Lies and Bad Choices

Bron learns she's not all that she thinks she is

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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Lies and Bad Choices

Postby Bronwen on July 16th, 2018, 12:23 am


88th Day
Summer 518

Bron's knuckles pounded on the wooden door.

Wait...why am I here again? She paused, thinking, her head pounding as hard as her knuckles were on the door.

Oh yeah...

She started to rap against the door again, but rocked back, as the wood in front of her face flew inward. In the doorway, a body was silhouetted by the bright torchlight spilling out. Bron squitted, wincing as the bright light caused her head to pulse with pain.

"Yeah, what ya want?" The figure shifted, blocking the brightness and Bron got a good look at her greeter. It was an old woman, ancient by Bron's reckoning. The first thing the Syliran noted was how short the woman was; barely reaching Bron's chest. The second was the fact she had only one eye and the third was that the elderly woman was bald, save several patches of white hair atop a rounded scalp.

"Ya deaf?"

Bron jumped, startled as if she never expected the woman to speak again. "N-no, Ma'am, I just.." she hesitated, trying to gather her thoughts, "I met a man last night and Pig Foot's..he told me he might be here?" The end of Bron's words came off as a question, but the addled girl added, "um, I need to talk to him." Bron paused, pleased that she had made sense, only to have the old bat scowl at her just before the door slammed in her face.

Bron took a step backward, turned, and stumbled to a nearby tree stump, and sat, rubbing her temples. The night before was a mystery of loss memory, all but that man. The man she had been looking for. The one that she thought lived here. The girl sighed, resting elbows on knees, and eyes on the heel of her hands.

Since her Father, Matrim, had left to return to Syliras Bron's life in Sunberth had taken a turn for the...what's worse than worse, Bron wondered. Such a big girl she was, refusing to leave Sunberth with her Father, demanding he trusts that she was adult enough to make it on her own, survive, and stay out of trouble. Little did the Knight know that the family he had entrusted his daughters care in would up and leave Sunberth merely half a season after his own departure. Bron kept her word, however, obtaining a job, and her own place to live.

Both at a brothel.

But he didn't have to know that, right?

The first and last thought Matrim Druva would have after hearing the news would be 'brothel' all other rational thought would cease to exist with the man, along with any explanation from his daughter.

"But, Father, I have a job!"

"At a brothel!!"

"But, Father, I'm a guard."

"At a brothel!!"

"But, Father, I have a place to live."

"At a brothel!!"

Bronwen groaned aloud at the thought and at her aching head.

The man wouldn't listen to his daughter explain that she was saving up, planning on getting herself out of the small, damp room she had called home for nearly a season. He wouldn't even let her begin to explain how she had foolishly gone out alone in the city after dark and got 'accidentally' robbed and thoroughly beaten. He would snatch her up and march her back home to Syliras, he would.

"Not going to happen." she mumbled.

She needed to find the one who had helped her last night. That man, or was it a woman? Maybe it was a woman. Gods be damned, why couldn't she remember?! One thing she remembered, however, was what he, or she, had given her. It had made her, oh gods, it had made her better, better than better! All pain vanished, along with worry, and hunger, even her anger had disappeared in a flash. The bad part was that even her memory vanished.

Once she had taken the medicine, which was what the person had told her it was, she had become a different person altogether. This morning, though, it had all came crashing back down on her; pain, anger, doubt, exhaustion. Even her empty coin purse hung open, mocking her. Bron just wanted a little bit more of that medicine, just until she healed from the robbery, just to get past working tonight and maybe tomorrow night, that's all.

She just needed to find the one who had so graciously helped her, or, at the very least, find out the name of the medicine.

Standing, Bron staggered, regained herself, then wandered off into the city, in search of her savior.

Last edited by Bronwen on July 31st, 2018, 6:06 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Lies and Bad Choices

Postby Farris on July 31st, 2018, 6:00 pm

88th Summer, 518

Darkness clutched at the edges of the Ravokian-born mage's thoughts. As the days spent with his Familiar went on, there was a persistent swing of moods from delighted at the Kirt's presence to abhorring everything about the... thing. There was no middle ground with the Kirt and yet whenever he sought to separate himself from Xypher, they both drew back to one another. In truth, he'd grown accustomed to the stone gecko's voice steeping into his thoughts. He was used to the weight on his shoulders as he carried the familiar in his rucksack. He craved the moments when they were together in silence or when the Kirt was struck by the practice of magic. However, such moments were growing farther and farther in between as the Fence grew busier with the turn of the season looming ahead of them.

You haven't furthered your practice in three days, Farris. What are you doing with yourself? Are you letting yourself sink into satisfaction? Is fear keeping you back?

The Kirt was repetitive and grew more predictable with his biting words. The Fyrdenese had a point. Farris grew tired at the end of each day, the end of season inventory draining him immensely with the paperwork and itemization that he sought to install in the Fence. The tasks he had weren't given directly by Zeke, but he sought to do them anyway. Over time, the process would become easier if he established the habits immediately. Procrastination wasn't in the mage's nature and it caused him to shift his priorities.

Of course not. Patience is the crutch we rely on most, Xypher, he assured the Familiar as they made their way from the Fence and towards the Pig's Foot Tavern. The Reimancer wouldn't pretend he'd ever set foot inside of the place, but the fervent desire to drown his troubles with alcohol grew steadier by the day. Xypher was by no means draining his desire to accomplish his goals, but his interference and his demeanor were a drain on the mind nonetheless. Farris ignored the Familiar's numerous questions and was content to let the Kirt stay in his sealed form without giving him any information. He stepped through the doors and kept his eyes down. He sought to not make eye contact with drunks and cretins, but rather keep to himself.

What the petch are we doing here? Alcohol? Women? They're distractions, mage. Get your pri-

Silence, he spoke in his mind. His brows were furrowed as he made his way to the bar and took a seat. I'm going to have a drink, and you'll be damned to stop me. Reveal yourself and it's trouble for the both of us, he assured the Familiar. Xypher screamed obscenities and demanded the wizard to leave, but Farris was firm. He'd grown to know Xypher and despite the Familiar's constant, aggressive jibes and active intention of inhibiting Farris' day to day life, he wasn't stupid enough to out them in the middle of a pub. Merv was quick to catch sight of the mage, who sat down next to a young woman but did not make eye contact or solicit her for conversation. Rather, the mage kept his gaze trained on the number of bottles behind the counter, and the elderly man who might provide him passage into the embrace of intoxication.

"Well, what'll it be, boy?" Merv asked Farris. The mage shrugged his shoulders for a moment before he asked, "I'll buy a gallon of ale in advance. Though, if you could serve me as I finish glasses, I'd prefer that."

"That'll be extra. I ain't your ale bitch, ye know."

Isn't he, though? the Familiar whispered into Farris' mind. The mage stifled laughter, shrugging his shoulders as he produced four silver mizas and placed them on the table for Merv to take.

"For your hospitality," he offered in a friendly voice. The barkeeper's tune seemed to shift with the addition of mizas into the conversation and Farris was glad to be rid of the man once he was done pouring the first glass. Farris took his first sip and immediately his features pursed with distaste. He'd had alcohol in Ravok and rather enjoyed it. But this... was swill by comparison.

Xypher seemed amused by the mage's expression of disgust.

You wouldn't have the taste of piss in your mouth if you listened to me, he chimed in.

Oh, shut up, Xypher, he responded before taking another sip from the glass. By the sip, it grew on him and before long, Merv filled up his glass without being asked to.

"Thanks," he'd say before letting his gaze drift about. The woman next to him seemed far off and distant, and he mused breaking their mutual silence with a simple, "Evenin'."

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