri simply joined him.

There's quietude, yes, and promise of peace, and there's gentleness, and those are all very fine things. But there's no fire. Dmitri is persistent, but Faolan thinks of the fury around him as he marched toward Visento and crafted a blade made from words. Where's that fervor? Why was Visento worth Dmitri's fire, but not Faolan?

He talks of wanting.

He thinks, whatever Dmitri wants from him, it isn't what Faolan is.

(He doesn't talk of incineration, of passage through flames together, because that's what Faolan wants. That's what he's always wanted: everything, even if it combusts. Even if the conflagration is destructive.) (Maybe that's what kept getting him in trouble. Maybe it didn't exist.) (Maybe he's not worth it.)

(He's not worth living for; why would he be worth burning for?)

After a moment of indecision, he draws Dmitri away, towards the ruins of the temple where they won't be heard. When he's certain they're distant enough to count it as privacy, he speaks. "I haven't been clear with you. Maybe I was wrong to allow a month to prove anything to me. I thought -"

He sighs, bowing his head briefly before pressing on, "I've had enough, don't you understand that? I've burned so brightly for so long, for so many who gave only dim light in return. I can't now. All these things you want from me -"

"You want a tender, quiet place in my heart? I'm not tender, Dima. I am tired. I am used up to emptiness. I decided to take the ruins of myself away from the people who discarded me; you're asking me to change my mind so you can claim the ashes.

"Do you know what I see in you right now?"

There's a note of pain in his voice, a distant cry for more, but it's weak. "I see a man who would rather die on a stranger's sword than live for me. Someone who takes his fire and stops a monster in its tracks with words alone, but tells me he wants this broken rot of myself -"

With a huff, he shrugs imploringly.

"I don't - want that. I don't want to be tenderly, quietly loved, Dima. You want to trade heart for heart. Do you want the coldness I am now, or the truth of it, when it burns, when I'm joyful and alive? And why - why - must I be the one to settle for what others offer? Why must I make the sacrifices and take the risks? Why must I burn and lose everything over and over, and be met only with cold?"

He knows he's bleeding poison from some wound that Dima didn't inflict alone (only prodded), but he sets his jaw and though his vision blurs wet, he goes on, "Do you know what I want? I want you to risk everything for me. Live for me. Breathe for me. Give up everything you have and follow me across the world. Stand at my side and claim me as your own in front of everyone who knows the name you gave up just to have me.

"Tell me I'm worth all of that - because that's what I would have done. That's what I would have given if I found a heart that burned as bright as mine."

He falters, then softly - tiredly - says, "I may not be worth any of it, but I won't take less anymore."

<.>

He hears, feels his own pulse pounding in his ears, and feels the fall of Faolan’s every word. (He’s approached this all wrong. He’s been too cautious, calculated using all of the wrong quantities.) (He sees that, now. He needn’t keep following this path— And isn’t that freeing, in a way all its own?)

Liviana’s fluttered to a nearby column, not out of earshot (she'd never be out of Dmitri's knowing, regardless), but far enough for some semblance of privacy. And Dima’s eyes are fixed on Faolan, a mingling of regret and hopefulness, of gratitude and red-sparked wanting. When Dmitri speaks, there’s little caution in his voice now. Yes, he jars upon his words from time to time, but there’s no loss of assuredness as he continues; no loss of ardor. He only speaks; lets himself speak more freely, with less guarding.

“Of course I want your fire.

“Faolan— You are flame in human form; a divinity, peerless elision of devastative potential and living soul. I should think—

“No. I ought to have said what I’ve known: That to desire you is to want your fury, your wildness, just as well as what is tender in you.”

A cant of his head, an emendatory hum. “If I have been mistaken in estimation of some tenderness, I beg your forgiveness. But I believe you can be both: The brilliant ferocity of a wildfire, and the sustaining glow of burning light.

“Do you think, Fae, that I could long for anyone or anything that would remain veiled in hush, or lacking fangs, lacking hazard?

“When we met, I watched as you bloomed fire in your hand, ready for attack, and I could fathom nothing else beside you.

“Today, when you snapped a bastard’s neck, I watched heart-stammered, hungry. You sang your sword to burning, and I felt the scramble all around us fade. I saw only you— So often, I see only you, and feel no need for any other image, any other world.

“When I say I see you in firelight, my Faolan, I mean I know you share its heart.

“I mean I want you in your fervor; that I will adore you, require you when you roar combustive, as well as when your burn tends subtler, wraps soft around our hands.

“I won’t ask you to forgive my negligence in speaking only of what’s gentle. I have—“ There’s a sharp exhale, a sign of Dmitri’s frustration with himself, and he shakes his head. “I know you’ve endured viciousness, endured daggered words beyond reason.

“I feared that I might wound you.

“I am accustomed to my furies, to the damage I can wreck with words. With expression of my vehemence. I know how to speak with beings like Visento; creatures I set myself opposed to; those I mean to lacerate and render ruined.

“I don’t know the languages of love. Or I’ve had no cause to turn my words toward anything apart from damage and manipulation.

“And I can be overwhelming. In my full force, I can be vicious, demanding. A work of violence and terror.

“I believed— I ought to have asked. I ought to have trusted what I saw in you, but I wanted to take care with you, to take care of you. And I believed that with anything ungentle, I might ward you off.

“There is little in existence that scares me, Faolan, but to think that you might vanish, or that I might drive you away— It terrifies me.

“What I meant to say earlier, is that I don’t want to lose you. I can’t withstand the thought.

“I want you with me always; I want to be beside you always. I’d like to take you to Morovskgorod— If you can stand to reenter the city, with your hand in my own, your step always at my side. If you cannot, then the whole place can damn itself. There is far more to the world than Morovsk. There is— I believe there is all the world beside you, wherever we might go.”

There’s a small hum, a thought, and Dima shakes his head slightly. (Realizes as he does that his hand's found its way to Faolan's chest, settling, pressing, remaining.) “Some other time, perhaps, I’ll show you what rot means to me. It isn’t an ending, Faolan; it isn’t hopeless. What waits beneath rot is combustive. Is beautiful, when coaxed to show itself; when permitted once again to be.

“I tell you this now, so you might know that when I speak of rot, I speak as well of resurrection.

“And you, my Fae—

“There is so much life in you. So much wrath, waiting only for its call.

“There are worlds in you, cries in you I long to see.

“Sear me, Faolan; I welcome the agony, and will rejoice upon it.

“Walk with me, hand-in-hand, step for step wherever we may go. Know my voice in every corner of the world; let me hear your own, forever at my ear.

“Let all who pass by witness us, and know that I adore you. Let them know I’d tear their throats for you, gladly, in an instant.

“Let me stand with you in flame, and give you fuel for burning.

“Let me be yours.”

<.>

[onefellswoop]

Dima speaks and with each sentence, steps forward until Faolan has no choice but to back up, back up, until he meets solidity.

He speaks and Faolan sees him burning with shadows, shades that writhe about him and threaten to lash forward.

Faolan sees visions of cities fallen to dust, their destruction marks of Dmitri's passage.

He's barely breathing because the space between his heart and lungs feels compressed. Because he smells smoke and charred bodies. Because the man before him wouldn't only live for him, but die and return in perfect infinitude; he would kill and raise armies from the bones of Faolan's enemies.

(He sees a god in ascension or a man rising toward his own fall, toward corruption, and beckoning Faolan to walk in step with him no matter the outcome.)

He isn't barely breathing. He hears sharp breaths, shuddering, smiled, baffled (Where have you been all this time -) , and the problem isn't breathing. The problem is he's been suffocating all his life. The problem is, there was never anyone who could walk him back into a wall and hold him pinned there with a hand tented against his chest.

He's dizzy, but that isn't a problem at all.

There's fire pouring molten through him, rushing in his veins and burning his cheeks, agonizing him with need.

(Dmitri called him 'my Faolan'' and then 'my Fae' and he thinks he meant to nod or say something, but he got lost in consuming, burning blue, he started thinking that it wouldn't matter what Dmitri might say or do hand-in-hand with him in Morovsk because there's no one else. Dmitri sees him, wants him, wants to belong to him, and giving up everything isn't a sacrifice at all because the only 'everything' is Faolan.)

He believes every word not because of the conviction behind them, but because it's dangerous not to believe. Because he's pressed against a wall and feels unearthed, long-banked fires flaring to life. Because Dmitri speaks softly and the world burns.

This isn't tentative imploring. He doesn't ask to claim Faolan. He doesn't request to belong, in turn. He takes and gives, speaks the world, shapes it to his truth.

Shapes Faolan's place beside him.

It's terrifying. The thrill of that terror squirms in his stomach and sends static down his arms and thighs. Without the hand pinning him, he might fall weak-kneed to the ground.

Whatever condemnation he braced himself to unleash, he forgets it now; all he can manage when he parts his lips is an unsteady, “Oh.”

Oh, he sees.

Oh, he didn't understand, but now all is clear.

Oh, was this there all along?

Oh, Dima. (My Dima, yes, that too, and it's worth everything because Dima could be everything.)

"My Dima."

His words become a delighted smile around his lower lip, caught between his teeth as though he can taste the last two syllables. As though he can keep 'Dima' on his tongue.

<.>

He would raze the world for that smile. Gladly. He could (will?!) live upon that smile.

And on the unsteadiness of Faolan’s breath, the catch of a lip between (perfect) (oh, how they could sink into his skin) teeth. That breath of an ‘oh,’ and though Dima holds himself straight-backed and steady, he knows the cascading shiver in his heart, knows fire turning bright and brighter in his veins.

He didn’t know a god could speak love; he didn’t know he could be both— Himself in riotous, continual ascension, and himself in this new love. Didn’t know that anyone could wish his uproar, or that he might inspire, might encourage someone’s own. He didn’t need to curb his speech, and though care is needed - oh, Faolan should have, will have Dmitri’s attentiveness just as well as his mad-swirling tempest - there was no need to contain himself to quiet, to caution. (He ought to have trusted Faolan to welcome wildness.) (Dmitri knows now, and he’s lucky - or it’s a grace of fate - that he’s found a fire to meet his own.)

They could burn together; burn the world together, and remake what stands around them. Turn ruin into rapture; turn what’s broken into something more than whole.

One hand holds yet against Faolan’s chest, tented upon his heart; the other moves to Fae’s cheek, a tender settling, an unyielding hold. His fingertip brushing precisely, precisely, a promise of collision and vicious care.

And Dmitri speaks, leaning inward, chin tilting up, his smile a sharp, omnific thing. (Omnific because he knows now he can love this man in his own wholeness, can give him all.) (Omnific because his Faolan said ‘’My Dima,’ as if the words held all the world.)

“Yes. Your Dima.”

His smile turns sly, crooked; his palm shifts to cup Fae’s cheek, and his thumb brushes the curve of Faolan’s lip. “Say it again for me, won’t you?

“Speak my name, and call me yours.”

And, lingering upon the name, tasting the draw of every syllable and speaking this luxuriating pleasure as an offering to Fae—

“Faolan.

“Fae.

“My own; there’s no mistaking.

“Place your hand on my heart. Settle your palm to my chest, and feel it—“

A caught breath as Faolan’s hand takes its place; a pleased flash of teeth from Dima, and a toss of his hair.

“Yes. There. Well done; that's very good

“Feel the staggered racing of my heart. The rush of blood rejoicing.

“Feel what you do to me, my Fae. Who eases and rouses me in equal measure. Who holds the whole span of existence, of its wild span of feelings, in his soul.

“No more hiding, Faolan; if what I am won’t wound you, then your Dima won’t shy from sharing with you everything I am.”

At Faolan’s cheek, his hand tents once again, to brush with fingers, to know the warmth of Fae’s skin. “Show me your fury, my Fae; let me always knows your smile, and know your burn upon my skin.”

And Dima leans upward, leans in to kiss this man.

<.>

Someone calls for Dmitri. Faolan hears it distantly, but the beating of Dima's heart under his hand is so much more than anything the world's ever offered him.

He talked of love. He didn't say the words, but he spoke of it, of loving, and of 'yours' and 'mine', and everything starving inside of Faolan wants it to be true. What would life be like to walk the world beside Dmitri, to belong to one another? (What would it be like to live together with Rose and Thorn, with the wolf and Liviana, and be called 'Fae'? Somewhere and some time far away from Faolan Rhys and all the beds he's known, where 'Fae' only knows the bed he shares with Dima?)

(In Morovsk?)

(Wherever they want. Wherever they choose and please.)

(Dima would shun Morovsk, but what about Dmitri?)

He leans into Dima's touch, his own free hand echoing the caress, each of them touching heart and heart and cheek and cheek. The brush of Dima's thumb along his lip draws a sigh from him, shuddering with relief and want and the words my Dima.

(Dmitri Voronin.)

(Maybe also his?)

Someone calls again, shouting both of their names joined together, and it's beautiful to his ears. Dima and Fae, known to be together and off somewhere, alone.

Dima knows the depths of him. The aching places in his soul where fires turned to embers. Dima knows how to resurrect, how to control fire, how to reach inside Faolan and not only ignite, but incinerate, and all it'll take is a kiss. (Existence could end and begin anew on a kiss; he won't be Faolan Rhys ever again.)

It almost comes.

But several someones are shouting now and Faolan realizes there's a risk here. (There are...a lot of risks here.) That possible first kiss might be interrupted; that's the immediate hazard. He stops Dima with a gentle thumb against his lower lip and a melancholy little frown. A tilt of his head indicates someone's approaching.

His hand presses against Dima's heart as though Faolan means to remind himself of how wildly it beat.

He feels as though the fires that sprung to life a moment ago are burning lower again, making room for all the chaos around them, the unfinished tasks, the worries. (The reason and rationality.) In a tired, low voice, he says, "Another time and place. Not today, not standing so close to where I saw a sword swing down on you. Not with so much left undone."

Faolan pauses, then smiles ruefully. "Not with Sen shouting his head off."

A brush of his fingertips learns the angle of Dmitri's cheekbone, of his jaw. "Take time to think about it, not just as a wish. Think of it knowing who I am and what I'm saying now.

"You'll be my last - oh, Dima, I'll put all my faith in you. I won't survive you if you turn on me," Faolan warns, his eyes imploring, pleading for something more than understanding. He closes the space left by an unshared kiss and brushes cheek to cheek, speaking low - lover's tones - in Dima's ear, "You won't survive me, either. If I'm yours, I'm either your last and only - or I'm your end."

He draws back with a warming smile just as Sen rounds the corner and calls back across the ruins, "They're over here!"

<.>

It almost, almost happened.

(Sen, your fucking timing.)

But suspension isn't an end, and kiss or no, what's happened between Dmitri and Faolan writes itself momentous into time, into the core of Dima's bones, his racing blood. It's already more than he could have thought to ask (it's worlds, rejuvenating and revelatory) (the chance to have, the truth of possibility in someday having both godhood and this man; to walk the path of divinity, of devastation with this man) (gods, it's delicious) (gods, he aches to linger here, sing fire here with Fae), and Dmitri's existence will be something new from this day forth.

Ah, but; ah, and: His existence was altered in the light of a campfire, the lifting of an unknown (awaited) face and honeyed eyes, the spark of fire at a not-quite-stranger's palm.

He tilts his head into the brush of Faolan's touch; feels that touch again, again in echoed knowing. And though he knows what he wants, though he feels no need to take his time, he also knows there needn't be a rush: They've written their fate together here, today. And Faolan's words—

O h. Faolan's profession (his plea, and Dmitri wants to tear out the lungs of every man who gave Fae cause for wariness), his offering of vulnerability, and then his not-only-a-threat, a vow spoken soft, like velvet, tingled and caressing through Dima's soul. (Ah, Fae. Vicious, astonishing man. The fire burning at the forest's heart.)

There's coiled exhilaration at those words, a pinprick networking of breathless fear and ice-hot shivers in his chest, at the base of his spine. Because this man could kill him; this man would, were Dima to bring him to betrayal. It won't happen; Dmitri's certain of himself in this regard. But gods, it's a beautiful sight, the way Faolan brings death to living bodies. It's enthralling, electric, to think just how he would usher Dima to a violent end.

(It's a fantasy. It isn't what Dima wants, not when he desires the alternative with such fervor, such— Such love.

And anyway. Oh, anyway, he's certain Faolan could, will carry him through rush and wildness without needed to reach an end.)

There's a soft-huffed breath from Dima, a nudge of his nose to Fae's cheek before the man can draw away. And speaking low, between them, he speaks: "I understand your meaning perfectly, my Fae— And I would expect no less.

"Be my life's match or be my ruin.

"Though really, there's only one answer. I know what I mean to do with you—" There's a little smirk, a punctuated brush of his thumb down Fae's arm. "—What I mean to do for you, and at your side.

"I'll have that kiss, Fae. And you will have my own.

"You'll see, my Fae. I'll show you."

And Dima lingers in gazing upon Faolan, reluctant to rescind his sight or touch, unwilling yet to let the sight of others enter in.

<.>

[onefellswoop]

The party regroups to examine the corpses and note that the girls aren't here, as Visento said. The trail is cold, the only hopeful clue to Manon's whereabouts being Calabra's presence in Loch Bien for the centennial.

There isn't much more to be done today; the night ahead is needed for rest and, if they wish, some time spent at the Nightmare Market before they continue north.

Nerys shows the group to a circle of caravans, their interiors containing coffins which, Nerys explains, are no longer occupied. It's a place to have their long rest, safe under the wards and protections used by the undead.

Faolan chooses to string up some canvas as a hammock outside the caravans. Sen is perfectly happy to enter his trance in one of the wagons.

When the party wakes, they find Nerys has sent for their things from the inn, and these each are carefully packed and waiting. Likewise, they find the NIghtmare Market is in full swing; Nerys has left a promissory note for Dmitri for his rewards for finding 'Seddum', as well as a sealed scroll with a new contract.

Faolan's suggestion is that they start making their way towards Loch Bien at first light; the sooner they catch up with Calabra, the sooner they can find Manon.

Sen's suggestion is they avoid Payl's shop until they have some good news they can deliver.

<.>

Dima would be eager to look over the items gathered from the major shitheads of the fight, at least to give them a quick check for magic.

[q: is this a thing he can do before zzz, or better to wait until after?
a: He can spend one hour studying specific items to learn their properties, or he can cast Identify if he has it. And he can identify that something IS magic with an arcana check

dm: Sen traces for four hours and could potentially just. Study everything and let him know in the morning. (Note: Sen's trances look suspiciously like being a passed out teenager.) ]

…Dima will begrudgingly. Go to Sen. And request that he examine everything overnight. :/

<.>

Sen examines his nails. "What did you call me?"

<.>

Rin, ps, is sleeping curled up very nearby with Curio.

Dima: "You'll need to be a bit more specific. Certainly nothing you didn't earn.”

Dima is already becoming impatient.

<.>

Sen raises an eyebrow, then stretches and yawns goodness he is so tired maybe he should sleep, after all.

<.>

Dima taking a deep breath.

Letting it out slowly.

"Sen. This will be to your benefit, as well.

"If there's no information to be gleaned from these items, there might at least be gold in them."

<.>

Sen pretends to consider this, then shrugs and smiles. "There might be. I suppose we'll never know, wuh -"

He seems to lurch forward a little, then speaks in the same halting manner as the flesh golem Mykola inhabited previously. "We will help. You help us. A return tide.

"A favor. Kept in our pocket."

And then, with another lurch, he hisses, "Dibs, for fuck's sake. Dibs!"

<.>

Rin, from the depths of sleep, mutters "Dibs!"

Dmitri just stares, blinks. "I would like very much to know who I'm dealing with at any point in time.

"I don't particularly see the use in signing over an unspecified favor for this particular task, nor do I comprehend the cause for your reluctance, save your usual recalcitrance."

He shakes his head, rubs at his temple. "You may keep whatever gold you salvaged from the ruins; is that enough for the time being?"

[q: how much time iS there between Nerys showing them to the caravans and next morning's first light?
a: probably a good 12 hours or so. Enough time to long rest, do whatever trade they need at the more mundane Market shops, have a meal]

Dima is running the calculations on how much time he can spare for examining these items, and realizing he is not likely to be able to manage more than maybe one. Which. He is not pleased with.

So after a moment, he'll offer 100gp for examination of the lot.

<.>

Sen considers this, weighs it against the likelihood that Dima will take back the name calling, and accepts.

And - "Mykola wants the die."

<.>

Dmitri looking very, very confused for a moment, and then, with a wave of his hand, "If we can find no use for it, Mykola can have the damned thing.

"Now if you'll excuse me, some of us do require sleep."

And, as he turns to leave, "Thank you, Sen."

He thinks it was very good of him to noT add 'you shithead.'

And Dima will at this point go get his own sleep in another caravan, 100% hanging out in a coffin.

<.>

[loot review!
light crossbow: +1 (goes to rin)
key: Sen determines that the key does something, but he can't figure out what. It appears to be a skeleton key, but it fails to unlock anything he attempts it on. Whenever Rin would like to attempt to use it, there will be a die check. (goes to rin)
die: The die is, Sen discovers, loaded. He (or Mykola) can control which number it lands on. (goes to sen)
stone: The ruby is a Ruby of the War Mage. (goes to sen, after fae decides he has no use for it)
potions: two potions of healing
ring: it’s just a ring.

There was also 54gp so Dima owes Sen and Rin 46 gp.]

<.>

Dima will hand it over there u go.

<.>

Fae teasingly holds out a hand since Dima's handing out money.

<.>

Dima absolutely looking at Fae with a lip-bite smile. And puts his hand in Fae's.

<.>

Fae to Sen: “Ooo I got the better deal.” And pulls Dima into his lap.

<.>

Dima wraps his arms around Faolan's shoulders. "And I am the most fortunate of all."

Now that the gold has been handed over, Dima will also ask if Sen minds terriblY if he takes the crossbow. Since there are plenty of others weapons and yoU have that lovely die.

<.>

Sen shrugs and says it's up to Rin.

<.>

Rin is very busy studying their key. "Pardon, what?"

They think, they put the pieces together, and, "The thing is. I'll get more use out of it. Is the thing." Rin has decided they woulD in fact like the crossbow. "And anyway you can buY one."

To Sen: [ Moneybags. ]

Dima is entirely too pleased to be sitting on Fae's lap to continue with this.

So. He will concede: Rin gets it.

<.>

Fae watching all of this with a baffled expression. "Maybe you can switch off."

<.>

Rin looks Not So Sure about this... But it doesn't hurt to be open to the idea, and anyway they might forget and that'd probably make the whole deal void so! They nod. "Okay."

Dima offers a half-shrug, and determines to search out a crossbow of his own, because it woulD be useful.

[note: on waking, dima examined the new contract scroll from nerys.
dm: And the scroll is a request to find an item last seen near Loch Bien; seeing as the party was heading that way, Nerys thinks Dmitri could just. Work that in.
The 'item' is a dagger someone rather rudely crafted from a guard's humerus.
The guard is sick of the jokes.
q: does the contract say who the guard in question is?
a: It does nOT. However, Nerys has provided the radius bone that connects, with instructions that it will help them find the dagger. He did not explain how.

note also: nerys did pay out the gold for the completion of the first contract, and dima gives 100gp of the reward each to Fae, Sen, and Rin.]

Dima will acknowledge Sen's earlier suggestion to not speak with Gower until they have good news, but wonders out loud whether it might be worth asking Gower what Calabra or Calabra's fuckhead friends might know or have asked about his daughter and sister.

<.>

Faolan suggests sending Nerys to ask him. It'll be less loaded and Payl needn't know they're there.

[note: Dima and Rin say yes to this.]

<.>

[note: also a thing: Before they left the ruins, Dima would have suggested burning the remainder of Calabra's close cronies, cutting them up if time allowed (which tbh idk that it would and everyone waS tire), and dumping them in the river. Did not want those bodies easily accessible.

Mykola has Issues with dumping them in the river; therefore, so does Sen. But hey. Fae and Dima can burn them, nbd.

VERY nice bonding activity!]

Well with thaT.

Dima would like to find Nerys and see about asking him to speak with Gower. And Dima would like to invite Faolan to accompany him and Liviana through the Market.

<.>

Nerys agrees to speak with Gower to find out what he can, but makes no promises.

Faolan of COURSE goes along, keeps looking at Dima as though he's not quite real, and holds on tightly to his hand.

<.>

Nerys your effort is appreciated.

Dima holding equally tight to Fae's hand, smiling over at him; often with the warm and just a little daft smile; sometimes with that hint of sharpness, hint of teeth and Knowing.

Rin is going to tell Sen and Mykola they should find the friend golem who fought with them and see how said golem is doing!

<.>

They'll find the golem in the fighting pits, its arm reattached. It flips the bird at them as a greeting right before another golem slams bodily into it.

Is there anything specific Dima would like to look for in the market, things that might have caught his eye or that would catch his eye now?

<.>

Rin flips the bird right back before shouting "It's RUDE to interrupt a greeting like that!!"

And Dima! Is on the lookout for other sparkly things that Liv might take a shine to, and writing in Deep Speech or Abyssal, or anything made of particularly odd-looking bone. While keeping far out of sight of Gower's mirror world ofc ofc.

<.>

Fae, hearing he's looking for a sparkly thing for Liv, produces the ring that was taken from Visento; the stone is a tourmaline, refined to a high shine. It would be easy, he says, to pop the stone out so she can keep it however she likes.

<.>

Liv flutters her wings and 'toks' and very pleased 'tok,' and will in fact hop over to Faolan's shoulder for a minute or two in a show of approval! And will in fact also send Fae a telepathic image composed of a sky full of shining stars, all of them the blue of the tourmaline.

She keeps happily rustling her feathers.

<.>

Fae looks quite pleased with himself and Liv's reaction; he assures her quietly that he'll find someone here to do it, or a clever enough jeweler who won't harm the stone in removing it.

<.>

He gets a little nudge from Liv's beak.

And Dima is looking at him with absolute admiration. Dima is in fact also very happy.

<.>

[onefellswoop]

As for the rest of the shopping: there's a shop that deals exclusively in oddities like books from the Abyssal Plain. An odds and ends merchant has two books in Deep Speech that he claims came from uncharted reaches of the Underdark. A lot of merchants sell bones. A. Lot.

<.>

Dima would like to take a look at the books in Deep Speech and try to determine whether they're genuine and potentially of interest. And ask the shopkeep how he came into possession of them.

<.>

One of the books appears to be a naturalist's guide to the Underdark. The other is, apparently, a book of Dwarven poetry.

The shopkeeper just stares at Dima. This is probably an impolite question, as "came into possession" usually involves an untimely end.

<.>

Dima begs the shopkeeper's forgiveness, and says he appreciates the chance to have encountered these books and will keep them very much in mind.

He will aLso, though, head to the shop of oddities and look at the books for the Abyssal Plain, suggesting that Faolan see whether there's anything that catches his interest around the shop.

<.>

Faolan lingers behind a moment or two, eyeing the naturalist's guide.

<.>

Liviana is going to stay with Fae for now, which makes Dima a little less reluctant to move on to the books.

<.>

Fae KNEW he'd kept something from the Durst house: after a moment of searching, he produces the iron pendant with the devil's face that Rin didn't want. The shopkeeper examines it thoughtfully, then makes the trade for the book.

Fae trots back over to Dima and holds it out. "You'll be around long enough, won't you? To read this to me?"

He doesn't speak Deep Speech.

<.>

Dima touches the book cover, letting his touch linger, then smiling up at Faolan. "Oh, yes. And it would be my pleasure, Fae.

"In fact. If you'd like, I might teach you some measure of the language? So we can read it together, of course."

<.>

Fae holds the book close for a while, smiling to himself and not quite trusting any of this - but it feels nice nevertheless.

And as for the Abyssal Plain, the book is a deeply boring treatise on planar doors.

<.>

Does it seem like particularly rare knowledge at all? If non, Dima would like to look around the rest of the shop for any items either containing magical properties or usual in the casting of spells.

<.>

The book looks like it's not useful at all.

[note: Dima will pass on this one.]

However, while they're wandering, Fae finds something...else.

He almost misses it, in fact: it's thin, coptic bound, with water damage to its cover and some of the pages. However, the title is barely visible - just enough that he picks it up curiously and holds it out.

In faded gothic text are the words, "Book of the Raven".

<.>

Dima is going to stare at it, smile slightly, and move to Faolan's side as he takes the book, so that Fae and Liv can also see.

Also Dima absolutely saying, "Oh, beautifully done," to Fae as he reads the cover.

[q: is this anything Dima (or tbh Liv) might have heard of? and/or what is it :O!
dm: This is nothing either of them have ever encountered; however, there are familiar contents within.]

And he does open the book.

<.>

The first thing Dima will notice is that the cover is made from thin, unvarnished sheets of black oak covered with bird scratches and indentations from beaks. Within the covers are thirty-three pages bearing tiny, blotchy brown script written in an unsteady hand by an unidentified author.

It appears to be a firsthand account written in Common. The author, after falling off her horse and breaking her leg, was rescued and befriended by Vistani travelers who graciously nursed her back to health. The account details her three-month travels with the Vistani.

Though richly detailed in description of the Vistani, the book only names two: Drasha, a teenaged girl who applied the author's bandages, and Darzin, a one-armed boy with a terrible fear of wolves, who sang beautiful songs to take the author's mind off the pain from her leg.

All told, the book seems to be an anthropological study of the Vistani way of life.

The ending is abrupt, with the troupe approaching a the gates of a tall, winding castle and a description of its dreadful countenance. There are four blank pages following the ending, which comes mid-sentence.

Most intriguing, however, is a piece of parchment that has been folded and slipped between two pages. The map doesn't seem to have been a part of the book to begin with.

[q: Would Dima know anything particular or general about the Vistani?
a: Dima would probably know quite a bit about them. (+includes screenshot of info)]

<.>

Dima is very, very intrigued by and drawn to this. He tells Fae and Liv his intention to see about securing the book, and if there are no objections, he's going to speak with the shopkeeper to see whether he might have the book as the final bit of contract payment.

[note: The shopkeeper seems only too happy to part with the book.]

Dima is pretty hype to give this a thorough read and study. And he'll be examining that map, trying to determine where it might be.

[dm: Dima will recognize some of the map locations as older landmarks in Morovsk. The names aren't the same, but Scorch of the Red Wyrm is an active volcano he would be aware of.

q: how old do the book and map appear to be?
a: it's at least seventy or eighty years old]

And Dima will not be examining this especially far right now, since there is not a whole whole lot of time in the night, but he'll keep glancing at and through it as he continues to walk with Fae, and yes he is just going to slip his arm through Faolan's, and tell him this just might be a future adventure to share.

<.>

Faolan smiles, pleased to have found something for Dima that takes his interest so thoroughly. "I'm sure we'll have plenty of adventures besides."

"So we will. Plenty of adventures, and a life's worth of time to share between our wanderings. In peace, in fury, and in our own rejoicing." His eyes travel once more from the book to Faolan, catching on that smile, his heart hitching its bear upon the sight. And, voice softer, "You'll be very happy, Faolan. We both will be.

"When we rest, and when we burn the world just as we please."

<.>

[onefellswoop]

At first light, the group reconvenes to continue their journey to Loch Bien. On the way, they'll pass through Awich again; it's an opportunity to sell off anything in need of selling and to restock things like rations, potions, etc.

They can also here make the decision to either walk the three or four day trek to Loch Bien or to take Awich's river to the coast and journey a half day from there. While the latter is considerably shorter an option even going against the current, it is known to be more perilous.


So begins some shopping and housekeeping!

q: Did Nerys have any info from Gower?
a: Nerys will talk to Gower on the road between markets, so as not to hassle him while he's "working.”

q: if they take the river to the coast, would they be traveling by boat to Loch Bien?
a: They can take either boat or walk the coast road.

q: when is The Gathering Of Nobles supposed to begin?
a: The gathering of nobles is meant to begin in about a week or so; everyone was arriving with ample time to enjoy the hospitality of Alfrig.

q: would the goblin's hand have found someone to stay with at the market? or does rin still have it?
a: The hand will be staying with Nerys for a while.

note: Rin gave friend golem a pouch containing ten ball bearings
dm: The golem friend appreciates the gift as it has never been given one before, and will cherish it greatly.

Rin proposes selling off the weapons they pulled from the ruin corpses unless anybody wanted to keep any of them. Dima and Rin both agree it'd be wise to buy rations and potions; Dima would also like to look into a light crossbow.

dm: For selling the weapons, probably everything prices out to about 300gp, more or less. A lot of it was damaged by golems or fire.

Dima pays 25gp for a light crossbow, then 50gp for powdered silver and iron. Fae sells a quarterstaff and scimitar for 15gp. Other items are sold and bought, money is divvied up. Sen ends up with the Ruby of the War Mage and the hand crossbow from the party’s collective inventory.

Rin has put everything they stole from Calabra (except the money and the whetstone/cloth taken from Torrio's nightstand) in the Bag of Holding, unless anyone wants to keep any of it in-hand. Dima does take the correspondence.

dm: I will allow people in the party (apart from Rin, who has no focus (lmao in multiple ways)) to work together while traveling upriver to cast an enchantment on Dima's light crossbow. I’ll say 3 days - the entirety of the journey to Loch Bien plus some time in an inn room - and no cost, as all of them are either magical or using a focus, and they're not crafting an item, just enchanting.

Rin, not having a focus, isn’t included in the enchanting work and is free to pick pockets and talk to Curio and do what Rins do. Rin can handle food prep! Maybe do some scouting around wherever they camp and practice their Elvish.

And since Dima is reading the book on the Underdark to Fae at night, roll a d20.

(Dima rolls a 5. Thankfully, Fae rolls higher.)

Dima and Fae both learn a piece of lore from the book that gives them advantage in a specific Underdark scenario: They gain advantage in attack rolls against Drow Mages.

After the first night of travel to Loch Bien, Dima would have contacted Derzhena via sending to let her know that Something Is Up with Calabra, and that Dima found 'Her' aka Liv.

Thus ends the housekeeping! And the party advances to Loch Bien.

<.>

8) Loch Bien: Complications, Concerns, and— Frogs?

[onefellswoop]

The party arrives in Loch Bien without incident, with plenty of time to spare before the centennial festivities.

After the first day there, spent completing the enchantment for Dima, Fae begins to act particularly cagey.

On the second day, he leaves the inn early, making mention only that he has to see to an errand.

<.>

Dima would like please to ask Faolan if everything's all right, if he can catch him before Fae slips off.

<.>

Faolan is behaving in such a manner that one might believe he's avoiding Dima; if Dima happens along in time, he'll see Fae slip out of his room and hurry to leave before any run-ins occur.

<.>

Fae.

Dima is casting Message.

And asking, [ Faolan, what is it? I'd like to help. ]

<.>

Fae falters in his step, looks back guardedly, and replies, [ There's nothing to help with. I'll be back later. ]

<.>

He doesn't like this caginess. He does take a step forward, extending his hand cautiously. [ Where are you going.

Fae— It is hazardous here. If anything happens, I—

I'd like to know where you are. We need to be able to find you. ]

<.>

Faolan looks almost pityingly at Dima, though it might be more self-directed. [ I lived here half my life. I know the risks. ]

He looks at the hand extended, back up again, and shakes his head. [ It's just something I have to do. It's not anything - ]

He huffs, looking away. [ It's why I'm here. Why I was coming here.

Just wait for me, can't you? ] This last has some frustration in his tone, speaking of an underlying anxiety he isn't showing. Without waiting for a response, he turns and trots off - carefully not looking back.

<.>

Something feels awry, though Dima can't quite tell whether Faolan is uneasy, or whether it's only that Dima doesn't care for being left in the dark. (He doesn't know what to make of the pity in that look; he tries not to think about it.)

He does know that Faolan has - of course he has - the right to tend to his own affairs. That Dima can't claim hold of all of Faolan's endeavors, and he takes one more step, lowering his hand as Faolan disappears. Standing where he is, wanting to follow Faolan—

But that'd be ill-advised. He has to trust the man. He has to trust he'll handle himself— Oh, of course Faolan can handle himself.

Dima does send one last Message after Fae: [ I'll be here.

When you return— Let me know. Please. ]

<.>

Sen strolls up behind Dima with his head cocked at the retreating form of their druid. Before Fae turns a corner, he drawls, "Well, if you aren't going to follow him, I will."

<.>

The look Dima shoots Sen is a mingling of irritation, disdain, and more than a little bit of wariness. "Why in shit's name would I - let alone you - do that?”

<.>

Sen regards Dima for a beat, then replies, "Usually, when someone doesn't want me following them, that's precisely when I find it most informative to do so."

<.>

He understands the sentiment.

Or he would, if the someone in question wasn't Faolan.

There's a slight tick of Dima's lip before he responds, "Fae can take care of himself."

<.>

Sen considers a moment more, then shrugs and turns back to the inn. "Suit yourself. I'm sure tonight's conversation over supper will prove illuminating."

<.>

Dima whirls around, moving toward Sen in a sudden fit of assertion, reaching for his shoulder: "Don't you dare follow him." Oh, Sen looks as though he means to head back to the inn; Dima doesn't trust that for a moment.

And. After silence has almost settled: "Do you know where he's going."

<.>

Sen takes a step back from Dima's reach with a look of perturbation. "Of course I don't. Why would he tell me if he wouldn't tell you?"

<.>

"He wouldn't. I wouldn't expect him to. What wouldn't surprise in the least would be to find you've been rifling through his possessions, or tailing him since we first arrived."

While this is happening, Rin is in fact going to attempt to slip past them and begin following Fae. Since they followed Sen and heard his proposal and it is a little weird that's Faolan's been quiet and where's he even got to go? If nothing else, Rin's curious. And they're going to Message Sen, [ I'm on ittt ] as they attempt to stealth past and stealth-follow Faolan.

<.>

Sen lets this insult pass without reply. Instead, he says, "If you want to know where he's going, perhaps you ought to ask him. Or did you do that already?"

To Rin, he sends an encouraging, [ There's my Pretty Rin. ]

Rin is able to catch up relatively quickly to Faolan's trail; he makes his way through the grey, craggy city as though he knows not only the layout, but precisely where he's going. A turn down a busy street leads toward the wealthier parts of Loch Bien - Cloud Pass and the Castle Ward. He takes no notice of Rin, and eventually he finds his way to a large set of gates; they stand open, and here, he stops, looking both apprehensive and guilty.

Faolan looks down at his shoes, then at his hand as though seeking something important - then breathes and sets his jaw. He attempts to square his shoulders, but there's a faint heaviness to them. He looks like a man trudging towards an unwanted outcome.

He passes through the gates into a public garden, its pathways lined with evergreen topiary and faded flowers. The garden stretches about half a city block, ending abruptly at a low stone wall and ocean overlook.

Nobility strolls here and there; some of them spot Faolan and sneer; one woman looks infuriated and quickens her pace, steering her husband away. Faolan's shoulders bow a little more.

Near the overlook, a finely-dressed man stands talking with a much older woman who, upon spying Faolan, clears her throat and excuses herself - though it appears Faolan's target is the nobleman. The latter grins, steps toward him, and settles a familiar hand on his arm. Faolan doesn't reciprocate the gesture; they speak in tones too low to be heard.

<.>

Back at the inn, Dima looks - is - discomforted by Sen's question. It isn't that he suspects Faolan of ill intent (the thought - perhaps strangely for Dmitri - never crosses his mind); it's that he doubts whether he ought to have allowed the man to slip away. Thinks perhaps he ought to have been more persistent, and however well Faolan knows this city, however well he's navigated it in the past, the fact is that they may all be under a particularly sharp watch by Calabra and his retinue, and opportunists are liable to snipe at a target apart from its group.

Dmitri's begun staring at a point beyond Sen. He's flexing his fingers, again, again, again.

And finally he curses, glares at the inn, at the street, then shakes his head and starts striding off in the direction Fae traveled. "We aren't going to sneak after him.

"He can see us coming. Ward us off if he likes.

"It isn't safe to be wandering alone. Fuck.”

It is also very possible that Faolan's gone too far already to be found, but Dima's going to try, anyway, bringing Liviana - after casting Invisibility on her - as well, and signaling for Sen to follow.

[PERC, d: 20; by the time Dima decides to chase Faolan, his trail has grown too cold. However, Sen, being the stellar poker player we know he is, keeps looking off after Rin, and it's easy enough to get him to admit Rin followed Fae.]

Rin has only visited Loch Bien once or twice. They never could get into the whole atmosphere of the place, and it just hasn't been on their radar very much. Still, navigating cities comes easily to them, and they're able to follow Faolan while taking in some scope of this place. They follow Faolan through the gates. They even manage not to slip their hand into anyone's pocket— Yet. On the way out, all bets are off!

They're going to position themself beside some shrubbery, moving as close to Faolan and this shit-eating man as they can while keeping in cover, and they're going to pick up what they can from the conversation.

[questions for rin!
Do they recognize the man at all?
What does Fae's body language tell them?
Can they hear anything from the convo?

answers!
Rin doesn't recognize the man with Faolan, and Fae's body language says only that he's ashamed of something.

Rin can only hear snatches of the conversation:
"-don't do that kind of thing anymore -"
"-a conversation, somewhere more sec-"
"-your conversations go -"
"-*said* you wanted my help, Fell -"

q: what does the man look like?
a: The man is around Dima's age, maybe a little older, with greying hair. He's gone soft with age, but still retains his good looks. His clothes are typical of the nobility here: warm, fur-trimmed, elegant. He's clearly very familiar with Faolan.]

Dima is both angry with Sen and Rin, and relieved that at least someone will be near him. Given that they have no real way of locating the druid and rogue, Dmitri will suggest returning to the inn, following a path that will take them through areas of Loch Bien likely to be abuzz with travelers and city citizens, on the off chance of hearing anything of interest, and keeping an eye out for anyone Dima might recognize.

He might just be trying to distract himself from a growing sense of unease.

Rin is committing to memory the words they can catch, as well as the stranger's overall appearance (they're not so good with faces, but they can usually keep a solid general idea, and they are very good at recognizing clothing). They do mouth 'Fell?' when the man speaks it, or speaks what sounds like 'Fell.'

For the moment, they're going to keep quiet and keep still, listening for anything further.

If Faolan begins to move, they'll attempt to follow.

<.>

Whatever the nature of the conversation, it appears that Faolan is seeking help for something, and the nobleman is requesting something in return. Faolan clearly says 'no' several times, only to be met with a patronizing smile and, finally, a hand touching his cheek in a way that causes him to jerk his head away.

The nobleman laughs about this.

Rin can clearly hear him say, "Fell. A drink. What harm will it do, hm?" before steering a resigned (defeated) Faolan towards the garden gates.

<.>

Rin, feeling like maybe they really shouldn’t follow, and remember also that they had promised themself some thefting, opts to try picking a few pockets before leaving the area.

[d20 roll, r: 6
Rin managed to pickpocket:
1. A preserved human ear.
2. A small wooden comb.
3. An elven arrowhead.
4. "A small carefully painted lead figurine of a human warrior with sword and shield" a tin rin
5. A Jade brooch
6. A very strange ring that seems to hum with magical energy.

and after one further roll—
They managed to pick one more pocket on the way back to the inn, and what they turned up was a glass owl. This too seems to hum with magical energy.]

...Rin is going to tap the skeleton key against the owl and the ring, then give it a turn in the ear.

[dm: nothing happens as neither of these are a lock]

Rin headed back to the inn to share their findings with Sen.

They would have told Dima only that they lost track of Faolan, which isn't noT true, and that he seemed to be sticking within the city anyway.

They would have told Sen precisely what they saw.

[q: Would rin like sen to cast Identify?
a: rin would!

The owl is, as it turns out, a Serpentine Owl.]

RIN IS VERY EXCITED. But and. Is going to ask Sen if he would like it, since they have Curio and it seems very unfair that Sen doesn't have some kind of pet-like creature. And they know Sen would put it to good use!

<.>

Sen has Mykola.

…Who would like the jade brooch, in fact, and without Sen realizing it, is going to attempt to steal it. With one of Sen's hands.

[mykola: 25
PERC, r: 25

Rin notices Sen's hand slooooowly palming the jade brooch.]

Sen is in the process of inspecting the ring and takes no notice of this.

<.>

Rin just, "Mykola!! Hey!" Just going to gently try to swat that hand. "You have to ask first!"

"When you steal from friends it is important to ask.”

<.>

Sen looks startled, staring at Rin and then staring at the hand they swatted. He watches as it curls into a slow fist, then turns palm up in silent plea.

"I say this with all the eloquence of my soul: this is fucking weird."

<.>

Rin looks at Sen's hand. Looks at Sen. "Did you feel it move at all?"

And, speaking to Sen's hand: "Myka, this seems an awful lot like joyriding. >:/" They're going to take the brooch and hold it up. "You can have this, but only if Sen says it's okay."

<.>

"Not even a little," he murmurs, flexing his hand and finding it's...under his control, but also under Mykola's. It returns to the palm-up pleading position and he shrugs. It's not the worst thing, really.

"They can have it tomorrow. A sort of penalty for stealing and getting caught."

There's a pause, and then his fingers begin to curl into a fist again - with one exception. He snorts. "Look, they're speaking shithead."

<.>

Rin flicks Sen's hand off in returning, grinning. "That seems very fair to me!

"Mykola, maybe if you work with Sen, you'll have a little more luck. That was a pretty good attempt, but you'll maybe do better if you don't have to hide from Sen and whoever you're stealing from.

"Which, by the way, should not be me. >:c"

Rin puts the brooch into the Bag Of Holding, where it can be retrieved for Mykola tomorrow and no sooner!

<.>

Sen uses his last remaining spell slot to cast Identify on the ring Rin found and starts to laugh hysterically.

<.>

"Sen what IS it?? :o?"

<.>

He hands the ring back and says, "Give that to Dima sometime."

"It'll be worth the not-knowing. I swear."

<.>

Rin doesn't think twice; if Sen says to give it to Dima, they figure they'll find out the meaning soon enough. And they do like a surprise. So they wink at Sen and the ring goes into their pocket. "Slip it onto his finger of just hand it to him very 'Please Dmitri what does this do'?"

<.>

"Put it on him, lie to him, don't let him try to sort out for you what it does or he won't put it on."

<.>

Rin likes this; it's a nice little maybe-challenge, and they nod. "Then so it will be!"

[q: is there anything Rin or maybe Sen if Sen looks would notice about the other items? slash does Sen want to keep any?
a: Sen's pretty content just to look and see how much Rin's enjoying. TBH probably went out pickpocketing, as well.]

<.>

[onefellswoop]

Faolan doesn't return to the inn for the rest of the day. When he does turn up - sometime near midnight - he is blisteringly drunk and the innkeeper ends up helping him up the stairs to his room.

<.>

Dima would have spent most of the evening in the tavern, with some time spent walking the nearby streets. And would have sent Liv out under Invisibility when he waS in the inn to keep an eye out for Faolan. So.

It's while Dima's checking the streets nearby - his worry becoming near-intolerable, and it helps his focus some to keep busy this way - that Liviana alerts him to Faolan's return, and there's a surge of relief as Dmitri hurries back, not not running half the way, thanking Liv as she joins him.

He's there in time to see Fae moving upstairs - badly, bearly - helped along by the innkeeper. And there's a half-shouted "Fae!” as Dima rushes forward, certain Faolan's been wounded, moving to aid in helping him up the stairs and to offer what mending he can.

<.>

The innkeeper looks relieved to see someone who knows this stumbling, slurring boy. He backs away when Dima seems to have Faolan who, now that Dmitri is close, is clearly not injured; the red-shot eyes and dazed, then miserable way he looks at the smaller man. The strong scent of booze lingers miasmic on him.

He doesn't fight, though. He lets Dmitri take and lead him, every movement heavy with resignation much the same as what Rin observed earlier. He does say, in the too-low tones of a drunken man who thinks he's speaking audibly, "Why not. What else, right? Why not."

<.>

He doesn't understand.

And while he's glad to find no sign of physical injury, something must have happened to put Fae into this state, clearly unhappy as well as booze-sick. He's been away all day; what in fuck's name has happened in that time? (Dima doesn't like to see Faolan looking as if drawn through agony. Doesn't like the way resignation settles heavy on him.) (He never should have let Fae slip away this morning. He damns himself for a careless, short-sighted brute.)

Whatever the case, Dima strengths the grip of his arm around Fae's waist, and presses his hand firm against Fae's arm, then caresses, caresses. (Listens for the innkeeper, who's meant to be bringing water to Fae's room.) Speaks in a low tone of his own—

"It's all right, Faolan. We're going to get you to your room. Get some water into you, and get you to bed. It's all right; your night is almost through, and your Dima's here."

<.>

Faolan looks as though the world's crumbling beneath his feet; he stares with wide, helpless eyes, then seems to fall into himself. "My Dima."

It's not until he's sitting on the edge of his bed, not yet sick but feeling no ease from the thrall of alcohol, that he speaks again. He looks up to find Dmitri still with him, takes a ragged breath, and says the words again.

"My Dima."

Hopeless, the way he said them on the docks - as though sure of the oncoming loss.

The innkeeper appears with a pitcher of water and a clean chamber pot that he places just beside the head of the bed. He quickly vacates the room after confirming Dima will do the looking-after.

<.>

There's a rising warmth in his chest as Faolan's eyes meet his - 'yes,' he thinks, 'yes, please, look at me, and know I'm here' - and an equal measure of spiking nausea, of worry for this man who looks so lost, who went out wary in the morning and came back reeling and looking worlds apart from himself.

He came back, though. That's important; that's a relief. Whatever happened hurt Fae, but Fae's still here, and Dima won't let him slip off again. He'll take better care of his Fae. And now, whatever's happened, he'll fix it or ease Faolan from its grasp, its memory.

To the innkeeper, Dima gives three gold pieces and a nod. And when the door closes, leaving Faolan and Dima - and Liv, of course - Dima pours a cup of water, then moves to Faolan. Brushing back his hair and offering a smile grown from relief and from a wish to guard his Fae.

And softly, gently he speaks, "My Fae."

Then, raising the cup - for Faolan to take in hand, or to drink from Dima's hold - he adds, "Drink. Please."

<.>

Faolan makes a soft, broken sound as Dima's hand brushes through his hair. One of his hands settles at Dmitri's thigh, clutching fabric, then releasing when the water's pressed towards his hands.

He stares blearily at the cup, but obediently drinks, submits with something like guilt in his actions: a dog that knows it's done wrong.

The water goes down easily and Faolan eventually places a hand - tries to place, misses once, tries again - on Dima's wrist with his uncanny gentleness, and when the cup is gone, he slumps, elbows on his knees.

He seems to decide this isn't good enough and looks around the room blankly, then up at Dima, then, unable to sustain thoughts for long, comes to a conclusion that draws that pitiful, deadened resignation from him again. "Only was s'matter of time, wasn't it."

He tries to smile, tries to laugh as though it's a joke, but that's too much effort. He shrugs, instead, then offers a hand, steady despite his state. Inviting. "Your Fae, then."

<.>

There's a sound that could shatter his heart, and Dima's fingertips turn their brush to Fae's skull, to brushing skin and hair alike and leaning nearer, saying softly, softly under his breath that "It'll be all right, all will be well, my Fae."

The water's taken, and Dima hums an approving sound; he is proud of Fae, knows how damnably difficult the mere act of drinking can be within inebriation.

The water's gone, and it's Dima's turn to huff a soft sound, grateful, at the hand upon his wrist, letting himself linger before - reluctantly; only out of necessity - moving to settle the cup on a nightstand.

He's back before Fae by the time bleak speech follows, and he can't imagine, he doesn't want to imagine (deep beneath thought, beneath the bulk of feeling, ticks a minor worry: should he imagine? but the feeling doesn't rise to thought, and what Dmitri knows mainly is fear for Faolan, for what could have happened to sink him so) what the man means. It might be nothing; might be the mingling of the morning's wariness with the current intoxication (Dima can't quite believe this) (something's wrong— but it needn't stay that way).

Then Fae's hand is offered, an undoubtable invitation, and there's the tug of a smile at Dima's lip, there's his hand taking Faolan's immediately, his grip soft but firm. And Dima sits on the bed beside Faolan, hand-in-hand, his free hand moving to brush through Fae's hair, brush along his head again.

"My Fae, precisely.

"You're home, Fae." A hummed sound. "In our temporary home, and you are safe. I'm going to stay with you through the night." There's an attempt at a small laugh, and Dima cups Fae's cheek. "I'm afraid I'll hear no arguments."

<.>

A further sinking into himself. A sadness washing over him. His eyes flicker towards the door and he sways slightly, seems to be enduring the touch to his hair now.

When Dima cups his cheek, he lets his head be turned, lets himself be made to look, and seems to withdraw behind his eyes to somewhere he can't be touched. He smiles, the expression closed-lipped and brittle to an eye that knows him well enough to distinguish it from his genuine, soft smiles.

"No arguments." He reaches a hand, runs a gentle caress down Dmitri's cheek, his hand slowly unfurling until his fingertips trace a feather-light line along his jaw.

The movement's a practiced one. It's clear he's done this before, that he's been drunk, been withdrawn, and still capable of performance. Still seemingly willing. "Anything you like, Dmitri."

Faolan's hand drops to Dima's throat, where his fingers work expertly at the fastenings of his jacket, unhurried in motion, full of promise. With his free hand, he traces aside Dima's hair and murmurs something unintelligible, moves to press a kiss beneath his ear.

<.>

He doesn't understand; not at first.

He thought— Faolan offered his hand, and for a moment, Dima thought Fae had come back a little toward himself.

But the distance in his eyes is stronger. The smile is false. And the way he echoes 'no arguments' - the way his hand caresses so precisely, at a moment that feels awry - slams cold into Dima's stomach.

(He doesn't know what's happening.) (He's beginning to understand.)

And that 'anything you like,' that ’Dmitri’ and the migration of fingers that makes no sense, or makes no sense until Dima allows the pieces to fall together, to see there's been misunderstanding, he's led Faolan to believe something wrenching, and the soft touch through his hair (what he would want) (what he *has* wanted) burns with his own careless.

He draws back; moves away from what would have been a— He thinks. It would have been a kiss. (And more.) (Gods, what did Faolan think he wanted.) (Dima knows precisely what Faolan thought he wanted.) His movement was quick but careful, an attempt not to jar Faolan. If there was a hint of panic in it - it there's panic flickered now within his own eyes - Dima tries not to let it speak. Tries to remain calm, and he draws Faolan's hand from his jacket, takes both of Faolan's hands in his own and holds them, pressing.

"That isn't—"

He catches on a breath, looks away, then seeks Faolan's eyes again, imploring. "Faolan, I'm not asking that. I should have seen—"

Another catch of breath; Dima's trying very, very hard not to let panic or frantic worry win out. He stands, hands still catching Faolan's, and moves in front of Fae. "Faolan. Whatever has happened—

"You're safe. I don't— I wouldn't."

He shakes his head, frustrated with himself, terrified of what just happened, what he must have led Faolan to. "I mean to stay here, and watch over you. I'll sit— I can stay wherever you like.

"Faolan. Fae. It's all right. I only want to watch you through the night. To guard you."

<.>

Faolan sits in confusion, his inebriated mind processing this far too slowly, too muddied to react. His hand hangs in Dima's, unresisting.

He doesn't understand what's happening. There's no woundedness in his eyes, no hurt at being stopped; only stupefaction. This has clearly never happened before. He has no frame of reference, no notion of how to proceed when he *isn't* wanted. (Or. Isn't wanted at the moment.)

Dima says I wouldn't and that makes no sense.

He says you're safe and that makes even less sense.

He says to guard you and it strikes Faolan like a deadly blow, catching his breath and there's a moment of suspended silence between those words and anything else. Then, with a slow-moving welling of shame (like tides, like sunset), Faolan starts to cry.

Curling in on himself (curling in toward Dima), he covers his face with his hands and sobs quietly, as though he can't quite find fire even for weeping. Muffled by his palms, it's difficult to make out the soft I'm sorry he speaks once, and then again, and defeatedly, again.

<.>

His poor Fae.

This wronged, this obscenely and repeatedly wronged man. A reaction of this sort - soul-devastated and uncomprehending - doesn't grow from nowhere, and hasn't it been clear that Faolan's known ill at the hands of men at every turn?

How it must have been a kind of ruin all over, to have heard predation in what Dima vowed, to hear a claim to bedding in place of safekeeping eyes. ('I won't survive you if you turn on me,' Fae had said, and did he feel the world crashing down when he held out his hand, when Dmitri accepted, so readily moved beside him?)

And how Dima's heart does shatter now, how his blood turns into plummet, as Faolan begins to cry, as he speaks words he should never feel the need to say.

He moves downward, settles on one knee and reaches up, to place one hand on Faolan's arm, to place the other on his knee. To carefully, softly brush his thumb and speak—

"Faolan. My Fae. You have nothing to be sorry for." He tries, tries to keep his own voice steady. Can't quite achieve it, though for now he manages to keep the burn of his eyes from turning to tears. He wants to be steady right now. He wants to show this man that nothing has been wounded, and nothing can't be fixed.

"Your day has been endless, my Dearest. Whatever's happened—" He shakes his head; he won't think about that now, and there's no good drawing Fae toward its thought. "It doesn't matter in the least.

"I'm here with you. And we can mend anything."

He's going to try - slowly, carefully - to take Fae's wrist, Fae's hand, and urge those hand to his knees, to be kept in Dima's hold. "Faolan. Faolan. It's all right.

"All you need to do is sleep. Let your Dima take care of the rest.

"And I'll be here in the morning. I promise you."

<.>

Somehow, he's still Dima's 'Fae'. Somehow, he's more than that. His 'Dearest'. Faolan doesn't know what he did to deserve that kind of grace; his drink-addled mind can't find a single moment beyond all his scandals and sins that might explain how this man can care so endlessly for him.

After what he's done. After everything he's done.

He lets himself be maneuvered, eventually allowing Dima to guide him to lie down. There's no groping, no undressing except his boots, no mouth covering his own, no unwanted whisper. There's only Dima, tender, and it breaks his heart all over again.

He reaches out, grasps for Dima's hand with plea rather than invitation. He may have said 'Please' or may only have thought it over and over, please, please, and he did say don't leave me, a complicated wish that means right now and ever.

And please again, until Dima agrees to lie beside him, where Faolan can rest his head against the smaller man's chest and cling tightly as though Dima is a lifeline. As though Dima is all that keeps him from drowning, from losing himself, from fading out to nothing.

When his tears eventually subside, he softly says again, "Please. Don't leave me."

<.>

Dima holds Faolan in kind, arms wrapped around him, one hand rubbing in steady-soothing press along his back, one carding through his hair, at times pausing to hold, simply hold his Faolan's head.

It's humbling, it's a warmth curling through his chest, that Fae should have allowed him here; that Fae should want him here and maybe, at least in this moment, trust Dmitri to protect him, to bring nothing save for comforting and care. And it's devastating - again, again, again - to think how many times this man's been granted only damage, use, ridicule.

He vows internally to see that Fae's life, Fae's heart will only know more warmth - and fire; infernos - from here on out. He vows and he wants to give this man cause to trust to brilliance in the world and in his own life. To know that what's wounded him is in the past.

To ruin what's wounded him, if Faolan permits.

Faolan clings tight, and Dima caresses, caresses. Feels the way Faolan holds on as though the world (as though Dima?) threatens to slip away. And Dima begins at some point to hum low, a thrumming in his chest, the melody an old one touched with sun and shade and home. And his own tears well slight, well subtle, not hitching his breath.

When Faolan speaks, Dima presses his arms, an affirmative embrace. And, nestling his cheek against Fae's head—

"I never will.

"Never, my Fae.

"I am yours for always. I will guard you always. And you will always, always have your Dima."

<.>