[The Bronze Wood] First Time for Everything (Sturlin)

[Eris]

“I’ll pass on that. I don’t drink. Job or not,” Eris said with a shake of her head.

Eris scratched the spot just behind the cat’s ear, marveling at how strange the absence of fur felt under her fingers.

“How did Mister Pickles come to be with you?” she asked, her eyes still focused on the affectionate cat.

Rhine lifted her head from the ground, still chewing on a mushy ball of grass. She regarded the stallion for a few seconds and then snorted, her nostrils flaring. She sidled away playfully, throwing her head to the side and shaking out her glittery mane. Her coat shone in the sunlight again, looking as if a pale light was being emitted from the mare’s skin.

Eris shot Rhine a warning glance. It was a long time since the horse had really interacted with any of her kind. They had been on the move for a while – usually just the two of them on lonely roads. She figured she could let the mare have a little fun, provided it didn’t lead to anything serious. The last thing she needed was a heart-broken horse, moping for a love that couldn’t be.

[Sturlin]

"I did not drink. Before. Now I do. Wise decision. On your part that is." Unstoppering the wine he took a deep drink and then stowed it away in his pack once more. "Mister Pickles belonged to a friend. She gave him to me. When my Uncle died. To keep my company. He is my only friend. Francis is an acquaintance. A layabout mostly. He looks lonely."

Glancing over at the stallion Sturlin arched an eyebrow, unsure of what to take away from the situation. It appeared that Francis had romantic interest in the mare. A broken heart my not come out of the situation, but the magician wondered idly what little Francis' and little Rhine's running around would look like. Probably adorable. Perhaps they would be able to talk too.

[Eris]

She had never heard a horse described as an acquaintance. In her experience, people either spoke of their horses as friends or didn’t speak of them at all. At the moment, Rhine looked like she would very much like to speak about the stallion to Eris. For a second, she felt like the horse could be one of those mindless girls, always giggling about some new man or other, eager to whisper their secrets into a friend’s ear. Rhine edged a little closer to Francis, nudging his neck with the tip of her nose.

“I’m sorry about your uncle,” Eris said, unsure what the appropriate response would be in this situation. She didn’t really deal with death on a personal level –nothing beyond the realm of her job…not since her mother died. She stroked Mister Pickles in silence for a while, letting her mind wonder idly. A thought fluttered into her vacant mind and before she could fully read it herself, it landed on the tip of her tongue. “Before what?” She caught herself and elaborated, “I mean, you said you didn’t drink before. What happened that made you change your policy?””

[Sturlin]

The hunter only nodded in response to her condolences. As Francis' interest in Rhine continued to increase, Sturlin carefully moved over to his firepit and began to clean it out. As he did so he balled one hand into a fist and rapped his knuckles on his thigh. Instead of the sound of flesh on flesh, Eris heard the sound of knuckles on wood, or perhaps stone. Something harsh and unyielding was hidden beneath the leather.

"Injuries. Sustained from magic. Hazards of the profession. You know. Wizard stuff." He offered an uncomfortable smile and moved to stack some wood in the now clean fire pit. Once he had stacked it neatly he moved back over to his pack to collect some tinder and the tools necessary for lighting the fire. "They pain me. Wine helps."

[Eris]

Eris felt herself cringe slightly as she heard the rapping sound produced by Sturlin’s hand. Why, oh why must you always get yourself involved with the strange ones? She mentally pushed the reproving thought away, trying to mask the unsettled feeling that had risen in the back of her throat. “I see,” she said, though, in reality, she saw very little.

“Have you-have you tried seeing a healer?”she asked, concern wrinkling her brow.

[Sturlin]

"I have not. I plan to visit Sahova. There are many magicians. Perhaps they can help. Otherwise I must explain. Others would know my profession. In Syliras. Cannot explain away this." He noticed her cringe but he did not offer a reaction. Mr. Pickles gave him a superior look and said, "See? She finds you repulsive. You knew she would. Its because of what you are, and what you are becoming. She would rather have me than you.

Though the cat had not truly spoken, Sturlin's eyes were watching the wrinkly pink thing with a frown. As if to remind Eris of his existence the cat nipped at her hand with his sharp fangs, and then rubbed his head against her wrist in an attempt to get more affection from her.

[Eris]

Eris’s eyes darted back to the cat as she felt sharp teeth sink into her skin. “An egotistical one, aren’t you?” she asked the cat with mock reproach as she went back to stroking the animal. She traced small circles on the cat’s belly with her fingers, amazed at how relaxed she suddenly felt. Are you really going to let a cat distract you? Stay focused. Stay alert. What would Joel say?

“If you don’t mind my asking…”she faltered a little, but plowed on. “What exactly happened to your leg that only a magician would be able to fix? I assumed it was a sprain or a bone that has healed the wrong way, but it’s something more, isn’t it?” She could almost hear the rapping sound resonating in her mind. Maybe his leg has turned to wood. she pushed the disconcerting thought away. Things like that just didn’t happen…did they?

[Sturlin]

He could be seen for several moments of silence to weigh his response in his mind. It was unclear what might be going on in his mind, but he kept glancing at Mister Pickles. "Hard to explain. I could show you. Since you already know. It is something more. Perhaps none can fix it. Perhaps. I do not know. I am fortunate. It could have been worse. Much worse. A jaw. A hand. An eye."

Reaching down, he began to unstrap his left boot. Once he had removed it she could see that the top of his foot was covered by what appeared to be a plate made of granite, molded to the contours of his skin. It reached from the base of his toes up to just short of his ankle. As he pulled the leather legging higher he revealed that there was another such plate molded to his shin. It reached from just before his ankle to just before his knee, so that none of the plates connected. She could see there was another one on the back of his calf.

"There are more. They are heavy. Very heavy. They end. At my thighs." Balling his hand into a fist he rapped his knuckles on the stone plate again to illustrate his point. He looked rather strange sitting there with a boot next to him and one pant leg rolled up. Given the subject matter though, laughter would be ill advised.

[Eris]

Eris’s eyes widened as the granite molded into his leg came into view. Her hand on the cat’s belly stilled as she tried to comprehend what it was that she was seeing. She would’ve never believed that something like this was possible, even with magic. But she was seeing it with her own eyes. And her eyes were about the only thing she could trust.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, swallowing a lump that had formed in her throat. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt compassion for someone, but she was pretty sure that the lump in her throat was exactly that. “I didn’t realize how hard it must have been for you to walk. I should have done something…”

[Sturlin]

"How cute. She feels sorry for you now. I feel sorry for you too. If you weren't so useless you wouldn't have had your legs destroyed in the first place." Sturlin imagined that the cat smiled sweetly at him before going back to purring lazily in Eris' close company. The hunter looked a little uncomfortable at her concern for him. In actuality he wasn't sure how he wanted to respond.

"It is alright. I cannot climb well. Riding is out. It is hard. Though I must walk. Nothing can be done. Unless the Sahovans know." He slowly began to pull his leggings back into place, and he replaced his boot on his foot. "But. I. Uhm. I want to thank you. For caring." He gave her a smile, crooked from the scars winding his face, and shrugged.

By now Francis and Rhine were probably looking for the nearest feather bed and intimate candle set.