An honest night's work (Keeci)

[Anonymous]

It was an honest day's work for an honest day's dollar. Though his shop was the only shop that was open at night, it didn't stop the requests from pouring in. As it was most of the villagers were desperate for fishing knives and all other manner of metal goods, so who was Cercie to complain? His business was doing well and in turn with his products their business did well. It was a win-win situation overall.

Today he felt relief. It was the last order of the night, and as he pounded the metal into a spear, he couldn't find any reason for complaint nor anything to think about. Normally the metal-working served as a tool to let his frustrations out; often he would come into the shop and make little metal trinkets if there were no orders, and in those trinkets he would create the most ugly and horrifying thing he could, he would say that he was a bad artist if anyone asked.

No, tonight was a good night. It was crisp and clean and it bustled with life in the nearby port pubs. He wished he could be out with the other men, the sailor men, enjoying a round of drinks and the stories they would tell. When he moved on he knew he would miss them and he vowed to himself that he would gather as many stories as he could in preparation for his next job.

Cercie looked out over the port waters wondering to himself silently what life must be like out there. His mind, as he stared, was full of nothing but thoughts of life on the water and the feeling of cool waves against his skin. It would be much better than this oppressive heat he forced himself to suffer day in and day out.

[Anonymous]

Dylan wandered rather slowly down the street, eyes mostly out on the starlit waves of the port rather than the shops. Really he should probably be paying attention to what he was looking for... But it was so pretty.

For a rather rare change of pace he was totally alone; it was late, and Sae had gone off to sleep back at the inn. Dylan hadn't been able to, and after a few hours of restless tossing he'd come downstairs, intending to wander out and check on Rach. Instead he had found a few other people still awake in the common room, including one who could understand signs. After managing a short conversation through that, Dylan had ended up mentioning a broken knife he needed to get fixed while he was here, and she had directed him to go down this way. Apparently there was actually a blacksmith who was open this late.

Sae was going to be utterly pissed he went without her, but it sounded safe enough to go alone. He had his staff if anyone did decide to make trouble.

And it was a very pretty night, which would have been ruined by the bird's constant snarkiness. Sometimes silence could be a good thing.

His eyes were flickering to the shops every so often, and he stopped, robe swishing around his hips as he turned a little towards what looked to be a shop. It was obviously a blacksmiths, and it sure seemed that someone was hard at work inside. Looked like the girl had been right.

Dylan moved towards it a little hesitantly, wondering why the owner would decide to keep hours like this. Granted, considering the amount of men who were populating the streets and pubs of the city even at this late hour... Maybe it was just a good time for him? He just hoped the man wouldn't be too busy, since he wanted to get moving in a couple days if he could. How hard the repair on his knife would be he had no idea; using it in the fight had snapped the thin blade in half. Clean halves, but still in half.

As he reached the doorway he paused there, easily in view with the broken knife in his hand. It was hard to tell how to deal with shopkeepers. Most of them didn't know sign languages, and while some of them seemed fine with playing the guessing game or having him slowly explain without signs what he wanted, others tended to get frustrated fairly quickly.

((Sorry about not giving you much to react to *pokes Dylan* He tends to wait until he's noticed, since he can't talk without people seeing him))

[Anonymous]

((Sorry I didn't get back sooner! Between watching the end of MGS4, painting the decks, and freaking getting some sleep, it just totally didn't enter my mind. But here I am! Totally didn't abandon you!))

Cercie heard the door open and close but didn't think much of it. He was too busy with a shaping a horseshoe to pay it any mind. This was delicate work he was doing, Old Farmer John would kill him if he didn't make it exactly right to fit his Betsie's hoof, so he had to be precise. Luckily by now Cercie knew all the measurements so it wasn't too difficult.

Slowly he dipped the burning metal into the water to cool it and he glanced up to see someone else in the shop with him. It surprised him really, since no one ever really came around at night, but he was glad all the same. Having finished the horseshoe he dropped it onto a cooling rack and walked over to the stranger.

"What can I do for you?" He said in the most polite voice you'd ever heard as he wiped his sooty hands on a handkerchief.

Looking down into the stranger's hands at the broken knife. From his standpoint he noticed that the blade was a clean break but further inspection would reveal if the metal had become weak and needed to be replaced all together. Putting his handkerchief away he reached over to the wall next to him and took out a sheet of paper and a pen, handed them to the stranger, and gave a smile.

"Just fill this form out, sir, and I'll check it out. The blade looks good, but, I'll warn you, it might take me a few days to get done if the metal is weak. You're welcome to stay and watch if you want but I can guarantee you that you wont find a better smith in this town."

((XD Ego stroker much, why yes, Cercie.))

[Anonymous]

Dylan was vaguely relieved as the man noticed him. There wasn't really a large range of things he could do to drag attention to himself that weren't a bit overboard, and, from how much attention the blacksmith was putting into his work, Dylan figured any noise he could have made louder than the door had been would be rather nasty to try.

After the first time the man spoke he paused for a moment, a bit split on what to do. It was the same reaction that he always had in situations like this. When people sounded vaguely rude, or even just friendly in an I-don't-know-you-but-anyways kind of way, it was easy to just either start signing or find some other casual way of making it obvious that he couldn't really talk to him. Then he didn't have to worry about possibly insulting someone. When people were polite there was always that bit of not being able to be sure if they were doing so to be nice and professional or if they just had a hidden stick up their arse and would take offense to him 'assuming' things. Sae said it was stupid of him to think that way, but it had happened before.

Or maybe he was just making things far more complicated than he really should.

Luckily by the time he was convincing himself to just do something, the other man had started moving. Dylan watched him for a moment, then smiled slightly in answer to the blacksmith as he reached out a hand to take the paper and pen.

People were always a lot simpler to communicate with when money was involved. He always forgot that.

Dylan just nodded as the man spoke, his eyes fixed on him and a small bit of amusement flitting over his face at the last statement. He wasn't sure if he could completely believe the man on that, and something told him that he could probably get something of that same promise from any good smith... but really he didn't know anything about smithing. What he had seen before the blacksmith had noticed him at least seemed to show that the man knew what he was doing, and that was enough for Dylan

He switched the broken knife to the hand holding the paper and pen, quickly signing a thank you with his free hand automatically before he grabbed the writing implement and started filling out the sheet. He'd probably want to stay and watch for at least a little... if only because it would be interesting, less because he doubted the man's ability to deal with it. Not that he would really be able to tell good from bad in this case.

(I honestly don't know how I can manage to write so much and say so little O.o Dylan thinks too much! XP)

[Anonymous]

He watched the boy for a minute and found himself beginning to wonder what his back story was, how he came to posses a broken knife, and what he was doing in the town in the first place. In his mind he imagined that the boy was an assassin who inherited the family business and along with it, an ancient knife full of amazing powers. The boy left home to kill a mark and a great battle of magics and strength ensued, with the end result leaving the boy without a knife but in the end victorious over his hit. A smile played out over his lips as he walked over to his order box, which was, by now, mostly empty and withdrew the next request.

Cercie, burning with curiosity, slyly asked, "So, what's your story?"

If he had much of a choice he would be out with the fishermen, telling stories of their trade and basking in the glory of their catch as they buy rounds for everyone. Despite their reputation as being unfriendly and hardy men, Cercie came to know them as his friends; they had stories, just like he did, of times in the past and if there was one thing Cercie enjoyed, it was retelling old tales. He leaned against a post, waiting for an epic story of a battle for love, or the slaying of a rival family faction, or even, dare he suppose it, a run-away prince.

Of course the truth would've been slightly more interesting, but the vampire was enjoying his stories for all they were worth. He watched the boy filling out his request and honestly he was a little surprised he could write on his own; most customers, unless they were the educated type, and those were rarities in themselves around here, had trouble with writing and he always had to help. The interesting thing, to Cerce's way of thinking, was that he didn't actually look like noble blood and his broken knife wasn't really all that fancy; both looked as plain as can be and so it got Cercie to wondering.

"So, you can write and read then?" He asked, coming up behind the stranger. "Don't look like much of a noble to me, son. Not that I'm complaining," he began to ease away, "just that most people around here don't know what they're doing. I suppose you're travelin' then?"

(Hah, that's okay. I've been pretty short-winded thanks to distractions. ^^ Ah, this should be fun.))

[Anonymous]

Dylan paused at the question, glancing up and absently brushing a bit of hair from his eyes. His story? He wasn't quite sure how to answer that. Not including the fact that he had Rach and Sae following him, and all the things that had involved getting then, he hadn't really had all that interesting of a life...

Granted explaining that was pretty much impossible. After a moment of hesitation he decided on just not answering, his eyes flickering back down so he could work on finishing filling in the sheet. Rude, yes, but he figured one thing at a time would be a good idea.

His eyes flicked back up as the man spoke again, and he turned a little to face the man before nodding to the last question. He held out the pen and paper to hand them back to the blacksmith, doing his best not to show that the comment about not being a noble caught him off guard a little. He wasn't, obviously, but he couldn't help wondering how many other people had made that possible connection and just not said anything. Especially when he was walking about with a hawk on his arm.

That the blacksmith had apparently come to the correct conclusion on that was someone of a moot point, since it was fairly obvious the man was curious. Especially considering the question he had asked earlier. Technically Dylan supposed that he could write things out... But most of the interesting parts of his 'story' belonged to Rach and Sae, and weren't his to tell.

Plus, take any perfectly normal story, add a unicorn into it, and it suddenly became utterly implausible. Most of the people Dylan had met just didn't seem to take unicorns very seriously, much to Rach's annoyance; he seemed to be one of those things people had to see to believe, and the equine really didn't enjoy the whole 'seeing' part when it involved crowds or non-virgins.

Which was probably a lot of the problem anyways.

Dylan mentally shook himself, tugging his mind back from it's momentary tangent. At least now the man seemed to be more the friendly polite sort... Which did make things a little easier on Dylan, though it wouldn't make it much easier to eloquently answer the questions. It seemed a bit odd that the man was even asking, now that Dylan was thinking of it... But it was a small town, so maybe boredom set in and any sort of amusement was good?

After a moment he shifted his stance a little, tapping his throat and shaking his head in a gesture he'd found was generally universal for 'I can't speak'. Hopefully that would hold true for here as well, since other than finding some paper and writing it down he wasn't sure of another way to get it across.

(Yes it should! XD)

[Anonymous]

When the stranger didn't immediately respond Cercie should've realized that something was wrong. He gave the man a minute though, thinking he was probably concentrating hard on what he wanted, and so he riffled through some papers trying to choose the next order to fill. Once he had chosen, which was something her took seriously and so spent a lot of time in considering the next order to fill, he turned back around and caught the tail end of the stranger's gesture.

Normally he would've naturally assumed that the man had gotten a rotten case of laryngitis but even people with laryngitis could at least whisper to him. It finally dawned on Cercie, after having been in the other man's presence for a good five minutes or so, that perhaps the man could not speak. An interesting twist in the story, he thought, grinning madly to himself, intrigued by the man's curious nature.

Unfortunetly though the vampire had never run into another living being that couldn't speak so he was unused to having to read signs and with no more paper, and not wanting to waste order slips, he knew he'd have to resort to other means to communicate with the man. It had been a long time since he tapped into his gift, afraid of all the potentials it could unlock, and for the most part he had forgotten how; he was slowly becoming less and less of a barbaric vampire, he got his blood from willing donors, never felt the need to hunt, and hadn't tapped into his abilities in years. So it was a stretch for him to try and tap into this stranger's mind, which, of all things, was heavily guarded...or at least that's what it felt like to Cercie.

"Am I right," she started, "in thinking that you can't speak?"

It was no use, he needed the man to be more relaxed to even get a small hint of what he was thinking. Either that or he needed to seriously flex his mental muscle more. It was a strain, he picked up images here and there of things that didn't make much sense and couldn't seem to put them together.

He sighed, becoming unfocused, "I need you to relax...organize your thoughts." He gave the stranger a half-hearted smile, "I haven't had to do this in a very long time."

(Hehehe...mental muscle)

[Anonymous]

The man was... grinning? Dylan frowned for a moment, somewhat confused. In the past he had run into people who had been happy to find out he couldn't talk, but this... really it lacked the utter maliciousness that usually went with such a thing. It definitely wasn't a threatening grin, unless Dylan was reading it utterly wrong. Plus, it didn't fit. Granted he only had a couple of minutes of being around the man to go off of, but even that generally gave at least a basic sense of a person.

Or maybe his 'obvious' gesture actually had some little known cultural meaning in this area. The brunette's brows dipped as he tried to think what he could have accidentally said that would instantly have the man happy or amused or whatever he was right now. Great, that was just what he needed, possible other meanings to any signs he made.

When the blacksmith spoke again his head jerked up, and his eyes cleared in a bit of relief at the words. Okay, no horrible possibilities for sign language faux pas. It still left the question of why he had looked amused in the first place... But, well, now that Dylan finally took a moment to look again it was pretty obvious that it had been a momentary expression, or at least had faded away sometime during the moments he was worrying at it. He really needed to stop not paying attention to other details just because he jumped onto one brief thing.

A bit belatedly Dylan nodded in answer to the question, then blinked at him in utter confusion at the next words. Organize his thoughts? What... Oh. His eyes widened slightly as he realized that the man had been trying to read his mind. That certainly wasn't a tactic anyone had ever taken in trying to communicate with him before!

After a moment the feeling of 'do not want' faded. Mostly because he realized that the man hadn't managed to read his mind right then, so obviously the whole breach of privacy thing wasn't applying. Hell, with Rach and Sae it wasn't like he had any privacy anyway. But... How in the world did one organize thoughts? They flitted around like insane butterflies, or at least Dylan's always seemed to. Mentally relaxing... Would going into some sort of partial healing trance work for that? He couldn't remember if that was to block outside influences from him or just make it so he couldn't be distracted by them...

And he was totally failing at mentally relaxing, not to mention ordering his thoughts. Dylan frowned at himself, mentally taking a breath and trying to focus on just one thing. Relaxing... That was harder. How did you just relax your mind? Trance? Normal relaxation techniques? Trying to use the telepathy he used on animals? Dangit, there he went again with the lack of order. Okay, one thing at a time.

He tried to still his mind a bit, randomly jumping on the calm feeling he normally had when he was sleepy, figuring that maybe could count as relaxing, and wondering what else might actually work if this didn't.

(I am trying and failing to imagine a mental muscle. All I'm getting is this brain with arms and looking all... muscley? I think it's late... >.> ... And Dylan's such a mental spaz *pokes him*)

[Anonymous]

Cercie closed his eyes tightly, trying to hone in on the other man's thoughts, but he couldn't find a solid point to latch on to. The man's thoughts kept jumping like a fish out of water which made it near impossible for Cercie to concentrate. He furrowed his brows as if trying to make the man settle down with his thoughts alone, even though he was well aware his 'gift' didn't work that way; still, he found himself thinking about trying to get the man to focus on one singular thought, something he could latch on to and understand, as it was everything was a jumble of pictures and words.

Not being able to take it anymore the vampire slowly unfocused his mind, grabbing the bridge of his nose in between his index and thumb. The man simply wasn't focused enough or maybe he wasn't asking the right questions. Either way, Cercie gave a little sigh and slowly opened his eyes.

"Let's try this again," his voice was serious, low, and slightly raspy. "How about something simple. Your name, tell me what your name is."

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind from thought, trying to open up a channel between his mind an the other mans. This was going to be a hell of a test; he was already starting to get frustrated with not being able to tap in to something that had been such a part of him before. In fact it made him slightly sad; when he was a younger vampire he had used the skill solely for hunting and now that he wasn't out on the prowl anymore he never needed to use it and that in itself, that it has deteriorated though years of disuse, depressed him greatly.

[Anonymous]

Dylan's eyes flicked over the other man. Before he could remind himself to keep focused on one thing, his mind had already moved to wonder if this was actually a good idea. It certainly didn't look as though the other man was enjoying whatever he was having to do to reach Dylan's mind.

Granted, he wasn't being much help. There he went again, letting his concentration slip and his mind wander to other things. Gods, you'd think he was a kid the way he was letting his mind flip about... At least it was pretty obvious that he wasn't going to have to worry about getting his mind read randomly while he was here, though with the amount of randomness constantly flicking through his mind he wasn't sure if there would be much worth eavesdropping on in there anyways.

His expression was vaguely guilty as the man's eyes opened. The blacksmith really did look like this whole thing was giving him a headache... With how amazingly Dylan had failed on actually concentrating, he wasn't very surprised. Obviously this was something he'd have to try make a lot more of an effort to help with for it to work. And since it was needed just because of Dylan's own inabilities, he probably should really be the one who was trying more here.

He frowned slightly as the man spoke, then nodded. Made sense that something simple might work a lot better... And this time he would actually make a good effort at it!

After a moment he closed his eyes, hoping that maybe not seeing things would keep his mind acting less like a hyperactive squirrel. He focused simply on 'Dylan' and trying to not let his mind stray from the word and instead looping it through his thoughts, just focusing his mind on hoping that single word got to the other man. Last names could come later.

[Anonymous]

It was only too bad that his name didn't come flying at Cercie like a ton of bricks. He focused intently on the barely audible sound; it started as a whisper and he picked up various sounds. One thing he was sure was that the name started with a 'D' and ended in a 'lan'. In his own mind he imagined turning the volume up and, subsequently, he started to be able to hear what the man was trying to say.

Of course it would be nice to say that there weren't other consequences and side-effects to his gift, but that would be lieing and Cercie knew, as soon as it hit him, that this was going to require him to feed later. He shook the thought aside as images of brutality invaded his mind and he knit his brow together, once again having to struggle to listen for the other man's 'voice'. The wrestling match between his desire to understand the stranger and his need to eat was driving him crazy; he had forgotten the other side to this life as he had lived such a comfortable life for so long.

Finally, over the din of his thoughts, Cercie caught the last syllable of the mans name and forced all communication to stop. Along with it the images of slicing the visitors neck open with his own knife vanished and his strange desire to feed disappeared altogether. The vampire shook his head as he tried to remember using his gift in the past but he couldn't recall this ever happening to him.

Shaking the thoughts and memories, Cercie rubbed at his eyes and muttered weakly, "Dylan? You're name is Dylan?" He eyed the man for a minute before taking a deep breath and continuing on, "Well, Dylan, it's a pleasure. My name is Cercie."

[Anonymous]

Dylan kept his eyes closed and kept concentrating, struggling to keep his mind from wandering. It was strange, how little he'd noticed before that actually staying on one thought was pretty damn hard. His mind kept starting to wander onto one tangent or another, and he'd have to yank it back to thinking just on the single word of his first name.

So when the blacksmith finally spoke again it was something of a relief to let his mind free to flicker like the hyperactive thing it usually was, jumping from a few points before it actually clicked in that the man had managed to get his name!

Apparently it worked. Dylan had half been expecting it to be a failed effort. No one had ever tried to read his mind before... At least not that he was aware of, and his brand of telepathy had never worked with things that could speak. For all he had known he could have been blocked from mentally interacting with hominids at all, which would have made this a rather wasted effort.

But he wasn't, and the man had managed to get his name. A bit belatedly the brunette realized that he had spent the last couple moments just blinking at the man in utter surprise. Mentally shaking himself he smiled at the man -- Cercie, he'd have to remember that -- and nodded. Usually he didn't bother with learning names, since he couldn't exactly call people by them... But who know how this magic would work, and he figured it was better to remember this time.

Dylan frowned slightly as he looked at the man, head tilting and a flash of concern flitting over his face. Cercie really didn't look nor sound all that wonderful... Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all? It seemed to take a lot out of the man, for just a single word. And seeing the man obviously drained (at the very least) from the effort was sending off the healer bells in his mind, which doubtless showed on his face.

[Anonymous]

While Dylan was catching up with the rest of the world, since it was obvious that he was more surprised than Cercie was, the vampire had walked to the back of the shop. In a dark corner rested an enchanted cold box, a typical sight in most places but it was oddly out of place in the hot smithery. Either way he had reached in and pulled out what vaguely resembled a wine bottle and slowly poured himself some, either forgetting about his now named guest or being a selfish prat.

As the red liquid from the bottle poured out into the glass the vampire suddenly realized that it wasn't going to be enough. He had been working all night, pouring his energy and strength into his work, and just now he had tried to stretch his mental muscle. If he tried to talk to the man anymore he was going to have to either get more of the red liquid or have the man attempt to be louder.

He glanced over his shoulder at the man, as if sizing him up, and when he realized some of the thoughts that entered his head he turned back away and stared down at his glass. Cercie sighed and shook his head at the glass, suddenly feeling like trying to communicate with this stranger was going to be more trouble than it was worth. Still, he wasn't ready to just give up and accept that his gift was now lost to him; it was obvious he could still 'hear' and that it had never truly left him but he was now more afraid of the cost than he ever had been before.

In one gulp he finished off the entirety of the glass and slammed it down on the table. There were still things he wanted to know and he was just curious enough to ask them all. He took one glance at the stranger to make sure that his original thoughts of rushing the man, draining him of blood, and enjoying a nice quiet meal in the shop, had vanished and noticing he no longer had that desire he walked back over. Still weary he brought the wine bottle with him, holding it's slender neck in one hand and swinging it back and forth.

"Alright...Dylan." He rubbed his nose between his fingers, "I need you to do me a favor. The next question I ask...I need you to focus on screaming the answer in your head." Slowly his eyes flitted to Dylan's face to gage his reaction, "So, tell me, briefly, why this knife is broken."

(Sorry! The website wouldn't load for me for the longest time O.O It was kinda weird. Anyway, sorry this post kinda sucks. My Cercie muse must be on vacation, haha)

[Anonymous]

The healer watched as Cercie got... Was that wine? Dylan frowned a little, wondering if maybe that would make the man more able to hear his thoughts. It certainly always muddled Dylan, enough that after the first few times he had decided to avoid it as a rule. But he'd also used it as a painkiller on others before, so maybe -that- was the blacksmith's purpose. Dylan was certainly feeling a little bit bad about being the -cause- of the rather obvious pain.

Dylan nodded and frowned at the words, eyes going vacant as he tried to think of a brief way to explain how the knife had gotten broken. From how much it had seemed to hurt Cercie's head to try for just one word, he was almost surprised that he was trying it again, but maybe the mental volume really -would- help. Hopefully. Either that or the wine would dull whatever pain would result without making it harder for the man to hear him... Hopefully

Now to just think of a way... The knife had broken when they'd strayed into a part of the mountains which was apparently 'territory' of a rather strong and insane sorcerer. The man had used the larger carnivores there as his 'sentries' by infusing them with magic and controlling them remotely, and then had taken great offense to the entrance of what apparently felt like another sorcerer entering his territory in the form of Sae... That would be too long to explain though, so Dylan had to figure out some -short- way of actually saying why the knife broke in the first place. Maybe if he just said exactly why the knife broke without any background... That should work.

He flickered his eyes to Cercie, smiled for half a second and lifting a hand up to sign that he was ready if Cercie was... Granted he knew the man couldn't understand signs, but hopefully the hand motions would get the idea across. After a moment he closed his eyes in an effort to once again block out anything that might get his hyperactive mind off track, trying to concentrate on the phrasing so he'd have it right.

A moment later he was shouting as loud as he could in his head: HAD TO FIGHT OFF A POSSESSED WOLF, KNIFE HIT A BOULDER AND SNAPPED

(Sorry I got myself eaten by finals for so long! Finally back now ^^ And no more tests for a whole semester! XD Sorry if this post is fairly sucky O.o *pokes it*)