Closed Coming To A Head [Edreina]

[Razkar]

85th Day of Summer
The Docks
23rd Bell

He'd been here before. Looking out at a city cloaked in darkness yet lit at every corner and tower by torches, some small as his fit, some blazing as big as church bells. Of course, it was a different city. The Myrian reflected briefly that while both were cities, both had commerce and museums and culture, and even the architecture was similar in places, Riverfall and Syliras were worlds apart in so many ways.

He sighed, and it felt for a moment that his breath might fog. Summer was dying a slow death; humidity was lessening, not plummeting, and the cold winds from the north were coming in quick, half-prepared bursts, not great gales that were icy promises of freezing Winter. But even his dusky body, born and bred in stifling year-round humidity, knew change was coming.

Razkar shifted position slightly. The feeling... that was the same. Knowing things were going to change and evolve and move on. Not just scenery this time; he wasn't leaving Riverfall under a cloud, all but exiled by the Council as an outlaw, murderer and amoral mercenary. Quite the opposite: he was doing his job.

This time his job just happened to end in Zeltiva. And that, in its way, was just scenery, too.

The real meat of the issue rolled over in their bed, sleeping face turned to where he gazed up at the Stormhold. Razkar looked upon hr and his lips twisted into a disbelieving half-smile. Their bed. The term was in his mind without any hesitation. The ship itself was as much a home to him now as his lodgings in Taloba had been, and Ayatah's hut in-

The young male winced, eyes cast down and shoulders hunched as if some pain in his chest was burning through his breast. Goddess, he didn't need to be churning this over and over. What was the point? His path was set and he would walk it, but...

Gods, he was tired of these rampaging thoughts that yapped and clamored for his attention, somewhere between ecstatic hamsters and squealing children. All so insistent and unanswerable that finally his mind started to shut down. Thoughts and fears dulled and only one, grey truth remained.

What if I am making a huge mistake? What if I am harming one I... I...

Razkar sighed, and her eyes fluttered open. She saw him, arms crossed, eyes focused intently on nothing, future fears and past promises gnawing at one she thought indestructible.

He snorted. It was easier selling those petching weapons.

Seventy-five sunrises previously
The Great Bazaar

"So... you found them?"

"Yes."

A brief pause that hinted the speaker thought he was having his leg pulled... no, apparently not. Well, fine, next question.

"In the middle of the Bronze Woods?"

"Yes."

"... and the horse?"

Nag whinnied from behind the stoic Myrian, as if to back up his story. Razkar himself just shrugged, as oblivious to the disbelieving questions from the merchant as he was to the rest of the swirling humanity carrying here and there around him and his steed, the vast patchwork of commerce, bartering, haggling, cheap trickery and expensive tastes that made up the Great Bazaar.

Ruprekt crossed his skinny arms over his chest and gave the Myrian his best skeptical eyebrow. It was a good eyebrow; oft-practiced, well-maintained and sharp, like the hundreds of steel and iron and bronze items hanging and scattered around him. Ruprekt was known as The Man To See in the Bazaar if you were talking weapons. Buying or selling. Sellswords, travelers, militia and even Knights came to him, and he'd been running this patch for years.

And he knew horseshit when it flew in his ears.

"Nothing else you want to tell me about them?"

"What you need to know?"

Now a scowl followed the eyebrow as Ruprekt upped his game. Razkar assumed he was having some kind of facial spasm and politely let him continue. Goddess, he hoped he wouldn't collapse; he had a busy day planned.

"Myrian... I don't mean to sully anyone's word," The human merchant began in a tone dripping with one who believes nothing his vocal chords produce prior to- "-but, I find it hard to believe that on a hunting trip, you just happened to come across a whole arsenal of weapons..."

He swept his arm down to take in the bedroll that Razkar had laid out for him. All neatly arrayed and cleaned, of course, the Myrian as fastidious about his martial tools as any warrior.

Two bastard swords, side by side, dwarfing the others swords on the mat. Three short swords that were like his gladius in some ways but not nearly as balanced, not as sharp and with different hilts. A heavy mace, two handed and with a spiked ball at the end of it. A crossbow that the jungle-dweller seemed disdainful of for some reason and a cutlass that made him smile, though Ruprekt couldn't guess why.

Maybe it reminds him of someone?

The weapons merchant shook his head and got it back in the game, arm jerking back up to take the grey-and-black dappled equine patiently waiting behind his master.

"... and a horse?!"

Razkar blinked, and gave nothing away. Not that Ruprekt could tell, anyway. How did one even begin to read that kind of visage? A face like a hawk, angular and focused intently on whatever those black eyes gazed upon. The human had haggled and browbeaten some tough cookies in his time - those more likely to use his wares tend to make good customers, after all - but he couldn't look into those pitch orbs for too long.

All he saw was his own face, and for some reason, it only reminded him just how weak he looked sometimes...

Not to mention the piercings, bone shards shoved through tanned skin. Scars that curled and slashed at odd points on his face, one of them nearly encircling his eye. And the inkwork, that damn tattoo that... that he was sure was staring at him-

"Have seen more strange things than bunch of swords on horse."

Ruprekt shook his head again. "Without an owner?"

"I am owner."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"... I don't suppose you kept a receipt when you bought them, did you?"

Razkar gave a tiny, polite smile that bordered on sarcastic, but was firmly held back from that particular limelight. He needed the human, for now.

"No. Not come with note, either."

Ruprekt's hand reached up to scratch behind his thick black hair as his grimaced. They were good quality weapons, he had to admit. Nothing overly special, but they were eight items less for him to purchase from elsewhere and, well... he knew he'd get a good price. The Myrian had somply come to his stall, waited his turn and unfurled the bedroll under his arm with a flourish.

"How much you give for all?"

That was all he'd said, and he repeated those words once he'd finished his explanation. Ruprekt snorted at that idea. Explanation? Of what, exactly? How did one explain a blatant lie, anyway? But this one... he wouldn't break. Ruprekt only had to look over his bare chest, festooned with blades and leather and more ink and more scars...

Heard about this one. "The Myrian". That's all they call him. Don't suppose there's two of him, after all.

"Well..." he said eventually, and Razkar's lips quirked, but he didn't show any of his satisfaction. He was dealing with a merchant, and a barbarian. The man would attempt to swindle him as a matter of course. "... you understand that for weapons you just 'found', the price won't be as high as new ones."

"How much?"

"Well... all told... twenty mizas."

Razkar snorted softly, eyebrows rising softly and a look on his face that said he may be a savage, but who the petch did Ruprekt think he was fooling with that?

"I think sixty gold be more... accurate."

"Big word... but a big price, I think. Call it thirty and we're good."

"Call it forty and we better."

Ruprekt lipped his lips and made a clucking noise in the back of his throat with his tongue and gods, hy did they have to play so with the fucking savage? Razkar knew that in Riverfall, triple figures would be tossed at him for this haul. But in Syliras? Here he had to... make do.

Avaricious eyes snapped to the other weapon on Razkar's belt. Well, one of them, anyway. The gladius and the hand ax, even Ruprekt could see they weren't for sale. Bone hilts and runes etched in blood... no, a savage like this would sooner cut off a limb.

But there was another blade there. Shorter, maybe a foot long at the blade with a hilt perhaps a third that. Inlaid with... was that gold filigree? It looked like it, and Razkar felt a bubble of bile rumble in his stomach as he saw a familiar gleam enter the merchant's eyes.

"Well... we could call it... fifty-five, if you threw in that little sticker you've-"

"No." Razkar said shortly, and wrapped his hand around the hilt of the wakizashi to drive the point home. "That is gift for other."

"Oh, I see, I see..." Disappointment flared, replaced the greed and Razkar would rather have seen that leaden emotion that avarice. "In that case... forty. For the lot. And the bedroll."

Razkar nodded his head but didn't roll everything back up until the forty shiny discs were safe and secure in his purse. Then he took a hold of Nag and asked where the best place would be to get rid of the bloody thing.

Present Day
11th Bell

Windmount and Dyers couldn't be more different, and not just because only the former was open to the sky. As Razkar journeyed from the Docks, then into the Stormhold proper and walked through the Dyers District, he could feel the age of the fortress-city under his feet. It wasn't just the vibrations from the Great Bazaar that ticked the feet through his sandals, either.

It was the stones they waked on. Only in Taloba had he seen older, their colors bleached by age, cracks made lifetimes before filled with mud and dust and garbage, cracked again by freezing and heating as the seasons changed. The buildings were built close together, nearly on top of each other, speaking to the warrior of history passing by and crushing the old, replacing it with the new... only for that to turn decrepit and find itself, completely without warning, the object of some enterprising young architect who really needed that lot.

Razkar shook his head. He really was taking this philosophy nonsense too far. Edreina did enjoy talking with him so, but these... suppositions? They were starting to distract him, and now he was waxing lyrical about fucking cobblestones.

"S'what happens when you let a female in," he muttered to himself, blinking back the approaching light, two bells under the endless roof of the Stormhold enough to make any man a mole, "One moment you're yer own man, beholden to none, and the next? Poetic and flowery and getting teary over a street."

The Myrian chuckled and a passing fishwife gave him a queer look. He mentally shrugged: he'd had worse. Besides, nothing would move the smile from his face now that he-

-stepped out into the Windmount Districts, and acre upon acre of green fields greeted him. A half-dozen or so buildings marred the landscape, true, but after an hour feeling like a rat in a turgid, stinking labyrinth of sweaty humans... that was almost like stepping back into the jungle.

Razkar chuckled like a boy as he bent down... and felt the tickle of hundreds of blades of grass on the palm of his hand. He tore a handful free and lifted it to his face... closed his eyes and smelled life and dirt and horse shit and... he smiled.

Better than sweat and quiet desperation... fuck, I'm doing it again!

The Myrian began to stride over to the main building, where he could already hear the multitude of neighing horses and see the lithe, muscled bipeds grazing peacefully below them.

He wondered if Serena had been able to sell his horse...

Receipt40GM from the same of all Razkar's Looted Weapons (see his CS), except for the Wakizashi (25% of the what the Price List quotes, according to Perplexity's grading

[Edreina]

The sun was shining. The birds were singing. Horses could be heard all across the Windmount Stables. A storm was brewing. Edreina sat atop her newly purchased gelding, a Windrunner with an imperfect coat named Jorven. Freckled hands were clenching the reins despite the number of times Serena had already told her not to do exactly that. "Stop gripping him with your ankles! Use your knees to keep your seat!" Oh, and that one too. Edreina sighed and once again adjusted until the experienced horsewoman nodded her approval. Round and around the pen she had Jorven walk, hands trembling lightly every time the horse's ears moved or it huffed at her. Sorry... she thought in its direction for the millionth time as she shifted in the moulded leather saddle, giving him the wrong command only to correct harshly with the reins, earning a sigh from the horsewoman. She did not understand entirely why the redhead was so intent upon mastering the basics of an entirely new skill in one day, but she would help the best she could. There was an innate passion in this Svefra that Serena rarely experienced. If she approached everything with the same tenacity and open-mindedness with which she approached learning how to ride a horse, Serena doubted there was a single thing she could not accomplish. Around and around Edreina rode the silver-spotted gelding until horse and rider settled in to a natural rhythm. His up and down cadence quickly became lulling to the Svefra, nearly as rhythmic as the rolling waves of the Suvan. At the syncing of horse and rider, Serena motioned for Edreina to begin riding Jorven in a figure eight pattern, occasionally signalling for Edreina to stop the horse and turn him around, reversing the pattern. "Don't forget! Use your legs to steer him, too!" At first, Edreina would jerk up on the reins, causing the horse to skid to a stop with an annoyed whinny. But, as she went one, she gradually stopped fearing him deciding to bolt and trusted the horse to do as she told, begin gentler on the reins and patting his neck whenever he did well. It was slow going, learning to ride an animal she had long feared, but each positive step she took was a small victory. Furthermore, she actually started to enjoy riding Jorven. Controlling such a massive animal gave her a sense of strength she often lacked on land. Yes... she might just be able to pull this off. Unbeknownst to the Svefra, a stableboy was currently leading a Myrian across the stableyard, towards the corral in which Serena was giving lessons to a new rider. The woman had chosen to move her training into one of the indoor arenas in case her ineptitude somehow managed to send an utterly calm gelding cantering off, likely injuring himself in his haste. Only the owner of Windmount would be able to tell Razkar about the finances he had inquired about. Edreina turned at the end of the arena just in time to see a very familiar silhouette enter the building's twilight. The shock of seeing him here, so soon. It upset the redhead's delicate balance and sent her tumbling off of the horse, landing hard upon her hip with a pained groan. He was here! Already? She had planned on confronting him later tonight but now- There was a chance he had not yet seen her. Pushing aside Jorven's curious head, Edreina rose to her feet and carefully, as silently as she could manage, pushed the slow-minded creature between herself and the Myrian, hunching over so that he would not be able to spot her tell-tale red mane... Or at least that was what she would hope. The way that her heart was racing and she seemed to be unable to catch her breath made her think otherwise. When did Razkar miss anything?

[Razkar]

What in the hells...?

The commotion to his side drew the Myrian's attention immediately. The sound of something thumping down to the ground, moans and winces from a half-dozen watchers-

-and the sight of a cantering, somewhat confused Windrunner where before he was sure there must have been a rider. But... where was he?

Razkar frowned and slowed his stride as he watched the people ringing the distant training circle, leaning closer and pointing, some even laughing. But the figure... yes, there he... no... wasit a she? He narrowed his eyes and saw legs that were so familiar to him, but her head was hidden behind the horse she rose behind.

Odd. Those marks on her legs, almost looks like-

"Razkar?!"

Once again his attention was drawn, head snapping back around the way he was walking... and he smiled. A tall, straight-backed woman with a riot of brown hair cascading around her shoulder, bouncing lightly as she trod towards him. Brown eyes, too, sharp and confident as her stride, tanned skin... one would almost think she was a Myrian.

That was probably why she prompted a smile from the Myrian, and a bow of respect when she halted before him. She reminded him of his own people, where females were always so in control and commanding, almost the opposite of how the barbarian peoples lived.

Kavala. The Hand Healer from Cyphrus. She reminds you of her, too.

"Mistress Serena." Razkar said as he straightened back up, rewarded for his respect with a cocked eyebrow and a crossing of taut, firm arms. "It is good to see you."

"Indeed, Myrian, though I assume you would like to see what I have for you more, hmm?"

"Ah, true..." Razkar said, looking around them again, taking in the lush fields and pastures, barely believing that despite the sheer openness of it all, they were still encircled and fortified by the massive walls of the Stormhold. "But to come to here is not hard for me. Good to see so much green, yes?"

"Good point..." She turned a little and gestured to the barn, leading him on as they walked and talked. "You'll be happy to know I sold your nag... Nag," she paused, awful sentence structure irking her for a moment, then continued, "only just yesterday. However, I did say that she probably wouldn't go for much-"

"Yes, yes, I remember-"

"Don't interrupt, please."

Razkar bit his tongue, and settled for remembering, not recounting. Nag, as he called the skinny beast he'd "recovered" after that ambush in the Bronze Woods, was more a necessity of burden than a willing purchase, as Mrrko had been. He had a bedroll of weapons to transport and they were too heavy to be lugged through a day's worth of woods and, since Nag's owner had passed on...

But selling him? That was different and, just like the weapons, no guarantee of riches. After getting the name of the Windmount Stables from Ruprekt, the Myrian had journeyed to this jarringly-pastoral aspect of the Stormhold and listened in silence as Serena Windmount had laid it all out for him, finger jutting out over and over at the slighty-befuddled by mostly-indifferent horse.

"See? He's not eaten much, he's not been shod and I don't even know if he'll take to other horses. But, if you're really keen to sell... I'll tell you what. Leave him here, and come back at the end of the season. If I've sold him, you get a profit out of it, and if not, you take him back."

That seemed reasonable and above board to Razkar... all accept for just giving her an asset without having anything to show for it. The female's face had clouded and those luscious locks suddenly seemed more like curtains to an angry soul.

"You have my word. That still means something here. My husband was a Knight of Syliras; my cousin rides with them now. When I say I will do a thing, then by the Windoak, I mean it."

That was enough for Razkar, and even if it wasn't, he could tell arguing with her would profit him nothing and cost him much. A season passed. He returned, and...

"Fifteen gold rimmed beauties for you," she said at the entrance to the barn, rows of horses gently shuffling around in their paddocks or snuffling into feed bags. A half-dozen stable boys attended to the never-ending chores of feeding, watering, grooming and, of course, shit-shoveling. "What I made on him is none of your affair, but what you make... well, here it is."

Razkar jingled the coins, nodding his satisfaction if not his happiness. Well, mizas were mizas, and what else would he do with Nag? Still, he frowned, remembering what she'd said before.

"Only just sold yesterday?"

"Yeah, and quickly, too." She snorted, walking over to inspect the teeth of a one of her charges, practiced hands avoiding teeth the size of her thumbs as she looked for cavities and rotting strands of hay. "Typical, really. I go a whole season thinking the poor thing won't go anywhere, and yesterday some pipe-smoking dandy buys up every spare mount I can spare. Caravan leaving soon, apparently. My money's on Valini, this is usually the season he..."

She kept speaking but Razkar was only half-listening. Pipe-smoking... could it... well, not necessarily. Plenty of men smoked pipes, dozens, hundreds, so who was to say it was his "employer"? Quotation marks because Razkar knew and had almost been outright told that despite appearances, his employer was, in fact, Leo Valini.

Or the "bodyguard" of The Smoker, always at his elbow, ostensibly protecting him but, in fact, just making sure that what he really wanted got carried out.

"Razkar? Razkar, you there?"

He blinked and smiled apologetically, shaking his head. "I am sorry, Mistress Serena, mind was... leagues somewhere else. I think that was good luck for us both, though, hmm?"

"Well, perhaps. Never liked that man, though." She said, grimacing distastefully, but at the memory, not the chunk of putrid blackness she pulled from the back of the horse's mouth. Oh, she'd done that so many times over her decades she barely even noticed anymore. "Always so... smug and condescending. Everyone knows he's Valini's minion but he still acts like he has power."

"Oh, I can imagine that be to annoy you."

"No, you couldn't." Then the human turned to him and smiled curiously. Goddess, she was a beauty, too, and her hard-edged drive in a very male world only made Razkar grin back like a juvie. "Well... perhaps you would. Your people are run by females, you know how they think more than the men here would."

A bark of laughter, short and sharp and enough to make her blink quickly, burst from the Myrian's throat. He scratched the back of his head and grimaced.

"Not much as Mistress would think, I fear. But my thanks for sale of Nag and gold."

"Not a prob-Ah!" The clip-clop of shod horse feet, steady and in no rush, had begun to creep into their ears a few ticks before, and finally the sound and the steed in question rounded the other side of the barn doors. Serena strode towards it, rider leading the gelding but obscured by the glaring sun. "And how was our lesson today, Reina?"

Razkar's jaw dropped, his eyes bulged, and then blue eyes crowned by a red mop of hair peered sheepishly peered up at him.

Receipt15GM from the sale of one Horse, Light (same guidelines as before, as per Perplexity's grading

[Edreina]

Someone else needed the ring. Someone else had sentenced Edreina to death. There was no avoiding it now. Unless... Keeping the clueless gelding carefully in between herself and the Myrian who was now speaking with Serena, Edreina led the horse by the reins towards his stall... the outside corral... somewhere. All was going well. The horse and rider managed to make it from one end of the arena to the other without attracting any attention. All that was left was to make it past them and to the exit... If only Jorven's metal-clad hooves were not so loud. "And how was our lesson today, Reina?" Shyke... Shykeshykeshykeshyke!!! The keen horsewoman missed nothing. As silly Jorven continued walking in the direction they had been going, regardless his frozen rider, Edreina took a deep, trembling breath and peered over the silver-spotted gelding's rear end. He finally stopped when he had no more length left in his reins, and turned to assess the condition of the red-maned woman he had come to trust in recent days. The Svefra shivered lightly, a remnant of her fear, as the horse lipped at her hair lightly, attempting to get her attention and get her moving again. Her hand ghosted up to rest upon his muzzle as she and the Myrian looked at one another for several ticks, leaving Serena confused. Though her face was locked in a mask of childish apology, like a youngster that had been caught with their hand in the biscuit barrel, blue eyes flashed with a multitude of emotions. Surprise was there for an instant. It was followed soon by fear, of his reaction and what was surely to come of this confrontation. Betrayal, sharp and searing, flashed through her soul for a moment as she wondered why he had not told her that he was leaving. Anger hardened her eyes for a tick; she had done nothing wrong, and yet he was planning on leaving her to flee to Zeltiva, back into the arms of his half-Myrian love without even an explanation. Confusion existed as well, had he really been planning on leaving, or telling her later, or refusing the trip, or... did he even know? Surely he did. But, she was doing her best to keep from showing any of these emotions, to keep them from dancing blatantly within her wide, thick black-lash rimmed tidepool eyes. As nonchalant as she could manage, she leaned upon the horse's withers and smiled lightly at her lover. "Razkar! What... what brings you by?" When eventually - and predictably - the question was returned, Edreina decided that she would lie. She was not good at it, and the Myrian knew her well enough to detect even the slightest fallacy as it left her lips. Her answer would be, "Oh, n-nothing. I just thought I would get over my fear of horses." The stuttering and fiddling with her coppery-red locks would certainly do her answer no favors. Edreina was the epitome of guilt. Rolling her eyes, the horsewoman said that she had other matters to attend to. And, patting the gelding on the flank, departed, leaving the two alone with their tension.

[Razkar]

Being a fine warrior meant only one thing: you were good at making war. But that did not make you some infallible spirit, nor all-knowing. Razkar was at least able to admit that while he could see blows before they landed and read an enemy's muscles as he could Old Myrian runes, he was a rank novice when it came to seeing the truth behind someone's words and actions. Guilt? Deception? Lies? These were things that were oft-alien to him, and thus, he did not recognize.

But fear... yes... Razkar had much experience with that. But seeing it flash across those blue eyes he was growing so dangerously fond of was not something he expected, nor enjoyed. But worse than that was the way she tried to hide it, brush it off and throw a veneer of nonchalance over over something that-

What are you hiding from me?

"Razkar! What... what brings you by?"

Serena's brown locks bobbed back and forth as she looked between the two, and Razkar was suddenly uncomfortable. This was not something he wanted done with an audience. He cleared his throat and did his best to mirror her uncaring attitude, but that just caused the horse trader and trainer to frown.

"Come to finish business with Mistress Windmount. Business is done. And... you?"

"Oh, n-nothing. I just thought I would get over my fear of horses."

Serena wondered if the two barbarians knew just how transparent they were, but decided it was none of her business. She had ten acres worth of affairs that needed attending, and quickly made herself scarce.

Silence. Ominous and empty and yet pushing down on them both like the weight of the Void. Razkar's step was slow, almost... Goddess, why was he so threatening to her? Of all the barbarians he'd met in his year outside the jungle, she was one of only a handful he would not harm... and yet the stark suggestion of deceit, the stink of deception and hidden things that...

"Edri?"

His voice was low. Soft. But there was iron behind it, the trembling of something that could have been fear or anger. She held his gaze and couldn't look away. His hand reached out... squeezed her shoulder... and that was gentle.

Remember yourself. Before she is one you hold in yor heart, she is a female and you will not browbeat her.

"Why you lie to me? And what you hide from me...?"

[Edreina]

"Why you lie to me? And what you hide from me...?" And, all of a sudden, Edreina felt a single emotion come to the forefront: hurt. What was she hiding from him? Was he being deliberately dense or just trying to- Gods she did not even know. The hot, salty and undeniable wetness of tears sprang up into her eyes. This was not something she had wanted to happen here, in front of all of these people. Blinking back the surge of emotions, Edreina grabbed the hand on her shoulder and used it to lead Razkar outside, Jorven clopping along merrily. As she walked, memories of only nights before came flooding back... 82nd of Summer, 513 AV "Y'hear that Valini is gettin' a group together to escort one o' 'is trading caravans all'eh way ta Zeltiva?" "'Course. 'ired me an' some others. Myrian's comin' too. Valini wouldn' pull somethin' like this withou' 'im." That single, simple scrap of conversation, caught by Edreina as she passed with a pitcher of ale, nearly made her stumble. Razkar was heading to Zeltiva? When did this happen? Better yet, when did he plan on telling the Svefra? Unless he isn't planning on telling me... The thought was a stone in Edreina's gut as she made her way back behind the bar, walking in a daze. Zeltiva. Last Razkar had heard, his once-beloved Ayatah resided there. Maybe... Maybe he had decided upon- No... the thought was too painful. There had to be some sort of misunderstanding. Perhaps, perhaps Razkar was finding out right then and had not had the chance to tell her yet. Maybe he was just too afraid to. Attempting to keep her breathing even, Edreina made her way over to the two men, leaning upon their table. Her smile was bright enough, but had been plastered on her face out of habit, not joy. Twas the worse kind of smile in her mind. Hopefully these two had had enough to drink that they would not notice. Then again, she doubted the men's eyes were on her face. "You're going to Zeltiva, hm? It's brave of you to travel so far..." Flattery will get you everywhere. "When did you find out about this trip?" The man looked stunned. All night his attempts to get the lovely barmaiden's attention had been rebuffed. But, mention he was traveling across the continent and she was suddenly at his feet, oh that was sweet... "Bout four days ago," he answered, leaning back in his chair. Any witty pick up line he had died on his lips as the redhead whirled in a tizzy of red hair and purple skirt. Once they were out in the sunlight, Edreina stopped, whirling on the Myrian, eyes full of ill-hidden hurt, of fear. "Why Razkar?" She hesitated, voice faltering when she tried to continue. "Y-you're going to Zeltiva... When were you planning on telling me? Or... or were you not... Did you ch..." Her voice lost all sort of power and she averted her eyes, leaning against Jorven for moral support. How odd that she now sought comfort in this once-monster. "Did you choose h-her?" There was certainly no doubt as to of whom the redhead spoke. Her posture was defeated to say the least as she refused to look up at Razkar, to hear the words he had been hiding from her. The time had finally come.

[Razkar]

The way her face crumpled looked like the fall of an empire to him. The mere sight of it twisted in his soul and pulled it through his ribs like meat through a mesh and Razkar's mouth opened, hand reaching up to he cheek when tears sprang, hot and painful in her eyes.

"Why Razkar?"

Ticks passed; too many of them, as his mind struggled to catch up to the question. Goddess, it was so hard just to keep in this moment, his heart pulling him in ten directions while his ears and eyes strained to focus on her.

"Wh-Why what? What did-"

"Y-You're going to Zeltiva... When were you planning on telling me?"

Another blow; another shock to his system, reality shifting in ways he didn't like or trust without even petching asking him. He held up his other hand as if praying for some kind of peace, frown crushing his eyes. Zeltiva? Unbidden a flash of Aya came to his eyes, at completely the wrong moment, memories of her telling him she would go to the "City of Scrolls" where all learning in the barbarian lands was-

"Wait, Edri, Zeltiva? When-"

"Or... or were you not... Did you ch..."

He hated to see her pain, her weakness, the agony of betrayal moist in her eyes but the Myrian's jaw snapped shut as the female overrode him yet again. Anger began to flare, like that of a cornered animal who just wants to be left alone.

"Edri, not make sense, let me-"

"Did you choose h-her?"

"Silence!"

The two syllables were barked out like a death sentence; so much anger and violence in them that Edreina just stared at him, lip quivering... and Razkar's expression did not change. He was too confused, too angered at Aya being evoked by his lover, even directly. All the anger and confusion and self-hate festering in him was pouring out of those stone-cold eyes now, glaring from under thick eyebrows...

You're scaring her. You're hurting her. You-

I do not need this shyke!

But intimidation would not work, and this attitude... it was counter-productive. He reached towards her and actually winced when she flinched away from his fingertips. Another swell of anger and he felt his lips curl back in fury, the audacity the barbarian-

Female. Barbarian female! Remember who and what you are, boy!

"... Edri." He spoke again, and whatever softness had been in his voice trickled back, but did she trust it? She didn't know, and at that moment, he didn't care. He needed answers. "Where you hear I go to Zeltiva? Because if I not know I go-" he ground out the words inch by inch, as if carving them into her mind like a chisel on stone "-how do you know?"

[Edreina]

"Silence!" The single word managed to crackle between them with emotions even Edreina could not name, for they existed in a realm she had only ever visited. In all the time that Edreina had known Razkar - short though it may be in the grand scope of things - she had heard him speak in such a way, but never to her. It jarred her, chilling her skin and dropping stones into her stomach. Did he want her to be quiet because he was finally going to tell her, going to break the news? That made her stomach drop even further, causing a new type of fear to mingle with the primal sort the Myrian warrior inspired. Instinct yanked her body away from his when he reached for her, those hands were not meant to caress, not when he was like this. For the first time in Razkar's presence, Edreina was utterly terrified. "... Edri." Wide blue eyes, so full of fear where once there was only adoration and understanding turned back up to the Myrian. "Where you hear I go to Zeltiva? Because if I not know I go how do you know?" At this, Edreina was given pause. He did not know? How... How was it possible that he did not know? No... Edreina did not believe it. He was only testing her. Somehow... that was the only thing that made sense! "A few nights ago at the Arms some other mercs were discussing a trip to Zeltiva Valini was organizing... One said that the Myrian was going too. I only assumed..." Edreina hesitated, chewing on her lip as she looked down and away, shame coloring her cheeks for an instant. She had assumed... And now they were here, having it out in a horseyard. "I assumed that you were just going to leave..." Her voice broke, betraying all the fear she had attempted to keep hidden behind her resolve. "It is why I bought Jorven..." The horse nickered and nudged her arm gently at the sound of his name. "I thought that if I showed you that I could keep up with you... that I wouldn't be a burden... Maybe you would bring me along... But now I am thinking that maybe you didn't tell me because you didn't want me to come! I thought you had decided that you would return to- to her... But that thought hurt too much so I ignored it and ignored it and just kept hoping that if maybe I showed you... showed you I was fit for you..." The words came out quickly, only stopping when she hesitated. Being able to express it finally... it felt good but it terrified her. She had been putting off this confrontation, spending her days learning how to ride and her nights working at the Arms, hoping that the smell of smoke would disguise the smell of horse that clung to her skin and hair until she leapt into the Suvan. Being fit for him... It was a fear she had expressed to Matt many-a-day earlier, and one that continued to haunt her. It was why she had started going to the Fighter's Pit, watching and learning and attempting to prove herself worthy of standing at Razkar's side. But now... he might be leaving her all together. She just had to know why... Maybe that would make it all easier.

[Razkar]

"A few nights ago at the Arms..."

Words flowed from trembling lips, the story was told and Razkar had to force himself not to... what, exactly? Berate her? Embrace her? He didn't even know, but he did know that he needed the facts before he decided anything else. His brow furrowed and smoothed several times as she spoke, a stern and unforgiving mask staring back at hers.

He should have known better than to project such... roughness at her. Days of passion and amiability, even sweet, gentle interactions... they were the mask, he feared. Because no matter how close they became nor how deep they penetrated each other's hearts, he was still a Child of Myri, and she of the Sea People.

No... No...

Some small voice cried out for attention within him and he quashed that, too. The Arms... the mercenaries bragging over their beer... a caravan going to Zeltiva, and wouldn't Valini be supremely unimpressed by such loose lips.

Valini. The Myrian. Words she spoke that came from the lips of others and... yes... it made sense. But why had he not been told? Such an undertaking would have take an entire season to complete from start to finish, moving a vast horde of good-laden donkeys, wagons, horses and cattle halfway across the continent, not to mention the contingent of mercenaries needed to protect it.

Razkar's face darkened again and the Svefra seemed to shrink from him. But it was not her she was angry at now; it was the true cause of all this. Leo petching Valini and his-

No. You know you seek others to lay your blame upon. You allowed yourself to be tied to another; you broke your vow. That was shameful enough, but now you must face the consequences of your actions.

He bit down hard and felt his molars grind together, drowning out that utterly logical and proper voice that laid out his flaws, his mistakes, his recklessness. What was his plan for Edri, anyway? Love her and leave her, as Zuran used to say of his casual conquests? Was that what he had with her? A purely physical relationship that both could throw away with a peck on the cheek and no wounds in their hearts?

Go ahead. Speak the lie within your mind. Feel how it festers.

"... maybe I showed you... showed you I was fit for you..."

Then her final words quavered into his ears, and he blinked seeing his... his love, on the verge of tears, her mount steadying her more than her own feet could. Razkar had never seen her so broken, not even during the nightmares that wracked her after Ekvan's treatment of her. She looked so... lost... so fragile... and the thought that she would think herself unworthy...?

"Edri?"

His own words were harsh now, commanding more than coaxing, demanding her attention and, eventually, he got it. She turned her face to him and he saw glistening tracts furrow her face, twin lines of tears that pooled on her chin and-

-his hand reached out to brush them away, shaking his head, expression so charged with regret and pain and exasperation and anger that she could barely make out any of them. Finally he sighed... bowed his head...

She braced herself. This was it. All she had feared, coming from his own li-

"You have thing wrong way to you." He said, voice a whisper. His hand reached out and gripped her own, thumb caressing her knuckles. "Worthy... is not thing you need worry for. I never see... never think..."

Goddess, why was this so hard? Why did they never tell him that words were such mendacious and cunning tools to master? He looked up at her and he let down his walls, desperation and fear and sorrow pouring out of eyes that usually revealed nothing.

Show her the truth. Not the facts; the truth, and that can only come from... being vulnerable.

"I did not know." He shook his head and there was an edge of pleading to his voice. "I swear. I did not." Then his jaw was set and he nodded, inhaling deep and straightening his posture, new determination in his eyes. "But I know now, and you come with me. We go to Coin."

Without waiting for a reply, even as an objection squawked from her lips, Razkar's hand snapped out to take the reins and press them into the surprised hands of a passing stable boy. Other hand still gripping the Svefra's, he spoke over his shoulder as he started leading her away.

"Put up mistress's horse. She come back."

"Yes, sir..."

It didn't take long, of course. Frightened and confused and heartbroken as she was, there was no way in all the many hells that Edreina would allow anyone to drag her along like a child, and they'd not even left the barn before every ounce of her strength tore her hand from him. Razkar whirled... sighed at her defiant expression, still soaked with tears... and put his hands before himself, palm to palm, a gesture of subservience from his own people.

"Please, Edri. Please come. I need... I need you to trust me."

[Edreina]

"Edri?" At the sound of her name, Edreina blinked allowing a few drops of salty liquid to escape and charge down her cheeks, racing towards the cliff of her chin, but they hesitated, fearing the end that lay below. The woman stilled, attempting to still her trembling lip and hands, attempting to at least face this with some sort of strength and of courage. How had this savage man come to occupy such a powerful position in the Svefra's life? His rough hand, so often found alighting tenderly upon Edreina when they thought that no one was looking, came forward and brushed away the wayward tears. This was it... The last time she would feel his touch before it all came crashing down. It was so lovely while it lasted... she would miss it... miss him... If before she had been still, her body went utterly rigid, as if taut muscles could allow the pain his words surely held to bounce off and away. "You have thing wrong way to you. Worthy... is not thing you need worry for. I never see... never think..." Matthew was right... she should have voiced her fears. But it was so hard. She was already so weak, so flawed... Telling him what she feared would have only, she thought, emphasized all of her flaws to the Myrian. She was so filled with fear - fear of rejection, fear of being alone, fear of what he means to her and how her heart is at his mercy. "I did not know." In that moment, Edreina believed him. But, now that he knew, would he still chose to stay by her side? Or would her fears be realized. "I swear. I did not. But I know now, and you come with me. We go to Coin." Before she could register the events occurring, Jorven, her solace and her strength, was being ushered back to his stable, and she was being drug off to the Spinning Coin, the heart of Syliras's underbelly. More out of surprise than actual anger, Edreina stopped, pulling her hand free of Razkar's. Her mind just needed a second to catch up, everything was happening so quickly; there had been no troughs to warn her of these waves. A moment, that was all it took for her mind to put things in order, put the whys and the hows with each. "Please, Edri. Please come. I need... I need you to trust me." And, in spite of her fear and the crumbling feeling in her chest, she did. A quick stride forward brought them closer together. Without pausing, Edreina took both of his tough, scarred, calloused hands within her own, rose to her toes and kissed the Myrian. At first, her lips were timid, barely brushing his. But, after barely a tick, she pressed closer, expressing all of her fear, her determination... everything that plagued her mind came forth in the kiss. The softness of her lips was akin to that when she woke in tears because of the beast Ekvan that still haunted her dreams, but this was an entirely different breed of fear. Instead of fear of bodily injury, of death, this was fear of emotional damage, of the death of her soul. After she had poured herself into him, she hesitated, lips on his beneath Syna's eye and in plain view of all around. But in that moment she cared not that their paltry ruse was broken. If this was to be their last kiss... she wanted to be able to remember it. When finally she was flat footed once again, she nodded and started to walk beside him, eyes betraying a strength she did not think herself capable of. Where he went, she would follow as long as he allowed. And so, when they finally arrived at the Spinning Coin, she had half a mind to demand that she go with him. But it was not her place. Instead, like a man before the hangman's loop she awaited his verdict outside.