Lady of the Cake (M)

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Kella drank her tea with timidness and care, each sip ginger and each swallow, hard. Though as she  sipped and Mrs. Armand offered some cookies, at first she thought to decline but accepted, realizing she hadn't had anything real to eat in days. But even now, as her stomach lurched, she was only able to nibble away at at least one cookie, then a second and as she did, she watched Aryn tend to his wound from the corner of her eye.

The man was built like an ox, a body, perhaps perfect and chiseled hard from a life of fighting and n the streets. She couldn't know for certain, though his perfection was marred easily by the scars across his skin, but the gash now added to this chest, only aided in the charm of his persona. Even his beard show-cased the rough life he had to live, with pocked scars that did not allow for the bristled hair to grow; though most could see the roughness of his life by just looking at his iron limb. Life was always more difficult for someone who was missing a limb.

But what about someone who could never touch another? Someone who could never caress her hug or kiss? Kella had never the satisfaction of such things- not since the magic had awakened,.. her curse. And the fact she and her brother shared in it was traumatic indeed. Though she could hug, and clearly, kisses would never be, the hugs were difficult- always fear behind them, always that image int he back of her head when she had accidentally killed that child....

Realizing she was staring at Aryn, she turned away, eyes going to her cooling cup of tea, just as the clean, wet clothe was offered her way. She peered up just then, her teeth gritting behind a frown before she noticed a blurred blob of cake in her hair out of the corner of her eyes and took her fingers to the tips if it and flinched as it crumbled into her face.

"I suppose I would. I am still bathed in cake..."
And though she tried to smile about it, it was evidently forced as her eyes avoided his. ANd it was then Mrs. Armand returned.

"Not to be offensive, but the pair of you are awfully filthy. We can't have you be going back to Turgall looking like that. Now come on, I can offer you both a bath. Just give me a minute while I go get the husband." She rolled her eyes. "The lazy thing, but I suppose I can't blame him. Someone had mashed in all of his cake the other day." And she looked at the two playfully before moving to the other room, where her voice could be heard screaming for "ARNOOOOOOOOLD!"

Kella flinched at that, shoulders high to her cheeks before she found her gaze going back to Aryn before she dropped those blue eyes to the bucket.
"Your wound should be looked after,"she said quietly.

[Cambie]

"Here, you missed a spot," Aryn grunted as he reached out with the damp cloth. There were still plenty of crumbs clinging to her shorn locks, but at least he was able to wipe away the splotchy layer of flour still pasted on her forehead and cheeks, taking extra care to wipe around those downcast eyes of her. More than once he caught himself staring into those incredibly blue orbs, and and had to force himself to focus onto the task at hand.

When he was done, she still looked quite the mess (as did himself), but at least it was a slight improvement. He tossed both her icing-covered rag and his own bloody one into the bucket of water.

Her statement about his wound was probably true, but in this moment of stubbornness he was not about to admit it. He simply shrugged it away and made a note in the back of his mind to find some bandages later. Or a healer.

The voice that shouted back from the other room was muffled by the walls, but there was no doubt as to the irritation that dripped from it.

"Quit your aching, Dahlia! I just spent all of yesterday and half of the night cleaning up the mess these damned fools made! Do you know how much money we stand to lose from those cakes?! Do you know how long it took to make that chocolate ganache? That was for the bishop! It'll take days to bake something like that again!!!"

And, of course, Mrs, Armand's fervent whisper was loud enough to be heard, even in this other room. "Arnold, you dolt, do you know who's in the other room? Lady. Kella. Harmond."

There was a commotion in the back room, sounding very much like a man climbing hand and feet over piles of buckets and trays, and suddenly Mr. Armand, proprietor of the cake shop, appeared in the doorway with the largest of smiles upon his weathered face. He opened his arms wide in welcome.

"Ah, Lady Harmond! Now what can I do for one of my favorite customers?" He gave a look at the bloody mercenary and cringed a little, but quickly ignored the big man in favor of the noblewoman.

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Kella was not without her blushes for the attentions Aryn took upon her, especially at how gentle he had been when cleaning her up. ANd he had done a better job than she had. Too bad she was too afraid to enjoy the simple 'touch' from a man. Touch equated to fear, and fear equated to death; which was all she was thinking about that she hoped she didn't accidently harm the poor man.

THough it was then Mr. Armand appeared and Kella raised her blue eyes to him.
"I.. I don't think I could ask much more of you. Your wife has already been so kind, and I feel terrible, we've made a mess of your shop."

The man waved it off, though it was obvious he was flustered (for his face was quite red).
"Do not give it a second thought, my lady. The missus is fetching you both a bath this instant, though I must confess we do not have the luxuries you might be used to. So I apologize for our humbleness and I-"

"Really, you needn't apologize for your help. The fact you're offering anything at all is commendable. And I will forever be in your debt."

And that actually made the man genuinely smile.

"Well, er.. would the pair of you like those baths now?"
And with a shake of her head, Kella insisted, "Yes."

[Cambie]

With an emphatic nod of his head for his favorite customer, Mr. Armand led the pair of them to the back of the shop and gestured them down a flight of wooden steps to the living quarters below. Naturally, the Lady went first. Before he took the first step up, Aryn stopped the baker with a hand on his arm and whispered, "Some clean bandages if you have them. I will pay for them."

The second floor of the cake shop was much less decorated than the main, and much more cluttered. Coming off the steps, the first room was clearly the living quarters: a large bed for two tucked in the corner, a small hearth with a chimney that went up, several shelves containing books and other memorabilia, enough locked chests to make a bank proud.

A second doorway led into a smaller room that doubled as both a storage locker and as their water closet. Aside from the chamberpot in the corner, the room had a small wooden tub already full of steaming hot water, several wooden benches, and more clean towels for the two of them. Despite what he'd said about his sparse home, it was evident that these two lived more luxuriously than most (though perhaps not to the standard of a noble).

It was certainly more than anything the Ironhand had ever seen though, as he positively gaped at the furnishings. It took him a moment to clamp shut his jaws and step inside to look around and breath in the steam coming from the tub. He had half removed his shirt when he heard a loud "AHEM!" from behind him.

"What?" he said to Mr. Armand, brow raised. "You set the water so we're cleaning up."

The urgent hiss coming from Mr. Armand said it all. This was Lady Kella Harmond.

The expression of understanding crossed the mercenary's face and he quickly pulled his soiled shirt back down over his exposed abdomen. He frowned slightly but nodded his head. She was a noblewoman, and he was a peon.

"Right, my apologies. I'll be out here, uhh... planning our journey."

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Although the accommodations were nothing grand like the daughter of a duke would be used to, her time on the road taught her not to be so ungrateful. The steaming tub, if anything, raised her hopes to get some relief from the long journey she had just taken- but staring at her muted reflection across the steamy water's surface only reminded her too well what may very well happen after she got clean, so she had almost not heard Mr. Armand and Aryn when they showed theirselves out as she peered over at the now closed door.

Turning back to the tub, she took her time to undress and slipped inside the bath, enjoying, only momentarily the soothing feeling clean waters had on her parched skin. Rubbing off the icing and flour became a bit of a chore, but with some help with the soaps, she was able to scrub almost all of it off, and let the rest soak away. Though the water was much less clean when she was done with it, she knew Aryn still needed to have his turn, and it would be rude of her to occupy the bath for much longer than was necessary- but in a different time, a different life, she would have enjoyed it at length.

Stepping outside the bath, waters spilled down her legs as she wrapped a towel around her petite form and began to pat herself dry, a second towel now was used to wrap around her hair. The towel dress worked nicely, but soon her skin bumped over from the cold and she moved over towards her clothing, only to realize, with a small smile, they were covered in icing and cake as well.

OOC: I'll pause here in case Aryn wants to talk with her through the door, if not, I can add more to my post or something XD

[Cambie]

With the door closed behind him, Aryn had nothing to do but sit down on the warm stone floor, his back leaning against the equally warm door that separated the living chamber from the other. Mr. Armand went back upstairs to his wife and his work (though ostensibly both Armands would be watching the stairwell carefully lest their favorite customer snuck out). The two of them remained in the kitchen, except for the brief moment when Mr. Armand came back down with another small pail of water, a swathe of clean linen bandages, and half-filled bottle of old wine.

Left alone to his own devices, and knowing that Kella would probably relish in the opportunity to soak for a while in the steaming tub, the Ironhand slowly removed all the weapons from his person and laid them out in a row before him. There were four daggers in all, along with his axe. Each of them would have to be sharpened and cleaned again, when he found the necessary tools to do so.

He also gently unbuckled the iron prosthetic from his right arm and laid it next to his weapons. It, too, was marred by dirt, icing, blood, and worst of all, nicks to its polished surface from where it'd been struck. He frowned slightly at the thought of repairing it or replacing it. That would cost money.

And of course, money would come from him returning this girl back to her brother, the wealthy Duke of Turgall. She'd made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with that idea, and Aryn had seen for himself the desperation and despair in her pleading blue eyes. But a mercenary lived and died by the coin he earned. The dilemma ate away at him.

He gave the door behind him a slight rap with his calloused knuckles and said, his voice muffled by the wood, "So tell me girl, why does the Duke have to hire out to the lowest of people to come find you? What was wrong with the noble life that you had to run away and take to the streets?" He shouldn't have called her that, not anymore, but it had become a habit.

With his free hand he unbuckled the leather armor from his body and laid it neatly over his weapons. He then finally pulled the shirt over his shirt to inspect the wound across his muscled pectoral. It was a deep enough gash that would leave a cragged scar, but he wouldn't die from it. He took the water and cleaned away at the wound some more to get out the dirt and grime.

The mercenary took three deep breaths and long swig of the wine before then gritting his teeth together and pouring the stuff down into the bloody gash. The immediate swell of pain had him letting out a low muffled scream through his clenched teeth, and brought water to his eyes. He immediately took gulped down more wine and fumbled for the linen bandages to clumsily wrap around himself. With only one arm to spare, it was an arduous task.

((Wooo, happy 100th post to me!))

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((Wooo, happy 100th post to me!))

Congrats I helped be responsible for this looool XD

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At his question, she turned her eyes from clothing to the door and tucked back some of her damp hair that had come loose and fell about her face. The ends curled and dribbled waters still, and she glanced away, shamefully so, as she pondered over an answer.

"I just...." Though would he understand? "Things had become dangerous." How to explain- that the very reason she had to leave was the Duke himself (who had, in a sense, due to his powers, became a monster). SHe stared down solemnly at the ground that was, until she heard the man gasp on the other side of the door. Fearing he was hurt, she threw the door open to take a step, only to find herself gasping and realizing, he was half dressed and doing wound care.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" she said, shrinking back into the bathing room as she clutched to her towel. "I I didn't realize... I thought you were in trouble and I-" She felt so embarrassed she nearly slipped over her own feet. Thank goodness she hadn't. She was exposing far too much skin for it to be safe and one hand clung to the door frame, the other, still to her towel.

[Cambie]

((It's all your fault!!! ))


"Dangerous, eh? How dangerous could a cushy palace be? Speaking out of my arse, of course," the Ironhand admitted in reply even as he continued to fumble painfully with the bandages.

That is, until the door behind him suddenly flung open, blasting him with the warm humid air that had accumulated inside the room from the bath. Half out of instinct and half out of surprise, he whirled around in his seat and was immediately confronted with the girl, wrapped in only a dainty little towel that covered the more private parts of her body.

His jaw dropped.

It wasn't as if he'd never seen a woman naked before, but the thought of it ever being this particular girl hadn't even crossed his mind. Her exposed legs were smooth and slender, and he suddenly found himself staring at them. Until, of course, he recalled that she wasn't any street urchin as he first thought. She was Lady Kella Harmond.

He clamped his mouth shut and quickly averted his eyes turning around with his back to her. Of course he didn't have his shirt on either, but he was nobody. Even his scarred torso couldn't offend her. "Right, I didn't see anything. Take your time in there."

He could still feel her presence at the open door, frozen in place as neither of them truly knew how to react to the situation. After a moment's awkward silence, he added in a feigned imperturbed voice, "But if you're going to stand there anyway, how about giving me a hand with this wrapping?" He almost looked over his shoulder, but caught himself just in time.

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If things couldn't get any more awkward, Mrs. Armand was coming up the steps.
"Your lady ship, I have a few dresses from my daughter in law that I could lend-" but her sentence ended there as she spotted Aryn, shirtless, then the girl in nothing but a towel.

"By Ansgar's name! Out with you! OUT!" she cried, and proceeded to whack Aryn with the dress and an always prepared rolling pin that had been fastened to her apron. "GET OUT OF THERE! HOW DARE YOU STARE AT A LADY WHO IS SO UNDRESSED! ARNOLD! ARRRRRRRRNOLD! Fetch this riff-rough out of here immediately! He's trying to peek at her! THE FIEND!"

[Cambie]

((Some minor adult language ahead))


Turning back around to face the stairwell was probably the worst thing he could've done. Face to face with the beet-red Mrs. Armand, Aryn barely had time to register the look on her face before that first contact of skin and wood. It clubbed him right on the upper arm and had him flinching slightly. Quickly he scrambled up to his feet and cowered under his arms to protect himself from the tiny little woman.

"Angsar take you, woman! There was no staring! It was a misunderst-"

And then the wooden pin connected directly with the freshly cleaned gash on his exposed bare chest. With a thunderous scream of pain he turned and gave Mrs. Armand a heavy shove that had her stumbling back and tripping over her own feet to land unscathed (but shocked) on the Armand marital bed in the corner.

"You crazy bitch! I ought to burn this entire fucking place down!" the livid mercenary roared while clutching at the wound - now pulsating with intense pain - and stumbling toward the stairs and up them. His eyes blazed with intense anger as he reached the top and came face-to-face with Mr. Armand.
One piercing glare had the baker stammering for words. Before anything could be said Aryn also shoved him to a side with a bellowing "Get the fuck out of my face!"

And passersby looking into the window would see the half-dressed, one-armed man pacing back and forth and cursing up a storm.

Just another day at the Armand Cake and Bake Shop...

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"Mercy! Mercy! The man is crazy!" Mrs. Armand wallowed in agony from on the bed. With a hand draped over her face, she appeared about ready to faint, or have a heart attack- or perhaps both. But when the 'perverted' mercenary went charging up the steps angrily, Kella was about clean ready to chase after him, that was until she recalled she was wearing nothing but a towel.

Disappearing back inside the wash room with the dress in hand, she slipped into the dress with haste before running out the door in nothing but bare feet and her hair a mess, dripping down her shoulders. She would have preferred to dress in something even more modest than the already extremely modest style Mrs. Armand's daughter in law seemed to dawn, but she was thankful for the high collar, no cleavage and partial sleeved dress that it was. It was also nice the skirts swept down long around her feet as she made a hasty run up the stairs while fumbling to put her cake laced gloves on- which looked anything but a fashionable statement as she tried to look for Aryn.

Upon finding him, she hesitated in approaching as she watched him pace, before stepping delicately into the room and peering over at him with some hesitation.
"You know, I don't think I've properly gotten your name." And she bowed her head and kept it upon the ground. He was only partially dressed, after all.

[Cambie]

The Ironhand paced back and forth, back and forth, from the window to the kitchen doorway and back, mixing loud curses with mutters under his breath. Half of the tirade was as an expression of his frustration with how everything had gone the moment he'd set foot in this city of desserts. The other half was an exercise in trying to ignore the dull ache in his chest. At the moment, it was more of the latter. He could still feel the sting of the rolling pin around the wound, where his skin was starting to turn a bit red.

On hearing the dainty footsteps behind him, he whirled around to face the Lady. She was fully clothed this time, so there was no need to avert his eyes, even as she lowered her own. The mercenary glared down at the top of her head, his breaths forcibly measured as he tried to calm himself from the dizziness of his rant.

And when she asked that quiet little question of hers, such a basic thing but so incredibly late considering all that they'd been through, he barked out a terse laugh and gave his head a shake. Unbelievable.

"If you don't mind, now that you're finished dallying in there, I'm going to wash this damn cake out of my beard and be done with these maniacs."

Turning, he stomped his way to the stairwell, past the still speechless Mr. Armand. He paused at the top of the stairs though, hand clenched tightly into a balled fist. The muscles of his right arm were tensed too, and if he still had his hand it likely would have also been clenched.

It took a second, but finally he gave another shake of his head and, without turning back to look at her, he answered her in a much softer and more congenial tone, "Aryn. My name is Aryn."
With a last slow exhale, as if not knowing what else to do, he disappeared downstairs.

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Aryn. She repeated it inside her head to commit it to memory, before timidly peering his way to see that he had gone. And something struck her just then...
WIth everyone distracted- Mr.a nd Mrs. Armand in their shocked states, and Aryn going to bathe while no one watched the front of the shop...

It gave her the perfect opportunity to get out of there. To run away.

So she did.

And not even ten minutes later, Mrs. Armand comes storming through the shop, throwing one of the doors open where Mr. Armand was attending to paper work as she screamed, "She's gone!" and her voice echoed through the bake shop. "Lady Kella Harmond is gone!"

[Cambie]

The warmth created by the steaming water idly resting in the tub would have felt good on any other day, but when Aryn stepped into the room and swung shut the door behind him, all he could think about was the events of the past two days. Sooner or later, for his own sake, he was going to have to take Kella back to the Duke of Turgall, whether or not she wished it. Riches beyond his wildest dreams awaited him at the end of the task, and for a man who grew up not knowing when his next meal would come, it was too good an offer to pass out.

But that had been before he'd actually met Lady Harmond, seen her at her most vulnerable, and taken it upon himself to make sure no harm befell her. He didn't know her true identity then, of course. It shouldn't have made a difference considering he had a job to do and money to earn, but now the thought of going through with it weighed upon his conscience.

That was the problem, he thought bitterly to himself, having morals in his line of work.

The water was still lukewarm to the touch and contained more than a few traces of the Lady's prior use: dirt and residue from her layered the bottom of the wooden tub, and the faint traces of her perfume lingered in the air. The water seemed clean enough for a second use though; he dunked his entire head into it. The water washed out most of the grime from his beard, and a rough hand through it removed the rest. With his palm he splashed water onto his arms and shoulders before roughly wiping the water away with a clean towel.

His body now (relatively clean), he was finally able to wrap the bandages around the wound in his chest, though it took quite a bit of grunting, and a little bit of improvisation, pressing his back against the wall to hold the bandages in place as he wrapped them over his chest. The linen went twice around, under one arm and over the shoulder of the other, until finally he pinned it down with a pin he found lying around.

A pair of shears lay nearby a small mirror, and he quickly snatched it up to trim at the thick bushy mess gracing his chin. The personal grooming was a welcome reprieve from having to think about his next move.

Unfortunately, his next move was already made for him. As soon as he heard Mrs. Armand's wail echo throughout the building, he immediately dropped the scissors. The curses ran through his mind over and over again as he flung the doors open and ran over to where he belongings sat in a ramshackle pile. It took a few moments to buckle his arm back on and throw his soiled shirt and armor back over his damp torso. Droplets flew wildly from his half-trimmed beard as he dashed up the stairs two at a time and out the door.

There was an apple merchant idling behind his stand across the street from the bake shop, looking bored as ever. He was the first person the mercenary ran to. With a smile, the vendor opened his arms wide and began, "Welcome, my friend, fancy an apple? Freshest in all of Va-"

He was abruptly cut off by a calloused hand grabbing him by the shirt. "A girl, blonde, and wearing a clean dress and a pair of gloves came out of there. Which way did she go?"

"Uhh... sh-she went down that way and around the corner, maybe fifteen, twenty minutes ago?"

Without responding, the Ironhand took off in that direction, inwardly cursing himself for ever letting the noblewoman out of his sight. Fifteen minutes... she could have gone anywhere!

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Run. It was all she could do, and perhaps was something foolish since- at the time, her boots had been abandoned in the wash room, now replaced by worn, leather ones too big for her own feet. Mr. Armand would be furious- and she felt bad to steal that- and his coat, as she made her way down the narrow streets while puffs of white air trailed behind her in the crisp air.

Winter would be upon the land soon- and she'd have to find a way to survive in it without a home. She had been traveling, but travel would prove extra dangerous- not only with the war looming over the land, but it was never safe nor wise to travel when things got so cold. And she still had to travel through the windy Sirantil Valley to get south and out of this country- for at least she hoped she could make safe passage over the boarder and into Serendipity. She knew the mountains there would be difficult to navigate, especially if she had to do it in the middle of winter- though perhaps she could find some place to lay low and make her pass come spring.

So many thoughts whirled around inside her head as she rushed down the street, heart beating heavily within her chest as she clung to the wool jacket. Turning a corner, her eyes darted and once she saw it was clear, she made her way towards the south bridge of town. The road was mostly empty, and chancing one look over her shoulder, she made her way towards the bridge in hopes no one would see her leaving the town.

[Cambie]

A tarp-covered wagon laden with goods for trade rolled the opposite way on the town's southern entrance, its wooden wheels clacking against the stone bridge as it rolled up the structure's gentle slope and over the river. Its driver was bundled up in layer upon layer of fabrics to protect himself from the wind, but just one look at his face was enough to figure out he didn't have the best of journeys. So when a skinny little girl in a coat and boots much too big for her darted in front of his cart going the opposite way, he tugged furiously on the reins and shouted down at her, "WATCH WHERE YER GOING!"

Grumbling, the man drove his wagon toward the town square where many merchants had stalls set up in anticipation of selling the last of their goods before the winter months shut down the roads. As he pulled into view of the colorful bazaar, a second figure darted in front of his cart.

"BY ANGSAR, DO YOU PEOPLE KNOW HOW TO STAY OFF THE ROAD?" the driver screamed down at the stranger. This one had a rough look about him though, and the gleam of sunlight on his axe - and his metal arm - had the driver immediately regretting his choice of words.

Aryn shot a glare up at the man and approached him. "A girl, blonde, in a dress and gloves. Did you see one go your way?"

"What are you talking about? I mean, there was a girl in a big coat on the south bridge, but-"

Without another word Aryn took off running in that direction, the crisp air chilling his cheeks as he maneuvered his way through the alleys and roads toward the southern end of town. His observant green eyes finally spotted the old bridge just outside of town and he dashed his way toward it. Halfway across, he stopped and narrowed his eyes, trying to find a glimpse of the runaway noblewoman.

There was a figure far off in the distance on the old dirt road, just about to disappear where the road snaked into a small wooded area. If that was her, he still had a chance to catch up.

And if not, then his search would have to start all over again.

The Ironhand stood there and could not help but let out a booming laugh. What the hell was he getting himself into?! How did he possibly end up in this mess? Still chuckling under his breath at his own misfortunes, he took off after the figure.


(( OOC: Could be her, could be some random person! Up to you! ))

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The dirt road was empty, minus a few merchant carts she had passed, and a few- almost ran into. But with each step she could, each puff of breath; she knew it would take her farther from Aryn, the Ironhand- and she, closer to safety. Though she knew the journey would be perilous and long, and perhaps more men like Ironhand might come after her- all she could do is take each moment with a grain of salt and move on, and run as fast as she could.

Though having not much to eat int he past several days had taken a toll on the girl's slight form.  And as her wet hair began to frost over from the chilled air, she found herself needing to take a rest against a tree, and she was careful to tuck herself far enough back from the road when she rested so as not to attract attention. But she was growing light headed, and ill- and found herself trembling as she collapsed onto a rotting log and leaned against a nearby tree.

Rotting leaves, crisp from death and the autumn frost, crunched beneath her boots. The woods afforded some shelter to hide her slender form, however, most trees were skeletal, and the remaining leaves were withered and few and far between. ANd as she studied the forest, her breath coming out in gentle, white puffs, and she found the need to close her eyes for just a moment, but only a moment to collect herself.

Hunger and guilt ate away at her. She had felt bad to leave her companion, but she could only presume he would not understand. No body would- and it was a risk to her brother's life if she were to reveal what he was- as well as herself. These were trying times- and the war added extra suspicion to those who had even an ounce of magic, or support of it. Though her ability was far more harmful than most, she did not fancy the idea of being locked away for something involving a power she was simply born with. And knowing what she was- she feared that she and her brother would be killed.

It was a curse more than anything, and shivering now- alone in some forests, somewhere in the Sirantil valley, she rubbed her gloved hands up and down her arms and nestled into her jacket. Yes, just a break for just one minute- just a few moments to catch her breath so the world could stop spinning-

but a hunch, a feeling, had her opening her blue eyes as she peered back from the hill side and to the dirt road below. It was empty, and a cool breeze fluttered through her damp hair and rustled leaves across the path. Though as she stared at the road, she found her lips falling open as the lumbering form of Aryn the Ironhand came into view.

Surprised, she shot up off the log and gripped onto the nearby tree for support as her eyes sparkled over in a dizzied whiteness. A trembling breath was released as her vision and mind returned to her. An as she studied the form...- it confirmed for her more obviously now that it was indeed, Aryn.  Turning away, she took off into the woods. She still had a head start, and she was not yet prepared to be taken back to Turgall. Not by him.  Not by anybody.

Hopefully she could lose him. Hopefully, he'd be the last man to know of Lady Kella Harmond.
Hopefully, she could out run the man with the iron arm.

[Cambie]

Having lost his pack and cloak back at Thorny's, Aryn jogged through the cold air with little more than his damp shirt and the leather armor atop it to keep him warm. Already the breaths from his exertion were coming out in visible wisps, and the small beads of sweat clinging to his forehead were chilling his skin. It took several minutes crossing the open terrain before he even reached the edge of the woods, whose trees had mostly lost their leaves and stood like naked sentinels before him.

The road snaking through the forest clearly had seen little traffic in this time of year, as most of it was littered with fallen branches and the dead leaves of autumn. There were faint traces of footsteps in small puddles accumulating along the road, but aside from that Aryn really couldn't tell if the girl had come through this way or not. If it had even been her.

"Enough is enough, girl. Just come back out so we can go back to the warmth of a fire," he called out into the wilderness in frustration, eyes scanning left and right for a sign of life. As far as he could tell, the forest remained undisturbed. The only response to his voice was the sound of far-off rustling up in the trees, likely squirrels foraging for their winter stocks.

"Aryn Ohlund, didn't your mother tell you not to get in over your head?" he mumbled half to himself as he trudged along the road, each footstep taking him farther and farther from town. The sun was beginning to dip farther and farther down the horizon, its fading light only slightly illuminating the forest. Soon he'd have to turn back or else risk the elements.

And then a sound to his left, up the hill. Turning his head so fast it nearly made him dizzy, he just spied the silhouette of his mark disappearing deeper into the forest, leaving in her wake the sounds of snapping branches and crushed leaves. Immediately he scrambled up the hill after her.

"Girl, stop! Come back, and let's talk this out!" he shouted after her as he lumbered his way through the thicket. Twice he nearly caught his ankle in a gnarled root and on numerous occasions he had to irritably swat a low hanging branch out of his face lest it take an eye out. Just ahead the figure scrambled across a fallen log spanning a small ravine.

"Lady Harmond!" he tried this time, "Kella! Stop! You need to stop runni-"

His voice was cut short by a surprised cry as, halfway across that same log, his foot slipped under him. His large frame gracelessly tumbled off the log and down the small hill, slipping down the ravine with a series of oofs and ahs. It wasn't too large a drop down, perhaps twenty feet, but by the time Aryn found himself lying on his back at the bottom of it, half submerged in a tiny trickle of a stream, the breath had been completely knocked out of him.

[visualspice]

Running desperately, she found herself sobbing. One trembling hand clenched over her mouth as she ran harder, faster through the trees, finding sharp, low hanging branches cutting into her body as she rushed along. Though despite her efforts, he seemed to somehow be gaining on her and his shouts- reminding her of the barking of hounds on the hunt. SHe was near in hysterics as she rushed along, but at the sudden change in his tone- one of a cry of alarm and pain- she suddenly halted.

Turning around, she noted the man was gone, then peering back towards the hill side- noted his form tumbling down it. Instincts took over and she took a few steps his way but paused in mid-stride,  a hand clutching tightly to the coat.
The man just put himself into more harm for her and look where it got him. It was probably better to leave him down there to rot, to let him suffer his injuries and crawl off alone, without his target in tow.

But guilt held her heavily in it's grasp, and she found herself moving forward, timidly at first before picking up the pace and pausing at the crest of the hill, looking down.

[Cambie]

Aryn let out a low gasp as his eyes shot open, staring straight up at the sparse canopy of the bare treetops. He lay there unmoving, mind rapidly racing of all the things that could have gone wrong in that tumble. His whole body ached from the impact of flesh and bone on rock and soil, but nothing felt too out of place. Only incredibly bruised. Especially his tailbone, which throbbed with every movement, and his foot which seemed twisted in an odd direction.

Slowly he sat up and dragged himself out of the little creek to rest his back against a mossy rock. He needed a long moment to catch his breath, but still found enough dark humor in the situation to laugh again. The girl would be long gone by the time he dragged himself back out of the hole. And he would literally limp back to town empty-handed. If he could stand.

Hearing the crack of a snapped branch up the hill, he caught sight of a small silhouette timidly creeping to the edge of the hill. His heart leapt a bit in his chest; at least he had followed the right person. The mercenary slowly raised his metal arm up at here.

"Look, you win girl," he said with a grimace as he peered up at her, hoping to get a word in before she took off and left him in that ditch. "Just... before you run off, let's talk. I didn't mean to frighten ye back in town."