OOC: Cambie, I'm sorry for the thread title, though you probably won't understand why I lol since the 'Lady of the---' title thing is an inside, going joke for me here 8D
BUT NOW YOU ARE APART OF IT, TOO *evil laugh*
Also, sorry for all of the garbly typos- I don't normally edit posts ._.
Though I might go and edit this one :T Just to spare you .__.
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She had been on the run for what felt like ages, but was perhaps only just a few months since Kella Harmond took off running. She was scared out of her mind since her brother had completely turned into someone else. As a duke, he was given much power- and she, as his sister and a female woman in Connlaoth, not much power to do anything else but run. And with the war seemingly at her heels, it took all of her luck and effort to be out of Matron's Hallow. Though she had gotten as much supplies as she could, and her blonde hair- though cut short yet again, was growing longer still as she brushed her long bangs out of her eyes and looked towards the path, which soon became a colder and more complex one.
As a refined lady, she hadn't much in the skills of survival, so many weeks would go by without food. Water she could handle from the many streams within the valley, but come time to barter, she hadn't much to offer and what people had wanted- she dare not give. She had few precious things on her; her virtue, her memories, and a necklace of her mother's. And it was that necklace she clutched onto now as she stared off across the windy trail at a sign that appeared before her through the fog.
'The City of Vanille'.
Knowing this was more of a large town rather than a city, Kella was thankful for at least some semblance of familiarity. She had been here before. Turgall was never a duchy as wealthy as the others, but their wealth came through trade and taverns and the like- a lot of folks traveling through it to get tot he capital. But Vanille was known for other things, it's pretty scenery and bake shops. Her twin brother and she used to come here specifically for cakes. And thinking about those memories made her sad as she peered at her reflection in the glass window infront of 'Armand's Bakes and Cakes Shop'.
Yes, the famous cake named after the city, 'The City of Vanille' was a tower of confection! With layers of vanilla lace icing and three different types of vanilla cakes and cookies layering inbetween. And to make it even better, the very center was filled with the famous, ambrosial vanilla custard creme.
She hadn't eaten for days and when she peered at the cake her stomach rumbled, she had almost not heard it when she heard the bell from the shop door ringing and Mrs. Armand, the wife of the shop owner stepped out and smiled as she dusted off her flower landened dress and apron.
"Well hello there, deary. Mighty cold outside. Fancy the cakes in the window? We're having a sale. A few silver for a dozen of vanilla snaps. We also have vanilla pecans two for one."
Kella, taken back by the woman's words, only smiled and shook her head, surprised to see her breath as white puffs in the growing chill of the air.
"N-no, I'm just passing through. But the cakes look lovely."
"Ah, that they do." The woman said kindly, bowing her head as her own blue eyes dazzled. Though as Kella had lifted her head, she caught a sight of her and her expression twisted in confusion. "You.. you look familiar... have you been to our shop before?"
Kella, taken back by the woman's words, held up a gloved hand to her tattered hood, and tried to tighten it down and over her head, though the shadows covered her face, it still kept her nose and lips exposed.
"I.. I don't think-"
"Lady Harmond? Is that you?" But before the woman could get a yes or no from the girl, Kella became too frightened and took off down the road like a spooked rabbit and by the time she had stopped running she was sure she'd be in another town, but her luck was awfully terrible and unkind towards her, and it seemed the only thing to halt her tracks was when she rounded the bend and ran into another person, and suddenly both were smarting and sprawled out unceremoniously upon the cobblestone.
Dazed, Kella scrambled to her knees and stammered out half-comprehensible apologies, as her mind was racing a mile a minute.
"I'm so s-sorry, Sir..?" And she paused a moment to observe where her hands fell, and suddenly she jerked them away. Though she wore gloves and he'd hardly be harmed from her, it was an instinct more than anything- and one of the things she feared most of all was to simply kill some way by her touch.
OOC: Feel free to have it be him or some poor npc she's run into XD but yeah, tags to Cambie x.x
(Always happy to be part of a joke rather than the victim of one!)
It was always something of a spectacle to enter a town that Aryn had never visited before, much less a town that was named after (and smelled heavily of) confectioneries. It was like something straight out of a story that they used to tell in the slums of Reajh, when the children would huddle around a fire and one of the older girls would describe those little villages where food was always in abundance and free of charge. This looked to be one of those towns, except that nothing was free at all. Just his luck too, as the heavenly aromas drifting lazily from those bake shops (and by Angsar, were there MANY bake shops) had the Ironhand's stomach instantly grumbling.
Bundling his cloak tighter around his thick frame, he used his free hand to reach into his pack, from which he withdrew an overripe apple. It wasn't a cake, but it'd have to do. After all, he'd only been given a small stipend from that shady looking man who had hired him for this particular job, with the promise of greater riches should he succeed.
He had been sitting at the bar of some tavern or another when the man had approached him with the opportunity. "I represent a Duke," the man had said, to which the Ironhand had let out a loud, drunken laugh. It wasn't until the man had shown gold, real gold, that his guffaw had died on his lips. After that, it was all business.
"She'll have golden hair. And a very particular necklace, you won't be able to miss it. Bring her back to the Duke and you will be rich for the rest of your life. And one last thing: do NOT let her touch you."
Aryn took a bite out of his apple and grimaced at the taste of it, but forced it down his throat. Honestly he didn't even know where to begin. The Ironhand was more apt at using the sharp edge of his axe than he was at "convincing" some runaway lady to come with him. Maybe he'd have to give her a nice clobber on the head with his right arm to really persuade her. But would that affect the amount of money he was paid? Such complicated work.
He passed a window and immediately regretted looking inside. Through the glass he saw a masterpiece of culinary design, a five-tiered monstrosity that must've contained more sugar and eggs than he'd eaten in his life. The smell of icing was almost unbearable. With another scowl, he hurried around the corner, forcing himself to take another bite of his apple.
That was, until he rounded the building and immediately collided with a small figure who was obviously in such a hurry that the quickest path was through him. It was enough force to have him tumbling to the cobblestones with a surprised cry, crashing heavily to the ground, half-eaten apple bouncing away into a pile of nearby crates. He lay there for a brief moment, groaning slightly and collecting his thoughts before slowly sitting up.
"Did your mother never tell you not to run in the streets, girl?" he said in a voice that was louder than really necessary. "Wherever you needed to be, you should have left five minutes earlier! By Angsar, I ought to hit you for this..." As he collected his wits about him, the realization that his apple was now lost to the streets dawned on him. He let out a loud curse that shocked passersby looking his way, and had them hurrying away in fright.
His gaze, now brimming with irritation, turned toward the girl. She was a skinny little thing, blonde hair roughly chopped short and covered in the grime that came with a life on the road. Likely a street urchin. The way she jerked her hands away from him in utter terror though... maybe he'd been a little harsh.
"Right, I didn't mean anything by it," he grunted out as he climbed back to his feet, a gleam from his metal hand flashing momentarily as a passing carriage's lantern shone down upon it.
His stomach growled again. Already, this job was almost not worth the reward at the end.
OOC: Just a note- trigger warning; some colorful language warning~
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When the man responded in such a way, she probably looked as if she had been struck, and cowered long afterwards, lips quivering without any real words coming out. It wasn't until she found enough strength to stand did she bow her head again.
"I really am sorry," came her voice again, but as the carriage rolled by and illuminated his hand, she first thought it was armor- that she must've run into some sort of knight, for the realization that the rest of him wasn't over encumbered in such a get up hadn't occurred to her as she gasped and suddenly took off again.
It seemed through all the towns she had been that she had the worst of luck to run into the wrong sort of people, and it would be no surprise if the man she hadn't realized was hunting her had actually followed her stumbling trail. Yes, it seemed luck was not on her side, for as much as she tried to escape the possible 'knight' or grumpy 'guard' she ran into but a moment ago, this time she ran into an actual guard of the city as his armor clanked beneath her clumsy, albeit lighter form.
"Angsar's balls, woman!! Can't you watch where you're bloody going?" the guard snapped, shoving her aside as he adjusted his armor. Again, Kella flinched back in fear of touching the man, but also at his roar of words. He had quite a voice on him- loud and angry, and Kella shrank back in apology, weakly trying to get out of his way as she bumped up against a pile of nearby crates.
It was the crates that then startled her next, then the apple- unseen, had made it's way beneath her heel, and she tripped.... and well...
before she knew what was to become of her- she let out a yelp, and the guard, a surprised yell, as the entire wall of crates came tumbling down all around her...
And ironically, the little apple went bouncing on it's way back towards it's original owner, where it settled down just beside his boots.
"You clumsy oaf! What do you think you're doing!? Are you seeking a night in jail or what!?" the guard barked, his voice echoing down the road, and Kella, for the moment, was too dizzy and frightened to even move, not having realized she had scraped her knees and they were bleeding from her fall.
And just like that, before he even had a chance to dust himself off, the girl spun around and darted back down the road from which she'd come. Aryn was left to stare incredulously at her fleeing back and recollect his senses. He'd been in this town all of an hour and already he was ready to burn every single damned building to the ground.
He was ready to turn and continue on his way when the immense -CRASH- echoed from just around the corner, causing him to jump ever so slightly in surprise. He felt an object bump against his boot and, looking down, was aghast to see his half-eaten apple now completely covered in dust and filth. Scowling, he bent over and scooped it up anyway before hurrying around the corner. Maybe a little water would wash off the dirt...
The scene was chaos. Wooden crates lay strewn all across the road, some of them shattered upon falling from such a height, others still intact but lying haphazardly on top of one another. Already a small cloud of dust was beginning to form from the impact, swirling with the wind and into his face. It would take a small army to get this mess cleaned up.
And there was the girl, cowering from the wrath of the city guard as he yelled obscenities at her. From the looks of it she'd been the one to knock the pile crates over, and no nobody's surprise. She couldn't even avoid him, the largest man on the entire block. Angsar, you test me so, he thought briefly.
"Right, it was naught but an accident," the Ironhand barked out at the guard as he wafted the dust out of his eyes with his good hand. Gingerly he stepped over a shattered crate to where the man towered over the girl's cowering figure. The guard, for his part, shot him a glare of disdain. Evidently an hour in this town was all it took for the authorities to pass judgment on a stranger.
"Stay out of this, vagrant. Unless you're paying for the mess this idiot made."
Aryn recoiled in feigned horror before his mouth split in a wide grin. He let out a low laugh. "What? No, I'm not here to pay for all this! Who am I, the Duke of Turgall?"
He gestured to the girl. "Look, she's just a little winded and hurt, but she can clean this mess right up. I'll even stay and make sure she does." He even shot her a deep scowl, though coupled with a quick wink that was for her eyes only.
"Well somebody better do it, and it sure as shit ain't gonna be me!" the guard spat back. He was grumpy in his old age, his beard already having turned gray and even had a few curls of white woven throughout. "And who's word is yours for me to take? There's no trust these days. How do I know neither of you aren't some sort of mage?" Never mind that either of them could be a killer or thief...
Kella, still taken back by what happened, wasn't entirely sure what to say as she gaped between the man who scowled and winked at her, and the guard who was scowling like a cat who just drank expired cream.
"I.. uh..." she softly stammered, still not entirely having her footing as she cowered between the pair of them. She felt trapped, and had no idea which way she could even escape.
"I should call the other guards on ye! Have one of those green horns watch over yous! I've got more pressing matters than to attend to two fools breaking crates in an alleyway. Don't the pair of you know there's war a foot? You can't be too cautious now can ye?" Shaking his head, he gestured with one beefy arm. "Oh, just see that she does clean it up,a nd if I come back here and it ain't.. the walls will be painted with your pictures!"
And with an indignant sniff and hiking of his pants, the elder, larger guard strolled away, calling over to another guard named Jeremy as he began to complain about the two in the alleyway- and it seemed the guards were only half watching them as Kella finally picked herself more fully off the ground, tucking her hair back and not realizing her hood had fallen off her head from the fall. Clear blue eyes stared timidly around at the mess before her gaze lowered even further as hands clung to her tattered skirts.
"I.. I'm sorry for all the mess. You.. you don't have to stay around to help. I.. I'll find a way to clean this up." But she had no idea where to begin.
Aryn raised his hands in the air as a sign of deference to the old guard, though really only his left hand opened fully. The metal digits of the right hand were permanently curved in a pre-designed fashion, making it look like he was holding up an invisible ball more than anything else. The expression on his face was one of innocence, though there also seemed to be a tinge of irritation.
"A mage? Let's not say things that we might regret now. I am a man of God, I'll have you know," he cautioned the man, wagging a dirt-stained finger. And he certainly knew there was a war. Wars tended to wreak havoc for people like him, who relied on the lack of availability of a sword to earn his keep. With conscripted soldiers running around, food on his table grew a little scarcer.
"Yes, your highness..." the mercenary muttered under his breath as the guard stomped away to complain to a younger comrade, though the two of them were still close enough to be able to watch both him and the cowering girl. He let out another curse, this one slightly more audible but quiet enough so as not to draw more attention. If all had gone well, the guard would have at least rounded the corner and left him alone.
Turning to the girl now, he shot her another scowl, but this one more genuine. "The Ironhand is nobody's maid," he insisted to her while looking her up and down. For a moment her shorn blonde hair had his heart racing, as though he'd finally found the one whom he sought. But then the humor of such a thought set in and he just had to let out another laugh. If this girl was the one whom a Duke would pay such a sum to catch, then he truly was the Duke of Turgall.
"You owe me a meal, so let us escape this mess so that I can collect on it." He gestured to the crate that had fallen furthest from the guards, and also nearest the next bend in the road. "Start over there, we'll round the corner and be done with this place."
And not a moment too soon. He didn't even know the name of this town and he already hated it.
Kella found herself flinching at the comment about being a maid.
"Oh, I would never presume such a thing-" But at his last comment, it left her mouth hanging open. She had no food for even herself, having eaten her last bits of rations a day or so ago. In Vanille... well here she hoped to at least get something in forms of work or barter, and she moved to nervously brush at her hair, when she gasped and realized her hood had fallen down. Snatching onto the sides of it, she drew it up and over her head again and took a few sheepish steps away from him as she cradled her own hands in her lap and peered down at the cobblestone street.
"But I-I haven't got the coin. It was my fault this place is a mess. Besides, You do not need to watch over me. The guards are already doing that."
As soon as she admitted to not having any coin, Aryn let out a long forlorn sigh that came straight from the gut. "No, of course you don't... why would I even begin to think that?" he muttered again, stealing glances back at the two guards. These street urchins never had enough coin to pay for any missteps they took, and it just had to be he luck to run into the clumsiest of them all.
The two guards were still engaging each other in hurried conversation (and about Angsar knew what), but the greybeard now looked over his shoulder to the pair of them.
"Oi! Get cleaning up, and make sure to do it before the sun goes down, will ye?!"
And with that, the mercenary's fate was sealed. With another slow exhale, he shook his head at the girl. She looked more boy than girl, now that he thought about it. And yet it was clear that, with her waif-like figure and her gaunt cheeks now hidden beneath the cowl of her hood again, it would take her all day to stack the crates back against the side of the road. If she could even reach up that high. With another mutter under his breath he removed the leather pack and shield from his back and tossed them lightly against a stone wall before bending over and picking up the fallen crates two at a time, holding them with his good hand and precariously balancing them on his bad one. Nobody's maid... hah!
"You from around here, girl? If not, then you're in the wrong place. This town is naught but cakes and bread, and if you haven't the coin then you're just torturing yourself. Angsar certainly knows I am..."
He said no more for the next moment as he stacked crate upon crate back up against the stone wall. They balanced haphazardly on one another, likely to fall with another slight push. But that wasn't his concern. All he could think about was the grumble in his stomach. He'd already had to discard his dirtied apple a second time now, and the smells from the town certainly weren't helping. That was it. No matter how much he needed to conserve his funds, he vowed in the back of his mind to find the nearest inn and order the largest plate of food they had.
He looked back at her. If she WAS from here, then maybe she could help him find the information he needed. A grin crept over his face. "Right, I know how you can work off that apple. You're helping me find what I need in this damn town."
Kella winced when the guard barked back orders towards the pair, and with a dejected sigh, she moved a gloved hand to brush hair from her face and regard the pieces in the street, when suddenly the strange winking man from earlier stepped past her. Blinking, she raised her head to observe him and watched as he grabbed a crate and she gasped.
"Oh, but really! I'd feel terrible if you were to-" And then he grabbed another crate, and another, leaving Kella stunned a she watched him be able to handle juggling multiple crates. "Oh, really, please I-"
But then he turned to her a question, and her lips fell open before she quickly clamped her mouth closed and gave a shake of her head.
"N-no. I'm not from around here. I'm just passing through..." ANd though she was trying to be helpful, each time she moved to try to pick up all the loose pieces on the ground, she got distracted watching him. She was worried after all, he was handling so many crates that she was afraid he'd hurt himself! Though what surprised her even more was when he turned to regard her and inquired she help him...
and then went on about something about an apple, which had her confused as she paused in the middle of her work and blinked.
"I uh.. help you? But how can I be of any help?" She delicated lifting an arm to brush more of her bangs from her face. "I've been to this town before. Though.. are you lost? There's a church to the south, with a very lovely parish, and another cake shop at the top of Dall's Hill. And then the Armand's have a shop just behind us. They're famous for their cakes though I.... I get the picture you're not looking for cake?" She asked with a timid blink as she regarded him, and turned away from him, realizing she shouldn't stare. Though at least she wasn't gaping at his arm-f or if she were to actually pay attention and notice he hadn't a real second arm,s he'd be gaping even more! And every young lady knows it's not polite to gape!
Aryn grunted with exertion with every crate he piled up, the stack growing higher and higher. They were ill-fitted to stacking anyway, and he had no doubt that the whole lot of them would come crashing down the moment he was out of sight. But that was clearly not his concern, not his care at the moment. He wiped the accumulating beads of sweat off his forehead with a sweep of his arm. The girl seemed to be trying to help in the task, but mostly she was just standing there. When their gazes met, she quickly turned away.
"Aye, you can call it lost," he replied, the gruffness of his previous words having melted away. His tone seemed more impartial this time around, more casual. Stepping into the street, the Ironhand picked up the shattered remains of one wooden crate that had split right down the middle upon impacting the cobblestones. This one was unstackable, so he simply tossed the pieces of wood against the side of the wall for someone to come clean it up. He gave the underside of his bearded chin a scratch and turned back to the girl. For a street urchin, she sure was timid. How she survived in the harsh world of alleyways, especially during wartime, was beyond him.
"I need someplace where people sell information, or give it freely if I'm lucky. A tavern or an inn. I don't need a cake shop. Every other store is a damn cake shop. It's a miracle the streets aren't made of icing. No, I'm trying to find someone and the seediest tavern in town might have what I need. They'll also have ale and hot soup. You do this, maybe there's a cup of it for you."
It took a few moments longer, but eventually the streets were cleared of all the debris left from the girl's clumsy misstep. When Aryn waved the old guard over, he was treated to the most disgusted scowl he'd ever seen. "You call that a clean-up job?" the man spit.
The mercenary gave him a scoff and a barrel-chested laugh, and retorted, "Right, the crates are back where they're supposed to be, and the road is clear. We're simple folk, not professional crate stackers. We've done our job, and now we'll be on our way. Now carry on."
Before the shocked guard had a chance for a pithy reply, Aryn snatched up his pack and gestured for the girl to go with him. He could already picture a hot bowl of turnip soup in front of him. Though the more he tried to get rid the image, the more that beautiful five-tiered vanilla cake popped into his head...
Had they met on better terms and in a less stressful situation, Kella might have enjoyed a giggle at his comment about the cake and icing on the streets. Blaith used to comment on that as well, and though it made a slight warmth in her eyes sparkle, it faded the moment she recalled the cold, messy street. She helped the best she could, but really, her aid was incomparable to what the ironhanded man had done for her, so when he offered her food in exchange for information, her lips fell open and she wasn't quite sure what to say.
"There... er.. there is an inn on the other side of town. Thorny's, it's called. A simple place. I've never been but I've passed by it before." And a rumble in her belly reminded her of her own plight for food, and she was dreaming about the same beautiful cakes as he when they were finally on their way. And that she was thankful for, for the guards were mean and nasty, and at least her traveling wtih Aryn, no one seemed to give the pair a second look. But one so slight framed as herself, for some reason,s he always believed others eyed her with great suspicion.
Passing by the Armand Bakery again, she let her nose guide her as her eyes glanced longingly towards the towering cakes on display. If only she had but a silver... though she knew even if she had it, she would need to save it- for money was hard to come by and what little she could ever acquire had to last. Her clothing had already long been sold, some money acquired from it stolen- and what else? At least she was alive for now, and quietly followed in step behind the other man. Though she kept enough space between them so as not to run into him again.
"Thank you," she said after a time, her voice soft and barely carrying over the volume of the wind. "I.. I'm not usually this clumsy."
"Thorny's. Now there's a proper name for an establishment. Show the way, missus."
Through the streets the two of them wandered, cutting left and cutting right whenever she pointed out a direction with a skinny finger. For someone who'd been here once or twice before, she had a very precise memory. Aryn inwardly wished he had that same gift; when he returned to towns, he only ever recognized obvious landmarks and the inns in which he'd stayed before. And even then, sometimes he forgot.
He let out a loud disapproving "HMPH!" as they passed Armand Bakery, and especially when they passed through the delicious smell wafting from the slightly open door. He had enough coin in his pocket to be able to afford at least a small piece of bliss from the confectioner. And if he gave in to his cravings, he would probably regret it weeks down the road when he needed a loaf of bread. But by God, that smell...
As they rounded a fourth corner and past a line of ramshackle warehouses, he craned his neck to peer at her over his shoulder. "Not usually this clumsy, eh? Well I've known you for half the sand in an hourglass, girl, and you've proven the opposite." That wry grin split his bearded mouth again. "Let's see if you can improve on that record."
Finally, they reached a run-down little building at the end of a street that positively reeked of booze and rotting vegetables. It was the one she pointed out, and though he could not read the sign above the door, the sigil of a wilted rose's thorns on the wooden placard was good enough for him. Out of habit he reached up with his metal arm and gave the sign a gentle thump, the echo of iron on wood intertwining melodically with the creak of rusty chains as the sign gently swung back and forth.
He reached for the door and pulled it open. Already he could feel the warmth of the interior fire emanating from the doorway, warming the calloused skin on his hand. Holding it open, he gestured for the little waif to enter. "Milady," he added as an off-hand remark.
Kella blushed at his remark, growing smaller for it and not being sure how to reply, so she remained quiet. It always seemed the best option. After all, she didn't want to draw too much attention to herself than she already did. And so far, this man didn't seem a threat, though when the man hit the sign with his arm, she flinched back at the noise and again, somehow missed the fact he had an iron hand at all. Presumably, she figured it was fashionable for him to wear armor over just his one arm. Maybe he used that arm defensively? This she could not say. But when he gestured for her to enter the inn, only then did she offer him a small smile at his gesture and nodded before taking a step inside.
Thorny's was a dark place, dimly lit with a few candles and a dying fire int he hearth that an old, toothless, ratty haired woman was stoking. Though she had never been inside this place, it reminded her of anything but the sweetness that was Vanille. In fact, the place smelled rancid, like sweat and old ale spills that littered the woden floor boards and made them sticky as she walked. She cringed as it drew attention, especially from a rather noisy crowd of rough looking men off to one corner, and instinctively she grabbed the cowl of her cloak and pulled it down lower over her face.
"I suppose we should find a place to sit?" her voice came out meekly, as she stood uncertainly int he middle of the room.
Aryn followed the girl in, letting the door swing shut on its own weight. The place was dark and had him blinking for a few moments to adjust to the dim candlelight. Unlike the girl's trepidation, which was obvious from the way she shied away from every little noise and hid from every gaze, the Ironhand seemed perfectly at home in such an establishment.
"Aye," he replied while scanning the place. The other burly patrons of Thorny's occupied a substantial corner of the open space, but there were several long wooden tables on the other side of the hearth, each lined parallel to one another. He pointed to the table closest the fire.
"There's a good spot. Nice and warm. Now go, I have conversation to make with the barkeep."
Turning right, he slid up to the bar, behind which a balding old man was wiping down wet mugs with an old cloth. A bored looking barmaid also stood nearby, idly picking at her fingernails while waiting for the group in the corner to order again. Leaning his heavy frame against the wooden counter, he rapped the metal fingers of his right hand lightly on its surface and leaned in. "Right, I need a flagon of ale, bread and hot soup," he said in a direct tone. Peering over his shoulder at the girl, he corrected himself. "Two bowls of soup."
With the barmaid off to fill the order, he leaned in and stared the barkeep in his eyes with a piercing gaze. In a low voice he muttered, "I also need information, and I can pay for it. You know the Duke of Turgall? Well he's looking for a particular someone..."
Kella obeyed, taking a seat by the fire and when the woman there cast a gaze her way, Kella only gave a forced smile in return before the old woman sighed and hefted a fat log into the fire before moving away, leaving Kella alone to stare down at her gloved hands anxiously.
Elsewhere, the bald barkeep only stared at Aryn irritably.
"Pay for what? Do I look like someone that could help the Duke of Turgall?" And went back to polishing his mugs. "You'd be better off asking the gentleman over there. They're travelers. Though the only thing I know of the Duke is he fancies the cakes from the Armand's shop. He and his sister frequented it often. But with the war, seems even a duke is too busy to return for sweets. Though can any one blame 'em? Seems the only travelers these days are soldiers or people trying to get the hell out of this country." He shook his head.
Aryn turned his head to peek over at the group in the corner. They were still engaged in their own private conversations, but occasionally one of them would glance over at him, and over at the girl by the fire. Hardened vagrants, by the looks of them. Exactly his kind of people.
"Aye, the war's done all of us no good. The roads aren't safe, and nobody seems to have enough grain for the winter." He cracked a toothy grin at the sour old man and added, "Which makes it a perfect time for a drink."
With a nod of his head, the Ironhand turned away from the bar and walked back over to where the girl was huddled by the fire, staring anxiously at her own hands and avoiding eye contact with anyone else. So the barkeep hadn't heard that the Duke's sister had been in the town anytime recently. Hopefully the lads over there had better knews for him, but it was entirely possible that the Duke's sister never came this way at all. And then he'd have found himself at a dead end in this ridiculous search.
He let out a small frustrated exhale as he unceremoniously plopped himself down on the hard wooden bench across from her. Best fill his stomach first, and then make his rounds with the men in the corner.
The smell of the hot soup brought a smile to his face though, as he looked up eagerly at the approaching barmaid. "By Angsar, you are a lifesaver! Where have you been all my life?"
A wooden bowl of turnip soup was dropped in front of him, along with a small plate of stale crusty bread. Without even waiting for the barmaid to place another bowl in front of the girl, the mercenary snatched up a large piece of bread and plunged it right into the middle of his bowl before stuffing the entire piece into his gaping mouth. It completely muffled the content sigh he let out.
With his mouth still half full, he rested his metal hand on the table and leaned forward to look her up and down again. She'd barely moved since they got here; likely she was starving too. Not everyone could be the Duke of Turgall and afford cakes left and right. "Bowl of soup, as promised. Take your time girl, I've still got to speak with my friends over there." Several of them were looking this way again.
With the soup placed in front of her, she felt her stomach rumble at the sight, and blushed a little in case the man heard it as she peered down at the turnips floating within the broth.
"Thank you,"s he replied, keeping her eyes down cast as she lifted her spoon to gently sip at some broth. Though that's when something caught her eye, something about his arm... but the old woman tending to the fire returned in the same instance and the sudden appearance of the woman, and her now noticeably missing left eye, had the poor girl gasping she dripped her spoon clean into her bowl as the old woman looked the pair over with a crooked nose sniff.
"Careful deary, the soup can be hot." And with an awkward, hump backed shuffle, she moved away, dumping a few of the logs she was carrying beside the fire.
Aryn's cloak was removed from his shoulders by now, stacked at his feet in a disorganized pile atop his skullcap and pack. He pulled back the sleeves of his dirt-stained shirt and dug into his meal with gusto.
"So you're not from around here, but you've been this way before. How did you end up in a place like this?" Aryn said to the girl in between loud slurps of his soup and large mouthfuls of bread. Occasionally he'd cough from eating too fast and pound his chest with a balled fist to help the food down his pipe. If anyone in such a seedy tavern actually cared about table manners, they could see that this mercenary certainly had very few. If anything, the little waif of a street urchin across from him had more refined manners than this hulk.
He stopped in thoughtful silence for a moment, and then leaned forward. The group across the way might have information he wanted, but it never occurred to him to ask her. Who knows? Maybe he would luck out a second time with this one. "Right, you've been around. You ever seen the Duke of Turgall before?"
Aryn's manners were quite atrocious (never mind he was only using one hand really, to help himself eat) and Kella found herself staring at him. Though it was impolite to stare, when he began to choke, she lowered her face down and... discretely wiped off the spit he coughed onto her cheek when he was trying to clear out his lungs. The little detail made her smile, but slightly before she refocused on her own soup. She was hungry, after all, but being a lady, she ate with probably more skill than anyone else here. Even with less silverware at her disposal, Kella took dainty sips. That was..
until he mentioned the Duke of Turgall.
Then it was her turn to choke on her soup. And instead of being able to pound a fist on her chest to get rid of it, it seemed the pesky soup wanted to do anything but become ejected as hse coughed until her eyes watered.
Eventually, she got it cleared and stared down with a kerchief over her lips, blue eyes to her lap.
Did she just hear him right? Peering over at him, her eyes looked at him with both shock and sadness, though it was hard to tell if it was sadness for why her eyes glistened or because she had just been choking on some soup.
"The Duke of Turgall?" she repeated softly. And the poor girl could only gape.
If he took anything from her gaping stare, it was that she was overwhelmed by the thought of a Duke. Poor girl, she was so malnourished that she too ate much too fast. He laughed loudly and leaned back.
"I said take your time, girl! Yes, the Duke of Turgall. You know, rich fellow, runs the place? No I suppose not, people like them don't talk to people like us. I've never seen him before either, him or his family. We don't have the same crowd. Don't worry about it, it wasn't anything important."
He pushed the plate of bread over to her. There were still some good sized chunks left, though he'd already eaten the largest pieces. Half the plate was just crumbs. That done, he stood from his side of the bench and snatched up his flagon of ale.
"I'm going to have a chat with our friends over there. Eat, relax, enjoy."
Kella, having been frozen in shock of it all, didn't even say a word when Aryn left the table. In fact, the soggy remains of bread was lost on her, as was the cooling goat, er, turnip soup.
The Duke of Turgall.. why did he mention her brother? Paling, her gaze followed him to where he was approaching the more seedy crowd in the tavern and she found herself holding her breath as a bald, burly looking man, who was about twice as wide as Aryn and about twice as muscled, gave a snort as the man approached and sneer as he looked him over.
"Here comes the lady's man. ANd what's that?" Baldy gestured to his arm. "We got us a gimp in this inn?" and the man laughed at his own joke, a few of the other hairy fellows following suit in his amusement. Kella, not interesting in this sort of speak, tucked back her lip and leaned forward in her seat, straining her ears in hopes to catch wind of some sort of information as to why he would have mentioned Blaith.
The Ironhand only grinned wickedly at the bald behemoth as he pulled back his sleeve to reveal the full extent of his prosthetic. Even in the dimness of the inn, the flickering candle flames shimmered in its reflective surface. He strode right up to the man and, with a wink, retorted, "Aye, the ladies fall for a real man with battle scars. Ask your sister, she loves it."
That comment elicited another bout of laughter from the man's own companions even as he bristled in anger. But before he could say another word, Aryn leaned down against the table right in their midst and said, "But we're not here to talk about that. No, I need information and I'm looking to buy. Not pennies here. Real money."
And with that he withdrew a singular object from a pocket underneath his shirt. He rapped it lightly against the tabletop and, seeing it in the light, all of the men froze for a moment. A gold piece. Real gold.
"Right, now that you're listening. You boys have been around, I can tell. I need to know about the Duke of Turgall. And her sister. What she looks like, where she has been, everything you have seen or heard."
"The Duke of Turgall?" A tall, gangily fellow of the group gave a guffaw at such a request. "Haven't you heard? The Duke of Turgall's twin sister has gone missing."
"I heard she's a pretty thing," a rat-like man chimed in. "Though I've only seen her once, you can't forget her eyes. Perfect and blue like the sky."
And the men all laughed at him for his outward day dreaming.
"Yeah, Wesley here wants to marry her!"
The rat like man gave a hiss and recoiled.
"Shut up, Harod! You were drooling over her too!"
"Yeah, but I heard rumors speculating she was around the capital. Or something like that. Some odd rumors that she's actually running away from her brother. Probably upset he wants to marry her off or something. Who knows. No body cares. That's nobles business." And it was here the man rubbed his chin and turned to Aryn. "Say... that pretty gold piece, don't suppose you're a man looking after her or something? Like her... betrothed?" He looked the man over, no wonder the girl would have run from him!
Aryn grinned wickedly at the man but quickly closed his hand over the gold piece before any of them had any funny ideas. If they gave him good information he'd pay them., but not before.
"What's it to ye? Maybe we're betrothed. Maybe we're not. Maybe go suck a lime," he shot back. The less they knew about him, the safer it was. After all, guaranteed he wasn't the only person hired to find this pretty little royal twin, with her golden hair and her 'perfect blue eyes'. If someone else were to benefit from what he learned, he might miss out on that huge payday. And if she was as drop-dead gorgeous as they said, then finding her shouldn't be so difficult.
He took a quick glance back to the girl. She had stopped eating and seemed to just be sitting there, motionless. The mercenary gave a small shrug (she was probably just full or something). Turning back to the group of them, he continued, "So the last you'd heard, she was back in the capital? How long ago was this?"
Reajh, his hometown... he hadn't been back in years. It was such a sprawling city that if the Duke's sister really was hiding there, he'd have to double his efforts.
"I don't know," the one man said with a sneer and picked at the wax in his ear. "It's just some sort of rumor. For all anyone knows, she's probably dead on the street."
"Yeah, maybe the Duke of Turgall killed her," a weasly man added with a giggle, but the rat-faced one seemed unimpressed as he jabbed him in the rib-cage which made the other yelp in protest. With those two growling in each others faces, the large, burly man from earlier finally chimed in.
"Why would we help you anyway? So you've got gold... for all we know you're just planning to use the girl against the Duke. That would be treason."
And the rest of his men grew silent at that. And it was Kella's turn to perk up as she stared over at the men, before avoiding any gazes her way by looking back down at her cooling soup.
Had she heard Aryn properly? Was he... was he looking for.... her?
"Whoa now," the Ironhand said with a slight frown on his face, holding both his real and fake hands in the air in a sign of innocent protest. Sure, times were hard these days, but the threat of treason during wartime had everybody slightly on edge. Even the merest of accusations could lead to a nice quick hanging. Besides, if anything, he was helping the Duke in his cause!
"Right, let's not say things we cannot take back now. I'm no traitor to anyone. I'm just a man trying to do his job, and I'm as loyal as they come." These other men, if they found any humor in the mercenary's antics before, now looked as serious as could be. Yet he couldn't reveal to them the reason why he asked all these questions; the fewer in the loop, the better. Knowing his conversation here was nearing its end, Aryn shrugged his shoulders again and added, "Your drinks are on me. Thank you for the information, however little good it did."
His eye still on the group of men, he strode back over to where Kella sat and plopped back down across from her. "That went well," he muttered under his breath. "Get ready, we may have to leave at a moment's notice."
When Aryn returned, she gasped, her spoon falling onto the table as she winced at the noise. But at his warning, she looked warily over at the men, just as they peered back suspiciously at the pair of them.
"Why... why were you asking about the Duke of Turgall's sister?" she found herself asking the moment she found her voice. But she made sure to keep her voice low. She was afraid others might hear it, but in truth, she was genuinely concerned. After all, the Duke of Turgall's sister was none other than her!
Aryn's eyes occasionally glanced over to the girl, even as he took some of the cold pieces of bread, dipped them into what was left of his soup, and thoughtfully stuffed them into his mouth. His peripherals were more focused on the group over there, though. Maybe it had been a mistake flashing that gold piece. Folks like were likely to rob him blind before turning him over for treason.
"Oh, nothing important. Don't worry about it," he initially said in a calm, soothing voice to the little waif. Couldn't be too careful. Now that he looked at her, she also had those piercing blue eyes that the ruffians had spoke of when describing the Duke of Turgall's noble twin sister. But plenty of people had those striking features. Besides, no noblewoman would be caught dead in a ramshackle dive like this, much less on the cold streets starving to death.
He gave it a moment of thought before throwing in a not-so-helpful "Just some work I have to do for someone. They paid me coin to look after her, make sure she's not bothered, not troubled or hurt." Maybe not the entire truth, but it was technically accurate. After all, he couldn't deliver a dead girl and be paid for it, now could he?
"Try not to think about. We've got more urgent business."
And as he said that, two of the men rose from their seats, whispering to one another. Were they going to come near? Out of habit, he surreptitiously reached to his belt and loosened a dagger from its bindings.
Kella's heart was already hammering within her chest. Her lips trembled slightly as she shrunk back in her chair. Yes, it definitely seemed like the men were heading their way, that was, until they turned and began heading towards the bar. Blinking, Kella found herself wilting a bit as the men ordered themselves more to drink and peered up at Aryn with some questionable relief-
But just as it seemed the coast was clear, the two men came back and this time, they stopped at their table-
and took a seat.
"You know, we's was talking, and we thought, 'Hey, that guy over there has got some nice taste in coin, and women-' so we figured, since we thought highly of ya, that you wouldn't mind buying us a second round of drinks," the overly muscled man said, grinning as he turned from Aryn then over to Kella.
Kella shrunk back, hoping the dark corner hide enough o fher face in shadow, but the dancing flames of the fire only helped to outline her features as the man noticed the way her lips were glossed over by the orange fire light.
"And so we's was thinking, you're looking for a girl, yet you got your own, so hey- maybe you won't mind sharing this one, eh?" And before Kella knew what was going on, she was yanked onto the man's lap and gasped when she felt something prod at her dress. Scrambling within his arms, the man laughed and clamped down on her gloved wrists roughly, her hood nearly falling off her head.
"Just sit still girly or we'll have to take this upstairs!" he laughed, and the man that joined him (now sitting beside Aryn- the weasly one) joined his superior in laughing as well.
"Seems like she's even got those pretty blue eyes, too!" and the weasled man laughed and laugh. Muscle-man rose a brow and grabbed onto Kella hood and yanked it off to get a good look at her, and when he did, his grin became a lot more greedy.
"Say, maybe we should take this on upstairs..." he said, with a heh, heh, heh, and that sort of laughter made Kella squirm.
"Please, don't touch me! Let me go!"
"Let you go?" Both men were laughing, and soon the rest of his table was rising to join them. "But why? The parties only just begun!" ANd whatever he meant by that Kella did not appreciate as a hand suddenly slapped across his face and the men only laughed heartier as the big muscly man tried to weasel in a kiss.
Aryn's flagon of ale was still half full. He gulped the rest of it down even as the muscled behemoth sat down next to the girl, while the man's smallish companion took a seat on the bench next to him. He gave each of them a glance, then one to the frightened girl. When the leader snatched Kella onto his lap, eliciting a slight yelp from her, the corner of his bearded mouth twitched.
And yet he just sat there.
This was just another street urchin that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. In all his years, he'd seen such unfortunate occurrences many times, and understood that in the disgusting underbelly of Connlaoth it was a way of life. These men sold their swords to the highest bidder, just like him. And they took what they needed, just like him. What was another wretched girl in the hands of these animals? So he had fed her and aided her on the windy streets. It didn't make him her guardian.
Eyes falling to the table, he let out a low chuckle of amusement. He didn't need to help her. By Angsar, he shouldn't help her. And yet, for some unexplainable reason, the Ironhand knew what was going to happen next. His hand secretly slipped around the hilt of that loosened dagger. "It is what it is, friend," he said to her muscled captor with that wry grin on his face again. "Everyone's got to do what they got to do." He joined in their laughter.
The others approached their table. The leader went in for the kiss.
And in one fluid motion the heavy iron hand came up from under the table, catching that weasel of a man beside him square beneath the jaw, its irresistible force smashing that snake-like grin right out of his mouth in a shower of teeth. The man toppled backward onto the warped wooden floor with a gurgle of blood and a loud crash. The barmaid let out a high-pitched scream at the same time the barkeep shouted in surprise.
Aryn nearly overturned the table from the urgency with which he nearly leaped from his seat, a rusty dagger brandished in his good hand. His eyes rapidly darted to where his cloak and pack lay on the ground, too far away to get to. His axe still sat in the leather loop of his belt, its long handle bumping up against his thick thigh with the exertion.
Clamping his boot down on the fallen man's chest, he brandished the dagger to go along with that excited sneer that splayed across his face. The Ironhand could feel his heart pulsing heavily as he eyed the other men down, almost daring them to do anything. "Right, this conversation's over, so just drop the girl all gentle-like and we'll go our separate ways. Otherwise you're going to find out why they call this place Thorny's."
There were four of them, and one of him. Something had to give.
If he wanted a fight, a fight it was as all of the four remaining men stood clean up, and glared dangerously back at the iron handed man, some brandishing a few weapons at their sides. Kella, still too frightened, began to sob when the man grabbed her by the hood and shook her at his side.
"You're going to pay for that!" the burly man growled deep from his belly and threw Kella at the rat-face companion to his left before he used his muscly-mass to scoop up the entire bench he had been sitting on and turned and ran, directly for Aryn, aiming to crack him over the head with it as he gave a cry of manly rage.
OOC: For he'd only have the manliest of rages
((They laced the ale with extra testosterone tonight))
The Ironhand was always willing and ready for an extended bar melee, but this was somehow different. For one, these four men and their wounded companion seemed more intent on running him through with a sword than just knocking him across the back of the head. And on top of that, he'd barely had one drink! No, this was something more serious entirely.
That sentiment came to a head when he burly vagrant tossed the sobbing girl into the arms of one of his filthy henchmen and lifted the entire wooden bench off the floor. He barely had time to take a step to the side before the entire thing came crashing down on him. Raising his metal arm to take the brunt of the force, the crash of heavy wood against his body still succeeded in knocking the wind out of his lungs, the dagger out of his hands, and the Ironhand off his feet with a loud CRACK! He stumbled back a few steps and crashed onto his back, the impact eliciting a loud groan from him.
The adrenaline coursed through his veins now though, and he had the good enough sense to scramble backward and back on his feet. Aryn wasn't smiling anymore; instead, his expression was a grim one, lips pressed firmly together and eyes frantically darting around even as a small trickle of blood ran down his face from that nice gash over his left eyebrow. He reached down to his side and drew out his axe now. There were still four of them, and space was confined. But it wasn't a matter of beating or killing these men... no, he had to get that girl out the door. The rat-faced man had both arms wrapped around her tightly, and the four of them had all the confidence in the world. How was he going to do this?
Behind him, the barkeep scrambled across the floor on all fours and slipped out the door in panic, likely to get the guards. He'd have to do this fast. Before the others could join their boss, he charged back into the burly man, who was in the midst of drawing his own sword. The Ironhand swung his axe with a wild downward chop which just barely missed the larger man but interrupted enough for him to have to abandon drawing his weapon in lieu of avoiding the mercenary's sharp blade. It was the right hand that clipped him on the chin though, as Aryn swung out with his prosthetic. It just managed to connect, but the heavy iron had even this behemoth stumbling and in pain.
Aryn breathed heavily as he surveyed the situation. It was looking dire, but if he could just somehow get that little rat to release the girl...
The situation went from bad to worse, as Kella found herself within the rat's possession and flinching against him as Ironhand was nearly killed by a tavern bench. Though she'd be lying if she said she wasn't entirely shocked at how the battle was turning out, she knew better than to assume one man could get the upper hand- especially when baldly cried out, "Get him, men! Gut him and search for his gold!"
But it seemed only two of them would obey, as the rat man kept Kella within his arms, even as she struggled and tried to get away.
"Please! Unhand me!" she pleaded, and the rat man only cast her a leer and a laugh.
"As if we'd oblige, girly. We'll get the gold and the girl." And he held her more closely towards him as she watched in horror as two of the men began swinging shiny, steeled weapons at Aryn's head.
"Look out!" she found herself sobbing, and she grit her teeth when she saw the men actually cut him, blood splattering into the air. And as the man holding her began to laugh, she realized she just couldn't do nothing. So when the man wasn't looking, she stepped on his foot as he let out a yelp and then she did the unthinkable, she removed her glove and took a brief hold of his wrist- and before the man knew what was happening he, he let out an even louder scream himself and could have leaped clean out of his boots, for the brief moment her skin was in contact with his, it felt like a terrible, seering pain- one that gripped all over his body and pulled at everything within him. To Kella, it felt like a tingling pull, her own body being lulled, and as the man yanked his hand away from her he back handed her and sent her to the ground- which was enough of an action to draw the attention of the bald man over to him.
"What the hell are you doing!?" the muscled man shouted, clearly pissed rat-face just punched the girl.
"She.. she bit me!" Or something! He couldn't say, but stood there in dismay as baldy yanked Kella clean off the ground by her hair.
OOC: Hope it's ok I assumed Aryn got cut :T you can decide where but if not, I can edit my post XD
When the other two men began circling Aryn with their own swords drawn, he drew in a sharp breath and held his axe up menacingly. Eyes darted left and right to keep tabs on both of them, while his brain furiously admonished him for getting himself into such a predicament. These brigands weren't just any hoodlums; they were seasoned mercenaries.
The taller one to his right saw an opening and advanced rapidly, his gleaming short sword swinging right for his head. He ducked, and managed to deflect a second swing with the haft of his axe, but let out a roar of pain as the second man's sword found its mark and left a nice red gash across his chest, droplets of blood splattering against his shirt. Aryn clenched his teeth together and retreated even further back, the fiery pain of the wound just barely overpowered by his racing heartbeat and the urgency in his eyes. He felt a bump against his lower back and realized he'd backed right into the bar. With a growl he shrunk behind the safety of his metal arm and the blade of his axe, preparing for the worst.
And then he heard the screams. His twitching eyes somehow found their way past the two men and to where rat-face had suddenly released the girl and given her a mighty slap that drove her to the ground.
Apparently the other two men also heard the man's agonized cry and turned their own heads in dismay, shooting their rat-faced companion looks of confusion. This was the Ironhand's only opportunity to get out of this corner. With his own yell he charged forward out of his crouched stance and bowled right into the smaller man, who lacked the time and space to properly defend himself in his confused state. The two of them stumbled forward for a few steps before Aryn, gripping tightly at his shoulder, used the momentum and his own brutish strength to throw him to the ground directly in the path of the second man.
With a heavy downward swing, Aryn brought the gleaming edge of his axe straight down on the fallen man. His own scream echoed off the stone walls of the inn as the axe bit through his leather jerkin and into his collarbone. Aryn could feel the resistance of bone and flesh give way in a splash of blood that covered both him and the taller man in a crimson shower.
The shock of the moment gave him just enough time to wrench his axe free with some effort and scramble over to where his pack now lay strewn about the tavern floor. That cut across his chest seared him with every movement and he let out another roar of pain as he slid to the ground and snatched up his thick wooden shield. "RIGHT, WHO IS NEXT!?" he shouted across the room to the three men still standing, daring them to fight.
Whatever the girl had done, it'd been effective. Now if only she would recover from that backhand that had dropped her...
The grip on her hair was enough to sober Kella as she tried to wrangle herself free. Now with one gloveless hand, she'd have to be careful. But these men weren't about to play fair, and neither way she. So as the man continued to hold her near the table, she reached out for the remains of the turnip soup and thrust it at his head. Not expecting it, the man let out a cry and carelessly dropped the girl as she let out a yelp, and while he was floundering while wiping the vegetables from his face, Kella found herself scrambling to Aryn's side as she trembled and breathed heavily, not knowing what else they could do. But hey, at least they had made an impressive mess of the goons.
Aryn shot a sidelong glance to the girl as she scrambled behind the safety of his shield. "You alright?" he muttered under his breath, looking back out to the mess they made.
Aside from the spilled food and ale and the shattered bench, there was a small matter of blood and bodies littering the inn's dark interior. The one with the weasel face likely had a shattered jaw, maybe a concussion. He'd live.
But the other one... even now his breathing was shallow and ragged as his blood pooled underneath him, no doubt staining the already warped floorboards. If the others acted quick he might yet survive, albeit a cripple. If he died, it was murder. And that too was a nice hanging for the both of them. At least for him; no doubt they'd ravage her over and over before the execution. But she wasn't his concern. She was nobody. He ought to just leave her here and take off.
That grim look settled on his face again. Of course they'd escape together, despite his common sense screaming otherwise at him. He glanced forlornly at his pack and cloak still strewn about the ground, too far away from him to retrieve. There was a good week's worth of dried meat and oats in there, not to mention a ratty blanket for when the nights got cold. And a tin of black pepper. There wasn't a chance in hell he could afford another, not now as a fugitive. A low frustrated "SHIT!" escaped his lips.
"Right," he hissed from the corner of his mouth to the cowering girl, "we're going to run around the bar, out the back, turn left, and make a run for it before the guards get here. On the count of three."
The burly man and his two remaining companions still loomed large over them, and now a rage burned in his squinted eyes. "You little bastards, I'm gonna gut the both of you and leave you out for the dogs!" Their advance was only halted by the faint sound of steel-toed footsteps emanating from the doorway behind them, the unmistakable sound of the barkeep returning with armed town guards. Another curse escaped from his lips. No time left.
"THREE!" he screamed as he stepped foward with his shield upraised in front of him, just enough to afford Kella that window of opportunity to scramble around back and to safety.
At his inquiry of her state, she drew her arms around herself and grit her teeth as she looked over as her glove was trampled on by the bald headed one. She wasn't sure how she was as she shook her head and whispered, "I'm as good as I can be." And at his indication of making an exit, she glanced over her shoulder towards the door. And no sooner were they planning their escape did the guards enter and instinctively, she rose as her partner in crime shouted, 'THREE!'
Scrambling out the back door, Kella nearly lost her footing on the ground. The cobblestone was beginning to slick over with frost. The winter storms would be settling in, perhaps earlier this year than most would like. But autumn still hung on, and icy leaves were hard to navigate through, considering her boots were becoming quite worn from her travel, but once she had made her way around the corner, it seemed the girl was fairing alright.
Pausing only to make sure her new companion was making his way with her, she gasped to see the blood and wound across his shirt.
"You're hurt!" and her eyes wavered. "We should seek a healer." Though they were hardly out of the clear, Kella still feared the for the man's life. Though he'd probably hardly die from the wound, one could never be too cautious. Also, in a town like this, it was hard to say if they would even possess a doctor.
The three ruffians stood stunned as the girl bolted around Aryn's back, out the rear door, and into the cold. The Ironhand, still cowering behind the safety of his thick shield, followed shortly behind them. Muscle-man scowled and took a step forward to chase after - only to screech to a halt as a gaggle of town guards spilled in through the front door.
Out in on the street, Aryn breathed heavily as he tried to keep up with the smaller, more agile girl. Without his cloak he could feel a noticeable difference in the wind as it chilled the skin of his face. Each panting breath brought about a small wisp of foggy condensation in the cold air. The cut across his chest didn't help. He tucked his shield arm tight against his torso, letting the blood drip disgustingly over his metal arm rather than leave a trail of blood on the cobblestones.
"No time for a healer, girl," he called out to her as they continued to run, "they'll be lookin' for us. We need to get out of this town. I'll be fine."
Just around the corner, the sound of clanking footsteps emanated, to go along with some hurried shouts. More guards! Reaching forward with his good hand, he grabbed a handful of the girl's cloak and yanked at her backwards to stop her from rounding the bend.
"Quick, in here!" he urged, before kicking open the back door of another stone building. Immediately the sweet aroma of sugar and icing wafted out and struck him directly in the face. Aryn groaned in irritation, but pushed her through anyway. By Angsar, did those ovens smell good...
Kella let out a startled gasp as the man yanked her by her cloak and she, found herself nearly crashing into him for it. And as if she had little else to do in that moment but listen, she followed after him, scrambling in behind and clutching on more desperately to her cloak-
and she too, was greeted by the same, sweet smells from Armand's Bake and Cake shop, and felt herself grow dizzy for it. Though while she and Aryn were undoubtably getting their barrings inside the place, the bakers wife rounded the bend, carrying a giant sack of flour, but having turned aroudn and seeing the pair of them- she dropped the sack onto the floor and screamed- just as a puff of floured smoke consumed the room, and coated the poor three sods, whose very presence shocked one another there in.
The exploding cloud of flour completely coated Aryn head to toe and had him hacking and wheezing as it got in his mouth and up his nostrils. He must've looked simply horrendous with blood and flour caking his face and beard, and the wound in his chest still dripping on the floor, because the baker's wife let out another high pitched scream. She started backing out into the shop's main floor.
"OH SHUT UP!" the Ironhand roared at the elderly lady even as he tugged at Kella's cloak to usher her into the next room. Immediately regretting his demeanor, he hissed in a lower voice, "Look lady, we're sorry for the mess and we'll be out of here real quick."
Out in the front counter and hidden amongst the towering cakes, Aryn took a quick peek out the front window to check if the coast was clear. As several more guards ran past the window he quickly ducked back down under the glass. That's when he found himself face to face with that five-tiered vanilla tower he'd seen earlier. The baker's wife, terrified as she was, immediately recognized the desire in the mercenary's eyes and shook her head frantically. "Oh no no no! Not that one, please!" she begged.
But it was too late. Aryn had dug his free hand right into the base of the cake and had pulled out a huge spongy chunk of deliciousness out. When he bit into it his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head in ecstasy. It was the most beautiful, most complex thing he'd ever tasted.
Turning to the now sobbing baker's wife, he gave her an apologetic "I am SO sorry," before tossing her that gold coin he'd flashed earlier at Thorny's.
OOC: Trigger warning for language XD
-------
"THERE'S THE FUCKER! IT WAS HIS FAULT!!!" the bald headed behemoth screamed as he fought tooth and nail against the guard, and a moment later- his fist came shattering through the glass in an angered punch, leaving Kella more than stunned, for had this happened just seconds later, she too, would have considered joining her partner in having a sample of the cake, but now- well.. her sample would have to come a bit differently, for the second the man's fist came through the window, she found herself tripping over Aryn's leg, and as she began to fall backwards, if her poor companion did not catch her in time- she'd be the next flavor of cake-
and the heavenly tiers of vanilla she was about to land in- ruined.
OOC: You can decide if she lands in the cake, if he does instead, if they both are unfortunate and land in it- or, you know, they manage to dance around it precariously somehow and make a get away XD
Aryn was close enough to the window to hear the crash as glass shards rained down all over him. Ducking from the glass, he stepped just far enough into the aisle to catch an ankle around the girl's. Quickly he wrapped a hand around her waist to catch her, but it was too late. Off-balance and already stumbling, the added weight of her in his arm pushed him off of his feet. Tumbling, the two of them crashed directly into a table full of more exquisite cakes.
With a crash and then a soft squish of body against spongy bread and icing, the pair fell right into the cakes. The table skidded across the floor with a screech and toppled another large cake. The inside of Armand's shop, in a single instant, went from high-end bakery to mess as icing and sugar splattered all over the walls.
The baker's wife let out a piercing scream as the brute's fist smashed through the window. She let out a second scream as the massive cakes toppled all around her. And then she fainted.
The baker's wife was lucky. She could at least faint- Kella, on the other hand, was a dizzy mess of flour sooting her form, and now- she was completely enveloped in sweet, soft icing and cake. Though more uncomfortably so, she had a man with an iron arm piled over top of her, keeping her pinned down in the cushion of confection. Blinkingly, she knew not what to make of their predicament as she peered up at Aryn, who now had a face mask of cake covering him thoroughly. It was through his beard, through his hair, and were this some other sort of situation, perhaps she could have laughed at it- but the pair were still in danger, and just behind his head she noticed the burly man approach in a fury, his arm raised with some sort of weapon as she gasped and called out, "Look out!"
And lucky for them both when he cut forward, he was simply cutting the cake. Frozen in shock to see a blade between her and Aryn, Kella went frozen stiif as she peered at her reflection, noting the cake gooping off from her face and hair- for she looked just about as bad off as Aryn- and again, in any other moment, perhaps she could have laughed off this sweet and sticky situation, but as it were, the stakes were too high- their lives were on the line, and the guards were about ready to rush in.
The cake currently shoved into his mouth would have tasted delicious (and indeed, it WAS delicious) if not for the fact that it now covered his entire upper half. He could feel the girl struggling in the pile of cake underneath him, but he couldn't see it, not with the icing plastered over his eyes. And he reached up to wipe the wretched stuff out of his face just as he heard her shout in warning.
Eyes blinking, Aryn turned just as a sword sliced down right between the two of them, sharp steel carving right through the layers upon layers of cake on which they lay. His breath caught in his throat at the sheer luck with which they'd avoided being split in two. Looking up, he caught the enraged look of his most decidedly muscled friend as the man prepared to pull the sword out of the goop and try again.
Without thinking, the Ironhand kicked out a heavy boot at the man's exposed wrists. The force of the leather against even such a thick hand elicited a yelp of alarm as the hulking ruffian released his grip on the sword. Aryn threw a handful of bread and icing at the man's face while scrambling over the pile of goop and the overturned table. He didn't even bother to look to see if the girl was back on her feet or not; grabbing yet another handful of her cloak he tried to pull her soggy self up with him.
"Back the way we came!" he yelled into her ear as he found his legs. The baker and his wife had left their cloaks hanging on an iron hook just beside the doorway leading into the kitchen, and he ripped both of them off their moorings as he passed by. Already a fugitive, he might as well be a thief.
Finding herself running again, she slipped over a few puddles of icing and fell into Aryn's side. Thankfully, he seemed a lot more stable than she, so when they were off and running again, she trailed behind him, clinging onto his arm with one icing- coated glove (though she was cautious of the other that was not). Though they had a few steps head start on muscle-brain, the man was furious as he roared and picked himself off the ground.
Never losing his grip on his blade, baldy came barreling towards them, roaring fierce as a lion. Peering over her shoulder as she and the iron-handed man ran, her eyes went wide in horror as she watched the man gaining on them.
Turning the bend, she found her boots carrying her harder and faster across the wooden floor, and they were back inside the room with the flour on the floor- and incidently, there was flour bags all lining the walls. ANd just as baldy came for them- the guards rushed in afterwards, like a pack of hounds- and somehow through the chaos of it all, one of the bags of flour above them was cut open, and flour came snowing around them as they ran.
Now, no longer coated in just cake and icing, but another coat of powdery, flour residue, Kella rushed with Aryn into the kitchen and out the back door, where the chilling thrill of the late-autumn winds greeted them. And despite the weight of the icing, some of the winds still managed to toss some of her blonde hair about, and her ratty clothes, as icing slicked boots stumbled on the cobblestone, but still, she managed to run, but in no small thanks to her grip upon Aryn's hand.
Though just as the pair were making some head way away from Armand's Bake shop, baldy was tripping out of it and frothing curse words and promises between his teeth. But that was behind them, for before them sprang a new set of challenges- the other half of the pack of guards.
"Halt! In the name of the law!"
But as luck would have it, as the trio of guards stood menacingly in their way at the end of the ally- a horse and carriage was coming briskly down the road- and the rider, having not expected to find himself suddenly rounding the bend to be greeted with a group of guards, gasped and called out:
"Oh, guardsman! Please! Do get out of the way!" But it was too late, and the scene was chaos as the wagoncart driver tried to veer away, only to find his cart jerking too sharply, and the contents of the back becoming spilled when his cart tipped over- and the sheet that had once been drawn across the pastries he was cargoing suddenly took to air-
and the sky began to rain with cookies, as a few bounced and rolled Aryn and Kella's way, settling around their feet. Kella could not believe it as she gaped at the scene.
"You idiot! Those baked goods were for the Grand Duke!" the driver barked, and Kella, flinched away, finding herself backing up into Aryn, and incidentally making the pair of them both stumble to an awkward halt- giving baldy just enough time to catch up.
"I'm going to gut you like a pig!" the man barked, sword at the ready as he gave a heavy cutting slice towards Aryn's head.
If he didn't already have enough problems, now pastries and cookies positively rained from the skies! They clattered to the cobblestones all around his feet, utterly ruined and unfit for human consumption. Worst off, the cart that had overturned now blocked their escape route, save for a small gap between one of its still-spinning wheels and the mortared stone walls of the corner warehouse that led to the alleyway's exit. The guards were separated from them for the moment, both by the overturned cart and by the frantically neighing horse now bucking from excitement.
When the girl backed up into him. both of them found themselves cornered in a pile of overturned pastries. The Ironhand licked his icing-frosted lips in grim anticipation and lifted his shield when muscle-man swung errantly for his head. The impact of the giant's sword against the wooden surface sent splinters flying in every direction and had the mercenary reeling backward into the wall. He could feel the jarring vibration up his metal shield arm and into the fleshy stump, all the way up to the gash in his chest. Despite his own size and strength, this other man towered over him.
Maybe it had been a bad idea to provoke the big man. Maybe he'd made a huge mistake by coming to this town at all. Out of the corner of his eye he briefly spied the irate cart driver quickly realizing that he was in the middle of a street combat and duck away for cover.
"Get out of here, girl!" he growled to her, shoving her toward that tiny little opening between cart and building. She no doubt would be able to slip through it with her tiny frame, and perhaps Aryn might've been able to force his way through as well if he had more time. But he had big baldy hammering away at his battered shield. It took all of his strength to keep deflecting away the blows and each one tired his half-arm even further.
Finally, when the large man raised his sword once more, the Ironhand had the good enough sense to swing his shield and catch him right on the underside of his chin. As baldy reeled back into the approaching guards with a pained snarl, Aryn was able to pull out his axe once more. He rapidly glanced over his shoulder to make sure the girl was through the gap and gone before turning back to face his inevitable showdown. Covered head to toe in cake, icing and flour, he looked every bit like a vengeful ghost.
It was madness, pure madness, and had the man not shouted for her to go,s he would have remained gaping as the two men duked it out. Worried for him, she hesitated, but eventually obeyed, realizing he was sacrificing an opening for her. Though as she tried to sneak past the wagon wheel, a most unfortunate thing occured- for the guards spotted her and one barked in her direction, "Halt right there!"
And the horse, still attached to the cart, gave a kick and the wagon, suddenly throttled backwards, and slammed into Kella, pinning her against the alley wall.
With the wind knocked out of her, Kella remained frozen in place, not quite sure how to make of the moment as she felt as if her ribs and entire torso had been crushed. The horse, who was still tangled up in his reins, eventually took off, and once the wagon slipped free of her, Kella dropped to the ground in a useless heap.
Already the guards were trying to hold the giant man down before he could charge back into the cake-covered mercenary. After all, they were supposed justices of the law and they were there to arrest him (and his female companion) on suspicion of inciting unrest and assault. They weren't there to allow vigilante justice and bloodshed to run rampant in their streets. Especially not here, the great City of Vanille!
Even three of the armored guards did not have the strength to hold back this furious ogre though, and with another roar and a yank of his enormous biceps, he pushed the guards off of him and raised his sword high in the air. "NOW YOU AND YOUR LITTLE GIRL DIE!" he screamed.
Crushed pastries, especially when mixed with the dampness on the cobblestones and the soft paste of spilled icing, can create quite a slippery mess. It was precisely this that took the legs out from underneath muscle-man, as he lost his footing to a very unfortunate vanilla eclair and crashed headfirst into the brunt of Aryn's shield. Before he could recover, that axe came from above in a powerful arc and crashed directly into his balding scalp. With a sickening crunch and another squirt of blood, the man twitched momentarily in a sugary heap and then lay still.
Panting heavily, Aryn turned looked to his right to make sure the girl had escaped. His heart sank slightly in his chest as he saw her crumpled form on the ground, the wind completely expelled from her by the crushing force of the overturned cart. With another grimace, he turned back to face the guards now.
"You all saw it, I was defending the girl and me! It was all in self-defense. Him and his gang attacked us and-"
The Ironhand's words died on his lips as one of the guards (the old greybeard from before, no less!) brained him with the cold steel hilt of his sword. He fell to one knee with a gasp, and then dizzily peered back up at the armored men looming overhead. That wry grin came over his face one last time, and then a second and third crack over his head brought the big man down to the ground, breathing heavily and barely conscious.
The iron doors slammed closed behind them, and the clicking of the lock echoed through the cold building as mercenary and his cake covered girl were tossed inside a cell. It seemed they'd be paying a lot of time for their cake conundrum, and would have no relief from their cake plastered bodies, as Kella remained, curled up upon the floor. Her ribs hurt like crazy, aching all over, but she still felt even worse for the man who lay in a heap beside her- and though Aryn did not stir as he lay upon the ground, she crawled over towards his side and timidly peered down at him. He appeared to be sleeping, but not peacefully at all. The grimace on hsi face was evident from the strike, and giving one pouting look towards the jail door, she then returned her blue eyes back down towards his face.
Reaching forward, she was about to help wipe some cake frosting from his face, and thus inspect his wound, when she jerked her hand back- realizing she had almost made skin to skin contact, and immediately hid her exposed hand behind her gloved one. Gods, after all the man had been through with her- the last thing she wanted to do was harm him with her cursed magics.
Glancing down forlornly at the hard stone beneath them, she observed a pile of hay and moved to bring some over towards him, stuffing it beneath his head and making it to that when he at least came to- he'd be a bit more comfortable. But for now, it seemed she'd have to sit and wait, and as she did so, she was lightly working at removing what cake and icing bits from her body that she could. Though to remove it all would be futile.
Aryn had lost consciousness through the entire ordeal, and only now found a little self-awareness returning to his eyes. His head was pounding fiercely and he let out a low groan lying there on the cold hay-covered ground that was the Vanille prison cell. His hair and beard were still caked with dried icing, and his face was ashen from the fine layer of flour coating the skin. The guards had wisely removed all the weapons from his prone form, including his axe and the handful of daggers he carried on his person.
Worst of all, though... they'd unstrapped the metal hand from that right arm of his, leaving only a lifted sleeve and a veiny, scarred stump that ended just below the elbow. There was an obvious swelling where they'd pounded their hilts against his forehead, to go along with that cut across his eyebrow, now mostly dried, and that gash across his chest.
As his consciousness returned to him, the mercenary stirred slightly and forced his eyes open just a crack. Luckily there was little light to be had in the cell, save for the single shaft coming from a barred high window that dropped a circle of evening light on the haystack in the corner.
Turning his head, he just barely made out the blurred silhouette of Kella. So she didn't make it out of that alley after all, he thought miserably before closing his eyes again. Letting out a mirthless laugh, he weakly said, "So they got you too, eh...? I told you this town was nothing but trouble..."
Being the stubborn idiot he was, he tried to sit up but instantly fell back down on the pile of hay she'd stacked underneath his pounding head.
Eyes clenched shut, he muttered, "You alright, at least?"
Kella had been so wrapped up with her own fears, her own worries, and even her own pain; that when they were both shoved into a cell, she hadn't fully noticed his missing limb. The lighting was dark anyways, and he- when they tossed him in, he was laying on his side- completely covering the missing appendage. Though as he awoke and sat up and turned to her, her eyes wavered with concern and relief- Though before she could answer him, her mouth suddenly fell open as she yelled.
Slapping her hands suddenly over her lips (which happened mere moments after the shock), her blue eyes locked onto the missing limb as she felt near ready to faint.
"Oh my, God. Your arm!"
It was MISSING.
The frantic words coming from her mouth did not answer Aryn's question at all, but it brought his eyelids flashing open nonetheless. Well, at least one of them; his right eye, purple-black from swelling, only opened a crack. He tried to sit up and prop himself up on his right arm, only to reach for nothing but air and back onto his little hay bed. Something didn't feel right.
And looking down, even in his hazy vision, it became clear.
"Wha...? My arm? MY ARM?!" The roar emanating from his throat was not as powerful as it could've been if he weren't so bloodied and battered, but the quivering rage was clearly there. Spittle frothing from his angry mouth he struggled to pull himself up to his feet. It was a lot more difficult this time around without that second arm to support him, but somehow he managed to get up onto one knee and drag himself over to the cold iron bars.
"YOU BLOODY BASTARDS! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? BRING ME BACK MY ARM, OR BY ANGSAR THE IRONHAND WILL BLOODY KILL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!"
The mercenary began banging on the bars with both his left palm and his right arm, rattling their little prison with an incessant whine of flesh on metal.
"DON'T YOU DARE IGNORE ME!" he continued in his tirade to whoever was out there, though it didn't seem as though anyone was currently patrolling this prison wing. Several other prisoners moseyed up to their own cell doors to catch a glimpse of the commotion.
The guards on duty were pretty annoyed, and in order to deal with the noisy nuisance, one of them threw a drinking bottle at the bars. It clanged against it before settling to the ground- and lucky for ARyn, it hadn't broke as it rolled to a stop in the middle of the jail floor.
"Shut your hole! You and your lady friend will be spending the rest of the week in there if you don't shut up! You destroyed the Armand's Bake Shop, and don't think they won't be seeking retribution for such a crime!" Those cakes were expensive!
"ANd if you're lucky," another guard added in. "We might give you that iron limb back if you're good! Now keep down that racket or we'll melt the arm down for scrap!"
And all the while this was happening, Kella only gaped and stared.
((OOC: The following contains mature language. Viewer discretion is advised! :O))
Aryn flinched just slightly as the glass bottle came hurtling through the air at him, clanging against the bars just in front of his face before rolling past him. The threat of melting down his arm into slag brought an even more pronounced expression of outrage to his face. With bits of icing and flour still caking his face and beard, he looked half hilarious, half terrifying.
"Melt down for scrap?! Maybe I ought to melt the two of you down to scrap, you shit-eating sons of whores! You better lock your doors tonight, because when I get out of here I'm coming to your house with my arm and breaking your fucking head with it!"
The rest of their exchange of pleasantries was drowned out by a chorus of cheers and yells from the other prisoners locked in their own cells, but eventually the guard stomped his way over to their prison and spat on the Ironhand before angrily returning to his post.
Aryn was still quivering with anger when he turned and ponderously lumbered his way back to where Kella sat. He sat (or more like flopped down) unceremoniously in front of her. Snatching up the bottle, he peered through the glass for perhaps a residual drop or two of whatever was in it. There was barely half a sip left, but he was so frustrated that he growled under his breath and rolled the bottle over to her. Still breathing heavily, he didn't even register the girl's incredulous wide-mouthed gape.
"Can you believe these bastards? This whole town can burn in hell."
Despite the man having saved her life on numerous occasions, the fear brought on by his sudden rage had Kella cowering. She was too afraid to reply to him, for fear had tightened her throat. And as the events unfolded within her mind, she found herself on the brink of tears. This was, after all, her fault was it not? Those men had come after her. And this man.... why, she had no idea what to think of him, but his rage was terrifying and she lowered her gaze, the cowl of her hood masking her face as tears slipped down her cheeks, which may have been only visible by the pale light ghosting through the cell.
And by then, the crowd inside the jail had finally calmed, and Aryn might have been able to see her trembling, and some of the soft gasps between her sobs. This was a real mess they were in..
and if the guards found out who she really was...
She'd be shipped back to her brother, and Angsar only knew what he had in store for her. ANd remembering her brother, and how disturbed and broken and crazed he had become, only had her sobbing all the more.
The scowl deepened on Aryn's face, especially when the girl started sobbing. What did she have to cry about?! All of this was her fault! If he'd never asked her for directions, or bought her that bowl of soup, he wouldn't be rotting in this damp, leaky dungeon with one arm and no escape plan. Everytime her shoulders heaved from the sobs, the mercenary had an urge to smack some sense into her.
But despite his best efforts to be heartless, to have absolutely no empathy, how could he not feel sorry for her? A poor, starving girl who didn't seem to possess any firsthand knowledge of how to live on the streets. She looked like a street urchin, but maybe she wasn't one all her life. Probably some merchant's daughter before this whole mess of a war. Maybe they went bankrupt. He didn't know.
He turned his one unswollen eye away briefly with a loud huff and a sulk, but then turned back to face her. With a loud exhale that indicated how stupid he thought this all was, he reached out and gave her a pat on the shoulder with surprising tenderness.
"Right, stop your crying now," he said to her in a gruff voice, "I'll figure a way out of this mess. I'll tell them you're innocent. I killed that man and I destroyed those cakes, not you." Stupid cakes, he wished he could've knocked more over.
Looking to his stump of an arm, he rolled the sleeve back down to conceal it. Suddenly he felt very naked without it.
"No, no," she said, her voice strained through soft sobs as she shook her head. Peering up at him, her doe-like blue eyes wavered with tears that continued to roll down her cheeks. "I couldn't allow you. All of this was my fault." And she was beginning to think leaving home was making her cursed.
How had things become so different now? When had her brother changed? When had the world begun to fall apart? And she tried to brush away her tears on her over-sized sleeves as her lips trembled. Yes, it would be hard to suppress more sobs, but she could not let this man sacrifice anymore.
"If they ask us for a story, I will try to find a way to fix this horrible mess. You've done enough for me already. I could not ask anymore from you." And her eyes looked to his as she looked upon him with such worry and care.
The Ironhand peered straight into her surprisingly blue eyes as she looked up at him, though to him they seemed more filled with despair than anything else. Sitting back on his haunches, he shook his head as the tears rolled down her cheeks. And then that wry grin crossed his face again, for the first time in what seemed like forever. He must've cut a ridiculous sight, cracking that smile through the cake-crusted beard and the blood and bruises. Resting his stump on a knee, pounded his fist against his chest (only wincing slightly as he hit that nasty cut across his breast) and said:
"Don't be ridiculous, girl! Look at you. Why you couldn't hurt a man if you tried! I'm the Ironhand, not the Icy Heart. If you think I'll let you take the blame here, you're raving mad."
Another forlorn chuckle. "Surely you must have an actual name. I cannot be callin' you 'girl' this whole time."
The bottle he'd pushed over to her still lay on the ground, untouched. He picked it up again and pressed it toward her gloved hand, silently urging her to drink it. It could've been wine or water, but either way she looked like she could use it. And he shouted as much, over his shoulder and out the bars.
"OI! Bring the girl some water, or are you both gutless animals? And you dare call yourselves men?!"
And get the attention of one of the guards he did, for he clomped his way over towards the cell bar and dumped half a bowl of water over Aryn's head before dropping it into the cell as more o fit splashed out- leaving not a lot remaining in the bottom.
"There's some water for your girly, but if you don't pipe down we're going to knock you out ourselves. Now behave!" the guard growled, and moved away as he shook his head and complained to the second guard stationed with him at the end of the hall.
And it was only then Kella peered over at Aryn, who was now an even bigger mess thanks to the water- with icing and flour dripping down his face like melting wax.
"You.. you didn't have to do that," she said, quietly, her eyes going down to the floor. Though she was covered in cake and cookie crumbs too, looking about as much o fa ridiculous mess as he, she somehow looked a lot less disheveled and silly as her companion.
If there was something good about having cold water dumped on his head, it was the fact that it both drove away his dizziness and helped wash away a little of the gunk plastered to his face. Aryn still sat there seething as little rivets of water ran down his temple and dripped onto the floor. He kept his eyes staring forward at the girl, but said nothing until the guards left.
With the dangling sleeve of his stumpy arm he began to slowly wipe away the icing caked to his forehead, wincing slightly when he pressed too hard against the bruises and cuts right above his eye. It wasn't nearly enough water to completely clean him off, but it did a good enough job such that he looked only stupid, and not like a complete idiot.
Even in his rage he forced a smile on his face and replied with a brusque "Plenty of things I didn't have to do in my life, girl. But the Ironhand does 'em anyway. Here, drink up and rest."
He slid the meager bowl over to her and slowly climbed up to his wobbly feet to explore this dungeon of theirs. It was small, no more than five paces in either direction, walled on two sides and barred on two. The stones were uneven and stained (likely from blood or vomit, or both), but at least a small bed of hay covered the worst parts. And everything was as sturdy as they came; aside from a tiny hole where a mouse might be able to squeeze through, it was as solid a prison as he'd ever seen one.
Accepting the water, she stared down at it with a frown and shifted uncomfortably at the notion, but was again, grateful for what he was trying to do. Peering up at him, she watched as he paced around the room after she whispered a soft, 'Thank you.' before glancing back down to the bowl.
The water looked like piss- even smelled a little weird, too. Perhaps it was just rusty well water, certaintly tasted like it, but she couldn't get much down, even with as little as their was. Realizing, since it didn't seem she was going to drink it all, she peered over at Aryn and approached him timidly behind.
"Can I not at least help you remove some of the cake?" she offered, realizing- really, that was the only nice thing she could do as payment for him, and her blue eyes sought to his.
Aryn craned his neck up to see the barred window high above, streaming a thin ray of light into their lonely little cell. The light was fading fast though, and by all accounts it would be nightfall in an hour or so. It was too high for him to see out of though, and he certainly didn't have the energy to even try climbing.
Hearing her delicate footsteps behind him and then the soft mousy whisper of her voice, he slowly turned to regard her. His green eyes were almost imperceptible in the darkness of the cell, but it seemed as though he had a slight frown on his face. But after a brief moment of pensive silence he pursed his lips together, gave her a little affirmative grunt, and wordless nodded.
Though the Ironhand wouldn't admit it out loud, sitting back down was actually a giant relief for him. He sat up against the damp stone wall of the cell, one knee propped up and arm resting casually on it. The stump of an arm he kept at his side and as out of sight as possible.
At his nod, she smiled hesitantly, then pulled a kerchief from her cloak. As she smoothed it across his face, removing the thickened crusty parts at first, which fell off in brittle clumps, he'd be able to feel how warm it still was from being tucked in close to her body, and how it smelled of her- though the perfume was subtle and it's scent could only linger for so long as the frosting that had dried and skinned over was reopened, and the heavenly scent of vanilla now crumbled away from his face.
Then, as she moved towards his brow, she was trying to be gentle and saw his swollen eye and studied it with a soft frown.
"That looks like it hurts."
And she moved to remove the cake gentle, some crumbled into his eye and she gasped lightly. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I was trying to be careful,"s he said, apologetically while holding onto the clothe and studied his face, making sure he was ok. "Shall I continue?" she asked, once she was sure he hadn't any more threats of cake crumbs entering his poor swollen eye. She just wished she had something to help him with that. Her brother had gotten a swollen eye once and he suffered with the bruise for at least a week. But she refocused herself on him, and once the eye was clear, she moved again,t his time over his other free eye that wasn't bruised, but the dust from the cake she was remvoving sprinkled again over that eye as she found herself laughing through the powder now dusting between them.
"Perhaps it's best if I don't. I fear all the cake icing and crumbs will blind you." And she gave him a gentle, blushing smile before lowering her gaze bashfully to her lap.
"We both must look quite a mess." she said, before peering back up towards him, blue eyes peering through a mess of cake and blonde hair. Though she probably faired better than he- her cloak took the brunt of it- but she was not about to remove her hood, nor the rest. It was much safer for him if she didn't- considering the cell wasn't all that big and it appeared as if they'd have to be this cozy, at least for a little while.
"And truly, I am sorry for all of this." She told him, still keeping eye contact. "But I am grateful, immensely for what you have done. I don't know what I'd do without your help."
Then lifting up the bowl she had been drinking earlier, she offered it over to him.
"Here, it doesn't taste the best, but there is some left if you wish to have some. You're probably more thirsty than I."
Aryn sat still as the girl fussed over his face with that little kerchief of hers, letting her gently scrub away the dried frosting and flour from his rough skin. Her touch was surprisingly light as she brushed away the cake crumbs, little pieces of it tumbling down his face and into his lap with every wipe.
When she started going around his swollen eye he fought the urge not to flinch, though the corners of his face did twitch slightly everytime she pressed on something painful. That first flurry of flour and dust had him blinking and frowning, but the second one brought a thin smile to his face as well. When she burst out in soft laughter, he could not help but do the same, wrinkling his nose at the little cloud.
It was the first time he'd seen her show any sign of joy, and it was a pleasant surprise.
"Aye, it'd be a tragedy," he replied through his baritone chuckles, "to go all these bloody years without any problems, and then to be done in by a little pastry."
She was still hidden beneath the shadows of her thick cake-covered cloak, but in the moments when she intently brushed the cake off his face he was able to finally get a good look at her. She had blue eyes, but until now he hadn't realized just how blue they were, almost like glowing sapphires. She was a pretty little thing, if not for the gauntness of her cheeks that came from a hard life on the road, and if not for the melancholy in those same eyes.
"You need to laugh more," he decided out loud after she pushed the bowl of water in his direction. At first he was ready to push it right back to her, but there was a finality in her gesture that had him picking it up and drinking what little was left floating in the bottom. Immediately he grimaced.
"Ugh. You were NOT kidding. That's foul!"
He gave her one final grin before gesturing over to the pile of hay in the corner. Nothing in this prison was the least bit cozy, but that was by far the best of it.
"Nightfall's on us, girl. Best get some rest, looks like we might be in here for the long haul."
Her blush was hidden behind layers of powdered on cake as she peered up bashfully into his gaze. But then when he accepted the water and positively gagged, she winced a bit, but there was still a hint of a smile.
"I tried to warn you, though I figured old well water might still be better than none at all." ANd then peering up into his swollen eye, she frowned.
"I do not think I could sleep," she said in earnest, shaking off his suggestion. "Not in a place like this, no." Tucking back her lips, she continued to look at his battered and still partially cake covered face.
"If you're tired, why not you take the hay?"
From his spot against the wall, Aryn gave the prison a quick once-over. It wasn't the worst one he'd been in (Reajh had one particularly nasty prison that gave him the incentive to never return), but the conditions were cramped and leaky. The corner spot did look quite comfortable, but nonetheless he gave the girl a questioning look. There was something about sleeping on a soft bed of hay while she got uneven stones that didn't sit right with him.
"I'll take some of the hay, but the rest of it is yours," he said firmly and gruffly, though it was pretty obvious his tough demeanor was nothing more than a facade at this point. "That's not negotiable."
And gently brushing away the kerchief she had to his face, he grunted and pulled himself up and over to where the hay was stacked. Grabbing an armful of it was quite a chore considering he only had the one arm with which to work, but he was able to separate the hay into two partitions.
His portion was noticeably smaller than hers but he'd already laid his head down on it before she had a chance to protest. Closing his swollen eyes was the easiest thing he'd done all day. He opened them one last crack to peer over at her; his voice was softer this time, and he flashed one last smile to her from behind his beard. "At least lay your head down and try to rest. We'll figure something out in the morning. I promise."
It was only moonlight that filtered through that high window now, along with the ambient sounds of the evening. The day had taken a toll on him and, within minutes he fell asleep, his gentle rumbling snores joining in with the song of crickets outside.
Kella would have protested if she could, but as she peered up at the small window in the cell and noted the twinkling of stars now forming int he sky, she realized the man might be right as weariness became her. Shifting onto her knees, she crawled over towards her side of the make shift bed and smiled a little to see he left her the larger half. It was nice knowing that, despite his rough exterior and that, well he had just killed a few men today, that he was still looking out for a lady as a lady should be seen after- (or as best as he possibly could).
Though it was then she turned to ask him something that her breath caught in her throat as she noticed the gentle breathing as his chest raised and fell. Closing her lips, she gave a quaint smile in his direction as he slept. She supposed she could say thank you again at another time. Nestling into her own bed of hay, she found her eyes drifting back towards the window, to where the moon light spilled across the cell and illuminated the stone to look silver. It reminded her of a story she and Blaith had made up as children- that if you danced in the moonlight, you'd be able to dance clean up to the stars. The idea left a soft smile on her lips before soon her eyes grew heavy with sleep and she was drifting off to bed.
Though the night was cold and unforgiving in the Vanillean jail that by the time morning came, she had found herself nestled in beside her cellmate. She hadn't even realized she had done it. Perhaps she had thought Aryn was her brother when she was half asleep- and that in that moment, Blaith was normal again, things were normal, and she was not laying there, sleeping in the rotting corner of a jail cell with fleas and mouse droppings littering the floor, but in the soft beds of the castle in Turgall.
Either way, the girl rested peacefully, and warmly against the man, that was, until the sudden banging on the bars jolted her awake. Sitting up with a start, her eyes went towards the jail door.
"Hey, girly. Seems you've got a visitor."
The man jerked a thumb towards the end of the hall where Mrs. Armand was now standing, shifting her weight uneasily. Once the guard stepped aside, Mrs. Armand was guided towards the cell by another pair of guards as she stood before it, staring back at the girl with some mild scrutiny.
Kella had no idea what to make of the bake shop woman when she approached, but quickly rose to her feet, straw spilling down from her clothing.
"GIrl, if you could, please step up to the jail cell so I can see you better."
But at such a request, Kella took a step back instead, finding herself clutching onto her cloak as her hands trembled and began to warm with sweat. Why did the woman want to see her face? Did she still believe..
and then recalling what Mrs. Armand said when she had first entered town, fear gripped her hearts and she let out a small yelp of a gasp when the guard angrily banged on the cell door.
"Come on, girly, we ain't got all day." And to the woman standing next to him, he seemed to sneer, "I thought you said you knew 'er?"
"I did but I have to make sure!" Mrs. Armand snapped, for even she was getting a temper from the grumpy jail guard. And with a huff, she turned bck towards the cell at the pair of them- though she ignored the armless man in the corner and fixed her gaze back on Kella.
"Girl, if you could please- remove your hood..."
But clutching onto it, Kella found herself wordless as she shook her head and took another step away from the door.
His dreams were sporadic that night, even in his deep slumber. Once during the night he stirred awake for a brief moment when a cold draft swept in through the window and settled down around him. In his half-conscious state, he barely registered that the girl had curled up against him; the warmth of her body pressed up against his was a welcome reprieve against the chill of the Vanille dungeon. He mumbled something incoherent and, within seconds, fell back asleep.
The banging at the jail door was what woke him, and he immediately let out a low groan. Headaches were always at their most painful first thing in the morning, and it certainly was no different in this prison cell. The swelling had gone down significantly during the night but was replaced by a purple-black splotch of a bruise ringing his half-lidded right eye. He felt every heartbeat pounding against the inside of his skull.
When he tried to sit up, the throbbing ache in his chest also shot pain throughout his body. In the night the gash across his torso had dried and crusted over, but its sting had not lessened any. It was the sort of cut that he'd seen lay other men low, especially if it became infected or gangrenous.
It took a few moments for the mercenary's blurry vision to adjust to the morning light, and by the time he was fully aware of his surroundings, Mrs. Armand was already standing up against the bars, intently peering in. He neither noticed the girl's frightened disposition or the fact that the baker's wife had eyes only for her.
"Not you again," he mumbled under his breath, though his voice bounced off the stone walls and carried down the hallway. Slowly and deliberately he climbed to his feet. With two ponderous footsteps he placed himself between the little old lady and his cellmate.
"Look, lady, leave the girl out of this eh? I knocked your damn cakes over. It was all me." He wiped off a small trail of sleep drool and leftover cake residue from the corner of his mouth. "If it makes you feel any better, the cake was delicious."
The guards gave him scowls and telling looks that threatened physical harm if he didn't shut his mouth and go back to the corner where he belonged. Aryn only returned their glares with a wide smile and a cheerful "Morning, boys."
Mrs. Armand shot a glare to Aryn. "I was there. I remember the details quite vividly, thank you, but this is over a matter much more pressing than the loss of my cakes. And if my hunch is accurate, which it normally is, the identity of the girl within this cell might put this entire city in trouble."
Kella, lips still trembling, continued to back away from the door.
"Please.." she began to say, but her meek voice was easily ignored as Mrs. Armand pressed her cause.
"Don't you all know? The Duke of Turgall has been looking for his twin sister. She has gone missing since the whole start of this war." And as the woman's eyes fixed upon the girl she gestured. "Remove her hood and you'll see for yourself. Blue eyes, blonde hair... and I've seen her before- some of you may have too. They had frequented my bakery up until her disappearance. When I saw her earlier yesterday I could have sworn on her identity, but now I realize why she would hide. Clearly someone must be after her, and we must confirm if she is Kella Harmond or not - and send word to her brother swiftly if she is."
And there was a murmur through the guards.
"She does have blue eyes.."
"Though it's hard to see her through all that mess..."
"What was she doing with a man like that?"
"Do you think she's really the Duke of Turgall's sister?"
And more whispers had the entire jail coming alive.
"I wanted to be certain, so I asked looked at the hand drawn portait my son had sketched of the Duke and his sister, and I can swear by it that this girl must be Kella. Have a look." And she drug out the drawing from beneath her cloak and held it up for all to see. Turning it around, she showed it to the mana d woman int he cell.
"Now please girl, there's no need to be afraid any more. We're all here to help you," Mrs. Armand pressed, holding onto the picture, as she gestured. "Remove your cloak and we can confirm; and then contact your brother so you can return safely home. It would be nice to hear such a story having a happy ending in this time of war. ANd just think, you can even bring home some of my famous cookies to your brother."
And hopefully, the woman would get a reward...
The look on the Ironhand's face was one of pure skepticism as he turned his gaze between the old little lady and his hooded companion. Even the guards were murmuring to each other as they stared uneasily at the skinny little girl, but they were so easily duped. He let out a low laugh and shook his head. Gesturing to the girl with his stump, he remarked in a disbelieving tone, "You're kidding me, right? This girl is the Duke of Turgall's twin sister? Are you stark raving mad?"
When Mrs. Armand held up that little charcoal sketch, he gave another scoff. It looked nothing like the girl! That face in the drawing was of a proud young noblewoman, not the timid, half-starved little waif that he knew.
Were they drunk? So she had blue eyes and blonde hair. Plenty of girls across the country had those features, and there was absolutely nothing to say that this particular street urchin was the sister of the Duke. The very thought of it was absurd.
But the more he looked between the cowering girl and the sketch, the more similarities began to surface in his mind. They had the same eyes, the same nose, the same mouth.
"No. No. NO. Bullshit."
The frown on his face grew deeper and deeper as he peered at her with a mixture of denial and anger. And as he kept looking, he almost felt his heart sink in his chest. If it was true, then she'd been under his nose this entire time...
By Angsar, he was so stupid! And he had helped her, fed her, got her to safety, only to have them both thrown into this prison cell. Now he would likely remain in this rat infested hellhole, perhaps hanged in a week, while she was sent back to her cozy palace. That reward would go to some other undeserving individual.
And she had known what he was looking for! He'd asked her!
His wordless expression was one of pure incredulity. His eyes said it all: "How? Why?"
OOC: Trigger warning for language!
----
As the truth was revealed, she realized she could hide it no more. With eyes all locked upon her, she slowly lifted up a hand and removed the hood from her face. Shamefully, she kept her gaze down cast, and despite the cake that crusted, it was evident that she and the girl in the sketch were one in the same, that this frail looking girl, dirty from her time on the road, was the Duke of Harmond's twin sister. And as the men all began to realize it, they were swearing among themselves.
"It's true," she said, her voice wavering and soft, so delicate in it's words that if her breath were made of glass, it would break. "I am the Duke's sister." ANd as the men were all fighting one another and finally having the sense to fetch a key for the door, no one would notice the solitaire tear that slid down her face.
She couldn't even look at Aryn. She couldn't even begin to know what he must think. And as the door swung open, the guards gestured for her to come out.
"Come now, girl. You are safe with us. Mrs. Armand and some of the guards will look after you until we can send word to your brother. Turgall ain't too far from here, and he should be relieved to see you are alive and well."
Though even as the door was opened, Kella did not go. Tears blurred her vision, so she wouldn't know where to walk in that moment anyway, and as Mrs. Armand tucked the drawing away, she was already busy making arrangements for the girl, for the guards, acting as if she owned the place- and no one seemed to pay a heap for Aryn's presence...
and no one seemed to notice at first Kella Harmond hardly wanted to comply, and that tears were streaming down her face and she was anything but happy. But the fools probably presumed she was elated to be found- no one could have suspected she was beginning to shake with fear.
And it wasn't until the guards were finally done sorting out this detail and that, that the head guard turned her way to observe her.
"Well come on now girl, or are you in too much shock to want to step out of prison? Come along," and as he reached out to grab her, Kella felt her legs give way and everyone gasped in shock as the woman fell. It was only then they remembered, most conveniently Aryn's presence and immediately, they all turned upon him like dogs.
"What the hell did you do to her you fucking pig?" the guard snarled as he slammed Iron hand against the cell bars. "Answer me or I'll make black and blue your other eye!"
Kella, too consumed with her own emotions, hadn't realized what was going on at first until Mrs. Armand stepped in to help the poor girl. Once Kella was on her feet and the woman, feigning to sooth her, she heard the guards slam the one-armed man against the bars again as she flinched back and cowered at their language. And to watch them treat him so on her behalf was more than she could bear, as Kellla moved forward and threw herself onto Aryn's arm, clinging onto it and staring up at the guard with pleading eyes.
"Please! Do not punish him! None of this was his fault! He was simply trying to defend me and I-"
But the guard cut her off.
"But we watched you just faint away-"
"I'm a woman! We always faint away," she said, annoyance clear in her voice as she spoke through her teeth as tears still sparkled sharply in her eyes. The guard, uncertain how to respond to a 'lady', hesitated in the moment until they heard the command. "Let him go."
"Let him go? But he's a criminal."
"He was not acting a criminal, but a hero." ANd the choice of words shocked them all.
"Hero?" the guard could have laughed, but he held it back as he set his jaw and stared at the girl. Wouldn't it be something if this was all just some sort of hoax. His eye glistened dangerously, but he knew if it were true, they'd be in a heap of trouble.
"Yes, my brother sent him here to protect me when we ran into trouble I..." she hesitated, not knowing what else to say before just asking directly. "And as a hired man, you will release him. By order of Lady Kella Harmond."
And the men all hesitated, but then the guard stepped back as he obeyed. He didn't even bother to look at Aryn, he didn't want to. He knew this man was a criminal, but if what the woman said was true...
Damn it all. Something here didn't smell right.
((OOC: More mature language incoming!))
This time, when teardrops spilled down the girl's cheeks, Aryn had no outward reaction. Instead his expression remained static, locked in a frown of anger and betrayal. He stood there motionless as he watched the girl sob, but there was a hollow pit in his gut that seemed to siphon away any empathy he might've otherwise had for her.
How could she be Kella Harmond, sister to the Duke of Turgall?
And when she collapsed to the ground in her despondence, and the irate guard grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him up against the bars, the only response he made was an involuntary grunt to the impact. His eyes drifted aimlessly from her prone form on the ground to the guard clutching him.
What did the guard say? Had he implied that the Ironhand had... raped the girl? The thought registered only momentarily in his mind, and when it faded he gave the guard a dumbfounded look.
It was the second slam, coupled with the sensation of the girl's delicate - almost hesitant - touch on his arm that snapped him out of his reverie. Her extolling words brought that scowl back to his homely features and, with a rough shove of both his intact and crippled arms, he pushed the guard back a step. "Get your fucking hands off me," he snarled at the man, who in his own uncertainty had loosened his grip enough to be dislodged.
"Yes, my brother sent him here to protect me when we ran into trouble... And as a hired man, you will release him. By order of Lady Kella Harmond."
His glare was still directed at the now-silent guard, but upon hearing that his head snapped to peer at the woman. With the hood no longer concealing her face, it was now absolutely clear that she was the woman depicted in Mrs. Armand's charcoal sketch. She looked so different from how he remembered her just moments ago. She even carried herself taller and prouder, with a more pronounced arch in her back and a gleam in those sky-blue eyes.
All Aryn could do was shake his head just slightly, almost imperceptibly. From deep in his belly he let out a short mirthless laugh that seemed to say 'I cannot believe you right now.'
In-fucking-credible.
Lady fucking Kella Harmond. In the flesh.
There beside him, the whole time.
The guards still stood around in shocked astonishment, unsure of what to do. The one guard who'd slammed Aryn against the bars earlier had his mouth slightly agape. With another sneer, the mercenary spat, "You got a problem with it? Maybe I should bash your fucking head in like I promised you, after all. Don't think anyone will miss you."
The guard weren't the only ones displeased by this news as Mrs. Armand outwardly frowned, but it seemed they had little choice as the woman nodded to them and turned her gaze towards Kella.
"It seems your brother hires... interesting people." Mrs. Armand's eyes gave a scrutinizing once over of the iron -handed man.
"Yeah, but if he hired him to come get you... why did you not speak up when we tossed you both in jail?" the man growled.
Kella didn't even flinch in her response, simply stating, "Because I had only known his identity when you tossed us in jail. His heroics to save me from those men, even before he knew who I was, can only be seen as saintly. Now if you'll just let us pass, he is more than capable of being able to take me back to my brother..." and the last part she added after a pause. "Alone."
The man hesitated before glancing over at Mrs. Armand.
"It seems we might be at an impass, but I'll release you both under Mrs. Armand's care. But we will still write to your brother- even fi you already have an escort."
Kella simply nodded, and somehow, the two were free. Granted, they were invited back to Mrs. Armand's bake shop, which Kella graciously accepted with a nod before stepping out of the cell.
"And if you'd be so kind," she told the head guard. "My companion needs his arm..."
And the guard hesitated as he nodded. "But of course." And snapped his fingers, ordering one of his men to retrieve the metal limb.
If the guards were slow and unaccommodating before, they certainly weren't now. One of the younger guards on the detail quickly trotted out the hall and returned with an armful of weaponry and miscellany, with that metal forearm stacked at the very top. Aryn irritably snatched the prosthetic out of the young man's hand and went to work putting it back on. Rolling up his sleeve to expose the stump, he used his free and and his teeth to firmly strap the buckles around his elbow and bicep, tightening each until the arm was back in place.
"And the rest of my pack?" he asked. When none of the guards answered him, he scowled even further and leaned forward to peer one of them in the eye. "So it's probably back at Thorny's, then. Likely taken by now."
Biting his lip before he spewed out any more obscenities at the group, he spent the next few moments strapping back on his dirtied leather armor and replacing his handful of daggers in their various spots. He saved the axe for last, feigning a quick lunge at the guard and scoffing when the man flinched before replacing it at the loop in his belt.
"Not so much of a man when there aren't any bars between us, eh?" muttered the Ironhand in a voice just dripping with disdain. With a loud hock, he spat at the man's feet before turning to follow Kella Harmond out, too frustrated to even feel the headache or the painful gash on his chest.
His eyes remained on the back of her blonde head, exposed now that her cloak was finally lowered for the first time. Neither of the ladies could see it, but there was a fire in his gaze, framed by that distrusting and disbelieving scowl still plastered all over his bearded face. What a fool he was.
And then they were outside, breathing in the fresh morning air.
Taking a few delicate steps outside, Kella took a moment to regard the city in the morning light. Even the air tasted as beautiful as the sky looked, and she couldn't have been happier to be out of that place. Though now even graver consequences might be faced- for she had no idea what her companion would think from her lie about him, about her identity and what Mrs. Armand was planning to do. After all, now that they knew who she was... would they actually take her home? Or could she persuade Aryn other wise?
"So now that the two of you are free, why don't you come by my bakery and get treated to something before you hit the road? It'll be a long trip back to Turgall."
Hesitating, Kella glanced towards Aryn before back towards the cake-lady.
"I... I suppose that should be alright. But is it not too early for cake?"
The old woman chuckled.
"As I recalled it, you and your brother used to come in here first thing in the morning to have cakes, so don't you think I forgot that so easily. You were both my best customers, it's the least I can do after all you've endured yesterday. Though, I must say it... it is rather ironic that you met such an.... established hired helper to bring you home." And Mrs. Armand did not hide her skeptical gaze of Iron-hand.
By the time Mrs. Armand turned to peer quizzically at him, Aryn had wiped that frown from his face, replacing it instead with a stony expressionless gaze of his own. The whole situation still bothered him something fierce, but he hid it well enough in front of this old lady. After all, no need for anyone to know his true purpose.
"These are rough times, lady. Maybe she needed a rough hand to get her through them, not some noble and righteous idiot of a knight but a man of the streets. Especially in a town like this, filled to the brim with rats and brigands. Go to Thorny's. They'll think twice about laying a hand on her again."
The skepticism remained on Mrs. Armand's face, mixing now with a little bit of distaste. She turned back to Kella as they walked and added in a soft voice, "I don't like him. Surely your brother would've sent someone more capable?"
Aryn gave his nose a rub and continued, ignoring that jab at his character. "I don't know about lady Harmond, but I think I've ruined enough of your cakes for the week."
Armand's Bake and Cake Shop looked the same as it did the last time they were here... or at least from the outside. Through the window they could all see that there was a significant amount of mess left to be cleaned up.
There were a few quaint little tables and chairs placed in the front of the place as Mrs. Armand guided them inside and Kella was greeted by that same, sweet pastry smell as always. Vanille had always been a dream city for her, and until today, it hadn't been once marred by any sort of memory. Now, finding herself alone with Aryn at one of the tables, she shifted uncomfortably as Mrs. Armand left the two to go fetch some tea.
"I... I apologize for not telling you who I am," she spoke, her voice barely over a whisper as she nervously tucked some of her blonde hair from her face. "And thank you for playing along with what I said. I don't know how else I could have gotten you out of there." She had been avoiding his gaze, but once she was finished speaking, her blue eyes timidly peered back up into his. The guilt was there, but then again- so was his scrutiny. She wouldn't be surprised if he was upset at all. She just wished she could mkae it up to him somehow.
If he could have folded his hands together on the table, Aryn would have. As it were, he rested the ponderous metal prosthetic across the tabletop and lazily draped his other arm over it.
Her apology was in that same meek voice she'd used the entire time they'd known each other, but this time it seemed... different, as if disingenuous. Obviously she meant every word of it, but he somehow still couldn't shake the feeling of disbelief that weighed down upon his ox-like frame. It took every ounce of his self-discipline to keep up the eye contact with her, and after a moment he had to look down and let out a low rueful laugh.
Looking back up with a more serious expression, he opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again. Thick brows furrowing slightly, he thought to himself "And how do you possibly tell her why you've been looking for her?"
Finally, he broke the uncomfortable silence with a gruff and terse answer for her. "Don't be thanking me. I did what any other decent man would have done. In fact, you got me out of jail. I should be thanking you."
And how could she possibly accept it, when soon he'd be dragging her back to her brother for a tidy payout?
The thought had him shaking his head again. He had to break the tension somehow, and did so with a casual "You know, it would've been a lot easier if you'd just told me that first time."
The Ironhand peered over to the kitchen doorway, where he just spied Mrs. Armand doing something or another. Leaning forward now and lowering his voice, his whispered, "So what do you plan to do now? Lady Kella Harmond."
Kella winced at his directness. She knew she shouldn't keep secrets, but she did not wish to go back to Turgall. If she went back,s he did not want to think what her brother would do to her and the very idea brought her near to tears.
"I don't know,"s he found herself speaking, hot tears slipping down her cheeks just as Mrs. Armand returned.
"Tea?"
Quickly brushing her tears away, she forced a smile for Mrs.Armand. "Yes, thank you."
"One lump of sugar or two?"
"One will suffice." And with a bow of her head, she watched Mrs. Armand drop in the sugar then move over to Aryn.
"Tea?" And if he wanted some... "One lump or two?"
And as Mrs. Armand was tending to her new companion, she brushed back the rest of her tears before sneaking a glance his way.
Aryn bit his lip again as the tears welled up in the corner of his eye. He comforted her once already when he cried, but that was when she was a different person. Now, she was not only a noblewoman, but the very one he'd been sent out to retrieve. It would practically be a slap in her face to soothe her worries and then reveal to her that he was bringing her in for a reward.
The dilemma ate away at him, and he was forced to look away as she wiped her eyes with a delicate hand. Luckily, the old lady came back with some tea for Kella, affording the Ironhand a moment to look away and stare off at nothing in particular, thinking.
When she asked him about the tea, he peered at her and quickly shook his head. "None for me." His throat was parched, but somehow he'd also lost his appetite. "What I do need, though, is a rag and a bucket of water," he added as he stood up from the table. It was an odd request but Mrs. Armand only silently gestured to the door leading into the kitchen.
There, he found what he needed and returned with a small pail filled with cold water and several clean towels. Letting Lady Harmond enjoy her tea in silence, the mercenary went about gingerly cleaning off the wound in his chest, wincing with every touch of the cloth against the dried gash. Quickly the towel turned a faint shade of red as he dabbed away the grime and blood. The cold water felt so refreshing though.
He paused for a moment to peer back over to the girl. Holding up a second clean towel, he said, "You know, you cleaned me up good but you still look a bit messy..."
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.
"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.
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."
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."
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
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!))
Quote from: Cambie on January 16, 2014, 07:52:10 AM
((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.
((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.
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!"
((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...
"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.
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.
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!"
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!
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.
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! ))
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.
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.
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.
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."
Kella hesitated as she wrung her hands.
"I'm not going back!" She announced, voice carrying. Then as she assessed him and what happened, and feeling safe enough with distance between them, she asked, "Are you alright?" He had taken a nasty fall.
There was a firmness in her tone that brought a grin to the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, I figured that when you bolted. I dont't know why I even bothered following..."
He moved his body around gingerly and let out another gasp when he moved his foot. That wasn't good.
"I'm fine... The question is, will you be? Where will you go if not back? Anything is safer than out here alone."
Kella set her jaw.
"I've survived this far on the road myself. Vanille was just.some.city on the way."
"And what a damn fine city you chose," he scoffed before sighing. He closed his eyes, tone softening again.
"By Angsar, what a week... Look, enough bullshit, Lady Kella. Just be honest with me this one damn time. What exactly are you running from? What does the Duke want so much that he would hire a peasant like me instead of sending a knight?"
Kella's expression saddened.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she told him softly, but with enough volume to carry. "You'd be better off if you didn't know."
Aryn's eyes opened again as he stared up at her. His jaw hardened.
"I've seen things you would not even begin to imagine, your highness. Out here isn't like your palaces and ballrooms. So try me."
'And one more thing. Do NOT let her touch you' the man with the money had said.
"Is it to do with those gloves of yours?"
Blinking, she wrinkled her face as she furrowed her.brows and looked down at her gloves then back to him.
"This has.nothing to do.with palaces or ballrooms," she told him, her tone angered and it was evident she was close.to.tears. She purposely left out the part about the gloves. "If you want payment, here." She fetched a hidden gold piece and tossed it his.way. The coin sparkled as it spun in the air, then bounced a few times down the.hill before rolling and.settling amongst the grey leaves. "Now.forget you've ever seen me."
And yet again, she evaded his question with such nimbleness. Perhaps he just wasn't meant to know. Perhaps he wasn't meant to take her anywhere, much less home.
His green eyes watched the gold coin gleam in the dying light as it bounced once, twice, three times down the side of the hill and into a small pile of leaves too far to reach by hand. It was as good an insult as any other she could have thrown.
"You know I won't do that," he grunted as he finally tried to climb back to his feet. The effort was a spectacular failure and he almost immediately fell back down onto the soft dirt. Angrily he slammed his metal arm against the ground, the metal eliciting a dull muffled thud in the ground. Another loud ironic laugh pierced the air as he leaned back against the rock, shaking his head. He'd probably never see her again.
"Well, if you want to run away, now's your chance. Just go, girl, and be done with this. You can be halfway to Adela by the time I get out of here, and you'll never have to see my ugly mug again."
Kella hesitated. He had a point, but he was also obviously injured, or trying to pull her leg. Either way, it was never in her nature to be cruel- and perhaps that was part of her flaws.
"You're injured," she stated, blinking back some tears as she found herself crying. And she didn't know why she hadn't run, though there still was a chance. All.she had to.do.was turn away from him.and never come back.
Aryn closed his eyes, half expecting her to be gone the next time he opened them. It was a complete shock that she not only remained in view, but had inched closer to the edge of the hill to look down on his prone form. Even from this distance he could hear the quiver in her voice and the telltale sniffles that came with her tears.
By Angsar, why hadn't she gone!? It would have almost been preferable if she had run off and gotten away. Then he could crawl his way back to town, get patched up, and resume his search for her. But if she stayed -or heaven forbid came down and helped him!- how could he ever turn her in then? How would he be able to betray her after that?
It was almost like he wanted her to succeed. The irony of it was staggering.
Aryn, you idiot.
"Aye, maybe I'm injured, maybe I'm not. It shouldn't matter to you. Don't you dare come down here and help me," he called up to her in a voice that was hard as granite.
"You're too damn sweet for your own good, girl, and that'll get you killed out here. I was kind to you, and look where I ended up. At the bottom of a fucking ditch. No, stop your crying and toughen up. You leave me here. You go. And you survive."
She did perhaps the stupidest and also the most selfless thing that she.could do. Her heart, already torn from his days of.suffering lead her to.leave the forests and return to Vanille. Explaining with money helped bring old.Mr Armand and Jessiph, the butcher, all the way out.to where Kella left Aryn. And as the men crested the hill and saw his form, they rushed forward to.help him. Though Aryn would see the men first, eventually the appearance of a third party came into his field of.vision. Kella.
"Hold on! We're coming down to help." And as the men.did so, Kella awaited at the top of the hill with a held breath.
When the girl finally disappeared into the sparse woods, he let out a soft exhale and smiled half to himself. His eyes remained on the spot where she had been, almost unconsciously daring her to return. A couple minutes went by and her silhouette did not reappear on the ridge.
The sun had all but disappeared beyond the horizon by then, and so Aryn sat there in silent contemplation down in the darkness of that ditch. Maybe she would be safe out on the open road; maybe she was resourceful enough. But he still had his doubts, especially after seeing just how frail and vulnerable she could be.
And then there was still the whole problem with the job he was given. The Ironhand had yet to fail a task, and giving up on the biggest payday of his lifetime gave him a hollow feeling in his stomach. But then again, the thought of catching Kella and depositing her where she didn't want to be... that thought also made him grimace. These morals of his definitely weren't good for his line of work.
Slowly he dragged his big frame across the ditch, over the muddy little creek to where the gold coin had fallen. It took a bit of fumbling in the darkness until he finally closed his hand over the piece. Thoughts turned to more present matters: how was he going to get out?
And just by luck, as soon as he thought that the faint voices of passersby drifted into his ears. "DOWN HERE!" he shouted, hoping to draw their attention. A torch illuminated the ditch, and also illuminated the faces of his saviors. Recognizing Mr. Armand, he gave a slight grin.
And then, hidden in the shadows there behind him, he spotted her face. His heart sank again. She did come back for him, doing exactly what he hadn't wanted (though perhaps needed). He bit his lip to mask the look of disappointment on his face as the two men approached. They gingerly helped the mercenary up to his feet, while the butcher examined his ankle.
"Looks like ye took a nasty tumble, son. Might be a break, but I can't see all too well in this light. You'll be fine though," he said.
The Ironhand chuckled under his breath. "As long as you don't cut it off. I don't need to be called 'Peg Leg' as well."
It took both the butcher and baker to help Aryn, hopping on one foot now, get back up the side of the hill where a small wagon waited to take them all back to town. As he sat in the back of the cart, he chanced another glance at Kella, who seemed to be avoiding eye contact.
As Aryn was tended to, Kella remained as a figure in the background, barely visible, but evidently there, and as he was loaded into the cart, she was silent as she was treated to a seat on the buck board while the butcher and Aryn had to sit in the back while the cart lurched forward and began it's squeaky-wheeled way back to Vanille.
She avoided Aryn's gaze, only her cheek and her long blonde lashes visible from where he sat, but as they continued down the road, she eventually stole a glance his way, just before the Southern Bridge came into view.
Mr. Armand was going on about how Kella should have told them where she was going- that running off to fetch 'money as reward payment' wasn't safe in this type of area. War was ever present, and though it seemed not to affect Vanille itself, everyone knew it could. Kella's responses were soft and short in reply, only saying what was needed. It was evident she had lied, and she felt terrible for it, but she could not have left Aryn there to suffer.
Sheepishly, she apologized again for takign the coat and boats, but she blamed it on her being 'a silly girl.'
"I think that's why my brother worries for me. He doesn't think I should be traveling alone." And the lecture went on how she should not, and nodding, Kella grew quiet, keeping her back to Aryn as the cart rolled into town.
Let them think she was foolish. Partial truths and half lives were now painting her path, but a tleast it would get Aryn somewhere to be taken care of and she- she still would have a chance to get away if she had to. The town had to sleep at some point, after all. And as they returned to the village, the cranky guard from earlier peered up at the woman and Ironhand int he Armand's bakery cart and after some hesitation, slowly bowed his head to the noblewoman, but kept his eyes suspiciously on the cart as it rolled away.
It was the guard's gaze she avoided as well, shifting uncomfortably on the buck board when it finally came to a halt infront of the shop.
"We've made up a guest room for you, Lady Kella. If you wish to rest there-"
"I'll be find without a room," she commented, stepping delicately off the cart with the help or Mr. Armand. She peered up into his eyes. "The bed can go to my companion. He needs to heal. He will need his rest." Chancing a glance Aryn's way, the butcher approached him on one side, Mr. Armand on the other and they helped him inside.
Mr. Armand, removing his hat as he did so, nodded towards Kella.
"If that is what you wish, my lady." And they guided him inside. Once he was situated in the bed, and Mrs. Armand done fussing over the pair, the couple eventually vanished to go back to tending to their shop- and to make whispering gossip elsewhere so the pair could not hear them. Either way, Kella was glad to be alone, but kept her back to Aryn, uncertain she could look him in the eye without feeling the immense pressure of the twisting guilt knotting within her stomach.
It was after sometime, she finally began to move towards the door.
Aryn remained relatively quiet the entire journey back into town, something that Mr. Armand noticed briefly but did not comment on. Aside from peering over at the driver (and the lady sitting next to him on the buckboard), the Ironhand seemed oddly on his best behavior. The only time he ever showed signs of his old self was when he gave the leering guard a craggy grin when rolling past.
He did protest slightly when they helped him off the cart and showed him to the guest room, maintaining that it was for the Lady Kella, and that a simple man like him was perfectly fine on the floor. Of course, his words fell on deaf ears and, somehow, he found himself on the bed in the guest room, tucked in under the sheets but sitting up with his back against the headboard.
They removed his bloody shirt from him and wrapped fresh linen bandages around his torso. They also tightly wrapped up his ankle in a splint, after having determined that it might have a slight break in it. The butcher tried to unstrap that cumbersome metal arm of Aryn's from his stump, but a quick vicious snarl saved him the ignominious hassle of losing the one thing making him whole.
And then the pair were alone.
She hadn't looked at the mercenary the entire ride, but still he kept his piercing green gaze on her back. When she slowly shuffled toward the door, he called out for her to stop.
"Right... I suppose I should thank you. This is the second time you've gotten me out of a jam," he grudgingly admitted to the back of her dress. A slight frown creased his brow. She had seemed so eager to be rid of him, of Vanille, of the brother who'd paid out for people to retrieve her.
"Look, we both know this isn't where you want to be, and I'm not anyone you want to ever see or hear from again. So why did you come back?"
She tensed at his words and froze with one hand out for.the door. Drawing her hand back in towards her chest, she peered down at the floor before answering him softly, "You were hurt." And she slipped a hand onto the door knob.
Ooc: short postx sorry. D: on phone and going to bed x.x
Aryn scoffed.
"It's barely a scratch. Nothing a little rest couldn't fix." His voice softened. "...but thank you anyway."
She was on the verge of walking out that door, and he clearly was in no condition to chase after her this time around. If she stepped out... well, he might find her around the cake shop in the morning. Or, he might find that she'd taken off in the night.
"Look, not to sound alarming, but... you know if you leave, I'll have to come after you, right?"
He didn't even know why anymore. Unconsciously he ran a thumb over that dented gold piece she had tossed him while he was wallowing in that ditch. It felt like nothing.
Kella continued to stare at the floor, but her muscles loosened at his soft words of thanks. It made her hesitate She knew she owed him a lot more than she could ever offer- after all, he had killed those men- and if it were too dramatic a feat, it did not matter. They were already hip deep in this now. Could she really just walk away? It would be too easy. He was already taken care of, but still, she lingered.
Though at his last words she turned to him, those blue eyes looking into his before she disappeared out the door.
Aryn would find himself alone for a time, at least a good fifteen minutes rolled past- maybe closer to half an hour, or was it an hour? It was hard to say, but when the door reopened, Lady Kella Harmond had returned, carrying a tray of tea. And it was here she paused at the doorway.
"I... I wanted to see if you wanted something to drink." ANd she lowered her gaze to the items on the tray.
When she went out the door without another word, Aryn exhaled softly, left alone in the silence. He didn't have a grasp as to how much time elapsed, but it seemed to stretch on forever, almost like sitting alone in a prison cell. He passed the minutes idly though anxiously, fidgeting in the soft feather bed. It was the softest thing he'd ever been on, to the point that it became almost uncomfortable.
The only break in the tedious silence came when the butcher peeked in the room to make sure he was okay, only to find that the Ironhand had swung himself around the side of the bed and was on the verge of standing on his wobbly wounded legs. A quick admonishment later, to half-hearted protest, and Aryn was right back on the bed.
When the door opened a second time though, recognition of a familiar face had the mercenary grinning wryly. She hadn't run off after all. At least not yet.
"I've never been served by a Lady before," he said as he gestured to a small side table nearby the guest bed. "To be honest I'd prefer a giant mug of ale right now, but that smells just as good."
While the tray was being set down, Aryn finally revealed what was in his hand, holding up her gold coin.
"I suppose I should at least pay for the drink."
After agreeing to the tea, Kella timidly made her way to the side of the bed, bending over to rest the wooden piece, who's handles were dark from use and baring many marks across it and a few circles of tea stains. She went ahead and poured a cup and set it nearer to him. Though as she raised her head, she noticed a glint of yellow before seeing the coin and promptly her eyes went to his.
Shaking her head,s he tucked back a smile and averted his gaze as she stared down at the bed.
"I couldn't accept it." Tucking back some of her hair, she idly played with a few strands as her eyes followed the lumps in the bed that were his leg. There was an awkward shape that was the splint, and after observing it for a moment,s he peered back to him.
"How's your leg?" And it was here she lifted the tea cup and offered it over towards him, hands cupping it as if it were a delicate egg. "And here. Some tea.Do you like it with any sugar?"
Aryn placed the gold coin next to the worn old tray, giving it one last pat before pulling his hand away from it. Instead, he grinned again as she gently held out a small teacup for him to take. The little porcelain cup was tiny in his hand, and felt so brittle that he thought he might shatter it if he squeezed hard enough. Nonetheless, he took it and peered at its contents, taking a whiff. It smelled lovely.
"Is it better with sugar?" he asked casually, though it was pretty clear his obliviousness was not feigned. It was rare enough that he had tea, and never with sugar in it. The stuff was too much of a luxury for folk like him.
When she asked him about his leg, he shrugged his shoulders. The smile on his face was almost infectious, even as he playfully and exuberantly proclaimed, "It looks absolutely gruesome! Want to take a peek? A caution, it's not for the faint of heart!"
And before she could protest he hooked his metal arm under the sheets and whipped them off of his legs. There it was, his right foot, bandaged tightly and immobilized by a thick wooden splint. Much of it was obscured by the bandages, but it was easy to see that the ankle had swollen up to nearly twice the size of his left foot. And the parts of it that weren't hidden by the bandages were clearly purple and black from the bruising.
"Not too bad, honestly. Kind of looks like my face now," laughed the Ironhand.
Kella gave a small smile about the question on sugar.
"I'll make it how I like it. Just one cube of sugar." And taking a single cube, she plopped it delicately int the tea before offering it over towards him. She even took the courtesy of gently blowing across it after she warned him, "Careful, it's hot." The handed the tea back to him. And it made her smile. It was amusing to see how large his hands were around the little cup. And she wondered how easily it would be for him to crush it.
ANd in that quirky, quaint little moment, she had lost herself within it and forgot her worries, however, the second he whipped off the sheets, she jumped away from the bed and clutched a hand over her lips. ANd after a moment when the fear of fainting began to subside, her blue eyes darted to Aryn's before she found herself gasping his way to see his expression and that smile.
"I think you are correct." And she leaned against a nearby wall, finding her legs weak as she clutched a hand to her chest. Smiling, she shook her head and turned away from him, her smile growing, as did a blush. "That is really gruesome." And she kept her eyes away, as any proper lady should. Though after a time, she eventually let her eyes drift his way, and stared at his eyes, keeping them away from what was exposed in the south. He wasn't wearing much down there, after all! Pants, would be difficult with that splint and all the bandages.
"I um... I'm sorry about that,"s he tried to tell him with some seriousness to her tone, her smile fading a little as her eyes sparkled over. "I can not help but feel as if ever since we met, I've just become a token of bad luck for you." And she peered over at the gold piece on the table, and gently picked it up and handed it over to him. "But you should keep this." And she placed it int his hand and closed his fingers around it as her eyes peered into his. "You'll need it more than me." And it might have been then he'd realize- she was still wearing those awkward, leather gloves. Ones she never seemed to ever take off.
Aryn took a little dainty sip out of the little dainty cup, or at least as close as he could to imitating the manners of a nobleman. It didn't look pretty at all, especially when he slurped the piping hot tea and immediately grimaced at the way it scalded his tongue. Still, his eyes widened in revelation -it tasted great!- and immediately took another sip.
It took him all of ten seconds to drain the entire cup and set it back down on the tray."Is this what you nobles drink everyday? By Angsar, I need to find a way into this crowd of yours," he mused.
Noticing the way she recoiled slightly from him, he let out another laugh. Her reaction to the swollen leg seemed appropriately hilarious to him, especially the way that she fought to maintain eye contact with him and avoid letting her gaze drift downward again. It never even occurred to him that she might be staring at his nether regions, covered only by his roughspun linen undergarments. To make matters worse, he stretched both his arms over his head to rid himself of the kinks in his shoulder.
When she pressed the coin back into his hand, he looked briefly down at where her gloves covered his now-closed fist before nodding his head. He placed the cold metal of his right hand over hers.
"Aye, you're nothing but trouble," he agreed in a light but gruff, almost mischievious, voice, "but I made my choice when I followed you, didn't I? I'll probably end up choking on this coin or something.But maybe it'll do you some good with me around. Maybe you'll stop being so uptight and serious, and start laughing more. Like you're doing right now."
He shrugged. "Smiling suits you better anyhow."
If she thought her face felt hot before, it was certainly scorching now. Avoiding eye contact, her eyes went down to his legs. Though something shiny was seen from the corner of her eyes and she peered over to where his iron hand now rested over hers.
Her blue eyes immediately softened and she found herself asking, "Your arm.... it must be difficult using such a thing. I could not begin to imagine." Her eyes then rose to his, concern painted across her face. But then she averted her gaze again, finding herself staring too long at him, and her cheeks burned again. Spotting all of the nicks on his metal hand, her gloved hands lightly traced over it. "It seems pretty worn. I never noticed all of this nicks and dents before. Have you had it for long?"
But then a hand cupped over her lips.
"Oh, forgive me. I didn't mean to ask to be rude I just... I..." She smiled inspite of herself and lowered her gaze, but it quickly faded. "Were you some sort of soldier?" And she felt a knot twist in her belly. THe poor dear. Probably lost it in a battle defending Connlaoth- and hard times must've hit him so he resorted to having to deal with run away girls like herself. And here she was, just wanting to get out of this country. It wasn't safe here.. though in reality...
It wasn't safe anywhere.
Contrary to what anyone might have expected, the question about his arm brought an even wider smile to Aryn's face, his white teeth gleaming from behind that unevenly cut beard. This was a situation for which he'd definitely practiced for hours on end, though he would never admit it.
"A soldier? Nooo," he said with a shake of his head. "Though I've seen tougher times than half the green cadets they have in the army these days. No, it was all a terrible tragedy, probably seven or eight years ago now, I cannot remember. I was one of three hired to walk a caravan from one town to another up north.
So one day, these bandits jumped on us along the road, probably ten or fifteen of them. One of them got a lucky swipe in and took my arm clean off. A real big, ugly fellow with an ugly grin. Well he wasn't grinning after I was done. I beat him senseless with that very arm he took off. The rest of them too. And from then on, they knew not to pick a fight with a one-armed man. The ones who are still alive, at least. Anyway, that's the story."
From the way he boastfully told the story, and the sheer enthusiasm of his words, it was pretty obvious: most of it was exaggerated. Of course, there were probably close to four men, not ten or fifteen. And he'd nearly perished from the blood loss and shock, not fought his way out of them by swinging a severed limb. But who was counting? Everytime he told the story, it became more fantastical.
Noticing her still glancing furtively at all the nicks and dents in it, Aryn added, "I've had this arm for six, maybe seven years now. It's tough at first, not only from the weight but from still thinking you have fingers there, but you get used to having it. Some days, you're even proud of it. It wasn't always iron though, the first one was wood and it gave me some awful splinters. Maybe one day I'll be able to pay a smith to forge a new one. Steel or something."
He held it out for her to see even clearer. With a grin, he asked, "Impressed?"
Quite opposite of his reaction, Kella was completely mortified, and the poor dear believed every word of it! A hand went over her lips as she paled at his choice of phrasing, flinching even at his boasts as she tried to wrap her brain around the whole thing. Maybe he was a mad man! Oh, no! WHat if he was like Blaith?
Though seeing his smile beneath an uneven beard didn't help matters either as she gave a shake of her head, not even sure what to say.
"That's terrible!" she finally sputtered out, blue eyes wavering. "To lose your arm in such a way..." And she truly felt horrible for him, but it was evident she as in shock of it all by the way she gaped even after finally talking- but she had no idea what else to say, this had her mind in a whirl and when the hand was presented to her, all she could do was stare.
Aryn gave another chuckle that quickly died on his lips when he saw her reaction. It certainly wasn't quite what he expected and he found his metal arm dropping back down to his lap. It seemed more nicked and dented than before, and the shine on it wasn't as bright as it once was.
"To be honest, I'm grateful that it's all I've lost after all these years," he admitted in a quiet voice as he rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand. "Where I come from, more often than not you don't make it out of the streets with your head on your shoulders. I sometimes still try to remember what it was like to have fingers there, to be able to feel with my right hand."
A shrug and another half-hearted grin.
"You have to have a sense of humor about it, otherwise it's hard to wake up in the mornings. I mean, look at this ugly thing. The only thing I can do is laugh!"
Kella continued to stare at the arm before looking up to his face. She knew far more about what he was talking about than he could ever know. Though while she could touch, wriggling her fingers...
She could never use her hands to their full potential. Shaking hands caused fear, just a brush to her shoulder - though not quite the same, it was in inability that she felt for him.
"I do not think it is ugly. I think it shows you are resourceful and strong." Pressing her lips together, she stared at him most seriously before offering him a gentle, small smile. Part ofher wanted to touch it, but her gloved hands, which hesitated, remained at her sides. But the idea of a hand she could touch.. was intriguing. Even if it were made of iron. But the idea was a rather sad one- is that the only sort of thing on another person she could ever touch safely? Even clothing could shift and she- brush against it to harm another...
"Is it heavy? Or awkward to use?" And she stared at it. "I... I don't think I've ever seen a metal arm before." And her eyes traced across it's surface before looking back to him. "What all can it do?"
Aryn gave another little laugh and knocked his knuckles against the cold iron. It was as solid as they came. If there was any tangible benefit to having a metal arm, it had to be that the weight of it strengthened his right arm. It was so unwieldy, but years of having iron strapped on as one's forearm had given him a rippling bicep.
"Aye, it's a bit heavy. Want to give it a lift?" he asked as he began unbuckling the leather straps holding it to his body: one around his shoulder, one around his upper arm and a thick leather thong around his stump of a forearm. The hand was carved to match the size of his left, though the fingers seemed perpetually extended with a slight curl at the end, as though he'd contemplated shaking many hands with it.
Aryn held the arm out for her, though he did eye her lithe frame up and down and caution, "You might want to use two hands."
He hated removing the arm, and felt naked without it, even the Ironhand had to admit that it was nice, once in a while, to air out his stump of an arm. Again, he stretched.
"It's got its uses. Holds a shield pretty well, good in a pinch when I'm missing the shield. Cracking open walnuts, saving noble Ladies, that sort of thing."
Kella, gasping and taking a step back, found her eyes widening when he began to unstrap the thing.
"Oh, I couldn't possibly.."
But he was already doing it- and with the ironarm away from the muscled stump, she found herself staring at the metal arm to avoid staring at the stump of his arm. She thought it might be rude, and also rude not to accept, and had her mind whirling at how awkward this moment was that somehow she ended up accepting the arm and as she put her hands out to catch it-
the weight caught her off guard, the metal hand rolled out from her hands - and she, feebly trying to catch it, cracked her head off of him before DOWN the metal hand went and...
landed right on his foot. And as Kella was nursing the top of her head where it had bashed into Aryn's nose, she noticed the claw like fingers of the thing 'peering' up at her and jerking back, she began to profusely apologize, not realizing that, in the fray, she had lost a single, large leather glove that was pinned beneath the hefty, metal arm.
The handoff went as smoothly as it could have, but Aryn's heart leapt in his throat the moment he perceived the iron arm slipping out of Kella's grasping fingers. He lurched forward to catch it for her, but instead received a face-full of blonde hair and scalp right on his already-crooked nose. The force of the blow reverberated through his cheeks and he instinctively pulled his head back at the pain.
And that pain was immediately replaced by an even greater agony.
The Ironhand's eyes looked like they were ready to bulge from his head as the heavy iron arm dropped directly on his bandaged foot before rolling to the floorboards with a loud clatter. He clamped his lips together, almost biting them to keep from screaming as tears welled up in the corner of his already bruised eyes.
He failed.
"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" came the roar of pain as his body snapped forward, arms instinctively reaching for that injured foot. Of course, only one hand ever reached it. He clutched at the foot and almost flopped right off the bed as he shouted and cursed up a storm, fingers clamped tightly over the ankle as if that would quell the pain.
The sound of rapid footsteps echoed out in the hall and, with a sudden force, the door flung open. There stood the baker's wife, with the butcher and Mr. Armand not far behind. Mrs. Armand took all of one second to perceive the situation: a bloody-nosed mercenary screaming at the top of his lungs, an iron arm laying motionless on the floor, a shocked and terrified Lady Kella cowering back from his flailing self.
"YOU ANIMAL!" she cried without thinking and quickly rushed forward to give this uncouth villain a quick whack with her rolling pin, just to add to his agony. Then she hurried over to where Kella was.
"Oh you poor dear! Are you alright?"
She reached for Kella's exposed hand.
Everything happened in such a whirl that Kella felt herself dizzy in the rush. And had almost missed the woman's hand sealing to her own. She felt the ghosted breath of action as the hand almost clung to hers and in a jerked reaction, she yanked her hand away as her blue eyes went wide.
"Please don't touch me!"
It was Mrs. Armand's turn to have her eyes go large.
"I knew it! I knew it!" she screamed. "Arnold! The mercenary has tried to take advantage of Lady Harmond! Fetch the guard! Fetch them!"
Kella, dumb founded by this cry of alarm, shook her head and rushed off after Mrs. Armand.
"No! Please! You don't understand! It wasn't-"
"ARNOLD! HURRY!!!!!!!"
Cringing, Kella ran out of the room, tossing only one look of apology back to Aryn before racing off after the hysterical woman. If she wasn't already getting a head ache from the head on collision with Aryn- Mrs. Armand's screaming would have sealed the deal. Though as Kella disappeared, the house grew eerily quiet- and it was until several moments later did someone take a timid step into the room.
It was Kella, and she brought fresh bandages and water and a few other supplies to help see to his wounds.
"Aryn I... can I come in?" she asked, her small frame only partially standing in the door, the other half shied away.
Aryn barely noticed the door slamming shut behind the retreating women, leaving him to writhe in agony alone in the room. He did a good enough job of it, screaming obscenities in every direction as he clutched at his ankle. His throbbing bleeding nose was only peripheral to the searing pain that shot up his swollen ankle. If it had not been broken before, there was no doubt that it was now.
For Angsar knew how long, he gritted his teeth and tried to deflect the pain of his foot by banging his head back against the pillow of the bed and cursing some more. It worked to an extent and, after an awful long time, the pain had subsided enough to actually be able to consciously take notice of his surroundings. In his mind, he just barely registered that the room was vacant now. Even worse, he realized that his precious arm was laying on the floor just out of reach, pinning down a lone leather glove. He feebly stretched his hand to grab at it, but the movement shot daggers up his ankle again and he abandoned his quest in despair.
Lying on that bed with the dull throb in his lower extremities, the Ironhand just stared weakly up at the roof of the little guest room, his vision blurred by the water in his eyes. Every so often he let out a low groan and then went silent again.
When the door opened again and he heard Kella's bare whisper, he was able to tilt his head up just enough to see her wavering figure standing tentatively in the doorway. Gritting his teeth again, he replied in a pained, yet forcibly casual "You... are a walking disaster."
Kella flinched back from the door, avoiding his gaze by looking down at the supplies.
"I'm... I'm sorry. Should I leave you then? I just.. just figured you could use some supplies for your wounds."
Considering it was her fault he had gotten them all!
Aryn laid his head back down on the pillow, trying to ignore the question entirely. Of course, it wasn't the brightest idea: the trickle of blood from his nose backtracked on him and had him coughing and sputtering and struggling back up to a sitting position.
Lady Kella had an assortment of goods in her arms, but there was something that he could've used even more than anything she carried.
"Ugh... what you can do is grab me a cup of water. Or wine. Or anything."
He also gestured to the metal arm lying on the ground. In times like these, he really needed that second arm of his. It was more than just a prop and a namesake, it was a security blanket. "And that. If you can actually lift it this time!"
Kella nodded and walked swiftly into the room. She deposited the items on a nearby table and moved to go get the arm, and almost dropped it again when she noticed his face.
"Oh.. your nose!" Abandonning the arm, she yanked out another kerchief and leaned over the bed, offering the small clothe to him.
"H-here, I'd best not help you this time. I'm afraid I'd do more harm." she said shamefully.
Aryn winced slightly as he heard the metal arm clunk heavily back down on the floor, though thankfully this time it didn't come anywhere near his foot. When the kerchief was offered he quickly grabbed it and began wiping at the trail of blood trickling out of his nostril.
With every stroke though, he seemed to only spread it around, and soon his entire upper lip and part of his cheek was smeared with the stuff. He could feel its liquid touch on his skin even as he continued wiping. The kerchief was beginning to look more rose than white.
"I, uh... I'm just making it worse, aren't I..." he muttered. About to hand it back to her, he stopped. "This might be ruined."
Picking up a bowl she had set nearby, she took a seat upon the bed.
"Don't worry about it," she afforded him a small smile before taking the kerchief and dipping it in water, then moving towards his face, she paused and inquired, "May I?"
It would be easier for her to remove what was left- an din the moment she hadn't realized she was using her gloveless hand...
At least she hadn't touched him...
Yet.
Aryn scrunched up his face just slightly to test how bad his nose was. It hurt like hell, but felt no more crooked than it'd already been. What was another broken nose?
When she offered to help him, it was easy enough for him to silently nod his head. He couldn't see what he was doing, and could only feel where he'd smeared the blood. The trickling of blood out his nostril had already slowed significantly, though it still occasionally dripped down past his lip and into his uneven beard. Several drops splashed onto the previously-spotless bedsheets.
"Right, I don't think the cake lady will be happy about this. Not that she's been anything but cold to me anyway," he lamented with a shrug. No, the Armands and he certainly did not mix.
He turned his green gaze to look at her eyes, failing to notice her gloveless hand nearing his cheek.
When their gazes met, she almost dropped the kerchief, but dropped her eyes instead and noticed the blood still trickling from his nose. Wiping once across his beard and cheek, she rested the kerchief just against his nose.
"It seems it's still bleeding," she commented softly, still not realizing she was using her exposed hand- though thankfully, te wet kerchief was int he way of skin to skin contact.
Aryn gave the tiniest of winces when she pressed the kerchief against his bleeding nose. He could feel it swelling up a bit now, just to go along with the rest of his face. And his chest. And his foot. He honestly didn't think there was another part of his body she could possibly injure.
"Aye, that happens when you take a nice blow to the face," he grunted in response. Though realizing the horror that had crossed her face all those other times he'd implied that she'd been at fault (even though she was!) he quickly added, "But I've broken this nose many times before. I'm used to it. What I will say though, is that you have one hard head."
Kella kept the kerchief pressed against his nose, focusing on helping stop the bleeding. But when he mentioned her hard head, her blue eyes suddenly went to his before she averted them back down to his lips, wait no- his beard. HIs bleeding beard as she then checked his nose to see if the bleeding had stopped. It seemed to have at least slowed enough.
Dipping the kerchief back into the water, she began to gently wipe off any blood from his cheek, then another dip into the water and she began wiping lightly at his beard- and it was only then she realized.
"DId you know your beard is off-cut?" She'd feel horrible not tell him other wise, but if it weren't so evident, she would have just let that detail go as blue eyes lifted back to his green ones.
Aryn gave her a pointed look before letting out a loud laugh, punctuated only by a grimace as he accidentally moved his foot from its spot on the bed. He winced again and waited for the pain to subside before letting out another laugh, this one more measured and controlled.
"Aye, and you're to blame for that one. I was halfway through a trim when I had to run out and fetch you. So now you'll have to finish that job too."
He sniffed slightly, half in mock indignation, half because of that itch that always occurred when one's nose was dripping.
"How bad does it look though?" he asked after a moment. After all, he liked to keep it impeccably trimmed. He was homely enough without having to look crazy too.
Kella drew back and sheepishly lowered her gaze, but then her eyes refocused on his beard.
"It's pretty obvious." And then she paused a moment to add, "And would you really trust me shaving your face?" Though he was trusting her now to wipe it... but shaving was a lot more dangerous!
Aryn wrinkled his nose at her, and immediately regretted the ache that traveled up his face and into his brain. Reaching up with his hand, he felt at the lopsided beard on his chin and gave another slight scowl.
"Well I can't bloody well walk up to a mirror and do it myself, now can I? No, this one's aaaaall you, Milady. Just do try to keep it neat and tidy when you do."
His stomach growled slightly, but he rubbed at it to suppress its hungry call. He laughed. It was sort of nice to be waited on for once, and even more satisfying that she was a noblewoman. "And do try not to stab me or anything."
Kella, slowly finishing up Aryn's face, found herself smiling at his claim. Though she knew he was right, she down cast her gaze.
"I... I've never shaved a man before. It could come out looking worse..."
Aryn raised up a finger to stop Kella mid-sentence.
"Trim. You'll be trimming. I trust you'll do fine, but by Angsar's good grace, it doesn't reach a point where I have to shave it all off..."
A sardonic smile curled one corner of his mouth as he reached up to gently thumb at Kella's own shorn locks, roughly done and most uneven. Stray strands of her golden hair, all of different lengths, were pointing in multiple directions.
"Looks like you've never cut any hair before either. You'd be quite pretty if you had a proper barber."
Kella jerked back at his attention to her own hair, and then at his comment of her looks, she immediately down cast her eyes. She wasn't sure if that could even count as a compliment at all, but remembering why she constantly cut her hair made her eyes burn.
"I prefer my hair this way," she stated, rather haughtily for her, which might have sounded strange, considering how soft her voice was. But then realizing he just wanted a trim, she lifted her gaze.
"How would I go about trimming it?"
She supposed she could ask for scissors...
Aryn sat up a little bit straighter when hearing the authority and indignation in her voice. It was so unbecoming of her and so unexpected that it stopped him in his tracks for a moment, just like it had back when she'd used her Lady voice at the prison. But then the smile crept back onto his face and he shrugged his broad shoulders. "Agree to disagree, but my opinion doesn't matter now does it?"
The bleeding from his nose had stopped by now and he gingerly pressed a finger to his nose, the corner of his eye twitching at the touch. His calloused hand then went down to his chin, feeling at his beard. It definitely felt lopsided.
"The baker had a pair of clippers that I was using earlier. It's probably still on the floor."
At that moment the door opened again and Mrs. Armand stepped back into the room with a small tray of bread and water, along with a plate of their specialty cake. She gave a scowl to Aryn, but said no more. Apparently, whatever Kella had said to the baker's wife earlier had calmed her down enough to not call the guards on him, but she still gave him the most suspicious of looks.
For his part, the mercenary only grinned wider, causing Mrs. Armand no small amount of consternation. Aryn peered at her and said, "Can you grab us some trimmers?"
The baker's wife gave him a loud 'HMMPH!' and offered Kella an apologetic look for having to put up with this tramp before setting the tray down beside the tea set. Nonetheless, she returned a short while later with clippers.
Taking the scissor's delicately in hand, she lifted her gaze back to Aryn.
"I suppose there's no way of me getting out of helping you for now-" though as she lifted a hand forward to stroke at his beard, sensing the length, she realized, just then- she was using her ungloved hand. Gasping, she dropped the scissors onto the bed (which thankfully, landed safely beside his lap) before she was suddenlymoving away.
"Oh! My glove!" she exclaimed, and began to frantically search for it. When she found it at the foot of the bed, she hastily put it on and paused a moment to stare at his iron hand on the floor, then looked guilty his way.
"I... perhaps after I trim your beard," she began, taking an uncertain seat beside him on the bed, "I can get you your arm back." And though she tried to smile for him it was forced as she looked back at his beard. Then reaching across him, she picked up the scissors, which, she noticed with a frown, were quite awkward to use with her over sized gloves on.
Aryn, too, noticed the way she jerked her hand away from his face, and flustered when retrieving her glove. That feature about her still confused him and had him raising a brow, but it was beginning to come clear.
She must be a germaphobe.
An odd trait to have, especially since cleanliness and hygiene weren't exactly hallmarks of a life on the street. But then again, he didn't know what sort of life she led in that fancy castle of hers before going on the lam and finding herself in his world, the underbelly of society.
Before she could make the first cut, he stopped her and reached for a piece of bread that Mrs. Armand brought them. He stuffed the entire thing in his mouth and then said in an extremely muffled voice, "Okay."
After chewing and swallowing, he guided her now-gloved hand back up to where his beard sat on his chin, looking like a complete mess. He hesitated for a second, but then nodded for her to proceed. "Little snips, and you'll be fine."
Kella blinked, gasping a little when he grabbed her arm. But seeing him eat the bread, she gave him a curious look. But after he munched and swallowed and told her to procede, she looked down at her gloved hands on the scissors then back up at him.
Nodding, she avoided his gaze and lifted the scissors and took her first snip. It was perhaps, a bit TOO little, but she had no real confidence, and she didn't want to make his beard worse. Though as she went along, she eventually was getting the hang of it-
and thank Ansgar this man's beard wasn't so large. It only took her a few minutes to get it trimmed with some semblance of decency and she even smiled soon afterwards to appreciate her work.
"There, it looks much better now," though the scars throughout his beard drew her attention for some time, she eventually returned her blue-eyed gaze to him.
"Is there anything else you would like? Perhaps one of the cakes or more tea?"
When she was done, Aryn reached up and ran his fingers roughly through his beard. Obviously he'd need a mirror to actually fully assess her handiwork, but at least it felt even now. He nodded his head and brushed the fallen hair clippings off of the bed and onto the floor. Mrs. Armand would have a fit!
Her offer of cake and tea had him smiling and laughing again. "I could get used to this service! Is this what you get in your castle? No, I'll just stick to bread for now. Maybe more of that delicious tea of yours.
"You though... you've been eyeing that cake since it was brought in here."
He grabbed another piece of bread and, chewing thoughtfully on it, said with his mouth full, "No need to be polite, you know you want it."
Kella blushed at his suggestions.
"Well don't get too used to it. Once we leave Vanille, such luxuries will be few and far between." Though at such a mention from her own lips, she found herself averting his gaze and nodded.
"But I'll get the tea."
Standing up, she set the scissors aside and poured him a fresh cup, and gave him a small smile as she handed it to him.
"Here." And she set the bread nearer to him. "And you can eat the rest of this, too." She tucked back some hair. He had a long day- he should eat what he'd like first. But he was right- she had been eyeing the cake, but she wasn't sure if she could eat anything, so instead, stood nearby and waited for him to finish so she could take his empty tea cup away.
Aryn accepted the cup of tea with little hesitation, again nearly burning his tongue from how fast he drank it. He also supplemented the sweet hot beverage with a mouthful of bread, small crumbs bouncing down his face and getting caught in his newly trimmed beard. Apparently the streets had not taught him any manners, especially in the presence of a Lady.
He did leave the cake alone though, and upon seeing that Kella only stood idly by waiting for him instead of gorging herself. Cheeks still bulging from the bread stuffed in his mouth, he frowned slightly and picked up the plate of velvety cake, holding it out to her insistently.
"Just eat it," he said after masticating the mush of bread packed in his mouth and washing it down with some more tea. "We're all hungry people here."
From the doorway came the sound of a throat clearing. Mrs. Armand peeked in and, giving the injured mercenary yet another frown, waved Kella over to where she stood in the hall. Her voice was a low whisper, meant only for the Lady's ears.
"Pardon the interruption, Lady Kella, but I just wanted to tell you. We know that you said this... bodyguard of yours will take care of you, but we thought that we'd send word to your brother anyway that you're here safe and sound. We just dispatched a messenger. In the meantime, please make our home yours until a reply comes back. Anything we have is at your disposal."
Kella found herself staring at Aryn awkwardly as he was speaking and crumbs fell out from his mouth, tangling into his beard- but before she had a chance to say anything, Mrs. Armand appeared. Turning around, Kella approached the woman and was taken back by what she had to say. At a loss of words, Kella only nodded.
"Yes, thank you for being so kind. I'm sure he has been worried about me."
And once Mrs. Armand left, Kella felt her legs grow weak as she clutched a nearby chair back for support.
Aryn was left holding the plate of cake while Kella slid off to speak with Mrs. Armand. He couldn't hear what she had to say, and couldn't care less. The woman was a witch, and he would've been out of this shop in an instant, if he had two good feet.
When Kella staggered up against a chair and looked paler than usual, the Ironhand gave another frown.
"See now? You haven't eaten all day and now you've run out of energy. That's what happens when you don't listen to good advice."
Kella took a seat on the chair, keeping her back to Aryn. SHe couldn't stand up. She was trembling so bad at the news that they were sending word back to her brother. And now she was trapped here until she found another way to escape. She could leave now, Aryn was in good hands, was he not? But Mrs. Armand seemed to have a thing against him. But if she were to stay, her brother might find her..
or even worse- someone might find out what she is.
Torn, she found herself trembling before giving way to sobs. And she didn't care if Aryn heard her or not. She couldn't hide this emotion- it was just too much.
When she sat down, Aryn raised a brow but brushed it off. But when he shoulders started heaving up and down with every sob, he let out a long exhale of exasperation while rolling his eyes. Not again...
"I was kidding. It was a joke. you don't have to eat the cake if you don't want to."
Her sobs didn't stop there though, but continued on. Something was definitely wrong, and for the next minute the room was silent but for the soft mewling coming from Kella, facing away from him in that chair. It was getting unbearable. He furrowed his brow and, after considering whether it was a good idea to get off the bed at all, spontaneously swung himself over the side of the bed. Balancing precariously on his good foot, he managed to push himself up.
In nothing but his smallclothes and bandages around his foot and torso, he made several thudding hops on that one foot over to her. His large calloused hand found her shoulder from behind, half in friendly comfort and half to keep himself from teetering over.
"Right, I know it's been a long day and I know this is not where you want to be so... you want to talk about it? Or you could cry it out, take the bed and get some rest, or..."
Out of ideas and feeling more awkward by the moment, he pressed his mouth together and, with some hesitation, just gave her another slow pat of reassurance on the shoulder.
Kella flinched beneath his touch, but.the tears kept flowing. It was just too much for her in.that moment, having had nothing substantial to eat.in days and now all this. She shook her head and turned towards him.
"Please... Leave me a- your leg!" Her eyes went wide as she turned to face Aryn.
"You should not have gotten out of bed!"
The Ironhand shrugged his broad shoulders as he balanced himself against the back of her chair. "Lots of things I shouldn't have done. Never seems to stop me though. Now, are we finished crying, or do we need a bit more time? Take as much as you want."
His eyes sparked open with a brilliant idea, and he hopped the three steps back over to the bed. Sitting down heavily on its edge, he snatched up one of the tea cups and filled it up. "I know exactly what you need. How does this sugar work, do I just throw it in?"
He picked up a handful of sugar cubes and brought them up to his face to inspect them. Had she said one? He couldn't remember.
Kella was take back by his statement. Finished crying? Blinking, she turned away, uncertain what to say. But it seemed as she had gotten distracted by his action, the tears, at least for that moment, ceased. Brushing the remaining ones away, she stared down at her lap. But then hearing him hobbling back over to the bed, she gasped and got to her feet.
"Oh! Be careful, you might burn yourself!" And she stumbled to a halt as she noticed him eyeing upt he sugar as if he dind't know what to do. She found a soft laugh escaping her lips from his expression, but immediately covered a hand over it, hoping he hadn't heard it. And composing herself, she approached the side of the bed and smiled at him warmly as she dropped her gloved hands away from her lips.
"One cube of sugar, please. And yes, you just pick one up, and drop it in. I can stir it, or wait for it to dissolve. Though.." she gave him an even gentler, more bashful smile. "Today might be a day I ask for two, please."
The Ironhand nodded his head emphatically, as though to say he approved, and dropped the handful of sugar cubes back onto the tray. This time he picked only two up, turning them around in his hand. These nobles and well-to-dos were so strange to form something so particulate into a little shape for no apparent purpose. But damn, if it didn't taste good.
Dropping the cubes into the steaming cup of tea on the tray, he brushed the granules of sugar off of his lap and then patted the spot on the edge of the bed beside him.
"One cup of the finest tea in Connlaoth for the Lady," he announced. "And a plate of this pretty delicious cake too. You're eating it this time and I'm not taking no for an answer."
Kella had a hard time not smiling over this. Here this man was, healing from injuries that were still fresh and painful, injuries that were her fault, no less; and he was waiting on her like a servant- or pretending to be. She shook her head at him but obliged, delicately taking a seat near to him before accepting the cup and stirring in the sugar. Once it was dissolved enough, she lifted the tea to her lips and took a sip.
"Yes, this was definitely the time for more sugar. It's delicious, thank you." Her eyes met to his for a moment before she dropped her gaze to her lap at the mention of cake. And there she was, smiling again. "And how would you force me to? I doubt you'd be able to force that cake into my mouth fast enough before I'd be able to get away and out run you on that leg. Besides... you shouldn't be walking on that leg. You might make it worse." Turning towards him, she tucked back some of her unruly spikes of blonde hair from her eyes and cast him another smile. "Though I suppose if that's what you really wish, I could force myself to eat some of this famous, Vanillian cake." She set her tea down on a nearby table and picked up the cake, examining it with a soft, appreciative smile before peering back his way.
"Are you sure you don't wish to have some?" Though it seemed he was adamant about her being the one to indulge, so with another soft smile- she ate the cake, and in record time for her- but even with her speed, she ate like a lady, each bite delicate, if not a bit hasty, too.
Once that was done, she returned her attentions to her tea before dropping her gaze back to his leg, then to his missing arm. It was then the guilt returned as she hunched over a bit to avoid his face.
"If you'd like, I can help retrieve your arm. Though I'll be more gentle with it this time."
And once she had his approval and she- finished most of her tea, she bent over to retrieve the arm, though the poor girl was having a bit of trouble lifting it at first, she eventually got it scooped up like a baby and carried to the edge of the bed before gently setting it down with a huff of exerted breath which blew her hair from her face.
Her cheeks were rosy from even such small a feat as she smiled over at him before glancing down at the arm. "So how is it that you attach this thing? And how is it that you can maneuver it so well? It's quite heavy- made of... solid iron?" She asked, peering his way curiously. And with a nod, she listened to him explain before stating thoughtfully, "Should the circumstance ever arrive, I do not think I'd be able to handle such a feat. Though I suppose they'd make lighter, artificial limbs for ladies."
She thought that over a moment. Though if she had a fake limb-s he wouldn't have to worry about touching anyone and harming them. And she idly found her gloved hands tracing across the iron fingers.
"The details are very crude,"S h remarked- nothing meant to be harmful in the way she implied it, more just stating it in thoughtful nonchalance. "Have you ever considered getting a hand crafted that was more articulate? Though- I haven't seen this hand too much in action, perhaps it suffices well enough for what you need."
As soon as Kella managed to pick the iron arm off the floor, Aryn immediately went to work. He shoved his stump of a forearm into the slot and tightly strapped the three buckles to his arm. With his limb 'whole' again, he gave her a grin and flexed his muscle. "Wearing it makes you strong, I'll say that much."
Looking back down at it, he did notice how dented and chipped the iron was getting, and how the fingers, while proportionately crafted, only barely resembled fingers. With a shrug and a sigh, he answered, "Aye, but such handiwork costs more than I can afford. Perhaps one of these days when I've enough coin, I'll have another one made. Steel, perhaps. It's a lot lighter than iron."
The image of him running around with an arm of silver and gold and inlaid with diamonds crossed his mind, and he could not help but chortle under his breath. But then his green eyes found Kella again, and it suddenly reminded him why he'd been following her in the first day. There she was, the biggest payday he could ever hope or dream of, sitting barely a foot away from him. The chuckle died down into nothing and his demeanor suddenly became a bit more somber. Could he do it? Could he turn her in?
Kella went silent for a time. She wasn't a woman to think about paying others for their services, let alone to help her even get out of the country, but she had to wonder...
if she had the coin- and paid the man handsomely to see her safely out of this place- would he do it? She was normally someone so easily trusting, but since the incident with her brother and her brief time on the road, it had her second guessing.
But then agian,s he had good reasons to second guess herself. This man was hired by her brother after all.
"I suppose after you take me back to Turgall.. you'll get paid more than enough to get yourself a better one."
The gravity of her words struck him like a biting cold wind in the middle of winter. If there had been any semblance of civility -even friendship- between the two of them just moments later, it all evaporated in the span of a second. Suddenly the pair of them sat in awkward silence; the several inches between their two bodies might as well have been miles. Between them, the truth of it all separated them like a chasm.
Aryn did not look at her then, opting instead to keep his green eyes staring forward even as he sat hunched over in deep thought. So she finally figured out what he'd been hired to do. It didn't surprise him, to say the least. He'd been hounding her for the better part of two days now, and it was only by sheer luck and the immense generosity of her fragile little heart that he was still anywhere near her. She could have left him in that ditch, and they both knew it.
Finally, he broke the silence. Turning his head just barely to shoot her a sidelong glance, he said, "And if you don't want to go back, then what? It's a lot of money."
If she bolted that very instant, the Ironhand would not have had a chance in hell of catching her. He was at least several days beyond even being able to properly put weight on his injured foot, even with a crude crutch. She could be halfway to the border by then for all he knew. And he'd go after her. Would he? And yet, she'd had so many chances to run, but had always come back...
"Whoever said I did not want to go back?" Though she never said she did, it was more than evident her 'disappearance' was voluntary.
Ooc: sorry, short post from phone. X.x I can add more later if necessary.
Aryn looked at her fully, a serious expression on his face. After a second he shrugged, though it obviously an attempt to instill some false levity into the tense situation.
"Just a wild hunch," he remarked indifferently, though his thoughts were otherwise. Her demeanor and the way she seemed so distant and withdrawn had given him hints. Her fleeing had all but confirmed it. And also...
"There had to be a reason why I was hired to bring you home. 'Hired' in a sense..."
Kella knew he had a point when he brought it up, but not about ready to admit it fully, she simply squared off her small shoulders and raised her chin up high as she looked at him.
"Perhaps he thought the mission too dangerous for our knights." Though even as she tried, it was evidently impossible to ignore the truth. "And perhaps he was afraid of me."
Though her eyes tried to stare at him with defiance, there was still the subtle fear within her eyes as it always had been, but this time, some anger had shown- and that too, was genuine.
For a moment the hulking mercenary lost his words, the skinny little Lady's defiant glare almost shocking the coherent thoughts from his head.
But he eventually raised a brow and stared back down at her. As if he was going to be intimidated by her... no matter how hard she tried to look tough, no matter how much genuine anger was in her voice, that slight tinge of nervousness in her very blue eyes said it all. He matched her stare with his own stony gaze, sitting up straighter and letting his broad shoulders extend to their widest.
"Aye, his knights couldn't handle the job so he hired outside for some skilled labor. And that's me. And why would a rich powerful Lord be afraid of a sweet innocent girl like you? Am I missing something here?"
Kella, for the life of her, had hoped he would not have called her out- but being as it were, she found herself keeping her shoulders square, if not a little uneasily so as she glared back at him before rising off the bed.
"Maybe he thinks I know too much. Maybe he's afraid of the war."
She didn't know, and as soon as she began her sad attempt to lead Aryn down the wrong path, she realized how foolish it was. Staring down at her gloved hands, she felt tears angrily begin to blur her vision. She wished she could rip them off, wished none of this had never been, and that her brother hadn't turned into what he was.
"Or maybe he's afraid I'll expose him for what he really is." she continued on, finding herself beginning to shake.
A monster. Her brother had turned into a monster. But oh!? Oh, Ansgar, forgive her for her fears! FOrgive her brother for what he had been doing- but what madness is this!? To hire a man like Aryn? Were knights truly so unworthy to chase after her, but an 'iron hand' was?
She shook her head, tried to brush back the tears as she wrapped her arms around herself.
"It doesn't matter the reason," she went on. "I'm not going back."
While she rose from the bed to angrily bark at him, the Ironhand remained seated on the side of the bed with a slight frown on his face. Whatever reason she gave for her brother wanting her back in Turgall, he believed none of it. All except that last part, which sounded as though it might hold a grain of truth in it all. And yet...
"Maybe I don't care what his reasons are. It's not my place to question, now is it? I keep my mouth shut and my head down, and I do what I'm paid to do."
Or at least was promised payment; he'd received only the smallest of stipends to help him on the road. The frown on his face grew deeper and deeper at just the thought of it.
When the tears sprang to her eyes again, this time not out of sorrow but out of pure anger, so too did his frown morph into a full scowl. By Angsar, he'd never met a woman so frustrating as Lady Kella Harmond! Why couldn't she simply have been cooperative?
Or even better... why couldn't she have been someone whom Aryn didn't know, and didn't care to know? It would have been so much easier to clobber her over the head and drag her, tied up, back to Turgall if they hadn't been through so much together in the last few days. He truly was a fool for being so decent, so honest.
His voice was adamant when he shook his head and declared, "You don't have a choice. I'm making the rules here now, and I say you're coming back with me, nice and quiet."
Bold words from a man who was so injured he couldn't stand.
And it was those bold words that got him a slap to the cheek. Mean, blue eyes stared back at him now, hot tears bubbling within them.
"Don't have a choice? Don't have a choice!?" She repeated herself, her voice becoming shrill and near hysterical, which sounded odd as it broke the gentle voice of Kella Harmond. "How dare you speak to me that way!" And her eyes flickered over his form, not really taking him in, but using the gesture to remind him of his state, and her squared off shoulders and nose raised tot he sky, reminding him of his status.
"Need I remind you it's my tongue that stands in the way of you and the prison of Vanille!"
Really! And he thought he could just carry on after all she'd done to help him! Never mind the fact a lot of his current pain came with it... too,...
((Warning: mature language ahead. And apologies in advance for it! ))
The slap stung him more than he imagined it would, but Aryn certainly couldn't say that he didn't expect it. Despite how timid and reserved she was the previous days, it was only a matter of time before all her problems boiled over into physical abuse. Better she take it out on him than on someone who might actually hurt her.
And was it ever tempting to just lift a hand and hit her back. The muscles of his jaw clenched so hard that it looked like the freshly trimmed beard on his chin might fall out. And his hand balled into a tight fist, nearly shaking from the effort it took to keep it down in his lap. His green-eyed glare shot daggers at her.
And then his barking laughter filled the room.
"Aye, your silver tongue saved my hide there. Thank you, Princess, if it wasn't for you, I might still be in dark little cell."
The volume of his voice grew steadily louder. He could still feel the imprint of her gloved hand on his red cheek.
"I guess I should apologize for taking so much of your time. Maybe I should've let you be, back there at Thorny's when you were sitting in Ogre Boy's lap. You two were cute together. I bet he had a big cock too, probably would've ripped you in half. But no, I just had to pull you away from him and bury my axe in his skull. I'm so sorry."
The laughter took her by surprise, and by it's loudness, it actually frightened her and nearly made her jump clean out of her skin. But it was his words that bore into her- the knot of guilt it cemented, the anger it drew forth, and all of the repressive regret.
WHACK.
So it was no real surprise when the second slap struck again, marking over the already reddened place on his cheek as she glared back at him, hot angered tears blurring her vision.
"You horrible man! I never asked for your help, though I was never once ungrateful for it! How dare you speak to me that way! Treat me that way like I'm some sort of insignificant animal! I thought, foolishly, you might have been different, despite what one might perceive of you when we first met, but your tongue has now proved me wrong. Don't think I don't feel horrible you'll miss out on your precious gold. Well, here! Take it!" and she yanked out a bag from no where and hit him square in the chest with all the money she had left.
"There's enough gold you could buy yourself ten new arms, Aryn, or ten new lives!"
And she choked on her words, her sobs as she shook her head.
"I'm sorry I ran into you, as sorry as I was the first time we met." And she paused one moment, only to catch her breath before she released a heated breath, finding some of the tension relieved by it before she stared him back int he eyes and reclenched her fisted hands.
"Good bye, Aryn."
And this time it would be for real, and she turned away from him, with every promise of this being their final goodbye.
OOC: Feel free to have him snag her by the arm or something if yu want him to stop her- she put up enough of a fanfared angered goodbye I'm sure he'd have more than enough time to be able to snatch her before she actually leaves 8D
but up to you!
The second slap didn't surprise Aryn either. He probably deserved it with his uncouth words.
But it was her angry retort that had him bristling in rage. By the time she was halfway through her spiel he was nearly shaking from it. If he had the strength in his foot he might actually have stood up to his full height to confront her about her wild accusations.
"An animal?! I have treated you with nothing but respect, and that was before I even found out who you were! You think anyone else would have done the same for you? Out in these streets? Not a fucking chance. Just goes to show how much of an idiot I was for thinking I could do the right thing for a girl in need..."
It was the heavy thunk of a bag full of gold against his bandaged chest that finally shut him up.
For all the rhetoric he'd just spewed, somewhere deep inside he knew that the gold had been what he was after this whole time. And now that there was a sack of it sitting crumpled in his lap, the wave of intense guilt finally washed over his entire frame. It was easy to say that he would take her back to Turgall for a prize in the moment, but now he came to the sad realization that he would've felt hollow inside if he did.
And now, the fact that he was finally letting her get away did nothing to relieve him of that internal remorse for what he might've done. Was he truly that shallow to sell a poor girl away for gold? Yes, yes he was. And it disgusted him.
When she disappeared out that door and did not come back, the frustration at both her and at himself finally boiled over. His green eyes turned to the small table next to the bed, where the tea set sat there. Her teacup was still half full, mocking him. With one angry shove he sent the entire porcelain set shattering to the ground. And then out of further frustration he slammed his iron arm down on the table surface.
And again, and again. Until the table finally began to splinter and crack, and then break in two. He punched it innumerable times, and only until his shoulder burned intensely from the exertion and his entire forearm was numb from the jarring reverberations of metal thudding against wood.
He sat there in brooding silence, the gold all but forgotten in his lap.
((OOC: I felt this was the proper progression to go, so you can have Kella do whatever. If she comes back, she comes back and the shenanigans continue. If she leaves for good, then we'll probably have to call this thread, and maybe plot further shenanigans :) ))
Aryn probably could have assumed the girl was gone, but what happened next was probably a shock to them both- for the anger would not have ear enough time to cool off when the door was thrown open, and Mrs. Armand came in with a timid and most petrified Lady Kella Harmond following close behind her heels.
"Ansgar's name, I hope you can walk Mr. Ohlund. We've got a cart and horse out back, but land's sakes, hurry up and get out of that bed! The pair of you have to get out of town right quick!"
As Mrs. Armand went on to inform Aryn about the situation, Kella only spared one look his way before turning her back to him. It was evident she was still upset, but the fear was there- it could be felt like a winter chill creeping into the room.
"There's not much time to explain, but it seems some dangerous fellow has been asking around town about Lady Harmond- and it's only a matter of time before he realizes where she is! Now she can't stay here, she's in danger. This man is a wanted criminal, knowing for slaughtering many! No wonder your brother wanted you back so quickly. By the heavens, what ought we to do?" Mrs. Armand went on about, and was already packing up a few things for the pair of them in preparation for their journey.
"NOw we don't have muhc to offer, but I'm sure your brother can pay us back the coin for the wagon and horse, but you'll have to be quick about it if you want to get out of here unseen! We don't want trouble and well..."
Kella hesitated. She couldn't trust her brother to give the gold to Mrs. Armand - in fact, she knew not anyone she could trust, but this woman was offering all of this help, and for 'free'; she couldn't just let her go empty handed- especially after all they have done. So cringing, she spoke over her shoulder, back still to Aryn.
"Mr.. Mr. Ohlund has my money on his person. He could offer you some gold in form of payment for your services."
Mrs. Armand hesitated, but shook her head. "Yes, well, for now, you two have to get out of here. Hurry up, child. Get on a jacket and take this bag" She handed the supplies to Kella and the girl seemed to nearly fall over as she gripped onto them. She only spared one more glance Aryn's way before glancing towardst he window, but she was too afraid to look outside- but Mrs. Armand was not.
"Oh, I see that seedy fella on the street! Come on you two, come on. Mr. Ohlund, you go first. You'll be a lot slower than the lady. We'll get the pair of you tot he wagon and some coats to hide your faces and you can make a quick exit from the city through the south gate." That is to say, if the 'assassin' asking around for Kella wasn't already well on his way tot he southern part in town.
"Come on, come on! Out the back door. ANd take this lamp, a few candles, it ought to do." And it was then Mr. Armand showed up and offered a hand in helping Aryn up the steps. And Kella remained as distant from Aryn as she possibly could, even when they were brought to the wagon and the pair of them, ordered to crawl onto the back where all of the flour and hay was stored.
Mr. Armand then got seated on the buck board.
"Mrs. A, I'll take them a few miles south then walk on home, but you keep an eye out and lie to that son of a gun until I tell you things are safe. These are trying times int he war. It's a shame someone would try to seek out such methods to try to kill poor Duke Harmond's sister while she is lost in this crazy world!"
And with a snap to the reins, the wagon jerked off down the road, and Kella and Aryn were left in uncomfortable silence as the lady stared down at her boots, then to his poor broken leg. To think- he was forced, yet again, to help her. She felt so ashamed, so upset, so angry, and so afraid, she was nearly sick to her stomach as the sharpness of tears made her blink at her pretty blue eyes.
This was surely going to be a long road ahead of them.
When the two ladies burst back into the room, Aryn was still stewing in his frustration. The scowl he shot them, however, was quickly erased by Mrs. Armand's story. Of course the Duke would send others to do the same job. Well he'd be damned if he let them get his bounty. At that thought, the bag of gold in his lap suddenly felt a hundred times heavier, and a knot of guilt bubbled in his gut.
He pulled himself together quick enough, getting dressed rapidly with the help of Mrs. Armand (who was none too pleased to find her tea set and table smashed to bits). All the while he chanced quick peeks over to Kella. Of course she wouldn't look him in the eye. They were still plenty mad at each other. Turning his attention back to the task at hand, it was moments before he was ready to go, weapons collected, arm readjusted.
Every step upstairs elicited a muttered curse under the Ironhand's breath as the pain shot up his injured leg. Nevertheless he was able to climb onto the wagon bed with Mr. Armand's help. He gave the baker's wife several of the coins with a sheepish "Sorry for the mess," and lay down among the hay.
The bumpy ride through the town brought a glower to Aryn's face. He felt every cobblestone, every crack in the road. And even worse, the pain in his leg was exacerbated by the awkward closeness between himself and Kella. He could still sense her loathing toward him, and no doubt she felt the same thing emanating from him. This ride couldn't have gone any slower.
And just their luck, waiting at the south bridge were two armed men.
"Hold up there, old timer," said the skinnier one as he hopped off the railing. Evidently, the man hounding Lady Harmond had hired men of his own to properly canvas the town for signs of her. "Whatcha got back there, might I ask?"
"Flour and hay, gentlemen," came Mr. Armand's nervous voice. "I'm a baker, delivering goods."
As soon as he heard the voices in the distance, Aryn heaved himself further into the wagon, one arm snaking out and wrapping around Kella in a tight grip. As he dove the two of them underneath the immense pile of hay, his eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the agony pulsating from his leg. His grip tightened around her and his teeth bit down on his lip, forcing it to remain quiet. The urgent stare he shot her said the same thing: keep still, and shut up.
Oh no. The wagon stopped. They were going to be caught. She was going to be found out and either discovered as a mage- or sent back to her brother. Fear gripped her and the awkwardness and tenseness between her and Aryn easily forgotten by a more terrifying plight. But the moment he suddenly wrapped his arms around her, she gasped and found herself suddenly sucked back into the haystack- the thing gobbling them both whole.
Were she not so terrified, she might have screamed, but she was so tense in his grip, she knew not what to do with herself- for hse was afraid to move for so many reasons. She clamped a hand over her lips to keep herself from speaking, but the fear in her eyes was evident as tears began to wash across their surface.
She could hear everything Mr. Armand was saying- but she wasn't sure if the men would buy it.
Naturally- they did not.
"Can we check out your cargo then? If you don't mind. I mean, after all, it's just flour and hay. but we have reason to believe someone might be hiding in your wares and well, we just need to be sure."
Kella's hand continued to tremble from where it was held over her lips, her eyes bubbling with more tears. If Aryn thought he was feeling guilty, or even afraid, it had nothing on what Kella was feeling just then. Whatever happened now was her fault- these men, hired by her brother since she had run away...
and then suddenly, she felt their bulky weights step into the back of the wagon as she gasped behind her gloved hand and nestled in closely against Aryn- for a moment, nearly forgetting the curse of her powers and just wishing she and he could sink away and disappear forever.
Aryn's movement was very subtle and absolutely silent, but he managed to slip one of his daggers from its sheath and into his hand. He would have preferred to just take out his axe, but its long handle was firmly pinned underneath his heavy frame, unmoving unless he himself shifted and exposed himself. Kella's face was mere inches from his and he could see the redness of her eyes again as tears dripped down her face.
With the slowest of movements he pressed the dagger into her gloved hand and gave it a hard squeeze. If it came down to it, she would need it more than him. Besides, he couldn't even move. She might have to be the one to do the dirty work this time.
"Hay and flour, you swear that's all, old man?" the muffled voice above them said sarcastically, "because what kind of delivery man takes the road in the middle of the night, alone?"
"I... uh..." Mr. Armand's response trailed into nothing.
The footsteps drew closer and closer.
Aryn shifted ever so slightly to prepare for their inevitable discovery when his forehead just barely brushed against Kella's. Immediately he felt an intense pain enveloping his entire body, a indescribably excruciating burning. He instantly assumed it was his leg twisting in an awkward way, but regardless it was too much for him to keep silent. His low yelp drew the attention of their hunters and one of them shoved aside the hay covering them. For a split second Aryn's green gaze met with the man's.
And then in a split second he rolled off of Kella and drew another of his knives, plunging it right into the man's shoulder. His scream of surprise and pain was joined by Aryn's own shout as his leg twisted awkwardly again. Punctuating the entire chorus of screams came the frightened whinny of Mr. Armand's horse, which promptly took off down the south road with the cart in tow.
The injured man, knife still sticking out of his shoulder, instantly lost his balance and tumbled off the moving cart. The other one had the good sense to grab onto the cart's side and, for the time, remained aboard, clinging for his dear life.
Kella let out a gasp as the hay exploded every where, exposing her and the Iron hand and when ARyn took sudden action and the knife punctured the man coming their way, she found herself drawing both gloved hands to her lips as she gaped in horror. And then the cart was jerked forward and Kella fell , her back hit off the wall of the cart as she breathlessly dropped her knife.
The jostling of the cart bumped the knife around by her legs when the man on the side of the cart growled and began to climb on in. Seeing the knife, he snatched it from Kella, then snatched the girl by her hand and drew her to him with a laugh. He pointed the blade at Aryn from where he and his hostage now stood at the edge of the back of the moving cart.
"Seems to me you're on the other end of the blade now. Now just stay where you are and this won't get ugly. After all, we could have you hanging for attempted kidnapping of the Duke of Turgall's wife."
"Wife!?"
All of the horror and rage behind this conquest suddenly came to the surface in one brief moment. She elbowed the man suddenly and tore off her glove after he painfully dropped the knife.
"I'm not his wife! I'm his sister!" she screamed, and grabbed him by the wrist and the man let out a howl- it only took two seconds for him to shoot off the back of the cart in pain and Kella watched n horror as the man tumbled on the dirt road behind them.
White breaths puffed out from her lips as she turned around to stare at Aryn, but in that moment, when she dared a half smile his way- the bumping cart hit a sharp rock int he road and out the back Kella was tossed, and she too, suffered the same fate as the other man as she tumbled onto the dirt road behind them. And it was in the gutter she lay, still and unmoving while the horse still galloped onward, cart shaking fierce at it's behind.
Even Aryn had to pause and stare at the triumphant little Kella, having just dislodged their pursuers from the moving cart. Not in a million years could he have imagined her showing that sort of initiative and recklessness. Certainly not based on the way she'd been so demure and adverse to confrontation the last few days. He stared at her, mouth agape.
And then she disappeared into the fading darkness of the road behind him. Immediately he turned to the frantic Mr. Armand and screamed, "STOP THE CART!"
It took several more shouts and pounds against the cart's buckboard before he finally got the old baker's attention. The old man tugged wildly at the reins and the horses, whinnying in fright, began to slow down. The wagon swerved dangerously from side to side.
It was still moving though, when the Ironhand pulled himself up to the edge and, without thinking, threw his lumbering frame from the moving cart. He rolled in midair in fleeting hope that the dirt road wouldn't impact against his broken leg. In a sense, his wish was granted: he instead landed heavily on his side and rolled to a stop in a cloud of dirt and dust, the wind knocked out of him.
When he'd regained his breath, Aryn turned his green gaze back up the road, searching for signs of Kella. When he spotted her silhouette off in the distance, he gingerly pulled himself up onto his good foot.
"Stupid girl!" he chastised her repeatedly to himself, hopping toward her on that one foot. When he began to tire he started putting weight on his injured leg, grunting, screaming and cursing with every limp of the way. By the time he reached her unmoving body lying in the gutter, he hadn't the energy left to balance on one foot and tumbled to the ground beside her. Reaching out gingerly, he rolled her over onto her back to get a better look at her face, a concerned look plastered all over his dirt-covered face.
From down the road, the faint echo of their pursuer could just barely be heard.
Blood ran down from a gash on her forehead, but other than the dirt and bruises she would have, the woman looked as if she at least survived the fall. Though at the sudden movement, her eyes fluttered open as blue eyes dizzily looked up at Aryn, just at the same moment Mr. Armand gave shouting their way.
"Hey! Hey! Is the lady alright?" he called after Aryn, but his words were lost to Kella. She was having a hard time focusing but when she tried to move, she winced and gripped onto her leg, and a trail of blood was evident even through her dark skirts.
"Keep still, you're hurt," Aryn mumbled through his teeth when Kella started to shift around, placing his hand on her shoulder to settle her. His eyes drifted down to where her blood were beginning to stain her dark skirts. He reached down and quickly pulled the folds back just enough to spot the blood leaking out of a wound in her shin. It could be a cut, or it could be broken; he couldn't tell right away. The mercenary gave a slight grimace.
"She's a little banged up, but she'll live. We need to get out of here, quick," he called over to Mr. Armand who had just now turned the cart around and was bringing it back this way.
With another wince and a slight groan, he grit his teeth and pushed himself back onto his knees, trying his best not to put pressure on his own broken leg. Gingerly rolling the girl over into his arms, with one tremendous push upward he managed to jump back up precariously onto his good foot. As the cart rolled around, his face twisted from the pain and exertion has he hopped back over to the back of the cart.
As gentle as a mother might handle her newborn infant, he delicately placed Kella's barely moving form onto the scattered pile of hay before throwing himself up into the cart. Mr. Armand cracked the reins and off they went once again. Aryn lay on his back, one leg dangling over the edge of the moving cart, chest rapidly moving up and down with shallow exhales. The girl had to be tended to, but first he needed to catch his breath.
"We should go back to town to see you're tended to," Mr. Armand began with a frown. "The lady's hurt-"
"No."
Kella pushed herself up from the pile of straw. "No, we keep moving." And her gaze softened as she looked at the pair. "Those men... they won't give up. You'll put too many people in danger if we go back."
Mr. Armand hesitated before turning to Aryn.
"Think she can handle the journey? The next town over is still a good few hours ride..."
"I can manage, thank you," Kella chimed in impatiently. Mr. Armand looked at her, hesitating only briefly, before nodding.
"Very well. Settle yourselves in. We'll travel quick. Next town over is Attinvale. A very windy, blustery city." Settling down on the buckboard, the man snapped the reins and with a whinny, the horse took off.
As the cart lurched forward, Kella clung to the hay stack that rumbled and bounced her uncomfortably. She moved to tend to her leg now, peering down at the blood and wincing. She didn't want to have to tear her skirts, but it was the only thing she could think of to patch her leg, so drawing in a breath, she reached down and began to tear at the hem. It came out in a tattered line, but it was better than nothing-
so quietly she worked, wrapping up her leg as best she could- and it was only then she realized, pausing in terror, that she had lost her one glove in the fall!
By the time Aryn finally had the energy to sit back up, Kella was through patching herself up. Aryn gave the makeshift bandage a quick look, reached out to tighten the end knot, and gave her a brief nod. Not bad for someone who probably had her own household doctor.
"That was a nasty tumble. You alright?" he asked her, peering at her with a piercing green gaze, his expression stony and unreadable. Obviously what had transpired between the two of them still sat heavily in the back of his mind, but it was no use letting their petty differences tear them apart now. The road would only get worse from here.
Mr. Armand was silent throughout the journey as the wagon bumped and rolled along the dirt road, first through a swathe of grass and then plunging into the forest. They passed the ravine into which Aryn had fallen and Kella had brought reinforcements, the wagon's lantern illuminating it for just a split second before darkness swallowed it back up again. Through the woods they went, with only a flickering light to guide the way through twisted and dead trees.
After maybe half an hour, the baker called back to them, "I know I shouldn't walk back alone, now that they're on the road looking for us. But I can't leave Dahlia alone in the shop. I have to get back to her."
He turned his head around to face them. "Can you two manage alone with the cart?"
Kella didn't miss the look. It tightened her throat and chest to see his gaze before she had to look away from him. She too, was still a bit uneasy around him, but fear kept her mind focused elsewhere. At least Aryn wasn't here to kill her, but those men aimed to play rough. Too bad she didn't realize, from all of the teeth being knocked out, that so did Ironhand Ohlund.
"My head hurts, but I should be fine," she told him quietly, and then reached up to realize with a soft release of breath, her fingers were now coated in blood.
"Oh.. seems I got another cut. But I should be fine." And she waved it off, still avoiding his face as she turned away. "It's mostly stopped by now." Or so it seemed.
She went quiet again as they pressed on- but when Mr. Armand halted the cart, she looked his way and bit into her lip. At his question, only then did she turn to Aryn as she simply replied, "Yes."
Abandoning the cart, the older man slipped out and gave both of them farewell hugs.
"Ansgar protect you both. We'll be sure to send a letter to your brother in the mean time. But chin up. You'll see this through. Turgall is not that far away."
And as he left, Kella found herself standing just beside the cart and shivering as a cold, late autumn breeze blew by. It ruffled her blonde hair softly against her face. She was still avoiding eye contact with Aryn- so when she finally decided it was best to discuss this with him, due to their sudden luck to being forced to travel together, she figured it was best to remain civil.
Too bad she didn't realize how close he was to her- so that when he turned around she gave a yelp and fell into him, her ungloved hand catching onto his metal one as he tensed at the impact.
When the other two disembarked from the wagon, Aryn followed suit for continuity's sake. He stood balanced on one foot, leaning his back against the side of the wagon with his arms folded as Mr. Armand bade farewell to his favorite customer. The old man's hug surprised him to no end but, after a second of undecided hesitation, the Ironhand gave him an awkward but gentle pat on the back. He also pressed the third of his four daggers into the old man's hand. "Just in case" was his reason.
When the old man had disappeared into the darkness of the road, the two of them stood there in uncomfortable silence. The woods were quiet this time of night, with nary a sound to be heard save the rustling of dried leaves in the wind. She had her back turned to him, presumably considering whether to bolt again or not. He couldn't blame her if she did run off again. The difference was that, this time, the long walk back to town would be so much harder.
"Listen, I-" he started. No sooner had he opened his mouth he she turn, evidently having had the same idea as him. Lucky for him his back was against the wagon, or else both of them would've gone tumbling to the ground again. As it were, he just managed to catch her in his arms, the one ungloved hand clutched to his cold metal one. As she pressed up against him, their eyes met.
He opened his mouth to say something, but then pressed his lips closed again. It would have been a tricky conversation anyhow.
Instead, he reached up with his good hand and, using the sleeve of his shirt, dabbed away at the small trickle of blood dripping down the edge of her forehead. She was starting to get as banged up as him, he noted with the slightest of grins. "You okay to drive, or shall I?"
As their bodies pressed, he might have noticed how stiff and tense she was. Though one could never guess the real reason, though assuming she was angry at him, awkward and a prude, couldn't be entirely thrown out. Being a virgin, however, had nothing to do with it. It was all fear, and the look in her eyes spoke it all.
Though when he reached to touch her, she gasped and was about to protest, but he was using his sleeve and she flinched, and only relaxed when his hand retracted and he was ok. And she found herself frowning and pouting as she peered up at him through scraggily locks of torn hair.
"I've only ever steered horses a few times in my life." She pressed her lips together but nodded. "But I can." That was if she needed to. In truth, the very idea of it scared her almost as much as the fact she had almost touched Aryn-a nd in fact, she was still in shock she hadn't realized she was still holding onto his iron hand!
Perhaps it had been too long since she had held another's hand so freely and without gloves, or perhaps it was the fear driving her to wish to grip onto something- either way, the pair of them were holding hands.
The fear and uncertainty in Kella's eyes belied her true feelings, but the way she firmed up and declared that she could indeed drive the wagon impressed even the Ironhand then. She was beginning to toughen up tremendously, to resolve not to be a burden for either of them. Aryn eyed her up and down and then gave her a brief nod.
He noticed her still clinging to his metal arm, but made no comment about it. Instead, with his free hand holding onto the wagon's side to keep him balanced on one foot, he led her over to the buckboard.
"Right, up you go," he grunted as he helped her up into the driver's seat. Twice he tried to make it up there beside her, and twice he failed to pull himself up. Finally, he shook his head, let out a low laugh, and flashed a rueful grin to nobody in particular. He turned and swung around the back of the wagon, resigning himself to flopping up onto the hay and the sacks of flour. This time he undid his axe from its loop and placed it beside him, in case any more trouble sprang up.
There was some distance yet until the next town. The wagon started rolling again, slowly at first but then reaching a brisk pace.
Though she was nervous to take the lead, she found herself relaxing half hour into the ride; and on their way to Attinvale they were- leaving the sweetness of Vanille behind them. It took only a few hours, the horse moving onward without a break- but the animal was about as nervous as Kella, and it feared stopping in case such an incident were to happen again.
Attinvale's signature windmills began to appear on the horizon, the large arms of the wheel moving slow, but steady against the winds. Mr. Armand had been right, it was extra windy here, and with less trees and a flatter landscape, there was not much stopping the western winds from sweeping through.
Kella shivered and nestled into her coat- one 'purchased' quite hastily from Mr. and Mrs. Armand. So were the gloves, but now only having one, she kept that exposed hand well tucked away inside the oversized coat, and was thankful for the coats extra layer for warmth.
Most didn't bother to give a second glance their way as they approached the city, their cart passing by men guiding mooing cows into the streets and others herding sheep. It was a farming community,t his much was for certain, but the smell of fresh bread over the scent of animals was evident and Kella was finding herself growing quite exhausted... and hungry from the smells.
She began to slow the horse, or rather, the horse slowed down on it's own as she peered around town for a place to go. Without money (for she had given it all to Aryn) she couldn't do much in this town - that was, unless she sold the wagon, it's contents and the horse...
The horse had stopped in the center of town, and Kella stepped off of the buckboard but was immediately greeted by some villagers who, knowing she was an outside her, told her she couldn't just park the cart there and directed her to an area to the west. Thanking the man for his help, she also inquired where she might make trade, and the man pointed towards a trading post just to the North. SHe nodded and thanked him again, and fussed over the sleeves of her coat as she took int he city, stepping around the wagon and near to where ARyn had been resting.
They hadn't spoke much on their journey, and she remained silent, back to him as she stood beside the outter edge of the back of the wagon, so that she was partially out of his point of view, but he'd know she was there. The wagon wall would have hid her, unless he moved to the end of it to address her when she spoke.
"Well, we're at Attinvale," she told him softly, shifting uncomfortably where she stood. "I suppose we can figure out what to do from here."
Aryn felt the wind even before they reached Attinvale in the darkness of the morning, and by the time the little cart rolled into the town square the hairs on his forearms were standing on end. He'd left his cloak back at the cake shop, but the entire ride he said nothing of it, stubborn as he was. Instead he just kept a palm on the long handle of his axe, eyes peering around for signs of trouble.
When he heard Kella's voice from over the side of the cart he slid forward to its back edge, until he sat with his legs dangling. He peered over at her with his piercing green eyes, though the dark rings around them spoke volumes. He'd not had any rest since that night in prison, and it was beginning to show. Still, he nodded his head in acknowledgement of their arrival.
"We'll get rid of the cart and hole up somewhere. It'll be a day or two before they get here, if they come on foot. At least we'll be ready for them then."
He reached into the front of his shirt and pulled out that same pouch of gold that she'd thrown at him the night before, though it was noticeably lighter. He tossed it her direction with a slight frown.
"I'll go see if I can get a good price for this wagon. Go find somewhere safe, with food and water. And please do try and not run away this time. Everytime you do, and everytime I chase after you, another part of my body shatters."
It was a reckless move, and he knew it. She'd already shown a knack for fleeing, and now he was practically giving back her precious money. If she disappeared from Attinvale, he'd be a lame duck when their assailants arrived for him.
Kella caught the money and peered up at him curiously.
"But what about your leg? I... we should both rest, I'm still sore from the fall. Then we can deal with this all later, don't you think? It's been a long journey, and I'd hate to remain here, lame and waiting. Would it be so difficult for you to accept an idea to stay the day but head back out at night? Or even the next morning? I'd... much rather not deal with those men at all," she said, casting her gaze away from him as she hugged onto her left arm with the other. She was cringing at the notion of a fight, but it was evident in her stance how uncomfortable she felt. But at his last question, she then peered up at him, staring into his green eyes and noting the tiredness of his face. He seemed years older. And that's when the guilt struck, even deeper than it had been but moments before.
"I won't flee," she told him softly, and moved closer to his side. Her words she spoke were delicate, and only for his ears. "You.. I....." she down cast her gaze, fidgeting with her remaining glove as she stood there, her hair falling over her face, hiding her eyes in the moment. "You've already done enough to help me. I don't know how I can ever repay you... and about earlier I... I'm sorry I got so upset. But my brother... you... you have no idea what you'd be sending me back to." And she looked up at him, the beginnings of tears shimmering across her eyes.
"If you think those men are bad, and the fact he.." and she looked away, lips trembling as she tried to fight back tears. She nudged them away with the back of her exposed wrist before dropping her gaze. "Though I suppose my story, what it is... it would not concern you. No one would care to believe me anyway." She shook her head, as if to shake away the memory and thoughts before turning to him, forcing a smile.
"To answer your question, yes.." she nodded her head and moved to turn away. "Perhaps we should sell the cart and just find a place to rest."
"He's your brother," Aryn responded in slight protest, though it was no more than that. He didn't know the Duke of Turgall, barely knew of him. Surely he couldn't be so terrible to his own flesh and blood, especially not since he was a man of such esteem. But then again, he didn't know what went on behind the closed doors of her palaces and estates. And he did hire those men to chase after her. Men of ill repute and questionable means. Perhaps the same could be said of him.
Still, he gave her a nod of the head and gestured for her to join him back up on the wagon. "I'd like for you to try me someday. Maybe it's not as unbelievable as you think."
The small trading post on the northern edge of town was just opening shop that morning, and so the two of them were the first customers. The trader was a wily old man who knew the value of flour during these lean times, and also knew the value of a long wagon with a deep bed. As he casually threw out a price to the two strangers, he was absolutely surprised when the Ironhand flatly refused the offering and immediately quoted a much higher price. Evidently the mercenary knew how to haggle, and how to do it well.
The exchange went on for some time and the merchant's face grew redder and redder with each rise in the price. But he had to concede that, at the end of the day he was still getting a great deal on everything the big man was offering.
When all was said and done, Aryn was left standing there holding the reins of Mr. Armand's horse in his teeth, a sizeable bag of jingling coins in his hand. He'd also somehow gotten a crutch thrown in with the deal, and now leaned heavily on it as he glanced to Kella. A hint of pride flashed from behind his tired green eyes and he shot her a grin.
"Right, he said there's a small inn about ten minutes from here. They'll have beds and food for us."
Kella had remained quiet at the exchange, though blushed when the old man had gone about calling her Aryn's wife. Though she meekly corrected him, other than that, she was drowned out through the conversation. Though upon hearing the inn was nearby, she afforded him a small smile and nod.
"That's good news. It hurts to walk on this leg," she admitted, but said no more on it as she held back a wince and walked. Her limbs were in no condition as his- infact, besides a short pain that shot up from her ankle, she faired alright, though it was evident in the way she walked something had twisted. ANd beneath the over sized boots she wore, her ankle had swollen.
She had ignore dhis question earlier, the one about trying him someday, but when eh had asked, she had looked athim, almost hopeful, but did not press. No, no. He wouldn't get it. And if so? Then what?
She bit into her lip, kept her face forward now and opened hte door for Aryn once they got to the inn- The Old Roost. A small, iron rooster was fashioned onto the top of the building, and inside, they were immediately greeted wth the smell of chicken and eggs.
The place was lively, seemed a place the town all went to for breakfast as meals were served and conversations lit up the room. Timidly, she looked around the room for a place to sit, and noticed a small table in the back.
"Looks like we could sit over there- order something to eat, then see about a room?" She looked to Aryn just once before offering to help him to the table. Sitting down, she looked about the place. It smelled of wood, and the rafters and support beams were all constructed out of unfinished wood. It gave a natural feel to the place, almost as if they were dining in a forest, though the posts had all of the tree limbs cut off, or suhc was the fashion, she supposed (Though if the limbs would have remained it would make for a more awkward layout of the room)
Turning to Aryn, she gave him a small smile before diverting her gaze to to the table.
"How is your leg?" And she looked down at it, but before he could answer,a bar maid came over and asked for their order.
"Welcome to the Roost. We're having bacon and eggs special, and also chicken stew for breakfast. So what'll it be? The eggs or stew?" And she set down some waters for them, as was the tradition in this place. Free water, but the rest- a fee.
Together, the pair of them limped their way into the Old Roost, the Ironhand reaching up to give the signpost a customary rap of the metal hand. The two of them were an odd sight, one limping, the other on a crutch, both seeming to hold each other up. They found their seat in the back quickly enough though, and if they drew any attention from the locals then it quickly faded as everyone went back to their own conversations.
Though thoroughly exhausted, Aryn had enough energy in him to give the barmaid a wide grin, as though she'd brought the greatest news he'd ever heard. The choice was too difficult to make, so he shrugged and said, "How about both?"
The benches were long and cracked, but there was enough room at their table for him to at least extend his injured leg to a full stretch, letting it rest comfortably against the ground. When she asked about it, he simply shrugged and said, "I've had worse. Give it a few days and I'll be fine."
That was an exaggeration, but no doubt he was trying to brush off the injury as much as possible. After all, they couldn't afford to look weak in a new town, easy prey for the local ruffians.
He leaned forward a bit and peered at her. She was back to her usual reserved self, avoiding eye contact and keeping her gaze on her hands. "How are you holding up?"
The barmaid returned just then with blackened bacon and greasy eggs piled on top of two wooden plates. The light that gleamed from Aryn's eyes said it all. He was starving!
((Wooo, happy 200th post!))
OOC: WOO! Grats 8D
Kella only gave one look his way then shied away.
"I suppose as fine as I can be." Though as she lifted her gaze to study him, it seemed as if she had more to say, but the barmaid came back right quick and Kella was blinking as she looked down at the plate of sizzling bacon and eggs. And at such a sight, it forced her stomach to growl loudly as she blushed.
"I.. I must've been hungrier than I thought,"s he said sheepishly, dropping her gaze again and trying to bury away her embarrassment by taking dainty bites of her meal.
Quite the opposite of Lady Kella Harmond, the more uncouth Aryn wasted no time in shoveling the breakfast into his mouth, chewing rapidly and washing it down with large gulps of water even quicker. Despite only having the use of his one hand, it was very soon that his entire plate was nothing more than bits of charred bacon bits and a thin film of grease. The barmaid returned with the chicken stew and, though she said nothing, widened her eyes in incredulity at how fast he'd chowed down on his meal.
Aryn slowed down his pace somewhat with the second course, but he still could not help but crack a wide, amused smile at the way she was gently picking through her food. It was as if she couldn't let go of those manners they'd taught her in that castle of her. It looked especially out of place in a seedy establishment like this one.
"You know, you don't have to pretend to be all cultured in front of me. You're starving. You know it. I know it. So why don't you just start shoveling it down? I won't judge, I promise."
Kella paused with one delicate bite in her mouth and nearly choked on her food when the man scarfed his portion down like a dog. Forcing herself to swallow the bit in her mouth,s he tried not tostare but.. from the corner of her gaze, she had to wonder....
Shaking away any thoughts, her attention perked up as she peered up at him when he posed his question, but only blushed and shook her head.
"N-no.. I... I just couldn't. But I'm fine.. really. They say your food goes down easier when you take it nice and slow."
And awkwardly, she kept her eyes on her plate, feeling weird that she was being watched, but placed another hasty piece of food into her mouth anyways while her hands were growing clammy.
Aryn shrugged his shoulders as she went back to daintily picking at her food. Maybe it was just a hard habit to break. After all, she did spend most of her life in decadence. He imagined himself trying to do the opposite, eating slowly and deliberately with the utmost grace. The thought was too much and he snorted to himself, nearly choking on his food.
It wasn't long before his bowl of stew was also cleaned out, and his cup of water empty. While Kella continued to eat, the barmaid came back around to collect his empty plates. He stopped her with a hand on her forearm and muttered something in her ear about a small room, preferably upstairs with a window. The barmaid replied, something to the extent that she'd see what she could do.
With nothing left but to wait, Aryn let out a slow exhale and rested both his real arm and his metal one on the table's surface. The sooner they were able to rest and recover their energy, the sooner they could leave. If anything were to happen before then... well, at least they still had Mr. Armand's horse.
Kella had only finished her meal when he had finished his second, and only after the barmaid had long gone did she bother to ask what he said.
"What... what did you ask her?" She moved about uncomfortably. She had seen.. somethings on her time on her road and only then, began to wonder, if Aryn was just like them, like the other men. And what he had shouted to her earlier....
Was he... seeking out a woman while they were here? She blushed at the thought- but wouldn't dare ask him that. She just kept her eyes on her empty place.
It was not her place.
At her question, Aryn took a quick peek around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. Everyone was minding their own business, mostly finishing up their breakfasts before a long day of work stretched ahead of them. Still, it never hurt to be careful. From the expression on his face, it didn't seem as though the Ironhand had the same thoughts that Kella did, not even for one second.
He leaned forward and said in a hushed voice, barely loud enough for the two of them to hear, let alone passersby.
"A room, somewhere in the back, with a window. Judging by this building it'll probably be facing an alleyway. I pray to Angsar it doesn't come to it, but if trouble arises then we can at least jump out the window and be off."
The barmaid returned with the innkeeper in tow, and the husky man's look of suspicion said it all. These ruffians could afford a room at his inn? He said as much, but instantly shut his mouth when Aryn produced a single gold coin for both their room and their meals. He instantly snatched it up with the politest of smiles and promised them that their room would be ready shortly.
Kella felt most uncomfortable when Aryn leaned in real close, and tensed as he informed her of his plan. She had been cringing, waiting to hear something she'd rather not when her eyes fluttered a bit to realize what he had said.
A room with a view. Or in their case, a good exit. She breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at how silly she felt (since really, why had she inwardly thought to accuse this man as such?) But too many men proved to her and event surprised her on things she'd rather not have been surprised on an...
"Yes, that sounds like a good idea," she told him, averting his gaze and trying to hide the small smile on her lips. Really, because it was so ridiculous what went on inside her mind and the relief made her feel all the more lighter for it.
But when the innkeeper came to question them, Kella held her breath. She wasn't sure what to tell him but Aryn knew well enough. Though once the inn keeper changed his tune and left the pair in piece , a key already deposited in Aryn's hand, she raised bother her brows at him questionably.
"It seems too many people are quick to judge base on money," she said in disbelief, but shook her head of it. "Shall we be off to the room then? You look like you could use the rest. Might I assist you?" Though the moment she offered, she immediately regretted, but then recalling how clothed she was- well... perhaps he would be alright. So long as they wouldn't butt heads or her exposed hand found his.
Aryn gave her a pointed look. "Aye... but for people like him and me, money is all we have."
He said nothing more on the subject, though at her offer of aid his tired face lit up like a lantern. A small grin creased his bearded face and his gave her a slight nod. He'd never admit it aloud, but even he sometimes needed help (and now was as good a time as any to accept it). He slid the key across the table to her and slowly pulled himself to his feet, aided by the sturdiness of that makeshift crutch on which he leaned heavily. His other arm draped around Kella's shoulders, fidgeting slightly to find a good balance.
The other patrons hardly took notice of these two strangers as, together, they limped their way around the bend and down a long corridor with doors on either side. A small stairwell ended the hallway, going up several steps to a small landing before turning and continuing to the cramped second level. A look of disgust crossed the Ironhand's face when they reached the stairs. Still, with her help, the two of them managed to struggle their way up.
The stairs were an agonizing struggle, each step had to be taken with care- but Kella had the patience of a saint, and she was gentle when she guided his wounded leg up, one step at a time. Once they found the narrow landing, she helped turned him, laughing even as they nearly bumped heads again. At this close a proximity, she noticed the way he smelled and it made her shiver. She had never been so close to a man before to notice their smell, though her brother had somewhat similar a smell, his musk was normally cloaked in perfumes and colognes.
"Here, we're almost there,"s he told him softly, but somehow it seemed the second half of the stairs were narrow as they turned right, and the pair barely managed to fit going up. Thankfully, Kella was relatively small and seemed nearly consumed by Aryn's hulking form as they made their way up the steps, and she was breathing a bit heavy once they did. It was an exhausting task and she was left with little reprieve as she noted a small door with a number at the end of the hall.
"That must be our room." And with some more labored steps, the two eventually got inside. Thankfully, her leg was feeling better, but she limped anyways after helping him to the bed. She hadn't even realized the room they had gotten only offered one bed, but not that it mattered- the rest of the inn was almost full- and to waste money on a second room for a second bed would have been foolish. Their resources were quite limited.
After he was situated, she moved away and took a chair for herself, and sat there a moment, closing her eyes as she caught her breath and let her heart beat slow. But she also found her mind wondering, and kept those lids closed as she thought back to her last time in Turgall- to those last few months when her brother had been acting strange..
Then the fateful night when he tried to-
and for the life of her, she didn't know why, but uncontrolled tears began to slip down her cheeks.
Life would never be the same. Blaith had become a monster, she had lost her brother, the only person she was ever close to, who shared the same, cruel fate as she and here she was, fleeing for her life with a man who was aiming to sell her back to that mess. And for the life of her, she just couldn't run away.
Aryn was breathing heavily too, and was slightly red in the face by the time the door was closed behind him and he found himself sitting on the side of the bed. It really was a cramped little room: a bed, a small bureau, a side table with several chairs. The window, much to his dismay, was a tiny little thing, and it would take some effort for him to properly squeeze through its narrow opening. Still, it was a decent enough room for their purposes. It faced a back alleyway, with a bunch of crates piled up just underneath the windowsill. If it came down to it, they'd at least have an avenue of escape.
Leaning against that crutch of his, he was beginning to say something when he noticed those large tear drops rolling down her cheeks. Though she was silent in her weeping, he had no words for her this time. He couldn't blame her for succumbing to the gravity of their situation (or rather, her situation). And what could he say in this circumstance anyway? After all, she already knew his purpose in this whole mess.
And so he just sat there, green eyes staring out the window at nothing in particular as she cried. It might've been several minutes of awkward silence between them, the only sound being the muffled noise of the common room downstairs as it drifted through their closed door.
After a few minutes though, he yanked the rough covers off the bed on which he sat. And then he stood up with a low exhale, reached out, and practically picked her up in his one arm to deposit her on the bed. Before she could even begin to protest or retaliate, he plopped himself down on the chair she'd occupied just moments earlier. He propped his injured foot up on the other chair and began laying out his belongings on the table.
At the look she gave him, Aryn simply said, "You need to rest. I'll make sure nobody disturbs you, so just lay down and close your eyes for a while."
She was surprised when Aryn suddenly approached her. She didn't even know what he was up to when he plucked her up and she yelped.
"A-Aryn!" And she struggled within his grasp, though it was short lived as suddenly she found herself on the bed and blinking. She looked over at him questionably, her tears halting in that moment.
"But I don't need to-" she began, but was promptly cut off by his request. She frowned then and peered down at his leg. "But you need the bed,"s he pressed. "What of your leg? You should keep the weight off of it. I can always rest in a chair."
But he? He was much larger than she and it only made sense he got the bed.
Aryn pressed his lips together firmly. The shake of his head was just as firm. He looked at her for all of two seconds before averting his gaze, instead going back to his belongings laid out on the table. His axe, his last dagger, and two different sacks of gold. Two days after first stepping foot in Vanille, this was all he had left.
"My leg will be just fine, I'm used to this sort of thing happening to me. You, on the other hand... you're hurt too. I saw you limping on the way up. And that cut on your head is starting to turn red. No, what you need to do is get a little shut-eye, and then when you're nice and rested up, we can see about getting your leg properly bandaged up and that gash cleaned."
He turned to regard her again, and his voice softened ever so slightly. "I'll keep watch. Don't be protesting now, y'hear? The sooner we recharge, the sooner we can get out of this town. Now get some rest."
Just like he'd been the day before, the Ironhand seemed to be covered in dirt and dust again. It just made that no-nonsense expression of his all the more pronounced. He certainly didn't look like he would take no for an answer.
Frowning, she peered up at him with her large, blue eyes.
"Aryn, it's nice of you to worry about me, but really, I ought to be fine." But at his insistence, she frowned. "I saw the way you looked when we entered town. You looked so dreadfully tired, as you do now. I don't think I'd be able to sleep knowing that you need it as well."
Aryn returned the frown with one of his own. It seemed they were at an impasse: he was unwilling to let her sleep on a chair, and she refused to rest until she saw him properly taken care of. It seemed they were both a little stubborn.
And then a yawn overtook him. He tried his best to suppress it but the corners of his mouth quivered from the effort and his eyes watered slightly. So much for keeping up an air of definitiveness and authority. He let out a slow exhale and then gestured with a wave of his fingers.
"Toss me one of those pillows and we'll call it even, alright?"
Nodding, she felt some relief when he obliged, but she did one thing better than his request. Standing from the bed,she peeled off one of the blankets nad took one of the pillows and walked over towards him.
"Here.. it'll keep you warm," she said, handing him the pillow then moving to walk around him as she drew the blanket up and over his shoulders then let it half close as she rested the remains of it on his lap.
"There. THough I hardly see how that can be comfortable, but we've both been through a lot."
And she still felt terrible about that, too.
Aryn took the pillow, but was caught utterly by surprise when she rounded him and draped that blanket over his shoulders. Twisting his neck to peer up at her, he stared for a moment before reaching up to pat her hand resting on his shoulder. Luckily for the both of them, it just so happened to be the one hand still covered in a leather glove.
The bundled half of the blanket rested haphazardly in his lap, and he used his metal right arm to even it out, until the only part of him not covered were his legs. His one bandaged and splinted leg remained propped up on the other chair. It was as comfortable as he was going to get, but he gave her a reassuring smile.
"More comfortable than prison, I'll say. Now that I'm all set, it's time for you to get all set. I'll see you when you wake up."
Though tired, he still had some things left to do. One of them involved inspecting the blade of his axe, for such maintenance might very well come in handy in the near future. Snatching it up from the table, he placed it in his lap, over the blanket.
Kella tensed when his hand touched hers, but wilted a bit with relief to realize no skin had touched her own. Blue eyes then turned to him curiously as he tried to usher her off to bed, then went about fiddling with his ax.
"Are you trying to dictate orders upon me?" she said with a soft smile, stepping around him now and near to the bed. "I don't know if I can sleep..." she admitted, blue eyes drifting towards the window which she approached slowly as she peered out to look down at the street. Not much was going on. In fact, it looked like a beautiful day.
The blade of his axe was still sharp at first glance, but closer inspection showed, much to Aryn's chagrin, that it wasn't as sharp as he would've liked it to be. Granted, he didn't need to keep it honed to a fine edge after every use. Maybe once Kella fell asleep, he might sneak out to replace his whetstone and the few daggers he'd lost. Then again, he was getting tired as well.
"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," he replied with a slight grin as he watched her maneuver toward the window. "Not many people get to say that they ordered a Lady around, so maybe I'm just making the most of my opportunity right now. Not that you're listening anyway."
Concluding that the blade of his axe was sharp enough for now, he replaced the weapon on the tabletop and folded his arms across his chest. It was only still the late morning, and people outside were buzzing about their daily lives. It seemed odd to be exhausted at this hour in the day, but they'd been traveling the better part of the night.
"I bet if you closed your eyes, you'll be out in a minute."
As if to prove a point he let his own green eyes shut. It was surprising how little resistance his eyelids gave him, and how difficult it was to open them again. Instead, he just kept them closed as a wave of exhaustion rolled over him.
When he spoke, Kella turned her gaze his way. A small smile graced her lips at his comment before she turned back towards the window.
"Yes, not many would," she mused softly, and a thought lingered at the end of her tongue but when she turned around-
"Hey, Aryn?" she noted his eyes were closed and snapped her jaw shut, saying no more. The vision of him nearly asleep (or even possibly fully asleep) in the chair made her smile. Slowly, she made her way back to the bed, finding his tiredness reminding her of her own.
"Yes.. perhaps some rest would do us both good,"s he whispered, eyes still glued to his face before she moved to lay down on the bed and did the same.
"Mmm," Aryn replied to the sound of his name. He didn't really catch the rest of it as his mind began to wander and shut down. He really WAS tired.
The dreams that came to him were brief and colorful, perhaps even comedic. He didn't remember any of them by the time he awoke with a slight start, eyes blinking in an effort to remove the blurriness of his vision. The door was still closed, the window still shut. When his eyes came into focus, he glanced over to the bed. Kella was still there, sound asleep.
He covered his mouth as he yawned and then peered out the window. The sun was still up, but the light filtering in through the glass was more orange than white. Apparently they'd slept the whole day away, and now by his guess it was sometime in the late afternoon. His leg felt a little stiff, but the swelling had gone down. Biting his lip, he gingerly tried to stand and put some weight on it. When the pain shot up his ankle he let out a low yelp, clamping another hand over his mouth so as not to wake the girl. His eyes watered slightly.
With a scowl he hopped on one foot over to the window to peer down at the street below. From the vantage point he could see the alleyway and perhaps a hint of the main road outside the inn. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, yet. Maybe they'd lucked out and their pursuers hadn't arrived.
The covers were draped haphazardly over Kella's form, barely covering even her skinny body. Reaching down, Aryn aired out the blanket and drew it up to her shoulders to cover her fully.
Kella was sound asleep. SHe was so exhausted, so worn down that she could have continued to sleep well through the night. Though as the sheets were drawn over her, she nestled into the bed and relaxed, and one hand moved to touch Aryn's hand- and she, not even awake to realize her skin had just touched his.
Aryn didn't expect that at all.
As soon as her hand touched the back of his, a terrible searing pain lanced through his entire body, from head to toe. It was an indescribable agony, perhaps like suffering in a fire, except much worse. Not a single inch of his being was free from the shocking sensation, and in a moment he suddenly realized that he was roaring.
Finally, barely cognizant of the situation he'd found himself in, he managed to yank his hand away from her bare touch. Immediately the pain ceased to inflame his body, but the lingering effects of it remained. He stumbled back two steps, not even registering the pain of his leg (which, compared to what he just felt, was nothing). Finally, he tripped and went crashing to the ground, ending in a seated position with his back against the wall.
His eyes were wide and his eyes bulging as he just gaped at her, breaths leaving his lungs in ragged exhales.
At the roar, her eyes snapped open and suddenly she was sitting up int he bed. The blankets fell away as she sat there, her own heart hammering, chest heaving with sudden, surprised breaths as she awoke to a shock- just a fragment of memories and breath stolen from Aryn that washed around inside her head- and then the familiar tingle that followed after..
A touch.
She saw Aryn against the wall and knew exactly what happened. She had touched him.
Her hand shot down to her gloveless hand, a hand that was still trembling as she clamped the other one over it as tears began to prickle within her eyes. By the Gods.. no...
And while Aryn was on the floor, backed into the corner like a frightened animal, Kella said nothing as she threw herself out of the bed and rushed over to retrieve her coat, fumbling as she got it on and grabbed nothing more.
She had to get out of there. If not for Aryn's sake, but her own. She had hurt him enough, and him finding out hte truth could only make this worse.
By Angsar, it all made sense now. The gloves, the hesitation.
She was a mage. No wonder the Duke of Turgall wanted so badly to have her returned to him.
Aryn was in such a state of shock that he barely even moved as she scrambled into her coat and went for the door. His eyes just followed her, his mouth agape. He realized that his hand had unconsciously gravitated toward the symbol of Angsar dangling from a rope around his neck, and that it now clutched the medallion in an iron grip.
This whole time, she'd been one of them.
And then, when she finally reached for the door and flung it open, the mercenary realized to his horror that she was getting away again. He too scrambled, though with a lame leg he couldn't do much except flop his way over to the table, leaning heavily against it as he grabbed for his axe. She was already out the door by the time his fingers found the wooden handle.
It wasn't even a moment later Kella's gasp could be heard, even from where the door had been left open to her room. She had only made it to the landing on the steps when the men had been coming up to snatch her.
"Well, well, well- looks like we don't have to work for our catch this time, Lady Harmond," came a gruff voice, soon followed by a second- and both men were laughing.
"No, please! Let me go!" Kella said, struggling within their grasp as she was passed from one man roughly to the other.
Shit. Shit. SHIT!
The word repeated over and over in his mind as he watched Kella disappear down the corridor and down the stairs. "GET BACK HERE!" he shouted after her retreating form, though internally he debated whether he even wanted her to turn around. She was a mage, after all, blessed and cursed by Angsar to carry her affliction in this world of men. They were to be pitied and feared at the same time.
Not even bothering to snatch up the wooden crutch lying against the wall, he let out another scream of pain as he began limping across the room and out the door, axe clutched in a vice-like grip. As he neared the stairs, he caught just the tail end of that gruff-sounding diatribe, and the frightened pleading of Kella. The scowl on his face narrowed significantly.
Finally he reached the top of the stairwell and glared down at the three figures occupying the landing. He brandished his axe and shouted, "Alright, GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!"
His roar probably might have been more intimidating if he weren't leaning heavily against the wall. As it were, he could barely stand on one foot, let alone two.
And his blazing green eyes... were they staring at the two men? Or were they staring at Kella?
Kella cowered in fear as she was jostled around between men, though at the sudden roar of Aryn, the men seemed to halt in whatever it was they were doing-f or Kella's skin had been crawling at their lewd manners and touch. But now all paused to look towards the looming, hulking figure of the iron handed man- and Kella's breath hitched in her throat, and she felt her grip on the men's loosen as she fell down. Instinctively, one of hte men reached to grab her, but his hand shot out to grab the ungloved one- and a second later he was howling and Kella, released and left to stumble down the stairs.
The subtlety of Kella's touch was not lost upon Aryn, who spied the movement of her hand immediately. It certainly shocked the other two men though, one almost jumping out of his boots with a bloodcurdling scream, the other turning to stare dumbfounded at his companion. The two of them were distracted just enough for the mercenary to lurch forward and swing wildly with his axe.
The arc of the swing propelled the Ironhand forward but his bad leg almost instantly wavered and then buckled when he placed his weight on it. The two men, though distracted, had just enough sense to back down the stairs to avoid being anywhere near the deadly vicinity of Aryn's axe. As the two of them fled back downstairs, one of them shouted, "The girl! Get her!"
Even in the late afternoon, the inn's common room had several patrons milling about minding their own business. That tranquility was instantly shattered when a woman came running down the stairs, followed hastily by two ruffians. A loud crash was heard as Aryn practically tumbled down the steps after them, cursing and shouting loudly as he fell heavily against the wall of the landing. The barmaid gave the four of them a single look before screaming her head off.
OOC: old post lost, just reposting something to replace it to move things along x.x
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Kella didn't have a chance to pick herself up off the ground when the men were upon her,g rowling and snarling, mad. They were rough and she let out a yelp as they handled her, and soon she was being ushered out the door. She couldn't fight, she could barely move, but the second she had any leeway...
Kella yanked her gloveless hand free and turned to place her hand angrily upon one of the men's faces-
and a second later he was howling again and Kella dropped to the dirt.
"She burned me! The girl fucking burned me!" and while the men were at a loss, she scrambled to her feet in attempts to get away.
"Ansgar's name, Rodney, do you think she's a mage?"
"Bloody hell if I know, girl probably has that burning salt I hear about women use to defend themselves. Come on, after her! She's getting away!"
And the men tore down the street, biting at Kella's heels like hounds. And Kella felt she could not run fast enough, those men- quickly gaining on her as she was tackled down and forced up against a wall. A rough, gloved hand was forced over her face, and she, being pressed beneath the weight of the men.
"Now, no time for screamin, girly," the man said, exposing rows of rotted teeth as he held up a knife. "Don't make us get physical on you, lest your brother finds you returned to him in pieces."
The other man hit the grubbier one.
"Easy now, Sid. The girl's worth more alive than dead. No one will pay to have us serve 'em a dead girl."
"Yeah- but this one's causin' an awful lot of trouble. But look at those eyes and face. I bet behind these rags she's got a good body, too. No wonder her brother wants her back."
"I ain't one to condone or condemn family weddings, but if i were her brother, I'd act the same!"
ANd the men all laughed, and Kella, afraid, now found herself growing angry and as the one man reached forward, laughing wickedly and trying to steal a kiss, Kella bit his hand and had the man howling before he punched her hard across the face, sending her to the cobblestone.
"The bitch bit me!" he howled.
"Yeah and earlier she burned me with salt, come on, Sid. Drag her off the dirt and let's get the rope. This one's going in one way or another."
ANd she was dragged down the alleyway, a horse and cart found at the end. She was shoved aginst the side of it, boots still on the road as she was bent over, arms forced behind her as they began to secure her limbs with rope and Kella couldn't fight it. One man had her by the hair, the other hand- holding a knife to her throat.
"Just stay right there girly while we tie you up nice and tight," he said, and seh coudl feel his foul breath upon her, making her near sick enough to retch.
Struggling on the landing of the stairs, his metal arm trying to grab onto anything to pull himself back to his feet, Aryn could only watch as Kella burst out of the door followed by the two filthy looking men. Lying on his side and practically cooking with rage, he could only scream after them.
"HEY! YOU FUCKERS GET BACK HERE!"
It was nearly half a minute before he finally labored his way back to a standing position, clearly favoring his left leg. Fuming and spouting obscenities under his breath, he staggered his way from table to table, each time leaning heavily against their sides as he bounced off them toward the door. The bartender, in a flash of sudden courage, stepped in front of the mercenary, hands out trying to slow him down. "Whoa, hold up, friend, you're hurt. You need t-"
The rest of the man's words died on his lips as the Ironhand gave him a furious shove to the side, practically throwing him to the ground as he stalked his way to the door. Fucking mages, he thought in his frenzy. Goddamn fucking mages.
As soon as he stepped out the door and into the wind, Aryn gave another scream of frustration. The trio was nowhere to be seen, presumably having rounded a corner in their chase, out of view. In his condition, he would never catch them. The grip on his axe tightened and his face turned beet red as he shook violently. It was so tempting to just go back inside and release his frustration there.
Good riddance. Her brother could have her and her cursed powers. Both of them could rot in hell.
He stopped short of turning back, though. Just around the corner of the building, tied to a long hitching post in front of a deep trough were several horses, idly standing together in a cluster. Hefting his axe up, the mercenary slowly limped his way toward them. At the sight of the furious man and his weapon, the horses began to whinny in fright and back away from this hulking beast. One horse though, a black mare, only shied away slightly.
Mr. Armand's horse had reins and a bridle, but no saddle. Indeed, the horse had hardly ever been ridden on, instead having been used by the old baker as a cart horse. Small wonder then that it took the one-legged mercenary more than one try to mount it. Everytime he slid off, he gave the horse a glare and a curse. After the fourth try, he finally managed to climb aboard the beast's back and direct it down the road.
In that little alleyway, the taller man finally fastened the bonds around Kella's hands. He spun her around then and gave her a rough shove into the cart's side, leaning in dangerously close to leer at the back of her head. He shot the girl a ragged brown smile.
"Alright, you little bitch, you going to cooperate now, got it? Otherwise I'll stick ye good, and not just with this knife o' mine."
His hand found its way down to grab a handful of her skirts, but before he could do anything the other man hissed, "Rodney! Let's go, we can have our fun once we get outta this village."
Rodney shot his companion a murderous glare before releasing her skirts. "Aye, can't be samplin' the merchandise just yet. Not before we get our money."
Kella was dumped into the back of the wagon like a sack of potatoes, leaving her feeling just as worthless after what the men had tried to do. Her skin, still crawling for it, and coupled with the chil of the air had her shivering from where she remained on her side. ONe of hte men crawled in the back with her, so when she tried to struggle, he gave her a soft kick.
"Lighten up or I'll lighten ya myself," Rodney chuffed, and Sidney took a seat at the front.
"The girl secure?" Sid sneered
"Aye, let's be off before someone sees us. This won't look good- just a pretty mess."
With a nod, Sid snapped the reins and the horse took off, going as quickly and inconspicuously, as they could down the wobbly streets.
Rodney practically sat on top of the bound Kella, judging from how close he was to her as the cart rumbled down the half-paved road. His clothing stunk of soot and shit, ragged wools stained with dirt and whatever else. The dagger gleamed dangerously in the fading afternoon light as he brandished it menacingly, leering down at her.
"Now just keep yer mouth shut and we'll all get long just peachy, y'hear?"
He kept looking up and behind the wagon to make sure they weren't pursued by anybody, not especially that hulk of a man with the gleaming metal hand. By Angsar, they'd barely dodged that axe!
"You sure downgraded something awful, eh? I bet everything you had was made of gold and silver back home, but you traded it all for some fun on the road. Well fun's over, little princess, we're trading you for some of your brother's coin. Speaking of which... Sid, whatcha going to get with your share?"
Sid glanced back from the buckboard. His crooked grin was just as disgusting as Rodney's.
"Well I ain't got a missus like you, but I know plenty o' other girls that accept cash. Speaking of which, I get first go-around with the girl."
"Like hell you do! I'm the one who did all the work here! If not for me, ol' metal arm back there would've taken your head clean off!"
Another wink to Kella. "Oh, we can just share. I'm not greedy."
The cart reached the edge of town and passed the last line of buildings before trundling down the winding dirt road heading north. Behind them, there was nobody in sight. Both men gave a small sigh of relief and looked forward. The wind was starting to pick up, and there was no forest cover for some miles at least. Rodney gave Kella another small kick just to remind her of her predicament, before the two men settled in for their journey to Turgall.
Kella trembled. The men's words sent a shiver to her skin, and a curdling to her heart. She felt sick, and even knowing neither men could never make good on their threats, she knew her brother had gotten far enough before both the twins were in pain.
A sickness sat coldly in her belly as she recalled that moment, hot tears slipping down her cheeks. Gods... her brother had almost..
She closed her eyes, trying to forget that moment when the man kicked her side to remind her she was theirs. She flinched at his leerful expression and curled into herself, a few more tears streaming down the side of her face.
Gods.. had she but stayed, her brother was working like a mad man, frantic to find a way to make his own sister his. She supposed she was cursed on two levels- one for beauty (though she supposed both her parents could be to blame- they had been very good looking individuals), and one because of the 'power' (and curse) she possessed. And after witnessing what had become of Blaith after using such powers- she was even more afraid of what she was than ever before.
Though she was too cowardly to simply take her own life,f or death frightened her- but she had no idea what else to do- and she remained, curled on the bottom of the wagon, as it lurched forwarda nd dragged her onward towards Turgall.
The cart continued to rumble down the long dirt road leading north as the sun dipped past the western mountains and the sky plunged into the darkness of night. As their journey wore on, the two men continued in their idle banter, topics ranging far and wide, from women they'd slept with to dice games they'd won. All the while the cart horse continued at a steady pace, though as dusk settled in the horse's frenetic speed slowed considerably.
Finally, the cart slowed to a halt just off the side of the road, beside what looked to be an ramshackle little abandoned cabin. The windows were boarded up and the door sat lopsided on its hinges, amidst a small field of wild grasses that wavered in the heavy winds.
Clearly the two men had planned this detour all along, as they quickly and efficiently rolled the cart behind the cabin and tied the horse down to a recently erected hitching post, out of view of the road. As soon as they'd arrived, Rodney gave Kella's prone form another harsh kick before grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her up. A single metallic tooth in his mouth gleamed momentarily in the moonlight as he hissed out a curt "Let's get warm, shall we?"
As the two men moved to get the girl inside, Sid suddenly perked up and peered down the road.
"SHIT!"
Immediately the two of them redoubled their efforts to get the girl inside, struggling to juggle that task with the other task of collecting all their belongings out of the cold.
And from down the road, the faint whinny of a galloping horse drifted their way.
Kella had been fortunate. Most of the wagon ride, albeit bumpy and uncomfortable, she was at least left relatively alone. Though the cart was like this for hours, and it numbed her where her body leaned into the wood- but a prompt kick when the cart halted had her gasping in pain as she turned towards the man now hoovering over her.
Though as they juggled her and their props, the men were soon swearing and dragging her inside. One glance spared over her shoulder confirmed they had been followed, and she desperately clung onto hope that it might be someone there to rescue her-
and that someone, she hoped foolishly, was Aryn.
To a soft, stained hay bed she was thrown as they men were cutting curse words left and right. She struggled from where she was bound to look around, but a bag was quickly thrown over her head now, then secured. Panicked, she thought hse couldn't breath in the thing and began to wriggle, but a smack to her back made her yelp and cowered.
"Calm the fuck down, woman! Can't you see we're all nervous!"
But none as nervous as she. Kella shivered in fear upon the bed as she felt the men begin to cuff a chain around her ankle, before securing it's links to the bed frame. She couldn't see it, but the key was pocketed in Rodney's shirts, and the men were scrambling and taking up fire arms.
"If that asshole whose following us gets to close-" Sid began.
"We'll simply blow his head off." Rodney finished, and Kella's stomach grew cold at the sound of them loading their guns.
The two men silently went to work loading up their culverins, pouring what little blackpowder they had and stuffing small metallic pellets down the smoothbore tubes. The boarded windows provided barely enough gaps for them to see outside, let alone stick the barrels of their firearms out with much maneuverability. Still, Rodney found a wide enough crack between two rotting planks to take aim.
"Watch the girl, I'll deal with this fucker," Rodney hissed at his companion as he fumbled to light a slow burning fuse to insert into his gun. Sid, holding his own gun, retreated to the back of his room where Kella lay bound and shackled to the rusted bed frame. He forcefully hoisted her to her feet and held her between himself and the door. One arm clutched tightly to her upper arm, the other gripping the firearm with sweaty palms.
"Don't you move an inch, girl, or I'll blow your head off," he muttered into her ear, his rank breath coming out in short fevered spurts.
The rider appeared first as a shadow against the black horizon, and materialized into a clearer silhouette as the horse approached the small cabin in a powerful gallop. Rodney moved his head and right, trying to find a perfect angle from which to peek out at the rider. From here, he still couldn't see much. He could barely make out a human form atop the back of the horse.
Then, suddenly, the clouds obscuring the moon above drifted apart enough for a soft beam of light to illuminate the rider. Rodney still couldn't make out the figure's identity, but a sudden gleam of light against metal startled him enough for him to pull the trigger of his weapon.
With an incredible -BANG!-, the gun discharged its packed ammunition at the rider, perhaps twenty or thirty feet away from the cabin. The rider gave a surprised grunt, which was mostly drowned out by the death throes of the horse as it bucked onto its hind legs, throwing its rider to the ground before collapsing in a heap of burnt and bleeding flesh. Both horse and rider lay on the cold dirt, unmoving.
The force of the blast knocked Rodney clean off his feet and onto his back, where he lay stunned for a second as the residual smoke from his firearm enveloped the room in a haze. After a second, the man sat up blinking and said, "I think... I think I got him."
Sid, still cowering behind Kella, gave him a frightened glare and shouted, "Well go and check!"
With a cough, Rodney slowly climbed back to his feet and nervously opened the door, stepping outside to make sure their pursuer was, in fact, dead.
Kella was yelping and crying by now as she was dragged around. With a weapon pointed at her, she began to tremble uncontrollably as she sobbed and sobbed.
"Shut yer yap girl before I pop ya one!"
"Don't forget she's better off to us alive than dead," Rodney spat back. "But I'mma go see what I can see." And after checking his gun for the umpteenth time, he stepped outside.
The hour was dark, and the dirt path- darker. Fate would have the moon dissolved behind the clouds by the time he made it tot he street, and he cast his squinty eyed look down at the horse and figure. Cautiously, he looked the man over. It was the damn metal hand brute from earlier- but seeing as he was laying there, face in the dirt, gave Rodney many good reasons to laugh.
"You dead, you soddin' son of a bitch?" And he gave Aryn's side a good kick to be sure.
Riding down this road had been on a whim, really. Aryn had ridden all over the windmill-laden town looking for a sign of Kella and her captors, but had found nothing but a set of wheel marks pressed into the mud. Out of sheer desperation he had directed Mr. Armand's horse toward the town's northern road, on the assumption that the men were taking Kella back to Turgall.
The cabin had been an afterthought on his way up the road, and by sheer luck Aryn had veered slightly off the road toward it. The sudden gunshot had surprised him for a split second before the metal pellets ripped through the horse and showered him in the animal's blood. And then he felt the shrapnel rip through his shoulder and out his back. He was on the ground the next instant, Mr. Armand's poor horse in a heap beside him.
Face down and only half conscious, Aryn was only slightly aware of the cold dirt pressed up against his bearded face. Everything seemed to be spinning around in his half-lidded vision, a loud ringing still reverberating in his ears. He barely made out the outline of a man cautiously slip out of the cabin's front door, a crude firearm held in his hand. Rodney's kick elicited just a bare moan from him.
"A good effort," the man sneered, "but now your journey stops here. You know, the girl would be proud of ye. Too bad you didn't make it to the end."
He put his foot on the fallen mercenary's back and aimed down at his head, finger ready to pull the trigger. Suddenly though, the Ironhand heaved his body and swung his heavy metal arm around, catching Rodney right on the shin. Crying out in surprise, Rodney accidentally pulled back on the trigger while his gun was still flailing in his hand. With a massive discharge, the gun fired its round harmlessly to the ground, sending Rodney tumbling to the ground amidst a shower of dirt.
And then he was suddenly pinned down by the bulky weight of Aryn's torso. With a dizzied snarl, the Ironhand savagely swung his arm down upon the man's head. Rodney's scream abruptly cut off with a gurgle and then went silent as Aryn bashed him again and again and again. By the time Aryn rolled off of him and lay panting in the ground, breaths visible as short bursts of condensation in the cold air, there was nothing recognizable left of the ugly cutthroat's face.
Inside, as soon as the discharge went off, Sid tightened his grip on Kella's arm. "R-Rodney?" he called out into the silence. When no sound came in response, he quickly wrapped his arm around Kella's chest and pointed the gun at the open doorway, body trembling behind his human shield.
At the sound of the gun shot, Kella nearly leaped clean out of her skin,a nd instinctively, pressed herself up against Sidney. Though as his arms came around her, she trembled and cringed, blue eyes watering as she stared at the door frame, wondering if the mystery man would appear- or that of Rodney and an update of another death.
Smoke from Rodney's first shot still lingered in the darkened interior of the cabin, and now a slight trail of smoke began to blow in from outside, carried by the intensifying winds. The wind was the only sound too; no voices, no shouting, nothing. Sid trembled more and more with each passing second, gun hand now shaking.
"C'mon, Rodney, stop fucking around!"
Somebody suddenly came hurtling through the front door directly toward Sid and his captive. He let out a terrified scream and shut his eyes, pulling the trigger. The room was filled a second time with a loud flash, an incredible boom, and an eruption of choking smog. The blast hit the approaching figure straight in the chest, and the man's body crumpled to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
The gun blast forced Sid to drop the weapon to the ground as he needed both hands to keep his balance. He managed to stay on his feet though, but in the process he dropped Kella as well. Standing there now, Sid coughed in the haze and tried futilely to fan the smoke from his face. His gunshot victim lay at his feet, blood beginning to pool around its torso and slowly trail over to Sid's boots.
In his shock and awe, and with all the smoke and darkness, Sid stared down at the body.
"H-hey Rodney," he called out the door, "that was a close one but I got him. I got him good."
He didn't notice that the corpse had two hands.
Kella screamed as the gun fire shot off, ringing in her ears and the blast- temporarily blinding her with it's flash and smoke. SHe coughed through the debris and found herself breathing heavily, nearly choking on those breaths as the smoke cleared. At first she saw the downed figured and feared the worst- that Aryn was dead as tears began to fill her eyes, for she too, was in too much shock to realize the corpse was none other than Rodney.
A loud thump came from the doorway, a broad-shouldered silhouette bathed in moonlight and smoke. Aryn held tightly to the doorframe, breathing shallow breaths as he struggled to remain standing. His knees were buckling heavily, all of his weight balanced on his one good foot while his broken one dangled uselessly underneath him. His good arm seemed almost limp as well. Rapidly the upper portion of his shirt was beginning to redden with blood, though it was hard to tell how much of it was his and how much was the horse's.
His green eyes seemed glazed over and barely alert, as though he were staring off at nothing. Indeed, both lids seemed to droop heavily, like he was on the verge of passing out. And still, he began lumbering his way into the cabin, practically dragging his broken self inside.
"...Surprise, you fucker."
Sid barely noticed at first, but when he finally did, it was too late to pick up his gun, reload it and fire off a second shot. Instead he was tackled -or more accurately, was fallen into- by Aryn's heavy form, knocking both of them to the ground. In any other fight the battle of strengths would have easily favored the Ironhand, but in his injured and concussed state he barely had the strength to stay atop Sid, struggling mightily beneath him. The ruffian reached for the dagger at his belt as Aryn weakly punched at his side with his good hand.
Kella was knocked aside the moment Aryn came down upon her kidnapper. Tears filled her eyes, this time of joy, but also despair. It was hard to tell how alive he actually was in the mess, but seeing the fight and the sudden knife, Kella could not let Aryn die for good.
Not after all he'd done for her.
Not after all they'd been through.
She cried out, and though her body was still bound- her legs were not and she did the only thing she could think to do- and made an attempt to kick the man's and holding the knife- and gave it as hard of a kick as she could- then proceeded to kick him harder, and harder still, right across his face.
Sid finally got the knife free from his belt. His face was turning red from Aryn's weight pressing down on his ribs, making it incredibly difficult to breathe. From underneath the mercenary, he gave the knife a wild swing, able to open up a slight gash along the big man's side. Before he could stab again though, Kella's foot caught him right in the knuckles once, then twice. The dagger rolled out of his fingers and, turning in surprise to regard the girl, another boot cracked his teeth.
That little opening was all Aryn needed. Though his strength was waning fast, he had enough energy left to raise his arm and bring it down on Sid's thick noggin. This man lasted longer than his companion Rodney, the first blow knocking him senseless and cutting him across the forehead. The second and third blows elicited a loud crack in his skull. The rest of the blows finished him off.
The job done, Aryn practically slumped over on top of the lifeless corpse. Those metal pellets had really done a number on him; it took all his effort to even reach out and feebly grab the knife. He held it in his hand and brandished it over Kella, green eyes barely open and barely alive, but staring straight at her.
The moment was a night mare, and Kella was left there with the haunting memories of the sound of the man's death. She was numbed by it, her heart beat the only thing she could feel. But then seeing the flicker of a knife, she turned to regard Aryn and his tired form.
"By Ansgar's name, Aryn.."she said, tears running down her face. She couldn't even get out her words of thanks, but the look of relief on her face and those tears spoke volumes and if she could embrace the man she would, but she was still chained to the bed and only her legs were free, now bared openly as her skirts had been kicked back.
"I.. I thought you were dead."
But thank God he was alive.
The knife was still held up in Aryn's trembling hand as he slowly lifted himself up enough to loom over here. His expression was a mixture of pain, anger... and conflict.
"...you're a mage..." he weakly said as he stared at her, the point of the knife suddenly gleaming in the bare lines of moonlight that managed to filter in through the window slats. It was hard to tell what he was about to do with the knife: stab her, or free her?. He grit his teeth together.
And then he reached down. For a moment it looked as if he was about to grab her by her exposed thighs, but at the last second his bloodstained metal hand slid past them and to her waist, taking a hold of her. Though barely conscious at this point, she was still light and thin enough for him to roll her over roughly. The knife came down and, a few saws later, the rope that bound her wrists behind her back fell to the ground in thick strands.
When he was done, the knife dropped from his limp grip and he fell backward heavily and onto his back, lying there prone beside the corpse of Sid, gasping for breath, face screwed up in agony.
The fear was evident in her gaze the moment she saw him with the knife and accused her of just exactly what she was. The only thing she could say to that, was a delicate and frightened, "Yes."
Though she said and did nothing as he moved over her, steeling herself as her fate was in in his hands. If he sought to kill her now, he deserved it- after traversing hell to chase her all the way here. She closed her eyes when his shadow consumed her, but then, she felt herself pushed over as she gasped and the knife was taken to the ropes. Finding herself free, she turned around, peering down at his strewn form as he breathed.
After a moment of observing him, she moved to kneel close to his side. She examined his face, saying nothing at all as she regarded the pain in his expression. And though she knew it was foolish, she knew she could hurt him, she threw herself against him suddenly, though not roughly, as she held him in an embrace.
A moment later, he'd hear her sobs and tears against his chest as she buried her face into him.
"By Ansgar's grace, you are a Saint to me,"s he told him, her body trembling as she held him tenderly and close.
She just wished she could do more. Wished her powers could do something to help him. Wished she could at least hug him more properly than this, but as it was so- their clothing kept their flesh apart, and so; this was the safest option to show just how much she cared.
Though barely awake enough to move, Aryn nonetheless flinched slightly when Kella threw herself over him. The memory of that last touch still lingered at the forefront of his thoughts, and he could almost feel the indescribable surge of agony that had coursed through his entire being the moment their skin had touched. He didn't understand what she had done, nor did he care to find out. Magic was a gift of Angsar, but one called for constant vigilance lest the powers be abused.
When she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, though, no sudden pain struck him. He waited for what seemed like an eternity, and still nothing. The only perception he had was that she was thanking him and sobbing into him. She probably wasn't going to let go anytime soon. Her magic was nowhere to be found.
Slowly and reluctantly he reached up with his left hand, trembling from the effort and exhaling a slow groan from the pain. He meant to give her a pat, but the strength in his arm failed him, and instead his hand came to rest gently on her lower back. His eyes shut tightly as his head lay against the hard wooden floor.
Through that pained expression, a slow wry grin crept onto his face and wrinkled the corners of his mouth as he let out a cough and a feeble laugh.
"You know... what would be... so nice... right now? A... nice long bath..."
He could feel the stickiness of his clothing as it soaked through with blood and clung to his frame. The gunshot wound had gone clean into his shoulder and out the back. Even now, his blood still leaked out, staining the floorboards. His head pounded fiercely.
She was still sobbing. He was growing weaker and weaker by the second, and really had only the energy shift his arm slightly, fingers moving up and down to gently drum at her back in lieu of an actual pat.
"By Angsar... what a week, eh...?
She gave the faintest of laughs through her sobs, a sound like a broken song.
"I would give you the world," she whispered, still clinging to him close. "But if all you wanted was a bath, I'll find you one."
She smiled faintly, though it faded into a cringe as she remained there, laying against him before her blue eyes slowly opened as she listened to the rise and fall of his chest. Lifting up her head, she peered at his face and saw how tired he looked, then down to the wound she observed the blood.
"You've been shot." She placed a hand over her lips, as more tears bubbled forth.
What a week? Oh Ansgar, it felt certainly more like a decade of pain. But how on earth had it been- that a man she met, one who was hired to hunt her down and bring her back home- had saved her life, time and time again? Yet all she could do was whimper and cry and become a curse to him- a bad luck charm.
Even through his chest, she might probably have noticed the raggedness of each breath that left his lungs. For a long moment Aryn simply lay there with his eyes closed, a half-grin half-grimace plastered all over his face, the girl plastered all over him. For a brief time all the pain in him, in his broken leg and in the bloody wound in his shoulder, faded away to the rhythmic pounding in his head. Truthfully, of all the injuries he'd suffered this night, falling off that horse and cracking his head against the frozen dirt had been the worst.
When he heard her let out a low gasp and point to the bloody mess near his torso, he finally cracked his green eyes open a bit. They wouldn't open more than a sliver, and his perception of her was a blurred one. All he could really make out were those incredible blue eyes of hers, almost gleaming in the darkness. He tried to sit up and immediately groaned, laying back down.
"Aye... I've never been shot before... nice to experience... something new..." he croaked out with another wheezy laugh, shaking his head. He immediately regretted doing so as the pounding in his head intensified.
"Does it look bad...?" he asked, before suddenly realizing the kinds of questions he'd been asking. "Who cares, it's... just another ruined shirt... but how're you holding up...?"
Kella trembled as she held onto her mouth, tears still slipping down from her eyes. She couldn't even answer him at first. There was just- just so much blood! And he looked so weak...
Fearing the worst, it made it doubly hard for her to believe the last thing he said. She dropped her hand away from her mouth and gaped at him.
"Why would you worry about me? Are you a fool? I am not the one bleeding! But yes.." she said, shaking her head and finding her lips trembling as she smiled. "I am fine."
And it was all thanks to you...
"That's good...And you're right... I'm an idiot... I mean, look at me... "
Aryn practically had to grunt out his answer to her, as he was beginning to feel lightheaded. His heartbeat was rapid and weak, and he started shivering a little from the shock. He hadn't felt this way since... well, since he lost his arm.
"Right, this is... what you need to do now... you need to find a blanket or coat... and press down on the wound... stop the bleeding..."
And perhaps drag poor Sid's body outside and then shut the door. The wind was still howling outside, and from the looks of it, a slight snowfall was entirely possible at this point. In his feverish state, he almost wished he had a bottle of something strong to drink. And a plate of eggs.
Kella went to remove her own coat without a second though when she gasped as the coat arm got stuck on the metal cuff that still bound her to the bed. She gave a few angered pulls before releasing a frustrated groan.
"I... I can't get my own coat off!" But then she paused to realize... Sid's body. She grimaced at the idea of touching a dead man, but Aryn needed help. She crawled arund ARyn and- found herself just at the end of her chain, but she strained her hands and worked fervently in wriggling the coat from the corpse.
Once it was free, she let out an elated grunt and turned to crawl to ARyn's side.
"Here," she said, blonde hair falling over her eyes. She gently placed it over the wound and rested her hand over the coat. "I.. I hope I'm doing this right." And she held her breath, seeing the pain in his face.
"I... I'm sorry," she told him meekly, her lips trembling as she studied the poor man as he lay there- in a heap of pain.
As soon as she pressed down on his wound, his eyes shot open with a low gasp of pain. The fire radiated wildly from the wound, and almost immediately Sid's poor jacket became damp with Aryn's blood. He bit his lip and shook as water welled up in his eyes.
She wasn't pressing hard enough though.
"Harder..." he urged with the last of his breath, "put your weight into it... really make me feel it..."
And as she complied and applied more and more pressure on Aryn's wound, he thrashed slightly from the pain of it. Somewhere in the whole ordeal he let out a low cry, unable to hold back his scream of pain.
It was hard to tell how much time passed as Kella kept the coat firmly pressed down against the wound. After a while, it seemed as though the worst of the bleeding had stopped, only a small trickle still seeping from the wound. By then, Aryn had fallen unconscious.
She obliged him, every word, though she feared hurting him- she knew it could be the difference between life and death, though when he stilled, her eyes wavered- was he dead?
Catching the subtle rise and fall of his chest, she released a breathed and went to move, but her chained wrist caught her, prohibiting much motion.
SHe fought against the rattling chains a few times before giving up, but while Aryn continued to sleep, she would check on him-t hen begin to look for a key. Where had those men put it? After searching the only nearby furniture she could reach, she slumped onto the bed with a sigh before glancing over at ARyn again.
She should move him to the bed-but he was injured...
Not wanting to bring him more pain, she moved over towards the corpse and removed another layer of his clothes and stuffed the vest the man had been wearing beneath Aryn's head, and for a good long while, she stared down at his sleeping face-
That was, until something shining caught her eyes. She turned with a blink and regarded the key, which was slipping out from the dead man's pocket. Gasping, she snatched it up and saw the key fit and released an elated breath. After she turned the key, it clicked and fell away and she rubbed at her now freed wrist before closing her eyes in a moment of thankful prayer.
It didn't take long for herself to become exhausted, and with it being so cold, she decided to take the risk and nestled in beside Aryn, using her hood as a pillow and to keep her face from touching his muscled arm, where she now nestled into him.
And though she was exhausted, she found it difficult to get to sleep, for each time she drifted into slumber, she'd awake from a nightmare a second later. shivering, she curled up even tighter and kept herself as close to him and away from his wounds as possible before finally- she fell asleep at his side.
The bitter cold of night slowly transitioned into the faint light of morning. The pale blue of the pre-dawn sky filtered in through the slats of the window, bringing with it tiny snowflakes.
Sometime during the night, a light snowfall had dusted the entire area.
Aryn's eyes remained tightly shut as he unconsciously inhaled and exhaled, the breaths misting as they left his mouth. His skin had turned a bit paler during the night, cool and clammy to the touch. Beads of sweat gathered on his brow even as his body fought the circulatory shock and loss of blood he'd sustained the night earlier. Kella, nestled up tightly against him, probably would have felt the slight tremble in his body, sporadically throughout the night.
When morning broke, Aryn didn't awaken from his comatose state, though the shallow rising and falling of his chest indicated he wasn't quite dead yet. The only sounds to be heard were the soft whistling of the wind through the window, the creaking wood of the abandoned cabin, and the faint whinny of the bandits' horse, still tied out back.
The smell of blood still weighed heavily in the chilly air, a stark reminder of what had transpired in the darkness. But as morning light slowly lit up the cabin's interior, it also revealed the carefully hidden provisions that Rodney and Sid had left here, precisely in anticipation of their arrival. Several packs, wrapped away in blankets, were nestled in the corner of the room just behind an overturned table.
When morning had come and Aryn had not stirred, fear over took Kella. She was in no means a medic, nor knew how to take care of those sick (Lest he had a cold, then she'd find a way to offer him soup and keep him in a bed) but the fact he was so banged up and damaged and almost as chilly as the late autumn air had her worried.
The sound of a horse outside frightened her, and she was almost too terrified to check until she heard it's pawing came again. Tip toeing outside, she noted the beast and stared at it, ad the cart in wonder.
If she could get Aryn into the cart, she could get him to a town. Rushing back inside, she paused a moment over Aryn's body before dropping to her knees and using a gloved hand to run through his hair.
"Aryn.." she spoke, gently but loud enough in hopes to wake him. "Aryn..." Was he still there?
Aryn remained motionless and unresponsive at first, even as she softly called out her name and ran a gloved hand through his matted hair. His lips were parted slightly, and pale like the rest of his face. A small wisp of breath trailed out of his mouth, forming a tiny puff of fog that dissipated in the morning air.
And then slowly he began stirring, starting with a low rumbling groan. His eyes cracked open the slightest bit and he feebly blinked up at the blurry silhouette hovering over him. Immediately he let out another groan as the intense pounding in his head started up again, exacerbated by the light streaming in from behind her. Stubbornly he tried to sit up and realized that he could barely move, as weak as he was. His entire body was soaked with sweat and even now he shivered.
That didn't stop him from grinning just barely though. In his fevered state, he still half-recognized Kella, those blue doe eyes peering down at him worriedly.
"Well, well... look who...it is..."
"Aryn?" she missed the reason behind the tone in his voice, but not the smile, which only made her smile in return as she took a gloved hand and squeezed his. "How are you feeling?" she asked, ignoring the tears that blurred those blue eyes he was looking into.
Aryn shut his eyes again and let his head lay back down on the folded vest. He just barely felt her give him a squeeze of the hand. His own fingers squeezed back slightly.
"Ugh...to be honest...feel like shit... anyway, ready to go...?"
Judging by his question, the Ironhand clearly still considered himself in charge of their affairs. That, or the delirium had him thinking they were somewhere else, instead of huddled together in this dark little cabin. Again, he shifted around, trying to pull himself up into a sitting position.
"Go?" her exclamation came through a few tears.
"Are you sure you're well enough to get up?" He looked like complete shit!
Seeing him try to move, she gasped and moved beside him.
"Easy.." she whispered, her breath splaying across his cheek before she turned her face away, remaining ever cautious of their skin contact.
"Let me help you. If you can stand... there's a wagon out back and a horse. I could get you to town." She bit her lip. "And we can see if we can't get you tended to properly."
"I'm fine," he insisted in a soft voice, though clearly he wasn't. Even now, his stubbornness shone through his tired eyes. As she knelt beside him to assist him in sitting up, he let out a little grunt, cracking a smile at her.
"Y'know, I like you... you've got moxie..."
He weighed significantly more than she did, and it certainly didn't help that there was a piece of iron strapped to the stump of his right arm. It was a struggle, but between the two of them they managed to pull the Ironhand up to at least his feet, his torso leaning heavily against her shoulders. More than once he winced in pain as something tweaked in either his leg or in the fresh bloody wound in his shoulder. His shirt crackled with every movement as the fabric, soaked through with blood, flaked slightly in showers of red.
Eventually they were able to make to at least the doorway, where Aryn took his weight off of her and transferred it to the old door frame, leaning heavily against it, squinting from the light outside. Every breath came out as a puff of frost.
He turned his head slightly to look back inside. Even in his state, he was able to spot the packs in the corner.
"Grab their stuff... might come in handy..."
Kella frowned at his comment.
He was fine?
"You're hurt,"s he pressed. But then at his admittance of liking her, she simply turned rigid and blushed.
Helping him to the door was a chore nad a half, and she was relieved when he could use the frame to keep himself up right.
"I can look through their supplies once I get you into the wagon."
Moving past him, she moved around back and gathered up wgon and horse. The dark steed moved hesitantly towards the front- but it had good reasons to become uneasy. The smell of death was everywhere- not to mention, it saw the other dead horse.
"Easy.. easy,"s he spoke, breath coming out in puffs of white as she patted it on the cheek.
Halting the horse just beside the house, she smiled and approached Aryn's side.
"Are you ready for the road again?" she asked, glad to see he was still able to stand, still able to smile.
Even leaning on the doorframe without falling over required some effort out of Aryn, and he pressed his mouth together in slight frustration. He wasn't that injured, now was he? And yet he could barely move, barely remain standing.
When Kella brought the wagon around to him, he peered over at it and said in a moment of levity, "Can I say no...?" Nonetheless, he furrowed his brow and gave her a weak nod. Getting him up there would be yet another struggle for the two of them.
Small flakes of snow swirled around the two of them, dusting their shoulders with white. Both Rodney and Mr. Armand's horse still lay on the ground covered by the stuff. And in the dirt, not far from where he'd initially fallen from the horse, lay his axe.
He pointed at it and said to her, "Help me over there... so I can grab it..."
Kella glanced over to where he pointed then promptly shook her head.
"I can fetch that for you, now come on. You have to conserve your energy. We don't want you to start bleeding again." And she spared him one glance before helping him to the wagon's back, and though it was more effort than lifting him off the ground, she eventually helped load him int the back, but not before she slipped on the slickening snow.
He might have been secured in the back of the wagon, but she fell to her knees with a yelp. She stood up a moment later, trying to re-find her legs before she glanced back to Aryn.
"Right, now stay here," she ordered, lifting up the hood of her cloak and securing it over her hair. "I'll fetch your ax. And the supplies."
Moving away from him, Kella fetched up his ax first, and was wary of the dead bodies as she grimaced at such a gruesome scene. Thankfully, most of the blood was covered in a dusty layer of snow, and she huffed out white breath while reaching down for it.
She returned to the back of the wagon, not only carrying the ax, but a few things she had taken from Rodney's body she deposited next to him as well.
"Here, I.. I took this from that man." She pressed her lips together and looked up at Aryn. "Just a simple scarf nd a few kerchief among other things." And then she blushed and offered him a small, rusted metal case. "And he had some miniature cigars. I.. Id on't know if you like to smoke, but sometimes my brother did." She never fancied the things. "There was also a hatchet on him." Which she set aside. "And some money." ANd she set a few silvers down beside his leg.
Stepping back, she smiled awkward at him while brushing some tickling pieces of snow and hair from her face.
"I'm going to head back inside, see what else I can find."
And a few trips later, she had the back of the wagon loaded. Though someone like Aryn could have done it in one or two trips, it took about eight times for Kella to check the place, grab what seemed useful, then head back outside.
The last trip she had procured the blanket from the bed, which she offered to him wth a soft smile.
"Here, she said, moving to climb up into the wagon backside him. SHe threw the blanket over his strewn form, s if tucking him in- and like this, she was not afraid to use both her hands- the gloved and the gloveless.
"Now you can keep warm," she told him, her eyes warming at the thought, her cheeks turning pink. "It has gotten frightfully chilly since our journey first began."
Only but a week ago...
Aryn basically lay there as if he was King of the Cart. It wasn't by choice, he simply did not have enough energy to straighten himself up or even prop himself up into the sitting position. Out here in the cold air, he found that he was shivering more than he had been before. No matter how hard he tried, his body just continued to tremble on its on accord.
A slight exhale of relief left his mouth when he dumped the axe into the back of the wagon with him. He didn't have much left, and finding a new weapon would've been such a pain in the ass. As it were, the rest of Rodney's and Sid's belongings made quite a decent haul for the two of them. Those cigars, especially. They would fetch quite a good price on the open market.
By the time Kella had finished scouring the little cabin, the wagon was practically full. He made no protest when she gently draped that thick blanket over his prone form and tucked it in like he was a child, but frowned slightly at the sight of her. All she had was the oversized coat she'd stolen from Mr. Armand.
"Here... at least...take the scarf..." He winced and let out a low cough before continuing. "Snow's going to... get worse..."
She took the scarf and held it in her hands with a nod, then moved to wrap it delicately around her neck, before lifting just a slight bit of it over her mouth before she leaned in and kissed his cheek, soft. The clothe would protect him, naturally, and the way she was wearing the scarf hid her blush.
"Thank you, Aryn," she spoke, eyes seeking his. "For everything you have done and sacrificed for me."
Admittedly, Aryn hesitated when she drew near. He still wasn't sure what she could do. But when she placed a soft kiss upon his cheek, he offered her a frail smile in return before his green eyes closed.
"Just doin' what any man would... but thank me later... we still need to... get out of the cold..."
He felt several snowflakes land delicately on his chilled skin. Moments later, the cart gave a lurch and he knew they were off.
The road was a long cold one, and she had no idea where they were going- or the fact they were heading west instead of her preferred direction of either south, or east. THe next town didn't seem to be coming, and the day rolled onward, nearly night,a nd she was cold and hungry.
She paused the cart and moved around back, crawling into the wagon bay to speak with Aryn.
"I.. I'm not sure how long or how far this road goes. But it's getting dark.. I... I'm not sure if we should press on or not." She tucked some hair from her face with a frown.
"I.. I figured I'd check with you, to see what you suggest. We could make camp but I... I am not very good at that. Normally, if i find myself on the road at night, I just find some place to sleep and pray to Ansgar I'm awake int he morning."
During the long trek west, Aryn slipped in and out of consciousness, occasionally stirring a wake to a series of small coughs. Every time, his eyes opened to a canvas of grey sky, hazed over by dark clouds and sprinkled with light snowfall. The final time he stirred awake, when he felt the cart grind to a stop, evening was almost upon them.
He couldn't see over the sides of the wagon, only catching an eyeful of wood when he rolled his head slightly left or right. If not for Kella climbing into the back of the wagon with him, he might've wondered where he was.
The blanket, pulled up all the way past his chin, obscured his mouth enough so that his soft voice came out slightly muffled. But his words were clear and decisive enough for her to understand. He barely had his wits about him, but even then he was probably more suited to living out here than she.
His words came out haltingly.
"If there are trees... take wagon into them... cover our tracks... tie the horse further down... and then make a fire... small one... not too big..."
Kella did the best she could to obey. She took the cart as far off the trail as she dared before settling in and trying to make camp. She die a mediocre job hiding their trail,but not many migh tbe chasing two killers of criminals anyways- besides, they were so far off the beaten trail it didn't seem to matter- and Kella, was too tired and cold.
Setting up a fire, she moved towards the back of the wagon.
"Woudl you like some help getting down to sit by the fire?" she asked.
Aryn kept his good arm tucked in against his body as much as possible, so as not to disturb the still-fresh wound in his shoulder. When the cart stopped, he once again tried to sit up and -lo and behold- actually managed to do so. Propped up on the elbow of his half-arm, he shivered from a small gust of wind, despite having the thick blanket draped over him. When Kella came around and offered a hand, he only gave her a silent nod of assent.
Climbing down from the cart, leaning heavily against Kella's little frame, Aryn nearly toppled over but somehow miraculously caught himself in time. And despite all the hazards that were present, they somehow managed to get him down on the ground and settled nearby the fire, his back resting against the trunk of a nearby tree.
He sat there now, huddled in the warmth of the fire with that snow-dusted blanket still wrapped around his large frame, looking drastically different from the healthy booming-voiced mercenary of only a few days ago. His skin was still clammy to the touch, his forehead beaded with sweat and hotter than usual. But at least he was still alive.
"You picked a good spot..." he admitted in a hoarse voice as he slowly turned his head to look around. They were nestled in a small thicket off the beaten path, with no visible signs of civilization for miles in any direction. The wagon was conveniently parked a little downhill from the road, and would be difficult to spot lest someone looked very hard or just happened to take a detour their way. They'd be safe for now.
A small hoarse laugh escaped his mouth, forming a puff of frost as he did so. The tiny little fire flickered in the wind but held steady, dancing shadows across his exhausted face. "Looks like... you're saving me this time..."
Kella's smile was forced at his words as she averted her gaze to the fire as she sat nearby, tending to it and feeding it more wood.
"I wouldn't say that."
If anything, really, she had to wonder- how much longer would it be before something else went wrong? And the idea she was such a bad luck charm hurt her more and made her afraid- though fear was ever present in a woman like her.
"I.. I'm sorry I never told you... what I was,"s he spoke quietly, eyes still avoiding his as she watched the fire pop and dance.
The faint smile faded from his face at her apology, and suddenly there was a somber silence between the two of them, broken only by the gentle crackling of wood in flames. Aryn sat there for a long while, staring into the fire through half-open lids, breaths still shallow but coming out in steady exhales now.
Her secret was, understandably, something that one would've fought tooth and nail to keep hidden. It didn't make any easier of a pill for him to swallow. This whole time, her being a mage...
What was he to think? He'd spent his entire life a devout follower of Angsar, who in his mercy and grace chose to grant certain individuals with the power of magic, as a sign of their strength and devotion to God by fighting their curse. But these same individuals had to be watched, lest their powers destroy the very fabric of culture and morality. It was safe to say that Aryn was at least wary of magic. Even now he could consciously feel the symbol of Angsar around his neck, burning into his skin.
And to top of all off, he'd asked her multiple times about it. It sort of made sense now, here in this little clearing in the middle of nowhere. It was the only thing that made sense. Maybe her brother was just trying to protect her from people like him. Or maybe he had other motives.
His green eyes turned to her now. His lips pressed together firmly.
"Then tell me now... tell me everything... I deserve at least that much..."
Tell him everything? Tell him now?
Her mind fluttered into a whirl, as did her heart as her stomach tightened into knots. She grimaced at what truth had to be revealed, but she knew- after a long pause of silent- that he did deserve to know.
"I wasn't born this way- it.. sort of happened one day. I... one day I was normal, just like every other girl in Connlaoth, but when I had come of age... something... something dreadful happened to make me realize I had change. I..." her eyes wavered, her throat growing dry in hesitation as she grit her teeth.
"I do not know if it is magic or a curse, for it feels much worse than being a mage."
Her blue eyes peered down at the fire through long, pale lashes as she went quiet again. A few minutes later, though, she did speak more on it again.
"I... my power isn't.. quite what you'd think. It's... something to do with my skin- with touch I..." and here, she cast an uncertain gaze towards Aryn.
"For when I touch someone, it harms them- and if that grip is held to long- they could die."
Aryn remained silent as she hesitantly told her story. His expression did not change one bit the whole time, save for a moment when, in the light of their little campfire, his brow furrowed slightly.
Her description of her affliction caught his breath in his throat. This wasn't like any other ordinary magical powers that he'd ever seen or heard of. In his travels he'd encountered plenty of mages, in the traditional sense of the word. People who could conjure fire and ice, people who could make themselves disappear. But this...
This was different.
And yet, it somehow didn't sit right with him. How was it magic if she wasn't born with it? Was it the product of Angsar's touch, or was it some sort of curse? And worse, her powers were dangerous. Perhaps it was a blessing that she, of all people, was accursed with a deadly touch. He could only imagine the carnage if someone less innocent than her had it.
"Back in the inn... you grabbed my hand and I felt it... did you mean for that to happen? ...Or does it just happen... anytime you touch?"
He certainly remember the shock he'd received. No wonder she wore gloves and shied away every time he neared.
Kella's eyes wavered as she looked into his.
"No... I... I have no control over it. It just.. happens, any time I touch someone- flesh to flesh."
"Right."
A frown crossed Aryn's face as he looked away from her, staring into the flickering fire. His discomfort was as obvious as the fatigue in his eyes. And if it was hard for him, he couldn't imagine how she felt right now.
But then he finally looked back at her. If there ever was a time to think that he at least accepted her affliction, it was from the way he deflected the subject.
"You look famished... there might be some dried food... in those packs we found..."
Giving a hollowed nod, she rose quietly and made her way back to the wagon where she wiped away her tears. SHe paused a moment to also collect herself before collecting the packs, searching through them and grabbing some dried biscuits and meat for them to eat. She almost forgot a waterskin, but lingering around the wagon for a longer period of time had her realizing she was thirsty, so she brought that too and sat down a few feet beside him.
"Here," she said, offering him out the bags. "Some.. some dried bread, meat... and water." She offered over the skin. "If you're thirsty." And it was only when she handed over the waterskin did her eyes change a glance to his.
Aryn watched he for a moment before reaching out with a trembling hand. His elbow was still tucked tightly against his torso, trying his best not to disturb the wound in his shoulder. He still winced slightly as he took the waterskin and raised it, shaking. Some of the water dribbled down his chin and into his beard, but not too much.
He kept his eyes on hers as he slowly handed the skin back to her. The biscuits remained in his lap, untouched. Perhaps it was his body still fighting the fever and shock, but he had absolutely no appetite.
His eye finally dropped down, breaking their shared gaze.
"You were right not to tell me... I wouldn't have..."
After taking the water skin, she would have taken a drink from it had she not caught his words. She paused, the water moving about inside as she lifted her blue eyes to his, then down cast them to her lap.
"I was raised, that... once my parents were aware of this- no one was to know."
Aryn finally lifted a hand to tenderly nibble at the dried bscuit. It had no taste to it at all. Then, as if on cue to break the tension between them, he let out a short laugh bookended by a bout of coughing.
"Well too late now... I know all of it... boy, are they going to be mad.
(( phone posts are short :| ))
Kella shifted uncomfortably, not feeling mutual in the laughter.
"They can't be mad," she told him softly. "My parents are dead."
And just like that, the bare laughter died upon Aryn's lips. He turned a slight shade of red, or at least as red as one could get given how pale he looked. His eyes went to her, searching for some sign that she was playing with him just then. But obviously she wasn't... that wasn't who she was.
His stomach twisted in a knot as he realized what an idiot he was. His voice came out softly, groping for words. "Look, I'm sorry... I didn't... didn't mean anything by that... Just a stupid comment."
Kella kept quiet, her hunger, souring again as she nodded, but didn't know why. After a long time of awkward silence, she turned to him but didn't let her eyes meet to his.
"How are you feeling? Do you need me to look at your wounds?"
Aryn dimly felt the weight of the silence on his shoulders, even as the two of them sat there in the firelight, avoiding each other's gaze. When she finally broke the quiet, he slowly shook his head.
"I'm fine," he lied to her. As much as they'd been through together, this uncomfortableness that now lingered might as well have been a chasm in the ground between them. One look at her face, and he might have guessed that she didn't want to be there at that moment. And if that was what she was thinking, he couldn't blame her.
Blinking slowly, he lifted his sunken eyes upwards at the sky above. At least the thick dark clouds had dispersed in favor of a clearer sky, the moonlight shining down through the canopy above. Maybe their luck had changed for the better, and it actually wouldn't snow again tonight.
"Looks like... we won't have to sleep under the wagon..."
The flames continued to flicker, giving off what minimal heat it could in this little thicket. Even so, its light began to waver.
Kella nodded, her shivers expelling white puffs of breath. It was so cold, even near the fire, and she adjusted the coat around herself and nestled into the scarf and her hood as best she could, but the winds were unforgiving, and made her teeth audibly chatter.
Although they were well sheltered by the thicket, and the canopy above was more than adequate to protect them from snowfall if it came during the night, the trees offered only minimal protection against the winds. And now they began to intensify, their mournful howling almost taunting the two of them. The flames of their little campfire flickered dangerously, the precious heat from it of little help.
Aryn was also shivering, though it was hard to tell whether it was from the cold or from the cold sweat that enveloped his body. He did have that thick blanket draped over him. Her on the other hand... he watched her fidget with her cloak and scarf, trying her hardest to retain what little heat she had. He could hear her teeth chattering even over the sound of the wind.
Against his better judgment, he suddenly grunted and opened the blanket slightly. His left arm remained tucked in against his torso, but he had enough strength to lift his prosthetic just inches off the ground and pat the soft dirt beside him.
"You're shivering..." he said quietly. "Get over here... before you freeze to death..."
He unconsciously felt his weak heartbeat quicken its pace slightly at the offer. There was still a chance that their flesh could touch and he could be subjected to that incredible pain again. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. Perhaps it was better to keep her as far away as possible from him. Her magic -or whatever the hell it was- could kill him.
"Just... be careful with the skin..." he added, in complete contradiction to what his inner self screamed for him to say.
Kella's eyes lifted to him, her lips falling open in a gape.
"But... aren't you afraid I might hurt you?"
"I'm terrified," he admitted curtly through cracked lips, his green eyes staring right at her. He looked almost gaunt in the face, despite his muscular size.
"But I ain't going to... be the one that says... 'I let Lady Kella Harmond freeze to death... in the middle of nowhere,'" he added in faltering words, punctuated by a slight cough and another shiver. That look on his face was as set in stone as any he'd ever shown. The tone of his hoarse voice seemed to suggest he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince her.
"Besides," he finally added, his hard-edged voice softening though his expression remained staunch and unyielding, "it's you who has the job... of keeping me warm..."
Aryn shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his back still propped up against the weathered trunk of a thick oak. Both of his legs were splayed out in front of him, boots just peeking out from beneath the thick wool blanket.
"Don't make me come over there... because you know I will..." he weakly threatened.
Kella tried to smile at his words, but the smile soon broke at the end as it faded and she peered down at the ground through long lashes.
"It would do well for us both to try to keep warm."
ANd awkwardly, she moved over toward shis side, and was welcomed by the warmth beneath the blanket. She fidgeted though, pulling down all of her skirts and pulling up her boots and up her gloves and down her hood and tightening her scarf, until just about all of her body was completely covered- minus her eyes.
Then she nestled in beside him, careful of his wounds, but enjoying just the small bit of comfort and security his strong frame offered while she leaned in against him.
"There.. you.. you should be safe now. And warmer." SHe said, though she doubted she could offer him as much heat as he was offering her. He was a bit feverish, after all.
"So where did you come from?I mean.. were you from any one city in Connlaoth?" she asked,peering up at him curiously.
When Kella nestled in beside him, Aryn hesitated, almost as if unsure about what might happen. But slowly, he slid his metal arm around all those layers of fabric about her bundled frame, and together they huddled for warmth.
At her question, he looked back down at her.
"Reajh, the capital... I'm from there." His answer came with the slightest of shrugs and a faint trace of a grin. "But who would ever guess that... The part of Reajh that people don't see... y'know... the dirtier parts..."
He licked his lips to try and hydrate them. It didn't work too well in the blistering cold, and he found himself shivering again. Hopefully this fever would break soon.
"I've never seen a castle before... except from a distance."
Kella smiled when he told her about where he's from.
"Is there a story behind it? Like the one about your arm?" she asked, though her smile faded a little as she looked down at the metal piece securing their both together as they huddled for warmth.
"I wouldn't mind hearing a story."
It would help pass the time, and the winds were so dreadfully cold.
"Maybe someday you'll get to see a castle," she told him with a smile. Too bad it could't be hers- were it any other year, then even her brother would be so willing...
but now...
Her world would just never be the same.
Aryn shook his head this time, his silent laughter making his entire body tremble slightly. His shoulders continued to shake slightly, long after that grin had faded from his face.
"This story's... not as good as my other one." And how could it ever be? The tale of his metal arm had become inflated to epic proportions by now, exaggerations abound. Sometimes he forgot the truth of it, instead substituting his grand fireside tale in its place.
The tale of his upbringing though. He'd never had an occasion to tell that story. People in his line of work didn't ask those things, nor did they care. He thought for a moment before attempting to relay the truth of it.
"It's the kind of place where... if you see it, you know turned and went down the wrong street... it was a lot of scraping and scrounging... stealing bread from stalls and hoping they didn't catch you and beat you... where if they find you dead on the street, they leave you there... I think I slept in a shanty with a stray dog for at least a year... His name was Oscar, very friendly... I don't remember what happened to him. Must've run away."
He frowned and looked at her questioningly. It must've been a stark contrast to the life she knew.
"I suppose I was lucky... I made it out alive, and haven't been back."
Kella took in the words, but it was hard to accept them for what they were. It seemed surreal- to actually live on the street one's whole life- but she supposed what they were doing now must not have been all that different.
She cast her eyes thoughtfully to the ground.
"It must've been hard. To live like that, I mean. I can't even begin to imagine. I.. I've always had a rough over my head, some castle to live in, clothing always tailored for me, and each season- to ensure I was up to date on the latest fashion. Though, inside the castle is where I mostly dwelled. Once my parents found what I.. what we were capable of... they wouldn't let us outside much. They were afraid what would happen to us. I think they were afraid our magics would cause too much of an uprising- and we might suffer a fate worse than being confined to the church."
Growing silent after a time, she thought back what he said to the dog.
"I never had a pet. It must've been nice to have an animal companion. I've always had horses but I was never allowed to ride much."
Aryn shifted around slightly, though not too much to disturb the comfortable groove that both of them had settled into. Slowly, he inched one of his legs backward until it was fully covered by the thick blanket.
With a slight shrug, he answered, "It's... life. Some people have it worse off than others..."
He looked down to her and frowned slightly. "Honestly, yours doesn't sound that much better... minus the lots of food, I guess... Looks like we're just a pair of misfits, eh...?"
The thought of that old dog brought a smile back to Aryn's face. He had a wistful look about him, as he glanced off at nothing in particular and reminisced about those hard childhood days. Really, there wasn't much to say about life in the slums of Reajh that needed to be known, especially since some of those details might very well have shocked the conscience of a highborn Lady. His shaggy little companion, however, was a distinctly bright memory.
"You don't find many friends in the miserable parts of Reajh... but Oscar, he didn't care about money, or clothing, or even my smell... well, maybe he did care about that... That dog, though, he was just happy to be around... You would've liked him, brown and woolly and whatnot... We'll get you one, one day."
"I wish I could have a dog. But I'm afraid I'd hurt it." She looked down to her lap as she shivered and nestled in closer to him.
Aryn pressed his lips firmly together at the way she sort of shrunk with her words. So her touch affected animals as well. It really was a curse...
Suddenly, for the briefest of moments, that tinge of fear that he held for her vanished. In its place was something closer to pity. When she shivered, he pulled his arm tighter around her and rested his cheek gently atop her hooded head. Their body warmth did little to quell the chill winds blowing about them, but it helped a little.
After a minute of silence, he mumbled, "It couldn't have all been bad... here, tell me a happy story about yourself..."
"It wasn't," she told him, but pressed her lips together. "Though I'm so tired.. I feel as I've almost forgotten there was a time I was happy. But I had my brother growing up.. we were close." And she went quiet as she lamented over the past few years events and shivered at the thought and nestled in close, keeping her gaze averted and her lips, sealed as they trembled from nerves and the cold.
When she went silent, Aryn did not press her any further. This whole family dynamic between Kella and her brother went well beyond his understanding, and all he really could do was scratch at the surface of it. She'd made it very clear that she did not wish to return to her home in Turgall, and it left him to wonder why the Duke would have reached out to a mercenary like him. Perhaps the man was desperate. That had to be the reason: why else would he scrape from the bottom of the barrel when he likely had plenty of capable retainers?
It occurred to him that perhaps, unlike Kella, this Duke was not adverse to misusing the cursed powers Angsar had bestowed upon him. The thought brought a shiver to his spine. Of all people, a Duke with magical powers was practically unheard of. Maybe he wanted her returned home so that their secret would never be revealed.
And if he really was unhinged... well, then Angsar help him.
"Right... let's not think about it then... just close your eyes and rest, and we'll sort this business out in the morning..."
And what then, when the morning came? He didn't want to admit it but he was little more than dead weight at this point. His body alternated constantly between hot and cold, and he bitterly knew that he was nowhere near making a recovery. Best he could hope for was to be conscious come the morning, and have the strength to climb back up into that stupid wagon.
He gave her another frail squeeze. "Dream of something sweet..."
She closed her eyes as best she could and shivered against him.
"Thank you," she whispered through her scarf. "You too." And after some fidgeting against him, sleep finally claimed her and when she awoke, she was surprised to see herself still nestled within his arms. She stirred a bit, realizing, perhaps he might still be asleep, but peered up at him tentatively and asked in a soft voice, "Aryn?"
Was he awake?
While she fell asleep quite quickly, Aryn never fully fell asleep that night. Too often he stirred awake with a slight cough and a shiver, feeling the cold air right down to his bones, and especially in all his injuries. Somehow he grew weaker during the night as the loss of blood took a harsher toll on his system. Through his eyes, heavy and with dark rings around them, he thought he began to see impossible things in front of him. In the darkness, colors began to blur together, and he trembled more as a result.
When the sky finally began to lighten and Kella stirred in his arms, his cracked lips were parted ever so slightly. He mumbled incoherently in response to her question, blankly staring off into the distance and shivering. His shirt was damp again, a little from fresh blood, but mostly from his cold sweat.
Curiously, she lifted her gaze to his. He looked flush and pale, and his body felt clammy.
"Aryn?" She shifted to get a better look at him, and used one gloved hand to brush a few, damp wisps of his hair away from his forehead, and even through her gloves she could feel his heat.
"You're burning up."
She pressed her lips together, eyes going wide.
"Aryn.. can you.. do you think you can stand?" she needed to get him to the wagon and out of here quick- that, or dump him into a cold stream to take off the edge of the fever, but that didn' guarantee it wouldn't make him worse.
Aryn barely felt her brush a hand across his forehead, but his eyes slowly followed her movement. In a moment of lucidity, he somehow comprehended her words and her look of distress.
"I'm... fine..." he insisted with a slight nod of his head, completely unconvincing. And then he began to struggle to stand, completely ignoring the fact that he had no strength and one broken leg. His metal arm slowly raised up to grasp at the tree trunk, as if he still believed he had a hand there.
((Looks like you get post #300!))
OOC: woo!
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Kella frowned. With Aryn in such a weakened state, it seemed like getting him back into the cart would be near impossible. White puffs of breath escaped from her lips as she worked, keeping the blanket around him as she tried to help him to his feet, but it was to no avail.
Frowning, she stood over him to access the situation, but could not think of any way to get the larger man to his feet.
"Perhaps.. perhaps you need to rest some more." THough she knew how dangerous that was, even if he needed to sleep, they had to get someplace out of the elements- and Aryn's fever needed to break. She could try to tend to him here, but she was no healer, and she could not pretend to be, but she could do her best.
Feeling his forehead- she still noted the heat through her gloves and frowned. Then she took a moment to remove the blanket from his form- which exuded more evident heat from his body.
"Here, perhaps if we let your body cool off, it'll help calm your fever. I... it's been known fevers can drive a man crazy- even unto death." And she frowned worriedly over such an idea.
By Ansgar's name- what would she do if Aryn were to die now? The very idea sparkled her eyes over with tears.
A small fog enveloped Aryn's body as soon as the blanket was pulled off of him, his high body temperature manifesting itself as a light steam in the cool winter air. He continued to struggle to climb to his feet long after Kella stopped trying to help him, and for a moment it looked as though he might pull himself up. At the last second he fell back down to his hands and knees, but even that was an improvement over lying on his back.
Without the cloak covering his frame, and with his back finally in view, it was clear what had caused his ailment in the first place. The back of his shirt was red-brown with dried blood, stemming from that exit wound high up on his back left shoulder. The hole was the size of a grape and, though only small traces of blood still occasionally leaked through, the flesh underneath that torn hole in his shirt was beginning to turn dark purple. Rodney's bullet seemed to have gone clean through, which was at least a blessing in disguise. If it'd shattered inside him, he might already have been dead.
On his hands and knees now, Aryn began inching his way toward the wagon, his body shaking in the cold, his teeth chattering. His eyes were glazed over and unresponsive, but they seemed to be peering past Kella and locked on the cart. It wasn't at all clear whether he was responsive or whether the blood loss and possible infection had thrown him into a delirium.
"Let's... get out... of here... I'll drive..." he muttered through chapped lips and chattering teeth. His throat was parched, and his voice came out sounding like a grinder.
Arms and legs buckling wildly as he crawled past her, he slowly but surely reached the back lip of the wagon.
Kella was stunned by the amount of stained blood on his person, and for the longest time, only found herself gaping. But to see him trying to crawl his way back to the wagon..
She was quick to his side to assist.
"You'll do no such thing. Let's get you rested in the back and to a town. You need that wound tended to or it'll be the death of you."
Aryn seemed to take no notice of Kella as she struggled to assist him up into the cart, but it was evident that he wouldn't have succeeded without her help. As it were, it took both of them to manage to even get his torso up into the back of the wagon, where he just lay there for a moment, legs dangling uselessly overboard. Finally, with one last ditch effort between the two of them, they managed to get Aryn's wobbly legs up and over. He lay on his stomach on top of the leather packs, shivering uncontrollably.
"I'll... have the... eggs... and... a glass... of water... and toast..."
His bloody back rose with every labored breath.
"Water..."
Kella wasted on time retrieving the blanket and smoothing it over his form.
"I can offer you some stale biscuits and meat," she said softly, through a frown. "And water." She nodded and opened the waterskin for him and offered it over to him- but seeing how weak he was, she moved in to climb up next to him.
"Here, let me help you," and she guided the tilting waterskin now to his lips.
"Drink slow. You'll need to keep yourself quenched. WHen we move out, I'll keep the waterskin with you- so you can have some as we travel."
Biting into her lower lip, she just prayed they could get to another town- soon.
Aryn slowly rolled onto his back with a grunt as she held the waterskin to his lips. Some of the liquid poured into his mouth. Much of it missed and dribbled down the side of his cheek. Nonetheless he greedily drank what she gave him. His eyes closed when he swallowed a mouthful of cool water, and he let out a low sigh. Some of it went down the wrong pipe and he rolled over to his side, getting into a coughing fit.
His hand reached up to grasp for the waterskin. It closed over both the leather skin and her gloved hand. His eyes were still closed when he muttered out, "You're... an... angel..."
The morning was in full swing by then, casting plenty of light on their little thicket and on the road just beyond. The sky was still grey and overcast, but at least it'd stopped snowing for a little while.
Kella froze at this statement, and stared at him for a good long while.
"I don't know if I'd say that. Think of all the trouble I've caused you," she spoke, and used one gloved hand to move his sweat slicked hair from his forehead. He was still feverish. This made her frown.
"Just rest. I'll be sure to get you to town before you get much worse." And she lifted up her scarf over her lips and planted another scarf covered kiss to his cheek.
"And if anything, you have become my angel."
And she moved off the back of the wagon to leave him to rest. Once things were secure, the fire smothered out, she crawled up on the buck board and snapped the reins and the horse moved onward towards the trail.
It was snowing again, though faintly, and it would be bearly half a day's ride before they made it to the next town of Saembre. ANd after moving through the quiet streets, she eventually found a healer and tethered and horse and wagon to a stable just behind it and made quick work of getting Aryn inside to be seen.
It took both her efforts and that of the male healer to drag him inside, but once there- the man made quick work at removing Aryn's clothing- and after having presumed they were husband and wife (which Kella had tried to protest, but never got a bit of word in); she found herself helping undress him,a nd turning shyly away when his pants had been removed.
"Cold water, and a rag. Press it to his skin while I prepare him some medicine." And a loose blanket was tossed over Aryn's nude form before the healer stepped away and Kella was left, nursing Aryns face with a soft, cold clothing from where she sat closely at his side.
Though the doctor said she could remove her coat, she didn't remove a single layer of her clothing- for she was afraid and anxious for so many reasons.. she just couldn't get her trembling limbs to do much else than to tend to her poor feverish companion.
The man eventually returned, an oral herb drink prepared for Aryn and once he coaxed the man into drinking it, he moved away from Kella.
"I have a patient to see on the other end of town. I shouldn't be long- but just keep pressing cold water on him to help the fever break- ad if he feels up to it, you can help him into a cool bath. But see he eats nothing, and drinks plenty of water. I've refilled the pitcher nearby, and I'll fetch more well water if it's needed."
And with a nod, the doctor was off, leaving Kella alone to tend to Aryn.
ANd after so many moments of being alone int he quiet, and seeing him so disoriented in his fevered state, Kella began to hum softly, something she used to hum for her brother that one time he too, had almost been taken with fever-
A praying song to Ansgar, to save your soul- to let you live, to let you love.
Aryn was mumbling incoherently by the time the two of them managed to lay him across a hard table and cut the bloody clothing off of him. They were discarded into a pail sitting in the corner of the room. The rough bandage job that Aryn had done on himself back in Vanille, an eternity ago, were also well soaked through and likewise cut away from him. After the doctor coaxed the draught down Aryn's throat and covered him in the blanket, the mercenary lay there unmoving save for the slow rise and fall of his chest.
His skin burned even through the cold rag that Kella held over his forehead, and his matted hair stayed damp and tangled from the sweat still dripping off his brow. Every so often he moaned and mumbled something else, but otherwise looked lifeless. His body still trembled every so often, but Kella's soft song seemed to soothe him in a way, and when she did so he seemed to relax under the rag.
It seemed like forever that he lay there. Outside, the snowfall intensified as the light of day faded into night. A lone burning lantern illuminated the window and highlighted the flurry of snowflakes as they rained down all around the apothecary's shop. A slight hum of winter winds came through a small crack in the doorway, in unison with the creaking of aged wood.
Finally, after hours, Aryn finally stirred. Slowly his green eyes opened just a crack and blinked once, then twice. It seemed like the worst was past him.
His head, still covered over with that wet rag, turned slowly to peer confusedly up at Kella.
Hours had passed, and Kella remained steadfast at Aryn's side. The healer had come and went, a few times, even bringing them food- much of which she did not eat. No, she remained at Aryn's side, fully focused on him.
Every hour, she replenish the waters, and bring a new cool rag t his head- and began placing new ones across his bare chest, neck and shoulders when he began to stir. It was when she saw his green eyes that she gasped and dropped a cool rag on his face.
His eyes were still peering at her when, suddenly everything went dark as the cool rag dropped squarely over his eyes. Although it felt damned good, it still caused him a bit of panic as he wasn't expecting for his vision to suddenly turn back. He reached up to his head desperately to remove it from his eyes, only to find that his arm barely budged from its spot at his side. He began shaking his head then, trying to get the thing out of his eyes.
"Wha...where are we?!" he sputtered weakly. His head was still turned in her direction.
"Kella..."
All that his struggle did was send a lance of pain shooting from his shoulder into his torso. He winced at that and immediately ceased moving. The wound was still fresh, and the apothecary had not had the chance to sew him up yet. He sensed the bitter aftertaste of the healer's herbal remedy and sputtered again.
Snatching the rag from his face, she peered down at him.
"Oh, Aryn!" She set the rag aside and moved a gloved hand to brush his damp hair from his face. "You're awake." And the words came out in barely a whisper.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, peering down at him worriedly.
Removal of the wet rag brought about an unbearably bright light into Aryn's eyes, and he stared up at her through squinted lids. The familiarity of her voice brought about a sense of relief in him and he laid his head back down on the hard wooden table with a groan.
"Ugh... feel like I got shot..." He closed his eyes and let out a weak guttural laugh, as though a funny thought just then crossed his mind. "I did get shot..."
He lay there for a moment, silent and eyes shut, just feeling the warmth of his entire body being cooled by those wet rags draped over him. He could also feel her gloved hand over his forehead. This all seemed familiar... all except for the fact that he was lying on a table in some building, somewhere.
"I... I remember sitting by a fire... how long was I out...?"
"Yes, we had made camp in the woods," she told him softly. Though as her eyes searched his face, she sighed. "You were out for most of the day. You're in a healer's shop in Saembre. I .. I brought you here. You had become delirious from your fever." She kept her hand to his forehead, still frowning.
"And yes.. yes you had gotten shot. The healer will be back shortly to tend to that wound."
"Here.." she moved her hand away and resoaked some more rags in water and applied a fresh one to his forehead. "The.. the healer said this would help break your fever. So I.. I've been applying these to your skin for a good few hours now."
Aryn licked his parched lips slightly as he listened to her, his eyes still closed. The cool rag on his forehead felt so incredibly good, and it sent a reverberation of relaxation throughout his entire body. The part about his delirium brought a slight frown to his face, and he opened his eyes and turned slightly to gaze upon her. Slowly, a small smile for her spread across his tired face. "I think it worked..." he replied in a soft voice. "It's broke... or I think it is... These rags feel damn good..."
A voice came from the doorway.
"Ah, good, he's awake and lucid," the healer said as he stepped in carrying a tray with an assortment of tools and ointments. He placed them down upon a small side table and then, from a high shelf against the wall, brought down a small bottle of grain alcohol.
He stepped over to Aryn and leaned down to inspect the wound in his shoulder through a pair of spectacles. He gave it a prod, eliciting another groan from Aryn.
"The wound is clean through his shoulder, which is good. I won't have to cauterize it," the healer said to Kella. "Still, you're lucky you brought your husband in when you did, ma'am. Another day and he might have bled to death. But at least now I can cut into the flesh, stitch this wound up and apply a salve to halt the infection."
He popped cork from the little bottle and looked back at Kella. "This... ah... might be a bit painful to bear. Perhaps the lady would rather wait in the next room?"
Kella's eyes had been glued to Aryn, too nervous to correct the doctor yet again- since she wasn't his wife.
"N-no, I .. I can stay," she insisted, her hand finding his as she squeezed it gently. After all, it was the least she could do- to offer him support in his time of need.
Aryn's eyes seemed to twinkle slightly with amusement at Kella's consternation. It quickly faded when she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. He gave her a weak squeeze back and grunted out, "Give me all you got, doctor..."
The healer poured a little of the alcohol into a small metal cup and held it up to Aryn's parched lips. He drank it down quickly, grimacing at the burning taste of it, but thankful for its numbing properties. At least it would help a bit.
And then, with quick and deft precision, the healer dipped a small linen swab into the alcohol and rubbed it directly into the open wound in Aryn's shoulder. His entire body tensed up and his green eyes almost bulged out of his head. His teeth gnashed together in pain and his good foot almost kicked out, but he made not a sound. The hand holding Kella's tightened and trembled.
This apothecary knew what he was doing. Almost immediately after, he dunked his copper scalpel into the alcohol and made several light incisions into the fallen mercenary's shoulder, to open up wound again where it had improperly closed. A pair of forceps came out just as quick, digging into the wound in search of any fragments left over from the bullet. He thankfully found nothing, but the moment forceps went into the wound, Aryn couldn't hold in his cry anymore. He let out a hoarse scream. "Aggghhh... YOU SON OF A BITCH! FUCK!"
The cry made the healer hesitate, but after a moment he continued with his work. It took several minutes more, but eventually he was able to close up the wound with catgut sutures.
He then set about the task of closing that nasty exit wound in Aryn's back. Rolling the big man over was no easy task, especially with the Ironhand's eyes watering and a steady stream of curses spewing from his mouth. He went through the same procedure as before, eliciting yet another scream and more swearing with the forceps, but soon that wound was also sewn shut. Finally, he applied a thick creamy salve to both wounds and stood to clean up his workstation, leaving Aryn lying there sweating in agony, half crying and half laughing.
"I'll... uhh... return to check up on him. Your husband isn't entirely safe yet, ma'am, but hopefully that'll do the trick."
With that, he grabbed his tools and hurried out of the room before the burly looking mercenary found enough strength to raise a hand and punch him.
Kella watched in awe fascination as Aryn was tended to- and had she the mind to do it, she would have looked away, but kept at least one eye open to Aryn as she turned to him when the pain became too great. And when it was all said and done, she felt her legs give way as she dropped onto the floor.
He was still clutching tightly to Kella's hand when she dizzily fell to the floor, and the momentum of it wrenched his freshly patched up shoulder downward. Aryn let out another scream of pain and was forced to roll halfway over to relieve himself of the pressure. Through clenched teeth and blurred vision though, he stared down at her fallen form.
"Looks like... that hit you... worse than... it did me..." he mumbled, forcing himself to present a light humorous tone even though it sounded more anguished than anything. He gave her hand another light squeeze, hoping in the back of his mind that she'd get back up, for both their sakes.
The one thing that dragged her back to reality was the hold on Aryn's hand- and Aryn's voice itself. As soon as the world stopped spinning, she released Aryn's hand and sat there a moment, a hand to her head as her light headedness became more grounded before slowly, hesitantly, she rose back to her feet.
"I.. I should have looked away," she said softly, before peering over at him. "I.. I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" She hadn't meant to pull his arm, after all.
Aryn let out a weak gasp of relief when she finally stood up and took the pressure off of his arm. He lay back down on his back heavily, chest heaving up and down with every labored breath.
At least when he lost an arm, he'd been unconscious. The healer might have possibly saved his life, but the Ironhand wanted nothing more to give him a good punch across the face for that ordeal. Or maybe that was just a byproduct of that grain alcohol. In his weakened state, and especially the blood loss and lack of sustenance, he was beginning to feel very lightheaded.
"Hurt me?... You're halfway to... killing me..." he responded through a grimace as he fought to control his breathing. Slowly, the pace of his exhales steadied. Eyes still closed, the corners of his mouth cracked into another grin, to show that he was joking.
"First time... seeing a healer work? ... Not the prettiest... thing to watch... But at least... he didn't chop off... my other arm..."
Despite Aryn's smile, Kella was having difficulty recuperating as she leaned in against the table.
"Yes... I... I've never had to," she admitted softly, finding herself now trembling from the affair.
"Though you had to endure it, not I, I.... I just never realized what it all entailed I... I'm sorry I made such a fuss."
And she blushed lightly, feeling embarrassed for the way she had reacted.
As soon as she was able to hold herself up on her wobbly feet, Aryn's grip on her gloved hand faded and his arm plopped back down unceremoniously to his side. He knew what came next: the healer would wrap him up in swathes of bandages and immobilize his right arm in a linen sling. He'd be no better off than a cripple. The thought of not being able to do anything brought a frown to his sweaty face and he stared up, exhausted, at the wooden roof.
"It's no fuss... takes some time to... get used to it, is all," he replied quietly. The room was lit only by a single lantern, but even that gentle flame was too bright for him. He squeezed his eyes shut and coughed.
"Anyway, thanks... for getting me here, I mean..."
He said no more as the apothecary peeked back in to make sure the injured and irritable man on his surgery table had calmed down. After judging that he was safe from harm, the little man slipped back in and went to a wooden cabinet to prepare more supplies.
He looked nervously at Kella and said, "Look, I only have a single bed in the other room, and I expect more patients come the winter when the war reaches us. I've made arrangements to have your husband moved to the inn down the road in a day."
Still not correcting the story he was not her husband, Kella simply nodded.
"Thank you, that is very kind."
She looked away from the healer back down to Aryn- and once he was done being tended to, she remained closed to his side for most of the night. Her hand was holding his, even hours after both had slipped off into fitful dreams,a nd come morning she was stiff and aching all over, but her hand was still in his.
Seeing him stir awake, she gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Hey, how are you feeling?" she asked giving him a soft smile as she tucked back some of her loose, blonde hair from her face.
Between the bandages, salves, and draughts the healer gave to Aryn, he fell into a deep slumber very quickly. It was a sign of improvement in him, given that he'd barely slept the last few nights. Nor did he tremble fitfully in his slumber either, instead barely stirring when they transferred him to the bed. His skin was still a bit pale and clammy, but the heat in his forehead had gone down drastically. Under the covers, his chest rose and fell at a more even pace.
Finally, he stirred from his slumber just enough to hear the softness in her voice. Slowly, his green eyes opened to look at her groggily. He felt something pressed against his chest and half-unconsciously realized that it was his stump of an arm, tightly bound in a sling against his body. His heart skipped a beat in horror when he realized his metal arm was missing, but then just as quickly spied it lying on the table behind Kella. With a slow exhale of relief, he managed to sit up slightly against his pillow.
"Terrible, to be honest," he whispered. His hand squeezed hers back. "But I'm alive."
He looked her up and down. If anything, she might have looked more disheveled than him. But at least she was still there. He smiled weakly.
"Y'know... if I were you, I would've run off... so I'm happy to see you stuck around."
Kella gave him a smile as she studied his injured form.
"Do you really think you can turn me into my brother in your condition?" she asked, her voice light and soft, and there was just the faintest hint of her joke in her tone.
If Kella was subtle, Aryn's expression was decidedly overt. An even larger grin spread over his weary face.
"I don't know the first thing about your brother... but obviously I've already worked miracles... look at you, you're actually smiling now."
He glanced down at all the bandages wrapped around his torso. He'd not been this injured since he lost his arm, so many years ago. Maybe he'd tempted the fates one too many times. Given his line of work, it almost surprised him that his body hadn't taken such a beating earlier.
"My condition?" he scoffed lightly, "...barely a scratch... You, though, look like you need a pillow."
She breathed out a sighed laugh as her eyes sparkled and her smile continued to grow.
"Yes, I'm very tired, but it's only a small consolation considering what you've been through..."
Her eyes sought to his, searching far, searching deep.
"We'll have to move to another place for you to rest. At a nearby Inn, we already have a room. The man here says he's becoming too crowded and has more urgent cases needed the room."
Aryn turned his head to look out the door and into the other room. The healer's table was still there, stained red with his blood. It hadn't been washed yet, and to nobody's surprise. Beyond the table and out the window, the snow continued to blanket the town.
"Another bed, eh?" he grunted with a soft chuckle. "... Maybe this time, I'll actually be able... to sleep in it..."
A soft breath, and then Aryn looked back up and met her gaze.
"You can't mean to... stay with me the whole time..."
At his inquiry, her eyes wavered as they peered back at his.
"Why not?" And she kept her gaze upon his. "I have no where else to go. And besides... I owe you more than my life."
"And I owe you mine," he returned slowly, lifting his hand several inches to gesture at the bandages over his form.
He lay there in silence for a second before letting out a huff.
"Well now... I can't in good conscience take you back to Turgall, can I..."
He sighed. "So much for sleeping on a pile of coin..."
Kella gave him a lopsided smile.
"Then it looks as if we're stuck with one another."
The bashfully, she brushed some of her wispy hair from her face. "At least for a time."
But at this last statement- she felt curious enough to ask, and close enough for him to inquire..
"How much?" she said softly, eyes seeking his again. "How much was I worth?"
"A dream, now," Aryn mumbled half under his breath. But then he shook his head and looked at her.
"I... don't know. I just... the promise was more coin than I could imagine... and when the man showed me real gold... well I believed him."
He shrugged as best as he could lying down and peered up at the roof. "Doesn't matter... apparently being able to sleep at night is worth more... Look at me, I'm turning soft."
"Did you actually speak to him?" She inquired, her blue eyes seeking his green ones. "My brother?"
Aryn looked at her and shook his head. "I've never met him."
He smirked. "And from how you describe him, well... sounds like he's no ray of sunshine like you."
Kella's expression fell at such a comment as she dropped her gaze.
" He wasn't always like that," she told.him quietly.
Aryn sniffed. "No? Well then... why did you leave?"
And why would he offer a fortune to have her back?
"He... Changed," she told him softly, her shimmering with the faint beginnings of tears. "A lot." She brushed some hair from her face. "So much, I don't recognize him anymore."
Aryn went silent, thinking. Finally, he said, "Maybe he's changed, maybe he's not... but either way, I won't be the one who takes you back there... not if you don't want to go back..."
Against my better judgment, he thought half to himself. Slowly, he slid himself higher up his pillow until he was almost sitting upright.
"Thank you,"s he whispered, finding herself trembling as she looked down at her lap. "I'll... I'll find a way to make it up to you someday."
Not many men would do what Aryn had done, promised what he had promised and had to endure what he endured; all for a woman he barely even knew.
"You.. you should rest if you can," she said after a time, and wiped at her tears. "You're still healing."
Her trembling caught his eye and he turned to regard her, grumbling. "When this is all over... knowing your luck... I'll probably drown in cake batter..."
Her tears brought another slight frown to his face. "Don't be cryin' now... we're both alive still, eh? That has to count for something..."
When she told him to rest, he was so close to protesting and antagonizing her some more, but he stopped just short of opening his mouth. Instead, he just lay back against the pillow with a slight sigh.
"Did the doctor at least get you some food?"
With a few soft sniffles, she replied, "Yes." A meek answer as she released a trembling breath. "But I have not eaten much." She then shifted her gaze to him. "Are you hungry? I. I could get you something to eat. Something, that isn't cake batter." And she continued to brush her tears away as she smiled.
"And you're right." She then added, her smile growing a little as her tears waned. "I am lucky. We're both lucky." ANd she found his hand and squeezed it lightly again.
"Aye... I'm famished," he admitted, looking down at where her gloved hand gently clutched his own much larger hand. The soft leather of the gloves rubbed against his callouses, and he found himself wondering what it was like, not being able to touch any living thing. It brought a shiver down his spine, but more sadness for her than fear of her. Pressing his lips together, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze back.
The healer was in the other room, busy wiping down the bloody table and cleaning his tools. He glanced up briefly at Kella and, after nodding his head in satisfaction that his latest patient seemed to be recovering, gestured to a small pantry off to the side. "There's some stale bread in there, and water. If you want real food, best you make your way to the inn now. With this snowstorm, everyone will be rationing soon."
Kella looked up into his eyes.
"Well, it's up to you," she told him softly. "If you wish to go now, I can help you get to the Inn. Or, I can fetch you some bread and water and then we can make our way over."
Aryn looked between her and the healer before replying, "Let's get out of this man's hair..."
The healer's look of relief said it all.
With a grunt, the bedridden mercenary struggled to sit back up. That took plenty of effort on its own, and he knew that actually making it to the inn would a whole lot more. He was about to pull the covers off of him when suddenly he stopped.
"I'll ... ahh... need to get dressed..."
Kella blinked, almost forgetting such a thing until her eyes dropped to his nearly exposed form as she gasped and looked away.
"I'll.. I'll wait outside the room," she told him softly, after setting his clothing on the bed, avoiding his gaze the entire time. "To give you.. privacy."
And at the mention of privacy, the healer looked over at the married couple oddly. Perhaps, he deduced, they were only recently married?
Aryn watched her form even as it slipped out the door and around the corner. His eyes lingered on the doorway for a moment before he caught the healer giving him a strange look. The Ironhand scowled.
"Whatever you're thinking... keep it to yourself... and give me a hand..."
Between the two of them they managed to get the injured mercenary dressed decently enough. That bloody shirt of his had long been cut up and discarded, and so he was forced to make do with only the heavy woolen blanket bundled over him. Eventually though, they managed to get him up only to his wobbly feet. The apothecary stuck a wooden crutch under his arm and helped him stagger over to the door, where he leaned heavily on the frame.
"Right... ready when you are..."
It took some effort, but eventually the 'married couple' found themselves at the inn down the street. ANd it was quaint and nice, definitely a lot more private than the quarters offered at the healer's. ANd once Aryn was settled in, Kella sat in one of the chairs in the room and finally took the time to remove her gloves as she washed her face and hands in the wash basin provided, but as hair trickle down from the slick, pointed wisps of her bangs, she peered over at Aryn.
"Would you like me to request some water for a bath? Or something more to eat?"
ANd she lightly took a nearby clothe and dabbed away the waters on her hands, throat and face.
Aryn was tucked tightly into the bed, the covers pulled up to his waist. Once the snow-covered wool blanket had been pulled off him, he had nothing left to cover himself save bandages and a sling. He didn't protest, knowing that he really didn't have the energy to put up much of a fight. His life was in their hands now.
At least they'd brought his metal arm along for the ride. It sat on the table now, behind Kella and just out of reach. He looked at her then, watching droplets cling to her wet hair. It was longer than he remembered. Then again, he'd really only ever seen her with a hood concealing her face.
"You take the bath... I couldn't get out of this bed if I tried... I could use some water though."
He lifted a hand to point to a piece of dirt clinging to her cheek, just above the eye. "You missed a spot..."
Blinking,s he blushed and turned away, wiping off what remained on her cheek.
"Thanks.."
After a moment of staring down at the water, she peered over at him. "I could help you wash in bed. And I could wear my gloves so we don't... accidentally touch."
Aryn stared at her unblinking for a moment, perhaps still hesitant about coming into contact with her skin. There was a tinge of nervousness in his eyes. But after a while...
"I suppose... I could use a good cleaning... starting to look like the dirt I sleep in."
Kella gave a dutiful nod, and after retrieving water for him to drink, she went about fetching water to wash him. There was a second cloth she could use, and handed a towel to Aryn to rest on his lap.
"Maybe tomorrow I can help you get some more clothes," she told him softly, her eyes observing his wounds before gently, she began to wipe the clothe across his skin, but not before securing her elbow length gloves on her hands.
Aryn lay there unmoving as his green eyes slowly followed the movements of her hands, gently wiping away at the dried blood and grime clinging to his body.
"Aye, that'd be nice... you won't have to stare at my bare chest anymore... well you could, but... ah nevermind."
He looked down at the towel in his lap and gave a slight chuckle. "Not everyday you get say you had a Lady fuss over you."
Kella smiled, her face turning red.
"I'm sure you'll find a lady someday to fuss over you forever," she told him, an dcontinued on wtih her work, gently wiping at dirt and whatever else she found- though at the thought of him being without a shirt- well she tried not to think of it- but he looked good without it; even through the wounds and scars.
"You've lived a rough life, haven't you?" she whispered, eyes tracing over some of his older wounds as she worked.
He gave a little snort and a laugh. "The roughest... no lady would settle into my kind of life... what with the travel and the blood and the sleeping in the mud... it would all end in tears anyway."
He lay his head back and gestured to his entire body. There were scars aplenty, and when his current wounds healed there would be several more. "By Angsar, can't expect a woman to put up with this mess."
Kella blushed and smiled and looked over his body.
"But I am."
And then after a moment,s he realized what she said and dropped her gaze as even her ears were turning pink.
"It's not so bad... at least you can touch someone else," she told him softly.
She couldn't even do that if she wanted to and the very idea made her frown as she sighed and continued working at cleaning off his chest.
"I'm sure someone out there... somewhere... could fix what you have," he offered. And noticing the way she blushed and looked down in wistful reflection, Aryn sat up slightly.
He reached over and placed his large hand over hers, the one holding the rag, and drew her a bit closer so that he could look her in the eye. His slightly crooked nose hovered mere inches from her face.
"If you weren't a highborn Lady, and if... well, that other thing... I'd take a shot at courting you."
With a grin and a shrug, he let her go. "Probably wouldn't have much success, but it's got to count for something. So cheer up."
Kella's expression became more crest fallen at his statement. She grit her teeth, not sure what to say about a cure, only, "We've been searching," though the tone in her voice and the evidence before him proved how fruitless the efforts had been.
But when he suddenly moved close, their faces but inches apart, she gasped lightly and stared at him, tensing up and fearful what he might do.
But then he spoke- and she stared at him, eyes wandering, moving, reading into what he said, and she found herself gaping.
It was moments later when her mind caught up to her as her eyes fluttered and she, dropped her gaze quickly to his lap, where the rag suddenly dropped and she- recalling he was wearing rarely anything at all.
"Y-yes," she said, blinking back the tears that were forming. "I'd never dream of courting anyone."
Though she did, and like most girls,- had grown up dreaming about who her true love would be. But even coming from someone so rugged as Aryn, the suggestion they'd court- but knew better not to- deflated anything left in her to dream as she suddenly began to cry. She tried to hide it, tried to continued to wash him, but eventually she had to turn away from him as it became too much.
Life was just too cruel to her, and the reminder of what fate had 'gifted' her grieved her every day.
Aryn sat there stunned. Much to his chagrin, his words had the opposite effect of what was intended. When she turned away to hide those tears spilling down her cheeks, he frowned and bit his lip. Inwardly, he cursed himself for thinking that, of all things, might cheer her up.
"Look, I'm sorry... you know I say stupid things sometimes..."
He went to place a hand on her shoulder, but stopped just inches from her. Perhaps the last thing she needed now was more of him. Angsar only knew how much grief he'd already caused her. Slowly, he closed his fingers into a ball and retreated his hand.
When she was able to get her tears in order, she gave up on cleaning Aryn and deposited the rag back into the bowl and moved to turn away from him. She kept her back to him as she went about tidying up the room.
"You.. you don't have to apologize. I know it's my own curse to bear."
And that she was as equally alone with it. At least before she had her brother- but now, now it seemed she had nothing and she had no idea what there was even left to do.
Serendipity- a cure, some hope...
she knew not what to expect even if she left Connlaoth- perhaps there was no where she could run...
Drawing in a careful breath, she moved at brushing away more tears, not knowing what else to say as she peered down at the soiled waters, feeling as miserable as rain.
Aryn sat up and gazed down at himself. There were still patches of dirt clinging to his form, but for the most part she'd done a fine job of it. His one hand sat in his lap, on top of the blankets. There was only the one; his stump was hidden away in that linen sling. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as the curse she had, but he too felt broken right about now.
"Well..." he finally said, after hearing her soft sniffles, "I ain't got anywhere to go... now that I've quit my mission..."
He placed his hand on her shoulder from behind and gave it a pat.
"How about a friend for the road? So you don't have to bear your curse alone..."
Kella dropped her gaze to the floor, tensing at his touch.
"I could never ask you to endanger yourself like that."
Hadn't her presence already done enough?
Aryn shrugged.
"You ain't asking me... I'm telling you."
He glanced past her and out the window, to the snowfall. The whiteness of it hurt his eyes.
"What else am I to do anyway? ...Go back to Turgall and tell your brother I had you... and I let you run off?"
Kella frowned at the idea, but then her blue eyes too, lifted to the falling snow.
"The road will be long and cold,"s he said, shivering at how chilly even the inn had become.
A slight dismissive scoff emerged from Aryn's lips. "The road is my life... if anything, you need to be ready. Give me a few days and... I'll be ready to go."
His declaration was more than a bit ambitious; it would've been impressive if he could stand on his own two feet after a week or two. Still, his brow furrowed in stubbornness. It was a second before he added:
"...where are we going?"
"You'd withstand me for two weeks?" she said, giving him a soft, uncertain smile and breathy laugh. She then dropped her gaze after a moment before finally turning to face him.
Her eyes the searched his before answering, "Serendipity. Or any where safer than here. Anywhere he can not follow me."
"It's been, what... five days? ... And I'm already shattered to pieces..." he replied, his eyes never leaving her. "What's two more weeks..."
At the mention of Serendipity, he froze though. A country of mages. Could he really handle it? They didn't even have churches to Angsar there.
With a gulp, he nodded. "It'll be nice to... get away from war."
Here eyes wavered, and flickered back and forth as if reading his green eyes like a book.
"You're lying.." she said, giving him a small smile. "You don't have to go with me to Serendipity," she whispered. "And I don't know if my journey would end there. But yes," she added, her blue eyes subtly shining. "It would be nice to be free of this war."
Aryn gave a satisfied nod and lay his head back down on the pillow "Great... it's settled then..."
He opened his hand out to her. "I can finish up... go ahead and grab something to eat... they'll have bread and soup in the common room."
"Would you like it if I brought you some back? Either way, I'd like to eat in this room. It's.. been rather nice not to have to eat all alone," she told him with a soft smile.
"You know what..." he said with a slight smile, "I think I would like that a lot..."
He didn't know how much he'd be able to keep down, if any. But one thing was for sure: his body did not appreciate being starved for so long!
"Do you think they have that tea of yours? ...I'd like some more of that..."
Kella's eyes brightened at the suggestion.
"I'll ask," And softly, she left the room with a click of the door.
Moments later, she returned, a tray in her hand and two bowls of piping hot soup- and a tea kettle with two cups resting beside it, and some sugar and cream. She pulled up a chair beside the bed ad rest the tray against a nearby end table.
"The soups piping hot, but here, I can at least fix you some tea." nd delicately, she poured him a cup and then lifted up the sugar. "How many sugars woudl you like?"
It felt nice serving tea, almost made her feel as if she was home again.
"How many did I have last time?" he asked before shrugging with a smile. "You're the tea expert... surprise me."
The aroma of the soup had him almost salivating and he snatched up one of the spoons. But then a frown spread across his face. He had no table, and his amputated arm was nestled in a sling. How was he going to do this?
Without thinking, he dipped the spoon into the soup anyway and stuffed it into his mouth - and gasped as it burned the roof of his mouth.
Kella gasped.
"A-Aryn!" she almost dropped too much sugar in his tea. "You should be careful! That soup is hot!"
"Here," and she moved to sit closer to him and took the spoon ad dipped it into the bowl, then blew on the rising steam gently a few times before turning to him.
"There now.." She smiled at him. "It might be safe enough to eat."
Aryn barely noticed her take the spoon out of his hand; he was too busy sucking air into his mouth to cool down the burn. A grimace spread over his face with every breath.
But eventually he was able to quell the burn down to a manageable level. He still felt the rawness in the inside of his mouth, and that just brought an irritated scowl to his face. The scowl faded when he looked at Kella, holding the spoon up to his mouth.
"Well, now I feel stupid..." he muttered. But he made no further protest, and took in the spoonful of soup like a child. It was delicious, and his face lit up to show it.
Kella's smile brightened to see him take the soup so eagerly, and she gingerly took another spoon full, blew on it, then lifted the spoon up to his lips.
"You seem hungry, here, have another bite."
Aryn eagerly accepted that spoonful, and the next. But after savoring the last bit of soup she gave him, he held a hand out to stop her.
"How about you finish yours first... then we can go back to feeding poor Aryn."
Kella smiled bashfully.
"I don't mind waiting. Besides, it makes me feel better knowing I can help."
Aryn frowned and let out a low hmmph. But then slowly he grinned and brushed it off, gesturing for her to continue.
"As long as you're cheering up... let's continue to feed Aryn then."
A bit of the soup dribbled into his beard, and he lifted his arm to rub it away.
Kella's eyes sparkled.
"Are you seeing this as some sort of a game, Aryn? Really now, I'm just helping you to-" And though she was being playful with him, she didn't mean to suddenly spill some on his lap. Gasping, her eyes went wide. "Oh!" Her hand shot ove rher lips. "I'm so sorry, here, let me help you clean that up." Though when she went to grab a towel, her knee hit the bowl of soup and the rest of the soup went EVERYWHERE and all Kella could do was stare at the mess of soup that now dripped off of he and her both.
The first splash of hot soup into his lap had him almost sitting upright in alarm, his green eyes widening. That was followed by a grunt of pain and a wince as the movement tweaked his stump of an arm, his sling flailing wildly.
And then he was drenched head to toe in the soup. No words were said. No words needed to be said.
He just sat there, soup dripping down his hair and beard and down his torso, staining his white linen bandages and soaking into the blanket. His teeth were clamped tightly down on his lip as he fought off the urge to shout out.
Apologies could not stop coming out of her mouth- and she almost ended up spilling the second bowl of soup before she clumsily began to work at cleaning the soup from Aryn's form. Though as she did, she noticed a few loose pieces of food stuck in his beard from the soup and when she tried to pluck them out, she was having difficult using her gloved hands- and ended up pulling at some of the hairs, and the gloves only seemed to be able to help smash the food even further into his beard before finally- after realizing so long her efforts were being thwarted, she gave an aggravated sigh and halted her attempts.
But after a long moment of giving up, her body began to shake- but instead of crying, she seemed to be laughing instead.
"By Ansgar's name, I really am a curse for you,"s he said, looking up at him as she smiled brightly and tears sparkled across her eyes. "Are you alright? I didn't burn you too badly with the soup did I?"
Aryn sat there glowering and fuming, even as she picked at his face and entangled more small chunks into his beard. He probably should've foreseen it. After all, every moment he'd spent in the presence of this girl had brought him absolutely nothing but grief.
And when he form began shaking again, the scowl on his face deepened as he prepared for the onslaught of tears. Every little thing seemed to push her into despair.
The sound of laughter stunned him.
"There's nothing funny about this at all..." he shot back at her angrily, the scowl still on his face. But seeing her laugh was so unexpected, so uncharacteristic of her, that somehow that scowl slowly crept into a grin. Soon his own weak laughter (interspersed with a cough or two) filled the room.
"Great, now we're both going to go hungry and filthy... Can't take you anywhere."
She tucked bck a piece of hair that had fallen over her face and gave hima smile.
"I'm sorry." She whispered, then offered her bowl of soup to him, but did not lift it from the table nearby. "Here, eat the rest of mine."
Then a smaller, more sheepish smile she added, "I promise I won't try to feed you this time."
Aryn took the bowl and held it in one hand. He didn't drink it yet though, instead regarding her thoughtfully.
"I'm sure... the innkeeper won't mind giving you a second bowl... Just tell him I made a mess of the first one."
With that said, and forgoing a spoon entirely, he lifted the bowl to his mouth and gave the soup an incredibly loud slurp. He drank it down rapidly, perhaps a bit too fast as he almost choked on it. Within moments, however, the bowl was completely drained.
Setting the bowl down on his lap, he shooed her with a gentle wave of his hand. "Go on... I'm sick of watching you sitting there, staring and not eating."
Kella smiled over at him, shaking her head as she offered over the clothe.
"Here, you can wipe your beard. I'm going to get that bowl of soup." And she left the clothe, and the water, before leaving and returning moments later and sat at the table on the other side, giving Aryn his space as she slowly, quietly, at her bowl of soup.
Aryn took the cloth and immediately began wiping away at his face with it, grumbling when pieces of food refused to come out of his beard. That aside, the rest of his face was relatively clean by the time Kella came back and sat down with her soup.
Moving slowly and gently to avoid all his bandaged wounds, Aryn proceeded to wipe away at the soup on his chest. This proved to be a more difficult task and, by the time he finished, there were plenty of dirty spots still clinging to him.
He tossed the rag into the bowl of water and glanced over to her with a slight snicker.
"There you go, picking at your food again..."
Kella peered up blinkingly from her bowl.
"I"m not picking," she corrected. "I'm just eating at an acceptable pace."
Aryn let out a short laugh and shook his head.
"That's noble talk, you should keep that hidden... out here in the real world, you eat fast or you don't eat at all."
He gestured to the cramped little room around them, to the rickety old walls, the bare furniture with a grin. "Manners be damned... let's see you eat like a real person... I know you're hungry."
Kella blinked as she looked at him and around them.
"I don't see us being here as an excuse to gorge, Aryn," she told him politely, and went back to daintily eating.
"Yeah, well excuse this..."
And he bundled up the dirty rag in the bowl of water, soaking up as much as possible. When she looked back down to her soup, Aryn casually lifted the dripping cloth and threw it at her face before turning away and pretending like nothing happened.
Not expecting it, Kella gasped and shot to her feet, spilling all of her soup onto her lap, dress...and the floor. Though the rag hung wet and sopping to his face, like some uncomfortably, cold and dirty second skin, she hastily flung it off in a rush- and the rag went SMASH and stuck as it caught against the top of Aryn's head.
"A-Aryn!" she shouted, not quite sure if she ought to be angered or surprised or what as one hand clutched startledly to her chest. "What... why... why did you throw that dirty thing at me?"
The towel landed on his head with a soggy sploosh, and Aryn slowly reached up to pull it off his hair. He let it drop back into the basin of water.
"I... I don't know what you're talking about..."
His eyes remained averted from Kella, instead staring down at his stump, dangling there in its now-dirtied linen sling. It was evident that he was biting his lip, and his face was beginning to turn a bit red. His shoulders trembled just slightly as he chanced a glance up at her angry face, and just as quickly he looked away again.
It took all of his willpower to hold in his laughter, and even then he wasn't doing a very good job of it. A tiny snort emerged from his mouth.
She blinked at the snort.
"Are you... are you laughing, Aryn?" she asked, sounding offended.
"N-n-no..." Aryn tried to say before finally erupting in laughter, doubling over as he did so. He laughed so hard that it hurt. He could feel the pain in his shoulder shoot down his torso with every heave of his torso, but he couldn't stop.
He finally managed to compose himself enough to look up at her. But that expression irritation on her face was too much and he began laughing again. After all these days of her meekness and sorrow, seeing her actually angry...
"Phew..." he finally commented, wiping a stray tear from his reddened cheeks, "your face is priceless."
Kella could not believe it, but eventually, she too, began to smile as she held a hand over her lips in a failed attempt to hide it.
"Yes.. well.." she said, picking off a mushy carrot from her dress skirt and flung it onto his lap. "I suppose so is my dress." And she smiled at that. "I suppose that makes us even then?" She said, warming up to him with an even broader smile.
Kella's acceptance of the humorous situation only brought a brighter smile to Aryn's face. His teeth positively gleamed from how wide his grin was. As the carrot plopped down in his lap with a mushy splat, he looked her up and down and grimaced.
"Aye... we're even... but at least now you look presentable. Like a actual street urchin."
He let out another snort and peered down at the mess piled on top of him. The innkeeper would not be happy. He wiped his wet hand across the soup-covered sheets.
"I suppose we should clean this up before they evict us."
"Or we could ask for a better room," she said, eyes sparkling a bit with mischief before- another soggy carrot was flung his way- also dropping onto his lap.
The carrot landed next to the other piece. Aryn scooped up both mushy pieces and dropped them into the bowl of water before rinsing his hand out.
"We could do that... I'm sure I can convince the innkeep not to charge us extra."
A grimace rolled over his face as he gingerly rotated his shoulder.
"I need you to come here and give me a hand with something though..."
Splat.
Another soggy carrot landed- but this time to his cheek, as a girlish giggle came from Kella.
"I'm.. I'm sorry, I couldn't resist,"s he said and moved to sit near him on the bed as she looked at the carrot on his cheek, then to him.
"Do you want me to help clean that off? Or shall we keep it there to remain as an ornament wiht the rest of our soup stains in your beard?"
Aryn closed his eyes as the carrot came whizzing at his face, to land squarely on his cheek. He could smell it, and it made him hungrier. All of a sudden, the thought crossed his mind that wasting all this food wasn't such a good idea.
"Well I figured... since we only have so much water..."
She was sitting well within arm's reach now and, with a quickness that seemed impossible for a man with as little energy as him, Aryn managed to shoot an arm out and wrap it tightly around Kella's waist. With one pull, he dragged her up onto his lap and directly into the soggy puddle of soup there.
"We can clean off all at once!"
His arm still pinning her tight, he grasped the bowl of water with his fingers and dumped all of its contents directly into her lap.
Kella couldn't have seen this coming as she gasped, tensed on his lap, then tensed even more as she grimaced when the water was thrown onto her lap, thoroughly soaking her dress- and then some. She grit her teeth, eyes wide as her mind tumbled uselessly inside her head.
"Ahh!" she finally squeaked. "A-Aryn!" Though when she tried to escape his lap, she slipped and fell onto him- but managed to catch herself, her face almost touching against his chest.
Aryn's eyes almost bulged out of his head when half of the water slipped past her and soaked into his own lap.
"F-FUCK! THAT'S COLD!" he shouted. If he wasn't so immobilized, he might very well have jumped up from his seat in the bed. As it were, all he could do was fidget uncomfortably under her weight, gritting his teeth together as he felt the cold water on his skin.
Even through his grimace though, he let out another laugh at her reaction. His arm still wrapped firmly around her frame, trying to pin her in place. Of course, his motivation was entirely to keep her from escaping the growing pool of water and soup. In his laughter, he didn't even notice how close she was to contacting his skin.
Kella gasped the moment she felt his arm around her as she wriggled.
"A-Aryn!" she tried to protest, but despite the fact he only had one arm- she was still smaller than him and somehow, he was able to keep her pressed up against him tight.
"We need to be careful!"
It wasn't until Kella said that that Aryn's eyes widened, and he immediately let go of her frame. His green eyes were now locked upon her face, and how her nose was mere inches from a part of his chest that wasn't covered in bandages. Even though she was all bundled up in her cloaks and gloves, it still wasn't entirely safe.
"Right... that's my fault. I'm sorry," he said, feeling his heart pounding at just how close the two of them were to disaster. Suddenly it didn't seem very funny to him anymore.
Well, it was still a bit funny...
He looked at her and just barely smiled at her expression. This certainly was no laughing matter but he couldn't help it.
She stared up into his face after pushing herself gently away from his chest with her gloves. Her cheeks were so heated they burned, and she- needed to turn away.
"I'm s-sorry. This wouldn't be a problem if I-"
Well, she didn't have to explain it to him as she daintly took a step off of his lap, and turned her back to him as she cringed. What a fool she was to think she could ever interact with other people like everyone else.
She was different. She could hurt him. And if he were to get more injured because of her-
She wasn't sure if she could ever forgive herself for that.
Once again, the two of them were separated by both physical distance -- and the distance created by her affliction. He sat there in the soggy bed now, exhaling softly and not looking at her back as she turned away. No matter how lighthearted their interactions got, there was always that minor problem to drive home the harshness of reality upon the two of them.
Pursing his lips together, he peered down at the mess of the bed. He certainly couldn't sit in it much longer, no matter how funny it'd been to create all of it. Gingerly he lifted the soaked blanket off of him and tossed it to the side, staring down at his outstretched legs, one of which was wrapped up tightly in a splint. He took a breath, anticipating the pain of moving out of the bed.
When he turned to look at her, he just couldn't help but snicker again.
"I... ah... I know it's not funny anymore, but... there's a carrot on your backside."
Kella gasped and looked behind her, and plucked the carrot from her butt. SHe turned away from him again, cupping the carrot in her hand as she frowned. She wasn't sure where to deposit it now- too afraid to be playful, so tired of crying.
"I just wish I could be normal,"s he whispered, and just let her hands close around the soggy orange vegetable.
Aryn finally found it in him to slowly and tenderly swing himself around so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs just touching the floor. The exertion made him dizzy and he had to grip the bedframe to steady himself. Apparently he really had lost a lot of blood the previous nights.
Finally looking up at the back of Kella, he hesitated, not knowing anymore what to say. In his head, a voice screamed for him to keep his mouth shut, since every time he tried to cheer her up he only ended up causing more tears to flow from her blue eyes. And nobody wanted anymore crying.
Finally, he said, "Hey, you're normal to me... aside from the picky eating and the dainty bullshit noble manners." It was half true; he still held reservations about her being a mage. But at least she was growing on him.
"Besides... normal's not that great anyway... it's rough and dirty and hard living."
Kella tried to smile as she peered down at her closed hand.
"And I suppose even normal people get carrots on their butt."
Aryn let out a chuckle. "No... they really don't. We're just special."
His crutch was thankfully within reach. Grabbing a hold of it, he held its end firmly against the ground and took a few deep breaths, trying to convince himself that he was ready to pull himself to his feet.
Hearing the noises behind her, Kella peered cautiously over her shoulder before she gasped.
"Aryn! What are you doing? You need to stay in bed and rest!"
Aryn gripped tightly onto the crutch, though he still hadn't found the energy to stagger to his feet. Slowly, he was building up his confidence.
Glancing at Kella, he replied, "First of all... I'm still hungry... Second of all... there's no bed anymore. I'm sitting in a swamp."
He shrugged nonchalantly and smiled.
"I'm going to get us a bigger better room... and maybe see if I can get you a bath... you're positively filthy!"
Kella gaped at him- but at his words, her eyes dropped to her dress as she blushed.
Peering over at him, she tucked some hair aside. "You don't look much better yourself. Here." ANd she placed the mushy carrot in his hand. "You hold onto the last bit of our soup, I'll see about the room." AN she patted him softly on the shoulder as she smiled but even as she did so she hesitated a moment before smiling more broadly.
"You know if it wouldn't hurt you, you might have gotten another kiss to the cheek." And sheepishly, she turned away to move quickly out the door.
Aryn looked down at his hand, where the mashed carrot sat limply in his palm, chunks of it threatening to slip through his fingers and to the floor. He gave it a look of disgust.
But then her last comment caught his attention and he sat up straight, eyes widening in confusion. A kiss on the cheek?
He had no recollection of either one.
"Wait, what? ... When did you kiss me on the cheek? ...Why didn't I feel it if we touched?"
As she retreated out the door, he frowned in complete consternation, as though he'd just been swindled. He called out after her just as she disappeared around the bend. "If you're giving out kisses... why not just give me a real one?!"
His hand unexpectedly closed on the carrot, mashing it into his fingernails. He gave another look of disgust and voiced a loud "ugh!" before wiping it away on the bed.
OOC: Bwahahahaha
----
When Kella returned, a large man came lumbering into the room with a fresh bucket of water and Kella- with two pairs of keys.
"The man who runs the inn said he can clean up this room after we've gotten cleaned up- and said there was a spare room we could have. So we can both stay in our own beds!" She told him excitedly, realizing that she would not have to sleep on the chair this evening. And as she went on to gush, the large in-keepers son cleared his throat to get her attention.
"The waters warmin' up, Ma'am. Shouldn'y take but twenty minutes."
Kella nodded to him in thanks before offering him some coin for his time,a nd once he left, she turned to Aryn, positively beaming.
"Tehy're even offering to bring us up some roasted duck!" Her eyes rolled back as she clutched her hands to her chest while she smiled broadly. "I haven't had roast duck in ages!"
Aryn's eyes widened at the news and he stared at her with his green eyes.
"I've... never had duck before. It's an expensive meat. I've only... smelled it passing by the market."
He had several ideas about what it tasted like, and all of them made him hungrier by the second. His stomach growled as he finally found the energy in him to pull himself up to his feet. leaning heavily on the crutch. The room was a mess, even the tables and chairs. He looked around but, really, there wasn't anywhere else to sit.
"Oh! But we'll have to wait. You can get your bath first, Aryn," she said, gesturing towards the make shift tub, though as she did so, her face dropped as she looked around the room. "Odd.. there's no privacy screen." She blinked, appearing quite confused.
Aryn stopped in the middle of the room and leaned heavily on his crutch, glancing from the wooden tub to Kella. He shrugged his shoulders.
"They probably think you're my wife... which explains why they didn't question why I'm so beat up."
He peered back at the water.
"You should go first... because if I get in there, I ain't getting out... look how small it is. I can wait in the common room."
Kella's face fell.
"But.."s he paused, hesitantly picking at her clothes. "I got the bath thinking about you." She knew she was dirty- but she'd feel terrible getting her bath before him-
After all the spilled soup and all......
Aryn grinned at her.
"And that's very sweet... did I ever tell you you're too nice for your own good?"
He crutched his way over to her, all two and a half steps. "You're a Lady though... Just because I eat like a slob does not mean I ain't got manners."
She blushed at his comment and shook her head.
"No, no. I insist. It was my fault you got messy, anyway," she said, dropping her gaze.
Aryn shot her a little frown, right after she averted her gaze. But it seemed that she was putting her foot down, at least in that quietly deferential way that she did things. Finally, he let out a huff and nodded.
"Fine... but I'm going to need help with this thing... it looks more like a fish bowl than a tub."
Kella's eyes went wide as they shot to him.
"OH! I uh.." Her eyes darted to the tub, then back to him.
"I don't... don't know how I could help. I mean, I-"
Oh, she felt dizzy at the idea of assisting him- nakedly, into the small wash tub. Did he.. he.. REALLY need her help! Oh, Ansgar, give her strength!
Perceiving her trepidation, Aryn raised a slight brow at her.
"What, you've never seen a naked man before?" he asked offhandedly, as if it were a normal occurrence. Indeed, the very thought of anyone being shy around him simply didn't register. After all, in the slums of Reajh, it was a surprise if there weren't naked children running around in the streets.
But, as soon as he said it, he remembered where she came from. A castle, with rules and manners. A place where people like him, with common sensibilities, simply were not welcome.
"Ah..." he corrected himself, "I'll keep my pants on... I could still use the help though."
Kella blinked and simply stared. Her face was probably as red as a tomato.
"But how.. your pants would get wet- I.."
Her mind was too dizzy now and her tongue, inconveniently- tied.
"Aye, that's the idea..." Aryn replied as he peered down into the small swirls of steam coming from the tub. How was he going to get into this damn thing? He tried to lean over and touch the water while still maintaining balance on the one crutch, but it began to wobble and he nearly stumbled.
With a frown he looked back up at Kella.
"Look... pants or no pants, you either need to give me a hand, or just bathe yourself. I ain't getting in this thing, not without falling over."
The prude in her was screaming. This was just too unreal, but after staring at the tub, then over to Aryn and his poor condition, she numbly nodded.
"O... ok," she said. "I.. I'll, I'll try not to look as I help you get it."
It was just like bathing a young child- sorta. She just had to keep telling herself that as she awkwardly shifted over to his side. It would be rude not to help someone that had saved her life anyway. ANd she had said she'd help.
Finally. Someone willing to help.
Aryn gave her a firm nod and assured her, "It's nothing embarrassing, I promise... it'll be over real quick."
He peered down at his pants. The laces along the front were already half undone (having never been properly tied up in the first place), but where it would take the most work was getting the pants down around his heavily bandaged and splinted leg. Carefully he leaned up against the side of the tub and moved his crutch to a side.
The awkwardness and embarrassment positively gushed from her, and Aryn could feel it.
What did they teach these highborn ladies?! Clearly nothing about the real world...
"Do... do you need help, with your pants?" she asked, after her ability to speak returned to her. "It might be hard for her to get them off and work around that splint."
"Aye... that's where I need the most help."
Aryn carefully balanced his crutch on the edge of the tub and reached down. He quickly unlaced the rest of the pants and peered back up at Kella, meeting her doe eyes with his green gaze.
"You... ah... should look away now, I guess. And then... just try and pull them off from around my ankles."
And with that, he starting tugging them off.
This was by far the most awkward and unlady like thing Kella found herself willingly participating. Never having truly seen a man, well- in his natural state (except bath time when she and her twin brother were far younger..) left Kella feeling numb and light headed. But somehow, she managed to help him peel his pants off, wary of where her eyes went when she had them open and once she helped him get those off, she moved nearer to him, adjusting her gloves a bit to ensure they would not fall off, before she cleared her throat- eyes... remaining to his eyes now and nothing more.
"I don't suppose you need a hand getting into the bath, too?" she asked him delicately and with as much proper grace as she could.
Aryn felt slightly uneasy throughout the entire process, especially when Kella began tugging at the pant leg trying to get it off. But at the same time, there was something especially amusing about her whole ordeal. He found that he had to stifle more laughter at her struggle.
When finally she was done, he met her gaze. Her cheeks were flush. It only brought another grin to his face as he shook his head. "No... well, just make sure I don't topple backward, I guess... don't want to ruin the back of my head now."
With a grunt, he held on tightly to the edge of the tub and began sliding backward into it, letting out a soft exhale as the warm water touched his skin. By Ansgar, it felt GOOD.
It was only when Aryn was in the tub did Kella give a peek his way- and seeing how he was modest (well, as modest as the small tub and waters could make him) she began to move to gather him the soap and a wash clothe.
"He-here," she said, kneeling close. "Would you like me to help wash your back? I'll be careful around the wounds."
Fully submerged in the tub now (or as much as a big man could in a tiny bucket), Aryn leaned his head back and sighed in relaxation, his eyelids half-closing. This was the first warm bath he'd had in... half a year? A year? He couldn't remember anymore. Frankly, he'd forgotten how good it felt.
When Kella spoke again, he glanced over at her. "If you want... if you'd rather stop looking at me, I won't blame you either." He sat up a bit anyway, just in case.
Kella's cheeks went pink.
"It.. it just seems as if.. if it might be difficult, considering your current... condition," she told him softly, though awkward as it was- she should have just agreed to stay out of the whole bathing thing. "It hardly seems you have much room to move. Plus your wounds..."
"It's hard with two hands... forget about having only one."
Aryn gazed at her with a long hard look and then, finally, gave a firm nod. He leaned forward to give her access to his scarred and bandaged torso. He smelled of his usual male musk, mixed with a little bit of carrot soup.
"You don't have to get too thorough... Don't need you to wash away all my good luck now."
Kella tried to smile at his last comment but it was short lived ad she worked a good lather of soap into the wash clothe before beginning her work at his back side, and her motions were gentle, but firm; and as she continued, she grew more confidence with each circular motion as she scrubbed. Then once one section was washed, she took a pitcher of watera nd began to rinse him off, but she was trying to be mindful of his wounds where he could. It wasn't until she was nearly finished wiht his back did she peer up and gaped at soemthing in his hair.
"You.. you've got a carrot.. right here.." she said, and plucked it from his blonde hair with a short giggle before moving forward and.. awkward trying to wash his hair using her gloves and some soapy suds.
Aryn had his eyes closed as she worked. The scrubbing of his back felt less like a cleaning and more like a massage. Coupled with the relaxing warmth of the water, he could have fallen asleep right then and there.
When her gloved hands felt their way through his hair, he opened his eyes slightly. The wet leather felt odd against his scalp, and in touching his head, his hand rested atop hers and atop a small lather of suds. He could feel the warmth of her hand through the gloves.
He could also feel smaller bits of food stuck among his strands.
"There's definitely more than a carrot up there..." he laughed. "What did you mash into my head while I was asleep?"
Kella blushed at his words.
"I assure you, I left your hair alone when you rested." But she couldn't help the smile that formed as she continued to work a nice lather and massage into his scalp.
Aryn laid his head back to allow her easier access. At the same time he closed his eyes and let out a long exhale of relaxation, feeling her fingers massage into his scalp.
"Ahhhhh... that feels damn good... Do you noblewomen get this often at home? I could get used to this lifestyle..."
One eye popped open. "Minus the getting shot part, of course."
Kella smiled, but also blushed at his reaction while she shook her head.
"Sort of." She told him, still shaking his head. "Though it does come without.." and she gestured with one sudsy glove, "Getting shot."
"It's a good life, then," Aryn concluded. A single soapy drop of water rolled down his forehead and onto his nose. He wrinkled his nose and reached up with a wet hand to brush it away.
"Did you do this everyday? If so, where can I get in on this action? Surely you didn't just have a home in Turgall. You're the sister of a Duke. There has to be a summer home, or a winter home, or some home or another where I can soak in a tub and never wake up."
It was only then, at the mention of a summer home that she gasped and dropped the wash clothe she had only just picked up and had been about to work at cleaning his neck and ears with. It landed with a slopping sound on his shoulder before plopping onto the floor.
"Oh! Our Summer home! That's it!"
If there was a hint of realization in her voice, Aryn didn't notice it. He barely felt the washcloth bounce off his shoulder and splatter on the floor even as he laid back even further with an "ahhh."
"Perfect... I'll just sleep in the tub then... you won't even have to give me a guest room..."
Kella scoffed at that idea.
"Nonsense. Once you are ready to travel, we can stop there. I could even get you some clothes. You might fit into my brother's clothes.. or my father's. You seem er.. a bit bulkier than he."
Aryn laughed.
"From the way I eat, is that really a surprise?"
Kella blushed. That's not what she meant! She took a look at his muscles before reaching down to pick up the soggy rag.
"You mean eating soup through your hair?" she tried to jest but her voice came out sounding really awkward, and now she worked at rinsing him down as she stared at him thoughtfully- mind drifting to her summer home in Havensworth.
Aryn sat up a bit and turned to regard her, a crown of soap on top of his head.
"I'd just like to point out that it was entirely YOUR fault. And yes... if I could drink that soup through my head, I would."
As if on cue, his stomach gave a large growl. Luckily, it was muffled by the water.
The washing continued until Kella was certain Aryn was well clean. He could have sparkled by the time she was done- and when it was her turn, she politely asked him to look away.
And the night went on as such- another few bowls of soup- even a bit of ale to Aryn and the two of them were passed out in their respective rooms.
Their short time at the little Inn was memorable, and their companionship- becoming quite amicable as Kella continued to help the man heal throughout the next few weeks- and all the while, she was gushing about the few times they'd share roast duck here- and how, once they got to Havensworth, she'd dress him in the finest of clothes, pay him well for his services, and maybe even see into helping him with his iron hand.
It didn't tkae long for the man to convince Kella he was well enough to travel- and soon both were on the road again- and the skies, rather clear. Most of the snow had melted and it made travel only uneasy when there were patches of mud and the wagon would get stuck. Other wise, it was relatively smooth travel and by the time Havensworth pulled into view, Kella's eyes were alight at hte sight of the towering stone building.
"There it is," she told him, pointing towards the horizon. "That's our country home."
Aryn's boot still didn't fit properly, and he still limped a bit when he walked, but at least after several weeks at the inn he was able to get back on his feet again. His iron arm was also strapped back onto his stump now, though he still kept his arm in a sling to let his shoulder wound heal some more. Aside from that, he seemed in very good spirits.
As the tower came into sight, he glanced at it up and down and gave Kella a nudge. "I thought you said you had a summer home, not a summer fortress. I feel like we're preparing for a siege."
The thought of actual clothes that fit brought a slight smile to his face though as their little wagon rolled toward the tower. The shirt he had on right now, courtesy of the biggest man in town, only barely fit him.
"Well," she told him, beaming. "My father was a tall man. He might have been about your height, though I have to admit, he'd lack your.. broad shoulders." She admitted with a blush, but her eyes were dancing, and her smile was now unerasable on her lips as they continued down the dirt path towards the home.
"It is.. a lot bigger than I remember," she admitted sheepishly. "But it will feel good to get into some normal clothes again." She sighed at the thought, and as soon as the place came into view- she began to feel a bit conscience- noting the tall weeds and the lack of care to the front of the place, which made her frown.
"That's odd... the place looks so... unkempt."
She pulled the wagon to a halt and gestured for Aryn, "You stay here. I'll see if any of hte workers are home." But once she got there, she knocked on the door- and no one showed up. Puzzled, she looked around through the side iwndows, but could see nothing inside- the entire place was dark.
"That's strange- seems no one has been here in ages." She told him, fretting a bit. "And I havne't a key. I'm not sure how we will get in."
Aryn had been on the road long enough to know when something was oddly out of place. A veritable palace like this one, no matter what the season, would never let its grounds become so overgrown with weeds so as to resemble an abandoned farmhouse. The silence was also disturbing. All he could hear was the soft rustling of tall grass in the wind, and the moaning of trees surrounding the manor.
Lifting a hand to quiet Kella, the Ironhand hopped out of the wagon and drew his axe from his belt. Walking still bothered him some, and so he silently limped his way over to the window at which she stood, also peering inside. It was too dark to clearly see the interior, but by his guess the place was unoccupied -- or worse.
"This ain't right," he hissed with a slight frown. He tried the window. It was barred from the inside.
"Leave the cart. We're going around back to see if there's anybody around. Don't stray an inch away from me."
And with that, he cautiously maneuvered his way around the wall and toward the back of the manor house, axe raised in anticipation of the worst. Soon they reached a small door, presumably for servants to enter and exit the kitchen area. He shot her a questioning look.
Nodding her head, Kella kept close, her eyes lingering all over the small castle before them with a frown. What happened? Did Blaith abandon this place? Had the war gotten to it? However, there was no evidence of a large group of men having come here, nor anyplace that she could see where someone might have broken in. Perhaps it was only abandoned a short while? The home was in the middle of the woods, just outside of Havensworth.
Following his gaze, she looked down at the small, wooden door of the servant's quarters and peered back to him. "Wait, I have an idea. There's a key, to this door- hidden in the woods." And she gestured to a large willow tree resting in the middle of a valley. "If you'd like, I could, I could fetch it. We could try to get in through here."
Without having to use his ax to break in, either. She gently touched his arm, blue eyes looking up at him.
Aryn gave her a quick look before nodding his head. After all, this was her summer home. She knew its intricacies much better than he.
"Keep low to the grasses, if someone is inside, we don't want them looking out the windows and seeing us," he warned as he took a small step away from the door. He clutched tightly to the handle of his axe, green eyes peering around once more before tiptoeing in the direction she'd gestured. Hopping from tree to tree for cover, Aryn took one last backward glance at the towering building.
This was either a great idea, or a terrible idea.
Tip toeing through the grasses and sneaking through the trees, Kella eventually made her way to the willow and began to ascend, removing her gloves for the moment to get a better grip on the bark as each branch she grabbed she was able to pull herself higher and higher. Pausing a few feet above Aryn, she had to laugh as a blustry wind rushed through.
"It's been ages since I've climbed this tree. I can even see my name carved in the wood up here. My name, Blaith's.. my cousin, Kat's." She rested her hand over the chiseled names with a soft smile.
"Maybe I should carve your name into it,"s he told Aryn with a soft smile before scooting her way up higher on a branch so as to be nearer towards a hole that nestled into the tree.
"I've almost gt the key," she told him, scooting abit more precariously on the branch over him. "We hid it in the tree cave- or at least that's what I used to call it when I was little. The name sort of stuck."
Aryn craned his neck up to watch her climb the tree. And craned. And craned.
After a while he was forced to look away and back down to the grass, as staring straight up into the blue sky made him slightly dizzy. With a scowl and a grunt, he gave the tree a pat before looking back up.
"How the hell did you get so high?!" he urgently called in a whispered shout. "If you fall, I ain't catching you!"
A potent gust of wind sent the willow branches waving and shivering. And even though Kella had a firm footing on that high branch, just seeing it sent a shiver down Aryn's spine as well. He quickly looked away and back to the castle, green eyes peering intently. He heart leaped in his throat as he thought he saw movement in one of the higher windows --though he couldn't tell if it was a person or a curtain.
Giving the tree another pat, he hissed, "Next time, bury the key instead of hiding it up there!"
Kella smiled down at him
"I found it!" she shouted, showing him the brass skeleton key. "But should I carve your name up here first, or would you like to visit here when you are well and do it yourself?"
When Kella shouted down, Aryn's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Frantically he waved for her to keep her voice down. Even this distance from the house, he knew that her voice could travel along the wind and possibly reach some listener. Of course it might turn out that his concern was all for naught, but playing it safe never hurt.
"If my name gets carved, it'll be your doing," he called up to her through clenched teeth, keeping his voice as low as possible while still audible from up high. "Like hell I'm climbing this fucking tree!"
Just the thought of it made him shudder.
Kella giggled as she peered down after him.
"What? Is the great Iron hand afraid of heights?" she teased.
Aryn's eyes bulged.
"Hey. HEY!" he finally shouted, before biting his lip and silently kicking himself for breaking his own rule of silence.
"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Maybe it's none of your business," he muttered with a deep scowl.
"...Keep it to yourself, eh? I have a reputation to maintain."
At his defensive nature, Kella only giggled. "Maybe I should write your name up here then- how do you spell your name, Aryn? A-R-R-I..."
"There's only four letters in it," he called up.
Which ones? He didn't know. He couldn't read.
Kella blinked.
"Oh... OH!" and her eyes lit up when she realized, "A-R-Y-N." She smiled as she began to etch the letters in, seeming to take her sweet old time- using the metal key to work into the wood took some effort, but the wood was worn with age and already broken into from the earlier names as she smiled and admired her work.
Aryn tapped his foot impatiently at the base of the tree.
"Are we done? Good," he huffed, rapping on the tree's trunk with his metal hand. The movement brought a wince to his face as he tweaked his still-healing shoulder.
"You can teach me to read later. For now, we have a castle to break into."
Slipping out from the tree, she gave Aryn a broad smile.
"You'll thank me later. Now your name is permanently next to mine. Now come on, my prince,"s he said, offering out her arm. "Let's break into my castle." And she produced the key to him with eyes shinning mirthfully. It seemed, somehow, she was unafraid here- nor considering how dangerous it might be to enter an abandoned place like this- but this had been her home...
what's so scary about that?
ANd slipping on her gloves, she waited for Aryn to oblige her.
Finally, he could look down at her again. The look of incredulity on his face said it all, especially when she held out her arm for him. He'd never seen her like this before. She looked almost childlike, almost worry-free. Almost normal.
"Un-fuckin-believable," he said with a shake of his head before roughly sliding his axe back into his belt. He reached up and took her gloved hand into his own, his nearly enveloping hers. "Alright princess, let's try not to wake up the sleeping dragon this time, eh?"
And the two of them proceeded to head back toward the castle, the big Aryn still slightly hunched over as if ready to dive into the bushes at any time.
Kella was all smiles, but the mention of a sleeping dragon had her gasping when she lightly smacked his arm.
"Sleeping dragon?" she said, giving him a narrowed, chastising look and blush."Really, Aryn. How very childish and vulgar."
The smack didn't hurt him at all, but he flinched anyway in surprise. He turned to glower at her.
"Hey! What's the big idea?!"
Her blushed look raised one of his eyebrows. And then he realized what he'd said. The frown on his face deepened even more.
"I meant keep your voice down! Not about my... well, not about that! By Ansgar, what are you, twelve? What do they teach you in a castle?"
The Ironhand shook his head in consternation and grumbled for a moment before finally a small smirk crossed his features. It was kind of funny, after all.
When they made it back to the castle, she fumbled only momentarily with the lock before it clicked open.
"Well.." she said, drawing ina breath. "Here goes nothing." And she pushed the door open- and the darkness awaited them within.
Aryn held his breath when the door swung open for them, that darkness looming like a chasm. While she stepped through the doorway, he hesitated at the entrance for a second. The axe was back in his hand, but it dangled at his side.
"I've never been in a castle before," he breathed softly. And then with a long exhale he plunged through.
Really, though, there was nothing special about this particular room as he blinked in the darkness and tried to peer around. It appeared to be like any other kitchen - albeit much more massive.
Quietly she crept through the darkness, her boots stepping soundless on the floor. She made her way blindly through the kitchen, seemingly undetered by the darkness and silence that loomed around them. But seeing his hesitation, she smiled back to him.
"Come on. The place is too quiet for an ambush,"s he told him and offered out her gloved hand. "Come on. We should stay close."
Aryn looked pointedly at her. "You don't know that," he insisted. But seeing the gleam of her blue eyes in the darkness and the way she seemed so comfortable in this setting...
"Hmmph," he finally grunted and put his axe away, accepting the hand she offered him. She was the guide now.
The next few rooms all looked like pantries, and Aryn could not help but stare open-mouthed. This castle could have fit every single homeless child from the streets of Reajh. And it was all for one family. The enormity of it staggered him.
At first she didn't notice his gaping stare at the simple kitchen, but feeling his hand nearly slip from her grip as he slowed down, she peered back at him and caught his expression in the pale light.
"Is it really that awe inspiring? If you keep your mouth dropped open like that you might drool,"s he told him, pausing to tap a finger to his chin.
"Come on, you haven't even seen the best part of the house."
And her eyes were positively sparkling as she gave his hand a squeeze and guided him out of the kitchen and into the grand dining room- where a table that could feet thirty guests long stretched across the way, and a massive, golden chandelier still sparkled over head- even though it was dusty and unlit -a nd the ceiling was decorated in white molding decore, and the walls- in a similar fashion lined in mahogany and covered in elegant paintings of both family and still life- alike.
Noting his gape in his room, she giggled and put a hand beneath his chin again.
"No drooling,"s he teased and gestured for him to follow her through the carved, double door.
If he was shocked by the kitchen and pantries, the dining hall absolutely stagger him. "By Ansgar..." was all he could say as he stared up at the golden chandelier hanging above their heads, completely oblivious to the cobwebs spanning the unlit curved arms.
He barely felt the tug of her hand as he slowed, only realizing he wasn't keeping up with Kella when she gave his hand a squeeze. As they passed by a large still-life of a waterfall, he once again slowed to stare at it. They didn't have these in most taverns.
After a moment he realized he was drooling. And hastily he wiped it away from his chin and looked away in embarrassment.
The next painting they passed looked to be a family portrait, with two regal parents and six children of various ages. "Are you one of these?" he asked her, wondering if maybe she had more than just the one brother.
Turning to stop and stare at the painting, Kella beamed.
"No." And she moved to step nearer to him and the painting.
"These are my great grandparents- though I think.. hrm... yes, I do recall these were on my father's side."
"I see," Aryn said as he peered up at the painting. It was partially obscured by a fine layer of dust, but there was no mistaking the vibrant blue eyes and the golden hair. He pointed a finger at the middle child and shrugged. "I just thought that one looked like you, is all."
Upon closer inspection though, he began to realize that the figure he pointed to was, in fact, male. Quickly and apologetically he shook his head and tried to come up with an excuse. "Err... what I meant was it looked like you from the hair and the eyes. Yeah."
Realizing how stupid that sounded, instead he turned to regard the massive dining table. It spanned the entire length of the already large hall, a beautifully ornate centerpiece with a long tablecloth still gently draped over it.
"You could build a ship with how much wood is in that table."
Kella giggled and patted him on the shoulder.
"Yes," she told him, eyes dancing. "You probably could. Come on." She was close enough her whisper tickled his cheek as she moved past the table and towards the door. "There's a lot more to see." And she moved to push the pair of double doors open, the door opened to a massive room even taller and more grand than the dining hall- and Kella just waited lik ea young girl, giddy to see his reaction to the even BIGGER chandelier here!
"I don't know, I've seen a lot today already. Nothing can impre-"
His jaw dropped.
Never mind the enormous chandelier dangling from the roof, encrusted jewels aglitter from the soft rays of sunshine beaming in through a glass skylight above them. That enormous fixture caught Aryn's eyes for the briefest of moments before they dropped back down to the cavernous main hall in which he now stood. The grand staircase, at least ten paces across and carpeted in lush red, led up to the second level interior balcony. He counted at least a dozen doors, maybe more.
"By Ansgar..." was all he could say as he stepped up beside her. His eyes gaped for a few seconds more before slowly he turned to her. "And this is just your summer home," he said incredulously before slowly stepping forward and toward the giant staircase. It made even him look miniscule.
Kella's laughter echoed softly all around them as she hugged onto his arm.
"Yes," she told him as she wrinkled her nose. "And there's the grand stair case that leads up to our rooms- and you know what's there?" And she gently tugged him along. "Some fresh, clean clothes!"
The mention of fresh clothing snapped him out of his reverie as they ascended the stairs. He had to give her a wolfish grin.
"Great, because I'm about to burst out of this damn shirt," he complained, lifting his arm slightly. Indeed, there was a small rip developing just under his armpit. It had belonged to the largest man back in town, and even then the Ironhand was quite wider than he.
The top of the staircase opened into the balcony overlooking the bottom level. Along the walls were six doors, each of them shut.
"Did you really have so many guests that you needed all these rooms?" he asked, brow raised.
Kella blushed at his inquiry and gave him a sheepish grin.
"Maybe not all of them," she said, hooking her arms with his again. "But most. Care to spend the night?" she said, those blue eyes dazzling. "We've got more rooms to pick from than any inn we've stayed at. And each one is complete with a large, plush bed." And the last part she told him as she inched her way closer to him, leaning into his body. She seemed to ease up a lot more now that they were on 'her turf' and all of her cares about touching and killing people seemed to all but melt away.
Sighing happily, she gave a pull and guided Aryn down the hall, but paused a moment in the hall and pointed to apicture.
"If you wanted to see a painting of me, there- that one there. It was of me on my 18th birthday." She said, smiling up at it. She looked almost the same thing- except she had a fuller face and much, much longer hair-though it was partially bound up in a traditional bun. But even back then she had the same smile.
As if her gradual return to her former more carefree self were infectious, Aryn also unconsciously relaxed his stance somewhat, glancing down at her with a wide smile. "You had my attention at 'bed'. I'll be able to cross that one off my list: sleep in a castle." As she leaned in against him, he gave her a gentle nudge with the point of his elbow.
Letting her lead the way completely, he stopped to gave up at the picture. It was definitely her, alright, the watercolors capturing every minute detail of Kella, from the sparkle in her blue eyes to the details on her face. That smile was definitely hers - something she didn't do frequently enough, as he'd often told her. Of course, it still seemed different, especially the fancy looking blue dress she had on and that long hair. He slowly looked between the painting and her, as if scrutinizing.
Finally, he gave a nod and commented, "It's nice. But I like your hair the way it is now."
Kella blushed and cast her eyes away.
"I.. I used to be proud of my hair. It was so long..." she sighed at the thought as she idly combed a finger through what was left of it before, less enthusiastically, guiding him forward. "Come,t his way. My brother's room is at the end of the hall- and my parents, int he center- You can see their door from here."
Aryn finally looked away from the picture as she tugged him away from it and further down the corridor. His eyes slowly drifted from door to door until they landed on the double doors centering the hall. Each wooden panel was ornately carved and decorated, and even the door handles were gilded.
"You could tell they were Duke and Duchess," he said with a whistle.
"Y'know, I could get used to living in a place like this. Well... maybe it would take a while. There's too much empty space."
Kella chuckled and bumped her hip lightly against him. "You get used to it. It's.. all I ever knew," she said, sighing again as she found herself smiling fondly at this place. "So many memories here.." She could almost here the laughter she and Blaith shared when they'd run through the halls- but her expression began to turn sadder as tears glittered in her eyes. She paused just before her parents door to wipe them away, hoping he wouldn't see and idly noted, "Oh, so much dust here- must be getting into my eyes."
He'd been around her long enough by now to detect that little twinge of sadness and wistful reflection in her voice. And though she blamed it on the dust, Aryn found himself placing his arm around her shoulders and giving her a light tender squeeze anyway.
And then it was his turn to have that gleam in his eyes as he stared down at the gilded door handle. If only he could rip them off and melt them down, he could have a whole gold bar. Slowly he placed a hand on the handle and removed it, inspecting the fine grey layer on his hand.
"Yeah, this place has definitely been empty for a while. Oh well, more for us!"
Without warning he flung the doors open, sending up an even greater cloud of dust right into his face and reducing him to a coughing mess.
Kella was caught in the dust storm as well, and was coughing a fit and waving her arms in hopes to clear the dust. Peering up, she looked through the room towards the closets.
"I just hope there's some clothes in here."
It would be a bit of a drag if they came all the way out here for nothing. "Come on- over here, on the right side of the bed. That was my father's closet."
"I hope your father was broad in the shoulders..." he muttered through his coughing and blinking, stepping around the bed to where she was. The closet was opened just a crack and, though he couldn't see the clothing inside, the small amount of light streaming in could already confirm his suspicions: it was larger than most rooms he'd seen.
Swinging the closet doors open, Kella stepped inside. She was still beaming, smiling, and the hint of dust in her eyes was now being brushed away by her fingers.
"Watch your step - I think some of his shoes fell over- but yes- this is it." she told him, beaming as she gestured her arms across part of the lengthy walk in closet. "More clothing than we've seen food." And she had to laugh at it, but it was true!
"So go ahead, pick what you like- I just hope they fit."
Aryn slowly toed his way into the closet with a bit of trepidation. It stretched on rather far, confirming his guess that this closet could've housed a family on its own. While there were several pairs of shoes lying scattered on the floor, along with several articles of clothing haphazardly strewn about, everything else seemed remarkably in place. Many of the clothes were neatly folded and separated into distinct piles, while the finer outfits hung quietly from wooden hangars.
Reaching out, Aryn pulled out an embroidered tunic of sea blue, golden threads lining the sleeves and hems. It looked exactly like something a noble would wear to a fancy party. It was also probably worth more than everything he owned.
Holding it up to his chest and glancing at the result in the polished mirror at the end of the closet, Aryn raised a brow. "I'll look ridiculous in this."
Kella's expression said other wise as her blue eyes sparkled and took him in.
"Oh, no... no! It would look marvelous on you! Think of how handsome you would be!" she gushed and leaned in closer to him. "And you picked blue.." her smile broadened. "Blue was always one of my favorite colors."
"I don't know," Aryn responded slowly, unconvinced. He turned the tunic around to fully inspect it. The material was so light. It felt like a tablecloth.
"But... you're the expert, not me. So I guess I'll take your word for it," he finally added. Reaching over his head, he half-scrambled out of his ill-fitting wool shirt and tossed it to the ground. Taking a brief moment to inspect the nicely healing wound up in his shoulder, he promptly threw the blue tunic over his head. It was still just a bit snug around the upper arms, but otherwise it fit rather well.
"So... how do I look?" he asked, turning to face her.
Kella was positively glowing.
"Like a handsome prince," she told him stepping near to him, though her gloved hands found the suit as she began to lightly pull on it and smooth it over. "Though it is a bit tight-" It practically hugged his muscles, but that just made him all the more dashing. Her blue eyes took him in in a whole other light. "I think it suits you well, and she chanced a peek over at the mirror to see how he and she looked together as she blushed.
"Well, if you're in a nice suit, I'll have to find myself a nice dress- and maybe we can make use of the ballroom down stairs- you look as if you're about ready for a dance!" She told him, positively giddy over the idea. "Come on- do you need help with those pants?" She knew his leg was doing better, but she wasn't sure how well he'd fair with clothing that was down south
Aryn's breath caught in his throat at the mention of dancing. As if dressing in the fancy garb of a Duke wasn't enough of a culture shock to him, now he was poised to learn the other finer aspects of noble life. The thought almost terrified him.
"I, ah... I don't know how to dance," he mentioned as he fidgeted slightly in the tight blue tunic. While it wasn't terribly difficult to move around in (and it hung off his torso so lightly), the smooth silk fabric felt strange against his skin. At least the sleeves were long and wide enough to not get snagged on his metal arm. Plus, they were the perfect length, coming to a halt just at his wrists.
He glanced down at his laced pants now and gave a little frown. "I might need a bit of help," he admitted. Though his leg had healed enough for him to be able to limp around on his own two feet, it still had a splint tightly bound to it for safety.
He looked around the closet once more before giving her a pointed look. Gesturing to what he assumed was the matching pair of pants for this shirt (he couldn't tell), he added, "These aren't going to be those tight-fitting leggings, are they? They don't look comfortable at all."
Kella could not erase her smile as it grew bigger and bigger across her face. She hugged onto his arm.
"I can teach you. Don't worry, and those pants.. well, they won't be that tight- though probably more so than you are used to." She gave him a more bashful smile but nodded as she took his pants.
"I'll... I'll keep my eyes averted, like when I helped you before at the inn. But you'll feel much better once you're in cleaner, more well fitted clothing." Even if that clothing was something he probably never dreamed about wearing, ever, in his entire life!
Aryn gave one last eyebrow-raised look at the dark pants, but finally nodded. Stepping out of the closet, he took a seat at the edge of the long-unused bed, ignoring the small puff of dust that spurted into the air. With his free hand he unlaced the front of his dirt-stained leather trousers and tugged them off as best as he could. He still required her help getting them off from around his splinted right leg, but eventually they succeeded.
Getting these new, more form fitting pants on proved more of a task. For one, simply getting the leg around the splint required quite a bit of deft posturing and maneuvering so as not to tear them. And when it came time for Aryn to pull them up fully, he consciously felt the way they nearly hugged to his thighs.
"Ugh... how do you people wear these?" he complained as he climbed to his feet, trying to pull them up all the way around his waist. He almost had to hop on his one good foot in the process.
And when it was all said and done, his face red with discomposure, Aryn might have looked the part of a noble, just barely. The pants were a bit askew, and his tunic had also become slightly dislodged in the process.
Kella was pink faced with exertion, and rose with a huff to observe him, but smiled at what had become disheveled as she affectionately smoothed down and fussed over his attire.
"There now," she said, taking a step back to admire her work. "You really do clean up well," he said, blue eyes sparkling at the sight. And well- to see him dress so, made her really stare and admire him. Had he always been this handsome?
Aryn gave one single look down at himself, and his jaw dropped again. He barely recognized his own body, what with all this silky fabric draped over him. Looking up at Kella and seeing that glitter in her eyes had him arching another brow.
"If I take a step, I'll probably rip right out of these pants," he grumbled as he peered down at himself again. Lifting his arms, he glanced over his shoulder at how the noble clothing looked from the back. It still looked strange.
Slowly and gingerly he tried moving around in them, and surprisingly found that they didn't inhibit his mobility at all. Granted they still felt a little more tight and uncomfortable around the crotch and thigh area than he would have preferred, but otherwise they functioned well enough. He took the two steps over to stand in front of her, peering down at her blue eyes.
"Please tell me that's it? Or do I have to throw on a fancy cape and vest too, and look like a jester."
Kella chuckled softly at his remark.
"No, she said, placing an arm on his shoulder. "But I'm sure there are capes if you'd like them." Taking another gander at him in the mirror, her eyes too him in before giving his arm a tug. "But now I need to find a dress for myslef. Perhaps i can find one to match?"
Leaving him to follow on his own, she moved out the door and towards her summer home room- to where she made quick work to her own closet- and admired all of the dresses in fine silk.
"Oh.. it's been ages since I've worn any of these- and they're so out dated in their fashions." She blushed and moved her fingers through the arrays of colors- trying to think which would be best to compliment Aryn in blue.
Aryn did just that, follow her out into the hall and then to her room. He was slower to enter than she though, pausing at the doorway to peer in. The bed alone would have boggled his mind: a giant four-poster bed of rich oak, ornately carved with all manners of beautiful crests and creatures. Rich blue drapes hung over a glass door leading out to a marble balcony. A large wooden armoire sat against one of the walls, but even that failed to make the room look any smaller to him.
"So this is where Kella Harmond held court, eh?" he said with a wide-eyed grin.
Finally he stepped his way through the threshold and headed for the closet, where Kella was busy thumbing through all her old dresses. To him, they all looked the same: big, poofy, and probably woven in the finest silks. He leaned against the doorframe and gazed at her, in his mind picturing her in each of those outfits. "What do you mean out of fashion? I bet if you wore any of those dressed right now, you could slip into the Grand Duke's palace and fit right in."
The thought of it brought a slight smile to his face and he shook his head. She'd have to actually put one of things on before he believed his eyes that they weren't all the same dress, in different colors.
Finally he headed over to that bed and practically flopped down onto it. The mattress was so soft that he felt himself sinking into the fabrics.
"You could say that!" she called out from inside the closet. "I spent here more time when I was younger, but there have been a lot of fond memories..."
After Aryn left the closet, she took her time deciding on what to wear- pulling out a soft white dress laced in glitterng, sky blue gems and diamonds that she had never gotten a chance to wear.
Slipping outside of the closet and behind a changing screen, she made little noise as each layer of clothing was peeled off. It felt good to be outside of those traveling clothes,a nd then to slip inside a dress-
The contented sigh was audible even from the other side of the screen- and she paused there to admire herself before tucking back a smile and peering over the corner.
"Would you.. would you mind helping me to tie up the back? I... It's near impossible for me to tighten all of these laces."
Her faint sigh came simultaneously with Aryn's own, as he lay there on the bed with his legs dangling off the edge. It was so damn comfortable that his eyelids began to drift half asleep, only barely being able to distinguish the carved tester casting a gentle shade over the bed. It was only when she called for his help that he forced himself reluctantly to get back up.
"Laces? Like pants laces? I didn't know they made dresses with la-" he started, until his voice caught in his throat as he rounded the screen. That dress, adorned with glimmering gems and diamonds, positively shone on her. He stood there for a second, unmoving, taking in the entire sight of her almost ethereal self. He always knew she could be pretty if not for all the dirt and dust of travel, but here she was positively beautiful. He gaped for a while longer, until he realized his jaw was wide open and that he was staring.
Turning a shade of red, he cleared his throat and quickly slipped behind her before she could comment on his reaction. The laces crisscrossed her bare back loosely, and he stared down at them, dumbfounded.
Finally, he lifted his hand and began the slow and arduous process of tightening them.
"This... might take a while," he said as we worked as diligently as he could with his only hand. His metal arm, thankfully clothed in blue silk now, slipped to her waist to give him some leverage on the laces.
"Sorry," she told him through a sheepish blush as she peered over her shoulder.
"But at least we don't have my hair to contend with."
It was still only barely reaching her shoulders by now in length- and she was contemplating cutting it again. But oh- how she did miss her long hair.
"But if it makes you feel better, it always takes the maids alogn time to cinch it up, tight."
"Hrrmmph," was Aryn's only reply has he worked his way up the dress, tightening the laces one by one. He wasn't too sure how tight he was to pull at them (and since she was so slender, there was plenty of room to work), but from the way she wasn't complaining he just took it that he was doing an acceptable job.
Finally, he reached the top and took a step back to admire his own work. Or lay a critical eye on it. He honestly didn't know whether it was good or not, but at least he tried.
"Well, I hope I did a good enough job to be considered as good as a maid," he said with a hopeful shrug, his eyes drifting back down to the dress. It fell in gentle layers around her frame, and just kissed the floor stones.
Turning around, her dress twirled with her to rest at her ankles.
"Thanks so much," she told him and went to lean forward to kiss his cheek, when she gasped and reared away from him, growing fearful in that moment to realize, "Oh no, my skin is exposed!" And she rushed off to the closet to scramble around in order to find something to cover her exposed arms, neck and hands.
Aryn had been very careful while tightening the laces of her dress, wary to keep his exposed hand away from the bare smooth skin of her back. When she moved in for the kiss though, he'd been so distracted by her and her dress that he, too, had forgotten about her affliction. It was only her cry and retreat that brought reminder back to his stunned face.
As Kella rushed back into the closet, Aryn watched her go for a brief second, acutely aware of how close they were to disaster. Stupid he thought to himself in chastisement, you can't let your guard down.
With a slight frown, he sat heavily back down on the edge of her bed and looked down at his hands, both the real one and the metal one. "Sweet Ansgar, that was damn close," he muttered to himself.
Damn, that dress really was stunning.
He'd hear the clattering of clothing hangers as Kella desperately searched for some gloves. She managed to find a cloak, but it was a summer one- so it was no where near as thick nor protecting as the one she had been traveling in, and hastily she rushed out of the closet and over to the bed, where she threw open the gilded chest there- seeking a pair of gloves. Though what she could come up with was bicept high white gloves to match- and an equally matching white, silk cape- but it still left her neck exposed and frustratedly, she showed it as she sighed from where she was sitting on the floor- tears beginning to cling to the frustrated expression in her eyes.
"This won't do. There's too much skin exposed," she said, trying to blink back tears as she defeatedly closed the chest and wilted over it. Then after a time, when she steeled back at least some of her tears, she found herself muttering, "Maybe I should just return to my other clothes."
The last thing she wanted to do was to hurt him.
Aryn remained sitting on the edge of her bed the entire time, all the while watching and listening to her scramble around for gloves and a cloak. When she finally sank to the ground in near tears, he could only bite his lip and say nothing. After all, regardless of what he said or thought, the fact was that her affliction could never be hidden away behind a veil of wishful thinking. The fact that she'd been so happy for the last little while, and to have that joy disintegrate under the weight of reality, brought another frown to his face.
When she suggested changing back into her traveling garb though, Aryn stood resolutely. "Like hell you're doing that. You've been gushing for weeks about finally wearing something new and clean. Look at how happy you were. I've never seen you smile so much as I did the last ten minutes, so I'll be damned if I let you change out of that dress now."
He stepped over to where she sat on the floor and crouched in front of her, gazing into her blue eyes with a firm stare. "We'll just have to be a bit more careful, is all. Now wipe those tears away, because I ain't getting water stains on these fancy clothes."
It was hard for Kella to stop her crying, even when Aryn was adamant on what she ought to do.
"But Aryn..." She grit her teeth. Didn't he understand the risks? Didn't he understand?
"I don't want to hurt you anymore," she told him defeatedly as she peered down at her lap, more tears spilling down her cheeks.
The scowl on Aryn's face grew more and more intense the more she cried. He wanted to grab a hold of her and just shake her hard until she stopped her tearing. Indeed, he reached his arms out to do just that.
But instead, his hands found each of her shoulders, the touch so gentle and light that it was hard to imagine the large brutish man crouched in front of her.
"Look... you know what's hurtin' me right now? Seeing you get so upset when you were just laughing and smiling without a care in the world. That was nice. I want you to go back to that."
A hand slowly slipped under her chin to life her downcast face, so that she could meet his green eyes with her own blue ones. As it turned out, the hand there felt rigid, the metal fingers cool to the touch.
"Besides... you couldn't hurt me if you tried. I mean look down at yourself, princess. Nobody wearing a dress like that could ever hurt anything."
He slipped his actual hand inside the sleeve of her father's silk tunic and finally dabbed away at a tear that had slid onto her cheek. "Now look at that. You've gone and ruined my shirt again."
She felt his metal finger and lifted her blue eye to his. Hers were full of tears, while his was obviously full of concern- and frustration. Though when he moved to wipe those tears away, she flinched back some- afraid they'd touch but at his comment, she breathed out a laugh- but it was only half there.
"Aryn.."
She rose a gloved hand to brush tears and hair from her face as she looked away.
"You... I..." She grit her teeth. "You don't understand." She frowned and peered down at her feet. She still hadn't put any shoes on.S he curled them and tucked them under her dress before peering up at him. "If I forget... I... I don't want to have that pain on my conscience. I couldn't live with myself- knowing I hurt you... or killed you." As she spoke she never let her blue eyes leave his as they clung lightly with tears.
Finally, Aryn got out of his crouch and just plain sat down unceremoniously in front of her. The half-sob half-laugh seemed to be at least some sign of life from her, but for the most part Kella still looked resigned in her sorrow. And the words she spoke, though he hated to admit it, were absolutely true.
"Well you haven't killed me yet despite your best efforts," he replied gently, peering back at her with his own green eyes. His voice was low and soft, quite different than the volume usually coming from him. He dabbed away at another tear before leaning back to admire his handiwork. "Look, if I feel your touch again, and trust me I'll feel it, then we can just pull away and that'll be that. No harm done."
Her gloved hands sat limply in her lap. Aryn lifted one of them now with his iron arm, giving the back of it a light pat with his left hand.
"I want you to go back to how you were before. Smiling. Alright?"
Slowly he climbed back to his feet and offered a hand down to her, adding, "I'm going to go outside, tie the horse and bring out packs in here. In the meantime, if you really feel that uncomfortable then you have all that time to find something that covers you more, if you want. That ought to solve our whole problem. Then after, I believe you still owe me the rest of the tour. And a dance."
Kella spared him one questionable, almost pleading look before he went. She would have offered to help, but she was still an emotional mess. So the moment he was gone, she picked herself up and dragged herself over to a mirror. For the longest moment she stared back into her reflection, memories creeping in- the faint sound of laughter, of play, of happy times and dancing.
She brushed back the tears that remained. Aryn was right. There was no sense in feeling sorry for herself. But where she used to have some confidence before- back when her brother was still...
her brother..., Kella now found strength in a new man- and herself. She drew in a careful breath and began to rummage through her vanity, finding a silver brush and worked it through her hair; then began to root through what was left of her things- and found a necklace that- well, with the high collar of pearls and blue gems- would match perfectly to her ensemble- and also offer extra protect... just in case.
SHe slipped the necklace on and observed herself in the mirror; and as she looked at herself, a part of her was curious to see- and she found some of her rouge, her lips stick, her powder, even some eyelash paint for her face and found herself staring at them with a ghosted smile.
And a second brushing of tears was required before she could apply any of these such things to her face, and as she worked, she took the time to powder over a few bruises, some patches of dust, and to also clip a matching pair of earrings int her ears before then painting her lips- then eyes.
The woman staring back at her look as if hse were from another time- perhaps a ghost standing n the house to remind her of what this house had once been, once meant- once held. She lightly touched the necklace around her throat before stealing herself wth a breatha nd slowly began to descend the staircase long before Aryn had returned. The last thing she had slipped into were a tiny pair of twinkling shoes, and those sparkled with each step she took down the grand staircase that swept open to where Aryn was moving down below.
She halted, only momentarily at seeing him before she blushed.
"I.. I found some shoes." she told him timidly, and gently lifted her white skirts to reveal them.
It was easy enough for Aryn to find the main gate, as exiting Kella's room led straight to the main hall and the grand staircase. He descended the steps slowly, the limp in his right foot less noticeable than before. The castle's main doors loomed massively over him; he stared at them for quite a while before pushing them open.
An abandoned stable sat just to the left of the main gates, and that was where Aryn brought the horse, giving the animal a gentle rub down and feeding it several apples out of their stash. The rest of their belongings -food, packs of supplies, weapons- he began carrying in one by one. Between the dust of the house and the dirt from outside, and from the exertion, it took all of one trip to set his new clothes askew again. The bags began piling in the doorway, just inside the castle.
There was one bag left, but when he brought it in he was greeted by the sight of Kella descending the carpeted staircase like some heavenly creature, aglow in the soft sunlight that shone down through the skylight and lit her up. Her dress glittered as vibrantly as the gems adorning the cobweb-covered chandelier above them. The necklace around her slim neck shone even brighter.
Staring at her now, Aryn's jaw dropped, along with the bag as it thumped heavily to the floor. This might have been the first time he'd ever seen a Lady, fully dressed in attire suitable for a Grand Duke's ball, positively adorned with makeup and jewelry. Her descending the staircase now, amidst the cavernous beauty of this abandoned castle, made her seem almost ethereal.
Slowly he approached the bottom of the staircase as she stepped down to him. His eyes never looked down even when she showed her those twinkling shoes upon her petite feet.
"You're, ah... you're gorgeous," he breathed as he stared up at her in awe. Finally, turning a shade red in discomposure, he quickly added, "So, what do I do now? Do I bow?"
Kella paused at the last two steps and gave him a bashful gaze.
"Thank you. But I couldn't ask you to do anything for me. It seems you've done enough already, but another duke or lord would take my offered hand and give it a kiss," she told him with a playful offering of her dainty hand- But upon seeing his attire, how disheveled he looked, she gasped and let her skirt flutter down to the floor. "Oh.. you're clothes!"
Aryn was about to reach for her gloved hand when she gasped. Looking down at himself, he grinned sheepishly and shrugged. His tunic had shifted slightly and gave him a look as though he'd just woken up. With a tug, he tried to straighten it out.
"Yeah, I guess people don't usually dress this fancy when doing manual labor. You don't want someone looking this bad kissing your hand anyway, milady."
As he fussed over his clothes, Kella rushed to his side, and smoothed her gloved hands over him and tried to help him adjust his suit.
"Don't worry about it. I'm sure we can fix this. It's just askew." BUt then at his word about kissing her hand, she shook her hand. "Nonsense. I would never refuse. Besides, I should have been helping."
At that, Aryn let out an amused laugh. He let his arms drop to his side as Kella fussed over him. After all, with the benefit of two hands and the experience of a fashionable young noblewoman, she was much more qualified to fix his clothing.
"I may be baseborn, Kella, but I've still got manners. You're a Lady. I would never let you ruin your dress over a few stupid bags."
As she worked, he slipped a hand out to surreptitiously feel the fabric of her dress. He might as well have been touching cream, for how soft and white it was.
"You look good in this."
Kella dipped her head in a nod.
"Thank you." The blush remained as she peered up at him and tried to tuck back her smile.
"Well, shall we place these things upstairs into our rooms, or would you like to continue with our tour?"
Aryn glanced over his shoulder at the bags, stacked in a haphazard pile right in the middle of the grand hall. He huffed loudly and gave the bags a dismissive wave.
"We can figure that out later, when we're back in normal clothes. Lead the way, milady."
Kella smiled and took him by the arm. "Which place would you like to see first? The music room? The library? The ballroom?"
Aryn stood a little straighter when she took his arm. With their attire, they could have passed as an upper-class couple. Well, at least she could have. He was still rough around the edges, especially that beard on his face that had become a little unkempt on the road.
"How about all three?" he grinned to her with a shrug. "I can't sing, I can't dance, and I can't read. So wherever you bring me, I'll be in over my head."
"You can't sing, or read or dance?" Kella looked appalled as she lifted a gloved hand to her lips. "Aryn- whatever shall I do with you?" But after a moment of leading the way, she gave a smile. "Perhaps I shall teach you! To read, to sign, and to dance. Who know!" She gave a squeeze to his arm, "Maybe I can even teach you to play the piano! Or the harp!" She wondered if the harp was even there.
He gave her a wry look.
"Look, I didn't live in a fancy castle with teachers and whatnot."
Though really there was no excuse for his inability to sing. He knew a couple popular tavern songs well enough, though he could never keep a tune. The thought now -of a piano or a harp- brought a another laugh to his lips as he glanced down to her.
"And how do I play those with one hand?" he said jokingly, a twinkle in his eye.
"Oh!" She paused to cup a hand over her lips. "I... I'm sorry. I... I f-forgot." ANd she cast down her gaze dejectedly to the floor.
Aryn sighed again and gave her a little bump with his elbow. There she went again, getting do down on herself.
"Hey, I saw a one-legged man once climb up a stone tower. If he can do it, maybe I can figure out how to play a little harp. You're still going to teach me though, right?"
Kella gave him a sheepish look and smile.
"Perhaps, but I still feel a little foolish. But that won't get you out of singing and dancing," she teased and lead him along- first into the library, where a sea of books filled the shelves that decorated the walls in tiers. There were three tiers to the library, but even still, it was cozy, and smelled of books and cedar.
"I used to love coming here," she told Aryn as she guided him through the lower level. "Id find a book and climb up there," and she pointed to loft with a sky light. "And I'd read books under the sky light int he loft. It was fun and scary to watch storms up there. To see the rain pelting on the windows, and watch the lightning strike across the skies. Storms clouds- I used to always think were to interesting. They were dangerous, but beautiful, ad they moved across the sky sort of like the roiling boil of soup."
The grand hall had impressed him thoroughly, but maybe it was the fact that he couldn't read that the library left something to be desired. He peered up at the stacks upon stacks of books stretching up three tiers, the books themselves all neatly shelved and covered with a fine layer of dust. He had to admit though, being in this room was a bit daunting.
"So you'd just sit here and read? Did you read every book in here?" he asked, disentangling himself from her arms for a second so he could step up to the nearest shelf. A book with a bright yellow spine and some sort of circle pattern adorning its cover caught his eye. Aryn plucked it off the shelf and casually opening it. The letters in there might as well have been chicken scratch, for he didn't understand any of it.
"This looks really complicated," he said with a frown, peering down at the pages. He walked back over beside her, nose in the book.
The book was upside-down.
Kella giggled and politely turned the book for him.
"Not every book," she told him with a warm smile. "Perhaps when your leg is better, I can show you the loft. But maybe we should stick to moving into the music room next? I'm sure you'd love to see my harp."
That seemed to bring a smile to Aryn's face as he shook his head at just how uneducated he was. It didn't embarrass him in the last bit though, as he slammed the book shut and replaced it on the shelf. This time, he offered his arm to her.
"Will you play me a tune?"
Kella was all smiles again, those blue eyes sparkling as she took his arm.
"If you wish," she told him playfully, and lifted up her chin as she guided him out of this room and back into the hall. "But I'll have to warn you, I'm a bit rusty," she said, and pushed the door gently open to the music room- where a massive marble and white room greeted them- with a harpsicord, a gilded harp, and a few other string instruments were out on display and as she stepped into the room, a plush, violet rug greeted them and consumed most of th floor.
"Here it is. Our music room," she said with a wave, gesturing out to the room as her voice echoed across it. "Would you like me to play on the piano, or harp?" she said, getting giddy at the idea to be able to play again.
"Though I must warn you I'm not the best." Still, playing music was ever so fun!
This next room was no less impressive than the last, and Aryn was beginning to wonder if this castle stretched on forever. The instruments each seemed completely alien to him, and he regarded each in turn with a raised eyebrow. At least the rug was soft under his shoes.
With Kella still attached to his arm, Aryn made his way over to the gilded harp, peering intently down at it. Delicately he reached out and plucked at one of the strings, eliciting a loud random twang.
"This one," he said with a grin to her.
"Oh dear," she made a face. "Sounds out of tune. Here,"s he gestured to a nearby stool. "Take a seat, I'll handle this." And with a huff, she stood over the great strings of the harp, fussing over and tightening the ones that needed it, and loosening the ones that did not. It took a few minutes of her making faces before she strummed her fingers across it, eliciting a beautiful hum of noise.
"There. I think that's fixed it."
And she dropped down on the bench near it with a smile. "Any requests?"
Aryn carefully sat down on the little stool, and instantly felt foolish for doing so. It was obviously made for a child, or at least a young adult. If he sat on it the wrong way, the little wooden thing might very will just crumble beneath him. Not that it would be a bad thing... that rug looked so comfortable.
Kella's voice brought his attention back to her, and he dumbfoundedly shook his head. "I, ah... don't know any songs. How about you choose one and play it for me. I'm sure it'll be good."
The grin spread over his face again. "I'll be judging you, so impress me."
Kella gave him a playfully challenging look.
"I told you I was rusty. But let's see... hrmm.. Perhaps I could play an old favorite." She readied her gloved hands over the strings. "The Shadows on Water."
And she straightened her shoulders out, let the notes of the music scroll through her mind, let the emotions of the song flow through her- then out through her fingers it came, one gentle pluck, then a strum, and soon the music room was filled with the gentle music composed about water in spring.
It was a sweet and melodious piece; where each note was delicately plucked and strummed into harmony. Though the music itself may have given the sense of spring time- it might have been the expression of relief, of hope- of new life after a long winter's thaw. And when she was done playing, she paused to smile crookedly before looking over at Aryn as she brushed some of her rough blonde bangs from her eyes.
"I know I'm a bit rusty, but I hope it was at least somewhat enjoyable."
Despite what she claimed, the music was heaven to his ears. He'd never heard a harp being played before; they weren't popular in taverns and inns. As the tune soared and dipped, he found that he leaned closer and closer to her to listen. By the end of the song, his chin sat firmly in his open palms.
He found that he was a bit disappointed when the song ended. When she looked at him, all he could do was say, "It... it was good."
"Well I just hope I didn't bore you," she said, brushing a stray hair from her face. "And it.. it can be difficult to play with these things,"s he admitted through a blush as she fussed over her gloves.
Aryn quickly sat up and shook his head fervently. "No, no. You're really good. That was beautiful."
As she fussed with her gloves, he stood and stepped over to her, kneeling in front of her and the harp. His hand reached out again to pluck at a random string. Again, it twanged loudly, sounding nothing like what she'd just played.
"I have no idea how you did that, but I'm impressed."
Kella smirked and peered up at him.
"Maybe it was magic?"
Aryn hmmphed and gave her a gentle poke in the ribs with his metal hand. He plucked at a few more strings and made them sing completely out of tune. With a frown, he stood back up.
"Mine sounds nothing like yours. It might as well be magic..."
Kella chuckled.
"Well, music isn't for everyone. Would you like me to show you how to use it?"
Aryn's eyes widened and his hastily shook his head.
"By Ansgar, no. After how you just played, I'd rather keep my dignity and not embarrass myself. You don't need another oaf right now. Especially not one this well dressed."
Kella gave a smile, her blue eyes sparkling as she rose to his side.
"You're hardly an oaf," And delicately she raised a hand to caress his beard- but when she realized what she was doing, she suddenly pulled her hand away and turned.
"The ballroom." She said suddenly. "Perhaps I can show you the ballroom next." And she gestured towards a doorway on the other side of the room.
"The ballroom is so grand it has an entrance over here. Shall we enter this way?"
When she caressed his beard, it brought a bigger grin to Aryn's face. Evidently, in the few weeks they'd traveled together he'd finally accepted the fact that she had -some- sort of magic brewing inside of her. And though magic still unnerved him to some extent, he'd become accustomed to hers. He neither flinched nor froze, but instead nodded his head.
"Aye, the ballroom. Where I can pretend to be a real Lord, until I trip over my feet and fall on my ass," he said with a laugh.
They crossed the music hall and pushed the large door open into the ballroom. If Aryn was ever stunned by a room in this castle, it was this one.
The room seemed to stretch on forever, both lengthwise and in height. The ceiling housed two chandeliers, dangling amidst a fully fainted mural of birds floating among white clouds and blue sky. A dozen windows stretched from floor to roof, allowing beams of light to stream through and illuminate the polished wooden floor. Even the curtains were plush, immense drapes velvet hanging loosely, and double layered with a white sheer linen. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust and cobwebs, but the dust sprites dancing among the beams of light gave the place an almost ghostly, abandoned beauty.
Kella smiled.
"I would never let you. I'm an excellent dance partner. I've even taught other dukes how to dance."
And were it another time..
that certain other Duke might have been...
well, she didn't want to think of that now- and there was rumors, anyway, that this certain duke seemed more smitten with her cousin anyhow. Though she had to wonder how the Duke of Ardal was fairing now-
Little did she know he had been 'presumed' dead, along with her cousin- and both of them were currently lost somewhere in the war- though very much alive.
Excitedly, Kella guided Aryn out, right onto the middle of the dance floor. And before he could protest, his metal hand was positioned on her waist, and the other, threading into her gloved hand.
"A nobleman's dance is very simple,"s he told him through a smile. "At leas this one I'm goign to show you. It's all about moving wtih your hips and in tune tot he music. Like this."A nd she pressed her lips together and began to hum the bouncing rhythm of a waltz.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.
One, two three.
And their feet met and slid across the ground, her skirts following along her ankles as she tried to caox him into motion.
"Come on. You can't dance if you think you're a rock," she teased. "Move your legs, let's your hips guide you and just pretend you can glide across the dance floor."
Aryn peered down awkwardly at his he was standing in relation to her, unsure of how to follow along. Slowly he let his feet trail hers as they glided around the ballroom and, for a time, he found that he was actually keeping step. The smile on his face revealed his pride at actually being able to keep up with her, dance like a nobleman.
That lasted all of fifteen seconds until the first time he stubbed his toe against her foot, wincing slightly. He was still hobbled by his splinted leg and soon he found it difficult to keep up with her as he clumsily stomped around with her at his hip.
"Move to the -ouch!- music? There's no music!" he grumbled slightly, trying his best to keep up as they twirled in the darkness, getting nearer and nearer to the heavy curtains obscuring the windows. "I don't -ouch!- get how people do this. You have to be some sort of -ouch!- acrobat to figure out these moves!"
And then in one misstep he put a foot right down on the edge of her dress and nearly lost his balance. Wrapping an arm around her waist did nothing to slow his stumble as his momentum drove him facefirst into the heavy curtain with a muffled thump.
Kella giggled.
"No, you have to listen to the beat as I hum it- OOF!" His boot stepped over her toes that time but she was still smiling, her eyes show casing the laughter she was politely retaining as she tried her best to fix their stride but as they grew out of control, it was then she only laughed before a yelp escaped her and soon- the pair were in a tangled mess int he heavy drapery.
Struggling through them, she peeled one heavy layer of velvet curtains aside to peer up at Aryn as she panted, her face pink from exertion. Now, only a thin layer of almost clear, sheer drapes remained between them as she peered up at Aryn, her blue eyes sparkling.
"Are you.. are you alright?" she asked gently. She tried not to laugh, but she was chuckling softly. Even as she couldn't move- thusly pinned down by his weight, ad the curtains- though she didnt seem to mind.
"Maybe we should wait until your legs are healed before trying any more dancing?" she said, raising her brows as she lifted a hand to his face. Somehow her glove had come loose in the fall, and had tugged off completely, exposing a whole hand as she moved to touch his face. She had been trying ot move some of his disheveled blonde hair from his eyes- he needed a hair cut, though as she did so, the warmth of her fingers met to his skin- and it was only then she realized- their skn was touching and she jerked her hand away- but not seeing a pained reaction coming from Aryn-s he blinked.
"Did.. did you not feel my touch?" she asked, her eyes wide and confused as she was still breathing somewhat heavily from the dance and fall.
Their joint collapse into the curtains sent up a light plume of dust all around them. Aryn found himself completely tangled in the mess of velvet pressed up against his face. For a second he thought in horror that he might have crushed her under his weight, but then he heard her muffled laugh. A second later, she pulled the velvet from between them.
He peered down at her with a slightly sheepish look on his face, even though it was accompanied by a lopsided grin. He barely even recognized that her exposed hand was pressed to his face until she gasped and pulled it back. At that moment he also froze, expecting the worst. Time stood still for a second.
Nothing happened.
"Hmm," he grunted before shrugging his big shoulders. A hand came up to poke at the near-translucent drapes separating the two of them. As he moved his metal hand, the drape tugged and shifted with it; a corner had become hopelessly caught on his metal hand. "Oh I can feel your hand. Guess you're technically not touching me though. Lucky."
And then the grin returned to his face and he just had to let out a laugh, amusement gleaming in his green eyes as he looked down at her. "Well that experiment failed, eh? I would make a terrible nobleman. No Lady in their right mind would give me a kiss at the end of the ball," he muttered, trying to fix his tunic to no avail. Again, it had twisted slightly askew. He must've looked hilariously out of place.
It was charming to behold, and Kella gave him a look, one that suddenly began to change when she realized, with an averted gaze, if there was a drape between them... she COULD try to actually kiss him! But oh! Such thoughts for a lady! And instead, she kept her face turned bashfully away as she blushed over the idea.
Aryn let another low grunt of irritation when he realized his metal arm was stuck in the sheer drape. No matter how hard he tried to shake it off, all he managed to do was jostle the fabric between himself and Kella. Realizing how uncomfortable it must be for her, he looked down at her with another sheepish expression.
Her eyes were averted from his, but he could see the hint of rose upon her blushed cheeks. He paused momentarily, before directing his hand up to her face, gently turning her face back to face his own.
And then, on sheer impulse, he inched his face closer to Kella -- and pressed his mouth down upon hers, stealing a kiss through the sheet. Although he could feel the fabric against his skin, he could also feel the warmth of her lips on the other side, and the few short hairs of his beard tickling against her skin where they poked through the drape.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear his own voice chastising him for pulling a stunt like that. Never in a hundred years did he think he could do what he just did to a noblewoman. And out of anyone, her.
When his hand came down and guided her face back to his, she was fully prepared to say something when his close proximity caught her off guard and suddenly he kissed her. A sensation filled her like no other, something that surged through her and electrified her skin, sent her blood rushing, her heart racing as her breath was stolen away.
And for just a brief moment she was afraid, but in light of the situation, to feel the warmth of his lips, the subtle tickling of his beard hairs, she found herself closing her eyes and pressing into it- and timidly lifting her fingers to his face to 'touch his cheek' lightly as they kissed.
She wasn't sure what was happening or if this was real- but the sweet sensation that flooded her felt other worldly, and set her entire body on fire.
"Aryn..." she tried to speak, but even she was too giddy from the moment and before finishing her thought- she found herself kissing him again.
Though she seemed to press herself into his kiss, there was still a brief moment after Aryn pulled away when he wondered if he'd just done the stupidest thing of his life. Even though her hand had come up to caress his face, he couldn't but shake the doubt that he'd done something wildly inappropriate.
When she kissed him again, all doubt flew out of his mind. He didn't need to be told twice.
Somewhere during their lip lock, his arm circled under Kella and around her waist, and pulled her up to him. He held her tightly in embrace even as he reciprocated the kiss roughly, barely noticing the thin fabric between their mouths. For a time he relished in the feeling of her warm body pressed up against his chest, the sense of her faint heartbeat mingling with the rapid pulsating of his own.
By the time he finally reluctantly pulled away a second time, he could feel his own heart thudding rapidly from within his chest. His own face was flush as he stared at her, exhaling softly but quickly from the exertion.
He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he just shook his head to himself and gave her a lopsided smile.
When she finally opened her eyes, they were sparkling, and her entire face appeared pink. He wasn't the only one with his heart racing and drumming within his ears, but at his smile, she flashed a toothy one of her own.
"Whoever thought I'd get my first real kiss through the ballroom drapes?" she told him, her smile turning sheepish as her eyes remained glued to his.
Aryn laughed in between steadied breaths, his eyes twinkling in the little bit of light streaming through the now-exposed window. He propped himself up on a metal forearm, her slender body still resting below him and against his lap, his other arm still around her waist.
"I'll bet you never thought it'd be someone like me, either. They wouldn't even let me into this ballroom, I'd have to sneak in through the kitchen."
His metal hand came up to her face and, very carefully, he brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen out of place and now dangled in front of her nose.
"I hope I made an impression, at least."
Kella gave him a bashful, blushing smile. But at his last statement, she only nodded her head.
"You have." And as she peered up into his green eyes, her expression grew more sheepish as she asked, "So much that I.... hesitate but wish to request another."
Aryn pulled her close to him again, their respective faces hovering inches from each other. He smirked with amusement and glanced her up and down.
"So nice and polite... Look, if you want another kiss you can just say it. Or take it. No need to dance around with fancy terms."
He didn't really have an occasion to deny her either. Pulling up the thin drape so that it hung delicately between their mouths, he pressed his lips upon hers again. The warmth exuded from her mouth emanated through the sheet; he felt every bit of it. His hands wrapped around her, fingertips tracing along the hollow of her lower back as he kissed her. He murmured something as he did so, but the words were lost upon her lips, nor did he actually remember what he was trying to say.
Murmurs and breaths were all that were shared in between the softness of their kisses, though as she felt his hands move along her body, her's timidly did the same. But just as the kissing went on, and intensified in their need, she felt more confident, and a little bolder in the way her hands now moved to wrap around him as they felt along the muscles of his back and arms.
"Aryn.." she barely was able to speak his name through their kisses, but she didn't want it to end. Their own small moment- stolen away from the world.
Time practically stood still for them. Their embrace became more impassioned, more sincere and fervent. Aryn perhaps felt a little lightheaded in it all, his heart pounding away in his chest as he kissed her. Perhaps somewhere in their whole ordeal he'd an an inkling to do it, but in this moment it really hit him how much he desired her. He could do this all day.
His body had other ideas. Without warning, his stomach let out a low growl, as if chastising him for not feeding it earlier. His mouth still pressed to hers, he laughed silently, shoulders heaving up and down in his amusement. When he pulled away again, he had a wry sheepish grin plastered all over his flushed face. He stared into those entrancing blue eyes of hers. He could look at them all day.
"Well, then," he started, shrugging his shoulders. He was still hopelessly entangled with her. Glancing down at his stomach, he continued, "that was awkward."
Kella giggled softly through a breath and leaned up on her elbows to lightly kiss his nose.
"That might be our cue to untangle ourselves from the drapes," she told him sheepishly. "We could look in the kitchen- see if the pantry has any food or check through our rations if you're so hungry."
"Aye... if you're pantry is as full as the rest of this house, we'll eat like a duke and duchess." Realizing that wasn't much of a change for her, he corrected himself. "GRAND Duke and Duchess."
As he pulled at the sheer drape, he found that a corner of it had become tangled in his metal arm. No matter how much he fiddled with the fabric, it wouldn't come loose. Finally he gave one big irritated yank and the entire fabric went -RIIIIIIP!
His eyes widened and he stared blankly down at the torn drape dangling from his prosthetic, then slowly over to Kella. "Ah... you didn't see that."
Shaking his head and muttering about how much of an idiot he was, he slowly climbed off of her and to his feet. At first he extended a hand down for her, but then on second thought just crouched low and scooped her entire self off the ground.
Kella's smile broadened, dimpling her cheeks as she peered up at him- her blue eyes still sparkling- and at his display, she cupped a hand daintily over her lips and shook her head.
But she was surprise when he suddenly hefted her up into his arms like a bride.
"A-Aryn!" she gasped, hugging her ungloved hand away from him with a breathy laugh. "I..." But she only smiled and shrunk into his arms sheepishly.
"Are you sure you can handle carrying me with your.... leg?"
He was still on the mend after all.
Aryn gave out a little grunt at the effort, feeling the slight pressure in his ankle as he put the additional weight on it. His shoulder didn't exactly feel perfect either, but he'd made his choice.
"Maybe I can, maybe I can't. If it hurts too much halfway out... well, then you'll just have to carry me," he said with a wide smile down to her.
He took three steps away from the pile of drapes before halting and making a turnabout. Making his way back, he knelt beside her fallen glove. "Whoops. Can't be forgetting the rest of your gown, milady."
And with that, he started half-hobbling his way toward the nearest door, not even knowing where it led. He'd already become disoriented and gotten lost in this ballroom.
((500th Post Commemoration))
Kella thought he was adorable, and her heart was fluttering too fast for her to protest, so when she got her glove back, she hastily slipped it on as she blushed.
And then after a few steps more, she politely informed him, "You're heading the wrong way. That door leads to the balcony."
Aryn immediately halted and peered down her, his mouth pressed together. Slowly he shook his head.
"You couldn't have told me that earlier? This is why you need a smaller house."
His eyes twinkled even as he laughed, head shaking. "Unbelievable..." he muttered in exasperation as he took a moment to readjust her weight in his arms, in the process drawing her closer to his torso. Then he spun around and marched in the opposite -and hopefully correct direction.
Kella gave a sheepish smile and shrug.
"Your shoulders are too broad for me to easily peer over." Though she knew she was looking for an excuse, perhaps she found one as she stared up dreamily into his face. She never thought she'd ever be able to fall in love with someone before. Is that what this is? This blind and warm feeling? And she never could have guessed it would be with a man like this.
Aryn smirked at her and replied simply, "Excuses."
The way back took longer than expected, as he made more than one wrong turn, each time having to be corrected by the Lady in his arms. Eventually though, they somehow made their way back through the music room and library, and to the main hall. Their bags were still stacked in an unceremonious pile in the center of the room, paces from the grand staircase.
His foot was throbbing by now, and he finally gave her an apologetic look. "I guess this is as far as you go," he said as he gently set her back down on her feet, giving her cloak a little tug to straighten out where he'd wrinkled it. The aroma of her perfume still lingered on him.
Once she was set on the ground, she gave a dainty curtsy.
"I'm sorry, my prince. I hope I wasn't too much trouble."
And turning away from him, her skirts twirled to a halt at her heels.
"I suppose we ought to bring these upstairs..."
Though who knew how long they'd be staying here. Once the pair of them got settled- she taking her old room and he- well, she offered him either her brother's- or a guest (for she wasn't quite ready to let anyone take her parents room) She took a moment to herself to step inside her parents room to peer at the painting of them hung across the wall from the bed. She took a seat and simply stared at it- and began to remember a time hwen they were alive-w hen this room was alive and the memory warmed her.
Aryn stood at the bottom of the staircase and watched her dress flutter back and forth as she ascended the staircase. He watched her until she finally disappeared from view. Only then did he let out a small sigh and smile half to himself. He turned to the packs lying there.
It took him several trips to lug all of them up the stairs, and even then he forgot which room was which, having to peek into several before finding hers. On his last trip he took a glance into the master bedroom and spotted her sitting on the bed with a forlorn look on her face. He frowned slightly and dropped the packs at the door.
Gingerly stepping into the room, he looked up to the painting hanging on the wall, the one she was staring so intently at. The man and woman staring back stood regally side by side, their faces stoic and solemn. They looked very much like Kella.
Without a word he sat down on the bed next to her and chanced a glance at her. "Your parents," he guessed.
"Yes. It's strange to think this is all I have left of them. Except their memories." Her eyes wavered a bit as she took the painting in before sighing and turning her attention to Aryn.
"What were your parents like? Or do you not remember them?"
Aryn looked back to the picture of her royal-looking mother and father, and smiled crookedly. "Well they didn't look like that, that's for sure."
Slowly though, the smile faded away. For a while he stared at the picture with a solemn, wistful look as he thought about his childhood. But just as quickly, he wiped that sad expression off his face and put on a more ambivalently uncaring one, shrugging his shoulders.
"I didn't know my father. My mother... well, I forget. In Reajh, you don't put a lot of stock into blood relationships. You find what family you can, and if you're lucky you get out. Anyway, it's been so long. Who knows if they're still alive? I don't even remember their faces."
He let out another soft exhale and looked over to her. "It must've been nice to have someone."
After digesting all he said, and reading into his body language a little, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned into him.
"I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about them if you don't want to," she said, finding his hand and giving it a squeeze. "It's just hard for me to imagine what life like that would have been like, for you- or anyone. It just seem so surreal- and I, just feel ignorant because of it." She cast her gaze to her lap. "I never realized how muhc different my life was compared to everyone elses... Even now."
She paused before adding. "But now I know. Well, at least a little."
She could hardly compare her short, harsh time on the road to a life time like that. Even now, she was able to escape in this place- even if it was just but a fleeting moment of her past, it was still a lot better than anything someone like Aryn even knew. And it was a hard pill to swallow.
Aryn glanced down at her for a second before slowly slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. The topic had brought about a somber mood to this whole day, and he smiled now in an effort to reverse that trend. He planted a gentle kiss on the top of her blonde locks and gave her a squeeze before peering back over to the painting.
"Eh. This noble lifestyle isn't great to begin with anyway. I mean look at this place, it's practically falling apart. Look, even your drapes are poorly made."
As if to prove his point, he held out his metal arm, the torn fabric still clinging to it, somehow caught tightly between the joints of the arm's different facets.
"You did have baths, though. For that fact alone, I'm a bit jealous."
Kella gave a sheepish smile as she took Aryn in and just nestled in against him. She was content to just enjoy the moment, even as she was being careful where her flesh touched. But it felt nice to be so nice and near someone so strong and warm. And to also have their comforting arms around her. Yes, for this reason alone- she was content.
For a while the two sat silently, content in the small measure of peace afforded to them in this giant castle. Several times Aryn had the sudden urge to just pull Kella onto his lap and kiss her again, but in the back of his mind he knew what would happen. He'd been with women before, but this one was different.
How could you desire a woman that you could not have, could never have? The very thought of it flustered him. But yet here they were, touching yet not touching, the scent of her light perfume tickling at his nose. He sat there, unconsciously appreciating but hating the irony of it. After all, just that morning, anything between them had just been a fleeting dream or a hidden-away want, borne out of the necessity of camaraderie between two travelers. Somehow, in the course of an afternoon, something more had formed.
Speaking of that morning though... neither of them had eaten since that morning, and surely she was growing hungry as well. He looked down at her and shot her a lively grin.
"Y'know, we went through the kitchen, but we never really went through it. What say we take a peek? Maybe we'll find something good. Anything is better than more dried meat and overripe fruit."
And take a peek they did. And despite the place seeming to be abandoned, she was surprised to find some grains in storage, even some fruits, though when the bin was opened- she nearly retched, for it was full of moldy apples.
"Doesn't seem there's much to pick from except a few grains, flour and wheels of cheese."
"And gold!" he called out from outside the pantry, having opened an old cupboard. His eyes positively gleamed as he took down the small glass jar half-full of black pepper. On the road, it was a king's bounty.
"That's plenty to make a nice stew," he added once he rejoined her, hefting the bag of grains over his shoulder and haphazardly piling everything else into his arms. He was almost salivating at the thought of a good hearty meal. Some mashed grains, a bit of the meat they'd packed, the PEPPER...
Kella whirled around and was taken back to see..
"Gold?" She blinked. "That's.." She placed a hand to her smiling lips. "Aryn... I don't think that jar contains any gold." But her eyes danced as she smiled.
Aryn glowered at her.
"Of course I know it's not gold gold. But pepper is worth its weight in gold on the road. If there's one thing I'd want with me in the middle of nowhere..."
He tossed the jar to her. "I had a small tin of it myself. Cost me a fortune. But I lost it back at... what was that tavern where I met you? Stony's? Thorny's?"
Kella barely managed to catch the jar.
"Thorny's," she said, brushing some hair from her face. SHe peered down at the jar then back to him. "So you want to make... stew?" she siad, her lips curling at hte ends as she looked him over. "Here let me fetch us a pot and see what else I can find- though I think the only things left to find migh tbe a few bottles of aged wine."
Aryn's grin only widened.
"I guess we'll just have to struggle through that," he said in a mock tone of sadness before following her back out. The pots were all stacked up neatly in the corner of the kitchen, the smaller ones inside the larger ones.
"Not too big now, we don't want our soup drying up," he cautioned, as though he were some renowned chef. His eyes glanced over to several unopened cupboards, wondering what sort of treasures lay inside. It'd have to be her opening them though; his arms were full.
Aryn wasn't the only one curious about the cupboard- though being as short as she was, Kella was having some difficulty reaching them. But once she got it open- she let out a scream and backed up into Aryn- just as a couple of cockroaches came scurrying out.
SHe had a hand clutched to her chest, for fear her heart would have leaped clean out of it and her eyes were as wide as the tower of Uthlyn.
"By Ansgar's name! That scared me!"
Kella's unexpected scream had Aryn jumping slightly in his shoes. When she bumped into him, it was enough for him to drop the sack of grain, some of it spilling out onto the floor.
"OH NOOOOOO!" he wailed as he fell to his hands and knees to try and salvage the grain. In the course of it, everything else he'd been carrying fell to the ground as well, rolling in all different directions.
Kella cringed as metal pots and pans clammored onto the ground. It was enough noise to wake the dead, and long after the mess had finally settled, she was still wincing and gritting her teeth.
"Aryn I.." and she dropped to her knees to help him. "Here, let me help you with that."
Between the two of them, they were able to salvage only a portion of the grain. The rest of it was hopelessly covered in dirt and dust, or lost between the cracks of the stone floor.
Aryn sat back on his haunches, amid the mess of pots and pans surrounding them. He gave her a remorseful look and said, "Well, so much for the stew. I make a pretty mean pot, and I bet you would've looooooved it..."
Picking up a handful of the spilled goods he irritably flung it at the far wall.
Kella placed a hand gently on his shoulder.
"Don't worry about it. I'm sure there's enough left over to make at least a small batch of soup."
Aryn scowled down at the little pile of dirty grains. It sat there, mocking him.
But finally, he looked over to Kella and nodded his head. "Right, we'll just have to make do. Like we've been making do all along, eh?"
With that, he climbed back to his feet and offered her a hand up. A little stew was better than nothing, and he went about clumsily picking up all the supplies he'd dropped earlier.
Kella gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.
"If you'd like, we could check in the cellar. Perhaps there's more food there?" she suggested, hoping that with- the possibility of more finds, it might lift his spirits.
By the time that suggestion rolled around, Aryn's arms were once again full; the small sack of grain, a pot, and all the other little tidbits they'd found. He precariously balanced them all on top of one another as he shot Kella a grin.
"How about you go on down there first, and I'll come take a peek once I get this stew started? You'll have to point me in the right direction though, or I'll probably end up back in your library or something."
Just the thought of being surrounded by all those books -none of which he could read- brought a grimace to his face.
Kella went down to see what was left- and it seemed as if they were in luck. She found more grains and a bottle of wine, which she triumphantly showed to him.
"Look, Aryn! It's a bottle of Chamburg. I just adore this wine. Have you ever had any? It would go marvelous with our stew."
While she left, Aryn went to work with the few ingredients he had. It took some effort to light a small fire, but soon he had a bubbling broth going, having thrown into the water the grains, some of their dried meats, and a small potato he'd stolen from the inn at the last town. The smell of it filled the room.
When Kella reappeared with the bottle of wine, he grinned widely before shaking his head. "Isn't that the stuff they serve to Dukes? Nah, it was always out of my price range."
"Well, tonight you can dine like a duke!" she beamed, but as she went to open it she gasped. "Oh! I need to find cork screw!" And she dashed off to find one and came in, fumbling with it and her gloves-but after trying a few moments, she managed to get it and a 'pop' was heard the moment the cork was freed, and a fruity aroma wafted from the bottle.
Kella closed her eyes and smelled it.
"Mmm, smells divine,"s he murmured. "Would you like me to pour you a glass?" She offered, setting a pair of crystal goblets between them as she gave an enthusiastic smile that radiated into her shimmering blue eyes.
Aryn didn't say anything, but as the cork popped away his eyes brightened considerably. With an emphatic nod of his head, he replied, "I've always wanted to dine like a Duke."
The stew was beginning to thicken a bit, though it was still a ways away from being ready. Still, he took a small pinch of that precious black pepper they'd found and tossed it into the small iron cauldron, giving it a stir. He pulled the worn wooden spoon out with a bit of steaming stew still clinging to the end of it.
"It's not exactly a Duke's cuisine," he said apologetically as he held it out for her. "But I still think I'm an amazing cook."
Kella nodded enthusiastically, and helped where she could- preparing the table with her family's good china as she brought a pair of dishes over and had Aryn fillt hem with stew.
"It smells great. I bet it's heavenly," she told him, a sparkle in her eye. "Come, let's sit int he dining hall. I've bet you never had a chance to sit at such a table!" And she moved off at his side, a steaming bowl of soup in hand as she sat down before the two prepared table settings- wine topping each crystal glass.
Aryn followed obligingly, bringing the entire pot of bubbling stew with them to the dining hall. Once again, the sheer size of it had his jaw dropping in awe. Especially now with daylight fading away, the entire room seemed to be illuminated by a fiery orange, making it seem that much more regal.
He sat down at the other table setting and gave her a wide grin. "Well, here's hoping it impresses you," he said before digging his spoon into it and slurping up a big mouthful of stew.
"Mmm mmm," was the only sound he made as he savored in his own cooking. Never mind what anyone else said, he always enjoyed his own. He spooned another large mouthful before stopping and looking over to her with a sheepish grin.
"I'm in a Duke's house now. I guess I should start showing some Dukey manners."
"First off before you eat, your napkin goes on your lap. Like this."
Kella's eyes sparkled as she lifted up her clothe napkin, gave it a light shake twice before daintily setting it on her lap. And she smiled, waiting to see if Aryn would copy her.
Aryn made a grimace with his face, dropping his spoon and picking up the cloth napkin.
"How're you supposed to wipe your face if it's in your lap?" he complained. "It doesn't make any sense."
Nonetheless, he shook the napkin out and placed it on his lap. It was so tiny on his thick legs that it barely covered any of his pants. That done, he looked back up expectantly to Kella.
Kella's smile broadened at his statement.
"You're allowed to pick it back up."
And she demonstrated by lifting it delicately between her fingers before lightly tapping at the corners of her lips. "Like that. Well.."s he gave a sheepish grin before letting it rest back on her lap. "That's if you've got something on your mouth."
Aryn frowned but copied her movements. Picking up the napkin again, he dabbed at his beard as daintily as he could, feeling incredibly foolish for doing so. Unlike her though, he already had soup on his chin so the napkin actually came in handy.
"What if I just stuck the napkin to my arm?" he said, wrapping it around his metal prosthetic. "Everything would be so much easier."
But then again, acting noble obviously wasn't an easy thing.
Kella placed a hand over her lips, trying to hide her smile, but her eyes always gave her away.
"You could tuck it into your shirt." ANd she lifted hers up and demonstrated by stuffing one end into the front of her dress and showed him how it layered down her front. "Like this."
Aryn's eyes widened, as though he had a moment of enlightenment. He quickly unwrapped the napkin and also stuffed it down the front of it shirt. While it hung a little lopsidedly unlike her daintily placed cloth, it looked almost close enough.
"Ohhh, this is so much better," he exclaimed, glancing down at it. "Why would anybody put it in their lap if they could just do this?"
And feeling like he finally accomplished his first step toward nobility, he gave her a pleased grin before closing his hand around his spoon again, all four fingers wrapping around the stem like a knife.
Kella watched him and giggled though a dainty cough.
"That's not how you hold your silverware in a duke's home."
Aryn's jaw dropped.
"By Ansgar, how many damn rules are there?! You're going have to write all of this down..." he grumbled. "Not that I could read it anyway..."
He replaced the spoon in his bowl, leaning forward to peer at how Kella was holding her spoon. It looked like it would fall out of her hand at any time, the lightness with which she held it.
She held the silverware light as a feather, and daintily dipped the spoon into the soup before bringing it to her lips, which were pursed and now blowing gently across it, pushing away the steam.
"And you eat, just like this," she told him,a nd tipped the spoon ever so lightly as she lightly drank the stew down with grace. ut a second later had her coughing and her eyes burning.
she blinked a few times before laughing nad downing some wine.
"Ar-aryn... how much pepper did you put in there?" She gave a laugh. She wasn't used to so much seasoning! At least not of hte peppery variety. It was normally a more reserved flavor, lightly topping a dish.
Aryn let out another grumble but gave it a shot anyway. His spoon trembled in his hand as he tried to duplicate the timid delicacy with which she held her own spoon. For his part, he managed to actually look semi-presentable, sipping down the tiny amount he didn't spill back into the bowl. It was just such a slow process!
When she coughed and started tearing though, it was his turn to laugh. "Only just a handful. Come on, it's flavorful! It'll put some real meat on your bones."
When she drank down some of her wine, he did the same. It was a big gulp, but his eyes widened slightly at the taste of it. After tasting from this expensive bottle, he unconsciously wondered if he could ever go back to the swamp water he'd been drinking his whole life.
"I've made up my mind," he declared after letting out a satisfied exhale. "I want to be a noble."
The tinkling sound of her laughter filled the air.
"Why is that so? Do you enjoy this place so greatly?" She chuckled some more as she shook her head. "Who knows, maybe someday this place can be yours." But even as she beamed over such an idea, she began to remember the very reason she had run away and her smile slowly faded.
He took another sip of the wine and grinned at her, his teeth stained slightly red from it. "It's mostly this, actually," he said, holding up his glass.
Her second comment had him arching a brow, his grin growing wider. "Yeah you'd have to give it to me or marry me, because like hell I could ever afford a place like this. I probably couldn't even buy this table."
"You never know," she said with a blush. "Luck hasn't been on our side lately. Maybe we're due for a change."
"You know what I think?" he said, gesturing to the wine and the stew, to the long table, to the massive dining table stretching all around them. His smile was as wide as it could be, and genuine too. "I think things are already starting to look sunny."
Aryn spent the next few minutes focusing hard on doing everything she'd just said. A few times he caught himself slurping the soup, but for the most part, with a little effort, he might've just pulled off the role of a nobleman. Maybe a new, raw one, but passable.
Kella agreed, and enjoyed her dinner in amicable silence as she ate her soup in the same, proper fashion as days past. But now as she ate her fill, she wilted into her chair with a satisfied smile and hiccup.
"I think I may have eaten and drank too much!"s he admitted wtih a sheepish smile. "Do you want more wine?" She noticed his was empty- and so was hers, but she normally never drank more than one cup herself.
Aryn peered at her with one leery eye even as he handed his glass over for her to refill. After all, how could anyone ever eat or drink too much?!
"Are you sure?" he questioned, taking up their little cauldron and peering into it. "There's still at least several bowls of this stew left. And you only had one! Don't want it to be going to waste now."
And he grinned as she topped off his glass with more wine. "Same goes for that."
Kella gave a bashful smile as she shook her head.
"My brother always made fun of me because I ate like a bird. I guess I never had much of an appetite compared to some."
Even now, when she was probably starving most of the time- she ate with dignity and grace, and could only assume what she had been taught was an 'acceptable' amount.
Aryn wasted no time in refilling his bowl with another nice heaping ladle of the stew. This whole 'eating like a Duke' business had only reminded him how hungry he was, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered how nobles didn't starve to death, the way they picked so delicately at their food.
"Well I guess I can't make fun of you for it... but I can say that you should have some more. Otherwise it'll be all gone by the time I'm done with it."
Kella chuckled softly. "Don't worry about me. I'm used to only eating so much."
Aryn gave her a wry grin, but said no more. Besides, he couldn't complain.
He began delicately spooning the stew into his mouth again, a little bit at a time. The frown on his face deepened more and more though, and after a moment he dropped his spoon to the table and just picked up the entire bowl, drinking it down hastily.
When he was done, he wiped his beard with the back of his hand and gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry, I was hungry."
Kella placed a hand over her lips, her eyes sparkling though she hid her smile. She then dropped her gaze when he apologized as he looked at her and she shook her head.
"I should have known better than to teach a mercenary how to eat like a duke."
And with a growing smile, she held up her drink.
"Perhaps I'll have more wine after all."
Aryn's laugh was loud and boisterous as he reached over to clink glasses with Kella. "Hey, I was doing pretty well there... I think." Nevertheless, he took a big sip of the wine and let out another satisfied sigh.
He refilled his bowl for a third helping. And then a fourth. A fifth.
Finally, he ladled the last of the stew into his bowl and set it in between them. "That's the last of it," he declared. "Last chance to fill your stomach."
Kella giggled, having just finished her second cup of wine. ANd she was feeling more confident. With a playful pull, she yanked the entire bowl away from him.
"Maybe I will have some!" And she took a dainty spoonful to her lips.
Aryn's mouth dropped as she snatched up the food and began picking away at it. After all, he'd fully expected her to turn it down.
Maybe it was the wine. She did seem a bit redder than normal.
A wry grin spread across his face again as he sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "In my world, you eat fast or you don't eat at all. Let's see you finish that bowl like a real woman."
"Who said I was goign to eat it all?"s he said, and gave a light pursed lip blow across her next spoon full before enjoying it with a moan. "I suppose this food is a lot better than I remember. No wonder you ate so much!" Or- maybe it was the wine that she was now drinking down more of. Either way, the world seemed a lot warmer and more pleasant now as she smirked playfully at him.
Aryn laughed and propped his chin on his metal hand, elbow resting casually on the table as he watched her eat. He has his own glass in hand, and took another big gulp of the wine. It was expensive stuff, and he knew he should be savoring it... but wine was wine.
"Oh do tell me more, milady. Tell me about how great of a cook I am," he grinned.
"And you better hope you finish it soon, because someone might steal that bowl back."
Kella gave a blushed grin at his insistence that she continue the praise, but she had another idea in mind as she daintily took another sip of her soup and just kept one playful eye upon him, before slowly taking another spoonful and drinking it slowly.
Aryn's expectant smile soon soured into a frown. He took another swig of his wine.
"Oh, so it's 'mock Aryn' day today, huh? I completely forgot."
"No."S he shook her head, wrinkling her nose. "Just tease Aryn day." She told him, and gently pushed the bowl his way. "There, you can have the rest. You're probably more hungry than I."
That comment brought another loud guffaw from the Ironhand. It must've looked strange, considering he was wearing the finest of clothes.
"You sure? I've already had five bowls," he said, giving her an expectant look. But it didn't look like she was going to have any more. Well, soup at least.
"You're a sweetheart," he grinned as he took the stew and polished it off in seconds. Letting it clatter back down on the table, he let out one satisfied sigh. "I could get used to this."
Kella shook her head at him and leaned back into her chair, smiling as she sipped down some more wine. Peering up at the ceiling, she stared at the unlit chandelier and recalled the days when it used to twinkle bright and light up the whole room- but now it lay dormant, sooted in heavy dust and cobwebs.
Aryn sat back in his chair too, a content look on his face as he played around with the wine in his glass. That didn't last long, as soon he found that he'd finished the entire glass. Putting it back on the table, he just let the silence hang around them comfortingly.
After a while though, he stood from his chair and stepped over to hers. "C'mon, there has to be more things to do in this giant castle. We'll bring the wine with us."
Kella perked up when he approached her and she smiled and accepted his hand as she rose to her feet.
"Like what?" BUt one misstep had her gasping as she fell into his arms, chin resting just half an inch over his chest before she peered up at him and released a soft laugh. "Clumsy me.."s he said, swishing back some of her hair from her face.
Aryn was about to answer with a big shrug and a wry 'like hell if I know' when Kella fell into his arms. He caught her with a laugh and wrapped his arms around her tiny little frame.
"Y'know what?" he said, leering down at her. "I think you're drunk!"
"What?" she said, blue eyes sparkling up at him, but at such a suggestion, she gasped and lightly hit his shoulder. "Aryn! I am not!" Though she giggled soon afterwards, her face lightly flushed.
"A lady does not get drunk." She told him in mock snobbery.
The big mercenary sniggered as she gave his shoulder a light hit. Reaching over to the table, he took up the half-empty bottle of wine and drank straight from the bottle, giving another satisfied sigh before grinning down at her.
"Is that so? Well then I'll be sure to let a Lady know, the next time I see one."
Kella gasped.
"Aryn!" she said, and poked at his belly. "Really now!" And she pointed her nose clean up into the air and yanked the bottle clean from his fingers before taking a big swig. Making a face, she forced herself to swallow it down before she laughed.
"God is that awful when it's drunk so fast. It's positively burning!"
Aryn's face brightened when she drank straight from the bottle. "Well I'll be damned, NOW you're drinking like a real lady! Keep that up and soon you won't be able to walk in a straight line."
Having said that, a bright idea crossed his mind and he gave a mischievous grin, before reaching down and snatching her up over his shoulder. "Guess I'll have to do the walking for us."
Kella let out a yelp then a giggle as she lightly kicked from where she was tossed over his shoulders.
"A-A-Aryn!" she exclaimed, but barely so as her giggles were getting the best of her. But she reveled int he freeing moment, and the carefree bubbling warmth of the alcohol as the large man carried her off. "Just where are you taking me?"
Aryn stretched his arms and then promptly marched off with Kella over his shoulders, the grin spread wide over his face.
"Ooooh," he warned, "You'll find out when we get there!"
And so would he. He had no clue where he was going, as he headed for the nearest double door.
Kella just laughed out loud so much that it hurt.
"Alright, but if you get yourself lost, I am not helping you out!"S he warned playfully, still giggling over his shoulder.
With Kella firmly held up over his shoulder, Aryn marched through several doors, turning left and right on a whim, not knowing where he was headed and not caring.
Finally, he swung open two large doors and found himself in a glass conservatory, with plush lawn chairs and small tables set out in neat patterns. The setting sun cast a gentle orange through the glass ceilings and walls.
His brow raised slightly in ignorance. "What kind of room is this?! It's so pointless."
Kella giggled.
"It's a conservatory. So you can grow certain types of plants all year round in a safe place away from the weather. A lot of the plants here are Essyrni, some Adelan." She wrinkled her nose. "I can't believe they're still alive with no one around to tend them. Though it appears as if they need pruning."
"So why the chairs then? Do you actually sit here and watch plants grow?"
Aryn stared at the room, not able to comprehend the point of it. After all, weren't flowers better off growing outside in a lawn or a garden? Not that he knew, the only plants he ever saw as a child were the half-rotting vegetables they shipped to the slums of Reajh.
The chairs were another matter though. He set Kella down on her feet before plopping down on a reclining lawn chair, laying down with a content sigh.
"At least it's comfortable."
Kella took a moment to steady herself on her feet. She never felt so light headed before, but it didn't stop her from laughing, and promptly dropping onto the chair beside him as she sprawled out her from over top of it, face towards the ceiling and arms above her head.
"Yes. Very comfortable."She mused.
They still had that bottle with them, and he took another swig of it before placing it on the ground. Like her, he rested his hands, both real and metal, behind his head as he glanced up through the glass and to the darkening sky. This room did have a calming effect on him, though he couldn't tell if it was the flowers or the food they'd just consumed. Either way, he was in a good place.
Glancing over to Kella, he grinned and mumbled, "You're in the wrong chair."
And reaching over, he grabbed a hold of the lawn chair and dragged it toward him. Even with one hand, he had plenty of strength to move both furniture and her, the legs screeching against the stone floor until their recliners basically touched. Without a word, he reached over and plucked her straight out of her chair and into his.
Kella giggled as he dragged her near, clutching her hands closely to her chest as she watched him miracously drag her and chair near and then he- still with muscles tense and strong, scooped her up pulled her within his arms. Though she tensed lightly, fearing touch- but welcoming it, she found herself relaxing when his hands skillfully found no exposed flesh as her blue eyes sparkled.
Rolling over to lay side-saddled across his lap, she peered down at his face thoughtfuly, admirably as a gloved hand delicately stroked his bearded cheek.
"What I wouldn't give to give you a real kiss right now, Aryn," she whispered her voice as quite and delicate and beautiful as the night. Her frame was silhouetted in the deep red light of sunset- which also cast the entire room in a rosy glow.
"And what I couldn't give for even more."
Aryn peered back up at her, his arms wrapped gently around her frame now. She was so small and delicate next to him. And so pretty. Had she always been this beautiful? He tried to remember what he'd thought of her the first few days they'd spent together, but he nothing came to him. Perhaps it was all the excitement and danger that they'd had to dodge, or perhaps it was the fact that he'd been paid to drag her back to Turgall. Either way, for those first few days all she was to him was a job.
Somehow, it was different now.
He did not know if his desire for her had been bubbling away inside of him, just hidden underneath all the stress of having to chase her and save her over and over again. But now he realized that he wanted her, but could not. A look of regret crossed his features as he gazed up at Kella, lips pressed together.
"Trust me, I'd like nothing more right now I want you so badly," he mumbled up at her, wondering in the back of his mind what it would be like, kissing her for real. He still remembered the pain of touching her skin, how it'd coursed through his entire body. The thought of it along brought about a pang of fear in him. But sooner or later, he knew he'd try it anyway.
Pain filled her eyes, but also affection. It seemed the only thing she could do was bring this man pain. Even in love, it seemed to hurt him so as she turned away and closed her eyes, shamefully.
"Perhaps there's a way. Some.. some sort of cure," she whispered. "One that can relieve of me this burden. Allow me to touch you, to kiss your skin." And lightly, her gloved hand found his as she admired the flesh she so longingly wanted to touch.
As the small fingers of her gloved hand intertwined with his thicker ones, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Aye, we'll find a way," he said before leaning up and giving the top of her hair a kiss. He could smell the perfumes on her and they were all so light and lovely, like her. With a slow exhale he leaned his head back against the lounge chair and watched the sun slowly set outside.
After a while of silence, he half-glanced down at her. "We still have half a bottle of wine to enjoy, at least."
"Yeah.." she said softly, keeping her head carefully resting upon his chest. She peered at the changing colors, but said nothing more. So much was on her mind. If only they could really, truly kiss....
It seemed such a small thing but she believed, such a thing could make all of her cares met away.
"Looks.." he gestured towards the windows as a few droplets of water began to fall. "Looks like rain."
And indeed, after a moment the entire conservatory was filled with the echoing symphony of droplets on glass. The sun had set by now, leaving them in just the fading blue light of the distant sky, partially obscured by the heavy rainclouds overhead.
In the partial darkness, Aryn fumbled at the side of their chair for the bottle of wine. At first he couldn't locate it, but soon his hand bumped up against the cool bottle. He gripped it by the neck and took a swig from it, mindful not to hit Kella's nearby head with it.
"Well, at least we're not sleeping outside. I'm starting to hate the rain and snow," he said in a half-cheerful voice to her. Indeed, the last time they'd been in the snow, he had almost died. Granted it would've been a bullet rather than the elements that killed him, but who was keeping track?
"Should be head back inside? Or you comfy up there?"
She sighed contentedly.
"I'm comfy."
And after a moment, she turned to him and playfully took the bottle of wine, and took a hearty swig.
"And I don't think we've had enough wine. Besides," she said, wiping off her mouth on the back of her hand as lady like as she could. "I like the sound of rain." Though as he listened to the little chiming noises it made, she had to wonder if the rain was turning into ice.
When she took the bottle from his hands, he raised a brow but grinned all the same.
"Is Lady Kella Harmond finally coming out of her shell? Is she... is she actually having fun?"
His eyes drifted up to where the snow was slowly turning into slush. Probably by the morning the snow would be several inches off the ground. It was still warm yet in this little conservatory, but no doubt it would be getting cold soon.
Good thing they had that wine.
Kella giggled and had more wine as she smiled.
"Mmm, yes, I am." ANd sighing contentedly,s he nestled back in beside him, hair falling over her face. It was growing long enough now some of the ends were beginning to curl, and she idly twirled one in her finger as she nestled in at his side.
"Aryn..." she began thoughtfully, staring towards his chest, but her vision was unfocused as she was looking past him in thought. But hten she peered to him as she asked, "Could we find a way to... kiss again?"
Aryn peered down at her and gently touched her cheek with the smooth metal fingers of his right arm.
"We could," he replied in a soft voice, smiling through his scraggly beard that he idly decided to trim later that night. "But you'll have to lead to a place where we won't... y'know, accidentally touch."
He sat up a bit in the lounge chair and wrapped an arm around her, fingers feeling the soft curves of her back as he continued with a wry grin. "I'd ask you to dance at our secret place, but word on the street is I can't dance worth shit."
Kella's eyes wavered, her heart fluttering excitedly at such an idea.
"You mean to go back to the ballroom?" She said, in a voice barely above a whisper. "Be..behind the curtain again?" And at his last comment she blushed.
"If we.go there, you don't have to dance."
Aryn sat up with a crooked smile on his face, although it might've been difficult to see in the fading light.
"Whatever the Lady wishes," he said in his most noble sounding voice, which was still awful. "Though it might be tough to walk around in the dark. Aren't there supposed to be a thousand candles lit in the chandeliers?"
She flushed again and gave a bashful nod.
"Yes, but normally the servants tended to those."
"Well there ain't no servants around now, so I guess we'll just have to fumble in the dark. It'll be fun."
He sat up fully now and gently lifted her from his lap, depositing her on her feet before standing himself. He could barely see his hands in front of his face.
"Where'd you go?!"
Kella flushed at the and tensed when he questioned her location. Though she was giddy, she was also nervous.
"Be careful," she whispered, her hand groping his stomach. "I don't want to hurt you. So be careful what you touch."
Finding his hand, she squeezed it reassuringly and began to lead him forward, barely able to traverse the unlit hallways as she stumbled around to find their final destination.
Aryn clutched tightly onto her tiny hand as he also clumsily trodded behind her through the dark hallways. On more than one occasion he winced and cursed after bumping into the sharp corners of a table, or catching his foot on a rug.
After bumping into a third table, he slowed his pace and grumbled, "We should just set fire to this place. At least then we'd be able to see."
Kella slowed down her pace when she noted his irritation growing. Pressing near to him, she squeezed his had reassuringly.
"Here, just stay close to me." Though as she turned around to guide them, she let out a yelp as she too, found her hip hitting off a piece of furniture.
Aryn grumbled as he did as she commanded, but even he had to snicker when she bumped into a table herself. "I thought you used to lived here," he teased with a laugh as they made their way through the dark hallways.
Soft moonlight streamed in through several of the tall windows, but what little light existed was mostly obscured by the pattering rainfall. A distant crackle of lightning illuminated the next room they were in, and afforded them time to pick a path through the scattered instruments, for they were back in the Harmond music room.
Kella paused here too, her eyes taking in the instruments that glimmered silver in the moonlight that managed to pour in through a dusted crack of light. Hesitating only briefly, she moved to drop his grip on her only for a moment as she made her way to the window and paused to open the curtain. It was only then she realized, here too, there was a sheer fabric between moonlight and the curtains and the room, and she peered curiously over at Aryn as she slipped behind it, laughing through a smile.
"These curtains are like the other ones from before!" And she playfully curled herself into them with a dance like grace, all the while forgetting sh ewas there to let in a little bit of moonlight.
And because Kella did not actually draw the curtains back to allow light into the room, Aryn was left groping in the darkness when she vanished behind the fabrics.
"Wait, not so fast," he complained as he blindly stumbled his way toward the windows, for that was where he'd seen her go. He could hear her giggles coming from somewhere in the thick folds of the curtains, and so he dove into them as well, flinging them apart in an effort to find her.
"Oh, you're going to get it when I find you," he warned in a mock threatening tone, his wide grin hidden by the darkness.
Giggling, she twirled and slipped between one side of the drapes to the other, leaving the remains of fabric to tickle Aryn and the darkness behind her as her laughter was the only thing that gave her location away. She wove herself between the layers, finding herself between velvet and sheer clothe once more as she smiled over his way, the silver light of hte moon barely cracking in to give away her faint silhouette.
Twice, Aryn thought he had her and pounced on a lump in the velvet only to find himself nothing but a face full of the fabric. The third time though, he caught sight of her silhouette just outlined in the faint moonlight of the window. A wicked grin spread across his beard and he lumbered toward her, arms pushing away layers of fabric in his path.
By the time he reached her he was nearly swallowed up from behind by the thick velvet as it draped heavily over his frame. But he had managed to make his way to her, peeking out from behind that sheer cloth. Before she could get away, his arms shot out and wrapped themselves around her and the sheer cocoon covering her.
"I warned you, didn't I?" he laughed as he peered down at her gleaming blue eyes.
Kella let out a laugh, a noise that sounded like music echoing throughout the room. This room was designed to carry noise with grace, and her laughed squeal was no exception as she smiled and dimpled cut into her cheeks.
"Yes, you did," she told him, cheeks flushed and eye lashes batting lightly his way. "And it seems you've caught me up in your net." But she didn't mind, and in fact, she delighted in the thrill of the moment, their play- made safe by the sheerness of the fabric, but being enough the pair of them were at least having fun as she peered up into his eyes, fully wanting to kiss him but still remaining shy, despite the alcohol that rosied her cheeks.
Aryn echoed her laughter with his own, green eyes twinkling in the little light that streamed in through the window. "And what a fine catch it is," he boasted, hugging her close.
His voice softened somewhat, though it still rumbled deeply as he added, "You know the funny thing is -- the whole time I'd been searching for you. And now that I have you here..."
His eyes drifted to her full lips, on the other side of that sheer fabric. Oh how he wanted to kiss her fully. It really was ironic, how that barrier still separated the two of them. But it was the best they could do, and for the moment it was all he needed. Without waiting for her to reply, he leaned his head down and kissed her again through the drape.
Kella blushed at his comment, her smile broadening and as he moved to lean in, she found her eyes becoming half lidded. And when their lips touched through the drapes, a thrill rushed through her.
She reveled in the moment, enjoying the softness of his lips and warmth- or at least what she was able to feel through the drapes, and found herself leaning into the kiss, hungering for more as she whimpered softly as they kissed again.
He had to admit that kissing through the sheer drape was a strange sensation, and he much preferred the real thing. But this was as good as it could get with Kella. And as if to make it worthwhile, she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it as well.
His mouth pressed deeper against hers as his left hand found its way past the layered drape cocooning her, his fingertips feeling the light fabric of her dress. He drew her closer to him, their kiss lingering for a while longer before he finally pulled back to peer at her. Both of them were bathed in a soft light by then, the shadows of raindrops dancing across them.
The kissing was enough to steal her breath away, and her heart was beating heavily within her chest. When they parted, she peered up at him through half-lids, their bodies doused in silver moonlight as she gave him a dreamy stare.
"I want you to touch me,"s he whispered, eyes peering into his. "To hold me and kiss me for as long as we can."
For who knew when they'd have a moment to steal away like this again? It seemed the world was always against them, and if she were to only ever enjoy kisses but once in her life, she was going to make these kisses, this moment count.
Aryn's own face was slightly flushed as he gazed down at her, his arms still wrapped around her slender frame. Only his free hand had actually found its way past the sheer veil to touch her clothed body, but it needed only the one command to gently feel up and down the soft curvatures of her side.
It really was cruel, this half-show of their emotions. For no matter how tender and sweet their touches were, that thin veil still remained between them, separating them so consciously. There was a tinge in his green eyes that belied a lingering regret.
Still, Aryn muttered under his breath, "As my Lady desires," before pressing his mouth against hers once more.
Kella released a soft breath as his hands touched across her body, beneath the veil but across the soft material of her skirts. Instincts even unaware to her awoken as she arched at his touch and found her lips meeting his, a hand gently touching his cheek as she kissed him again and again, wishing in all the world the veil could melt away and they could just kiss and find themselves in the conversation of love like everyone else. But as it were, life was cruel- and she would take what she could get, as her heart and body ached for him.
After a while their kisses became a little more passionate, a little more urgent. And after a while, Aryn actually forgot that there was a thin veil between them as his arms wrapped tightly around her waist and all but lifted her light frame off the ground.
And to think, at one point, he was ready to turn her over for gold.
Kella released a noise, but smiled through her next kiss, laughing almost as he held her against him, though as they pressed near in a hug, she felt a burning sensation within in her, one that was driving her crazy and made her kisses become heightened and hungered and full of need.
Time stood still for them as they kissed, with only the gentle shadows cast by falling rain that even told them that the world was moving alongside them.
After Ansgar knew how long, Aryn eventually pulled his head away from her, chest rising and falling rapidly from the exertion. He shot her a wry grin through the veil. "Well, looks like someone is havin' fun," he said, peering at her with his deep green eyes.
OOC: Oh the things that could be said about Aryn's comment 8D
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Kella's blue eyes opened at the statement. She felt herself flush even deeper for it.
"I'd hope we both are," she whispered through the curtain veil.
"Plenty," came the breathless reply as he continued to hold her off her feet, unwilling to put her down just yet. The smell of her hair made his heart beat rapidly within his chest. His hand slowly ran up and down the curve of her back.
"Is it crass to say how badly I want you right now?" he asked.
Her face heated red at such a revelation, but her blue eyes were glowing.
"Not if I were to tell you I want you, too." Her eye searched his apologetically as she considered what they just said, what they'd already shared. It might have been foolish, for she was a naive girl, but she would have given him anything he desired in that moment.
At the sight of her apologetic look, he sighed and shot back with a slight grin, finally putting her back down on her feet. His arms still encircled her waist though as he shook his head slightly.
"Would that we could fuck," he sighed forlornly, before wrinkling his face somewhat, realizing his choice of words.
"No, that's not the right word. Not for a Lady. Sorry. I'd... take you to bed and show you a lovely time?" He shrugged with a lopsided grin. Evidently it would take more than just fancy clothes to make a nobleman out of him.
Her cheeks turned pink as her blue eyes sparkled as she looked up at him.
"I know." And she lifted a hand and delicately traced her gloved fingers against his cheek, then jaw.
Aryn let out another soft breath as her gloved hand traced its way around his face. He felt the softness of her touch on his thick beard, and wondered what the actual pads of her fingers would have felt like against his skin. How big of a fool was he, for getting himself into this mess? For finding himself wanting something he absolutely could not have?
He was also finding that his hand, as he caressed her body, traveled a bit lower until he could sense her supple thigh underneath the folds of her dress.
Feeling his hands roaming her body, and in more intimate locations than before, caused her to hold a breath, then slowly released it as her cheeks heated. Her own hands, now becoming bolder by his touch, moved down his body, feeling the muscles through his suit and admiring the feeling of power of his form.
As his hand roamed up and down the side of her leg and hip, Aryn wondered in the back of his mind if she'd ever been intimate with a man before. Given her affliction though, he doubted it. Perhaps that excited nervousness on her part was at least only somewhat attributable to the fact that her touch could hurt, or even kill him.
No, some of it had to be from inexperience. She was treading in uncertain waters at this moment, the two of them still entangled in the drapes.
His touch grew gentler and more deliberate as he leaned in closer and lower to her, soft warm exhales along her neck. The cool metallic fingers of his right arm were all but useless in the moment, but still he was able to at least keep it wrapped around her, keep her close to him.
"Oh, what I wouldn't give to abandon this sheet of fabric between us," she told him through a quivering breath. "To let you be my first. And to show me how to make love." And to be loved. And all of that lust and feelings were simmering within her eyes as she peered at him through half lids, hands still feeling across the sculpted muscles of his back, which were so evident through his clothing. And her gloved hands slid lower.
"
Aryn let out a low exhale as her hand slipped low as well. For all the timidness she'd shown, perhaps Kella was finally starting to find a confidence in herself to do what she never would have done before. It brought a slight grin to his face.
"Well we can't do that..." he said slowly, his hand running up and down the side of her thigh. It slipped closer and closer to the space between her legs. "So I guess I'll just have to figure another way to please you."
At his words, she nearly whimpered, and when his hands moved between her thighs she released a soft breath, her gloved hands pausing at his hips.
"O...other ways?" she asked, blinkingly.
"There are other ways," the mercenary gruffly echoed as his hand finally found the folds of her dress right over her untouched womanhood between her legs. His hand was surprisingly gentle as he peered down at her, green eyes observing the way she exhaled softly with each touch, imagining her heartbeat quickening to match the rapid exhilarating pounding of his own.
He hesitated over the folds of her dress for a moment and questioned softly, "But look... nothing you don't want."
She felt heat pool between her legs as a breath hitched in her throat at his attentions. And through half-lids, she stared back at him, frozen in time. And after a moment, she released a quivering breath and asked him.
"H-how?"
And she shook her head. It wasn't that she did not want it. She just was treading in territory a woman like her could never become familiar.
Without answering, but without ever taking his eyes off of hers, Aryn's hand finally found its way between her legs and gently rubbed at her womanhood, softly through the folds of her silken dress. He could feel her tremble as she pressed up against him, feel the heat through her clothing.
And after teasing at her from outside of her clothing, Aryn slowly wrapped his hand in the sheer fabric of the drape hanging in between them, and began lifting her skirt up.
Feeling the warmth of his hand against the heat between her legs made her gasp. Her eyes became half lidded as she felt pleasure from his touch as he petted her. Her eyes rolled back, lips remaining open as gentle, small breaths were released each time he stroked her. But then he moved to lift up her skirts, and she stilled, and held a breath as her eyes closed lightly.
Her dress, lightweight as it was, stretched almost to the floor. It took Aryn a few moments to gather enough of her skirts to be able to lift them completely, but upon doing so he draped the fabric over his metal arm. His eyes had adjusted to the light by now, and he could see the look of pleasure in her face. It was too enticing, and he leaned down to kiss those full lips of hers once more.
His free hand, wrapped in the soft fabric of the drapes, slowly slid up the side of her inner thigh and found its way between her legs. It was plenty wet down there already and as he gently touched and stroked at her womanhood, the fabric soaked through and clung tightly to his fingers.
As he lifted up her dress and exposed her perfect white legs, she moaned through the kiss and leaned into his fingers, her body aching for him and soaking wet from all of the attention. And it made her embarrassed. She had never been so wet before as she peered up at him, her cheeks flushed.
"I... I'm all wet," she stated, eyes seeking his. Wondering, curious, uncertain if this was supposed to be. But by Ansgar's name, did his petting over her sex feel good.
At the sound of her muffled moan against his mouth, Aryn could not help but smile through their kisses. The drape around his fingers were completely soaked through by now. The fabric might've not been there at all, for all he could tell. When their mouths finally pulled away from one another, his fingers worked a bit faster and bit more purposefully.
"Good, it means you're enjoying it," he said as he continued with his ministrations. "And if you're enjoying it, then nothing else matters."
Kella's lips fell open as she breathed, and desperately clung to him, squirming some as she knew not what to do with herself as her arousal burned through her and began to build up heat and tension within her body.
"Oh, Ansgar.... Aryn.."s he moaned, lips fumbling to find his as gloved hands raked down the back side of his body. "Oh, by the heavens, your fingers feel so good..."
Aryn grunted something in reply as she desperately pressed her mouth upon his again, though whatever he said at the moment clearly didn't matter. He leaned hungrily into her and pressed closer as his soaked fingers slipped inside of her and began exploring. He would have given her so much more if he could. But if this play was as far as they could go, then by Ansgar he would make damn sure she never forgot the moment.
She gasped through their kisses as his fingers pressed into her, moving within and causing a whole new experience and sensation to bloom within. She felt an unfamiliar burn, but coddled it and leaned some into his fingers, feeling both the drapes and fingers sink deeper into her as her lips fell open, realizing- his entire fingers were within her. And she braced herself, the burn from it and the heat becoming so intense she could not control the walls of her sex as they spasmed and tasted all around his moving fingers.
"By Ansgar's name, Aryn," she whispered against him, kissing him again. "Whatever are you doing to me? It feels so good."
When they had a moment between kisses, Aryn smiled down at her and simply replied, "Just treating a Lady the way she deserves to be treated." And though he stared down into her amazingly blue eyes, feeling the way she trembled and clenched with ecstasy, his fingers never stopped. They caressed at her gently, almost rhythmically, striving to pleasure what no man had ever touched. He didn't only stroke at her inside; his hand slipped out as often as they remained inside her, teasing up and down the insides of her thighs as well.
His own breath came out in short rapid bursts now, and he could feel a burning desire throbbing within his own stiffening groin. He knew that, whatever he felt though, it would be impossible to act on those desires. Of course, his body had other ideas. Still, it wasn't about him. This was her moment for pleasure.
Kella whimpered at his words and clung to him, her body tensing as he played her like an instrument, and she felt the rising heat of pleasure within. Her legs moved, nearly crossing, and she had no idea what to do herself as he was growing close. Her breath became shallow, and brief, and her entire body was flushed from her need.
"Oh, Aryn..." she breathed, lips finding his again. "I love this." ANd more awkwardly, she added, her body nearly over the top. "And I love you.' And it was here her blue eyes opened again to look into his, though hers were filled with lust an affection and framed behind half lids.
Her smoldering look had Aryn's heart beating frantically in his chest, the heat of their bodies rising together in their embrace. And at her vocal expression of her love, he broke out in a gentle grin, leaning closer to her. He pressed his mouth upon hers hungrily and more forcefully this time, fueled by just a little extra passion. "Don't look now," he mumbled under his breath, "but I might be fallin' for you just the same..."
Perhaps it was the heat of the moment that he said it; after all, they still had so much to learn about one another. But having said those words and unable to take them back now, his hand found her womanhood again, fingers working with a renewed enthusiasm as they sought her climax.
His words were all it took. Her mounting pleasure was building, building and soon-as his fingers were shoved deeply within her and his lips were sealed unto hers, she threw her arms around him, clung to him fiercely as she suddenly found herself exploding in sweet ecstasy about his fingers- and her cry of pleasure was muffled only by the forcefulness of her kiss.
And when it was all said and done, she wilted against him, her eyes rather droopy and her body, just about ready to collapse.
Aryn felt her entire body shudder with ecstasy as she climaxed about his fingers and then collapsed against him, her chest rising and falling from her rapid breaths. He withdrew his slick fingers from her then and wrapped both arms around her, letting out a soft laugh against her lips. When he pulled away from her, he peered down at her wilted form. He was no genius, but it didn't take one to figure out that she enjoyed all of that.
"On the bad side," he said with a mischievous grin, as he untangled his wet hand from the sopping mess that was the curtain and planted a soft kiss atop her golden locks, "I think we ruined another perfectly good set of drapes."
Kella blushed and turned away, using a closed fisted hand to hide her smile. She shook her head then turned to look at him. "I don't think I ever imagined I could do such a thing- or that such a thing even existed." Drapes or no drapes...
Aryn laughed and shrugged. "Well, I'm glad you let me show you."
The thought ran through his mind, asking what else he could possibly show her. But that was for another time. Baby steps. He pulled her close for one more kiss, a wide smile on his face. The rain had stopped momentarily, and both of them were basked in a soft glow of moonlight.
Kella would have been content to stay there all night,a nd almost fell asleep against him before she released a soft breath and peered up into his eyes.
"We should get to bed." There were a few beds waiting for them upstairs, after all. "And get some rest."
She made a contented noise as she stretched within his embrace, moving slowly, a bit reluctantly before she stood up and stepped out from beneath the curtain, blushing a bit as she considered what had just happened as her heart fluttered within her chest.
"Thank you.." She said softly, turning to him with a small smile.
Aryn nodded his head and followed after her with a brief, "As the Lady wishes." When she wasn't looking, he wiped his slick hand with whatever portion of the drapes remained dry. At least the two of them had a good time. And these curtains would forever keep secret the tale of what traversed there.
As he stepped close to Kella, he had to raise his hand to stifle a yawn that threatened to overtake him. Truth be told, a nice warm bed sounded lovely right about now; it had been a long day for everyone. Taking her gloved hand in his, he glanced down at her and asked, "So where do I put these clothes now? They'll probably need to be washed."
"Well normally there are servants to tend to these things," she told him with a blush. "BUt I suppose for now, we can discard them on the floor when we get ready for bed."
Aryn lifted a brow and grinned down at her as they walked. "Throw your clothes on the ground? That's the most unladylike thing I've ever heard!"
"Finally, you're learning how to live a real life."
Kella could not help herself as she laughed.
"I suppose you're right. How unlady like of me! Let us hang it up and wait for the servants to come!"
Aryn grimaced and shook his head. "No, the floor sounds a lot better," he said with a laugh that echoed hers. "There's already plenty to clean around here, might as well let them clean a bit more. I mean, that's what they get paid to do, right?"
His voice softened as he shrugged. "Funny what people would do for money."
At his last comment, she tucked back her smile, but said nothing.
"Would you be kind enough to help me out of this dress? I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to loosen all of those laces if I tried." And she turned around and waited for him to oblige, casting him a timid glance from over her shoulder. She was still uncertain what to make of what happened earlier. It was... awkward to even consider she could do that, let alone with an uncouth man such as he. But then again, a lady of her standing shouldn't be falling in love with a man of his character, either. And because of it, she might not ever look at drapes the same way again.
Aryn said nothing, but stepped up behind her, meeting her timid gaze as she peered over her shoulder at him. He, too, had a multitude of thoughts running through his head.
How had it come to this? It was supposed to be as simple a job as they came, to retrieve the girl and bring her to Turgall. She would have been worth a fortune, a fortune within his grasp, one that he never even dared dream of having. How easy would it have been to take her to Turgall and turn her over? But he had never counted on this, getting that feeling of a quickened heartbeat everytime he got near to her. By Ansgar, he couldn't even touch her! He didn't understand how he could possibly have developed any affections for her.
But here they were in the darkness of this empty castle, and there she stood in front of him. With a mumble of, "Anything for the Lady," he placed his metal hand gently on her hip and, with his free fingers, began gently pulling away at the laces of her dress.
Feeling the strings come loose, she released a breath and held the front of her dress to herself, then once she felt it was sufficiently loosened, she gestured forhim to stop as she turned towards him with a small smile.
"That should do," she said softly, blue eyes meeting to his.
Aryn peered down at her with a gentle green gaze, taking in her form, the way her bare shoulders were visible from behind her dress, which was held up by nothing more than her hands. A thought crossed his mind, wondering what she looked like under all that fabric, wondering about the bare curves of her naked body. He had an idea already, that she was lithe and gorgeous.
But still, given the time he'd spent with her he had come to expect a certain amount of reserved timidity from her, despite the fun they'd had behind the curtains there. And there really was no sense in acting like the man he was, uncouth and unrefined. Especially not wearing these fancy clothes.
Reluctantly, he averted his eyes and turned away. "I'll, ah... I'll let you change."
Kella nodded, and slipped behind a changing screen. She had a night gown ready, and slipped into the silken thing. It was a simple gown, made of an ivory silk, and when she stepped out, she was lightly flushed as she gave him a timid smile.
"I.. I should find a robe to sleep in.. or... or we should remain in separate beds," she said suddenly, realizing that-oh, how rude of her to presume he'd want to share sleeping in a space with her so close but...
They had already done that so many times before...
and she had already found him a room in which to say. She dropped her gaze and apologized, feeling dumb for even uttering those words.
When Kella stepped out from behind the changing screen in her silk gown, he consciously felt his jaw drop. It took all his effort to close his mouth and not gape at her. If anything, it accentuated her body more than her dancing dress had.
And when she fumbled with her words about finding him another bed, he stepped up closer to her and murmured, "With all due respect, I think I'd rather just stay here. With you."
Blushing, Kella found herself simply staring before dropping her gaze.
"Oh.. okay," she said softly, and shuffled uneasily.
"THen I... I shall look for some riding pants to wear, or my brother's drawers... Just.. just to make sure we don't... touch." And she added the last part delicately before her blue eyes lifted back to meet with is green one's.
"Oh! And a robe! Just.. just to be safe. Of course. ANd i'll have my glovesa nd a scarf.."
Aryn almost reached out to touch her, but at the last moment his hand hovered over her bare exposed shoulder before dropping back to her side.
"No, no, you're already changed. Last thing I want is for you to have to go through all the effort," he said, glancing to the door. "I'll go find a way. And hey... if need be, I'll just grab one of the curtains. There's plenty of 'em lying around anyway, right?"
Kella blushed at such an idea and lifted a hand to her lips.
"But oh... are you sure that's wise? I mean.. we could place blankets between us but..."
She looked at him, worry filling her gaze.
Aryn shrugged nonchalantly, though the thought of getting zapped by her certainly crossed his mind. Nevertheless, he threw on a slight grin as he looked at her. "Worst comes to worst, I touch you and the feeling wakes me up."
Kella gave him a bit of a guilty smile, but moved to suddenly embrace him. She was careful, naturally, as more skin was exposed, but it felt so good to have him so close to her and she sighed against him.
"Oh, Aryn... what would I have ever done without you?"
Aryn still had the benefit of the long-sleeved silk shirt of her father, though he was also careful in the placement of his bare hand as he wrapped his arms around her little frame with a smile, feeling the warmth of her against his chest.
"Well, for one, you'd probably still be eating cake," he said quietly with a small snicker.
Kella gave a dimpled smile that was graced with a blush.
"Yes.." she said softly, taking his hand into her gloved one and squeezing it. "I suppose you're right." ANd she moved with him now, onto the bed ad staring down it's long length in awe. "It's... strange. To think I've been used to such accommodations- but now.. after having been on the road for so long, I've only now realized just how large my beds have ever been."
Aryn also stared in awe at the bed, perhaps a little hesitant now that they stood next to it. The thing was positively huge. He'd never been even remotely close to a bed this size. And in fact, he gave the soft mattress a poke just to be sure. It was a real bed. And it wasn't stuffed with hay, with boggled his mind even more.
"I've never seen a bed this big before," he admitted out loud, giving Kella a look. And he couldn't be sure that, jumping onto that soft surface, he wouldn't sink right through the mattress.
Kella saw the way he was looking at the bed and gave the man an adoring smile.
"A large bed will not eat you, Aryn," she told him, amused. "Come, lay with me. For neither will I."
That comment elicited a wry grin from Aryn, who leaned close to peer down at her. His metal hand came up to gently brush her cheek. "Of course you don't scare me, Lady Kella Harmond. What could possibly go wrong laying with you? I've already been thrown in jail and shot."
He turned back to the bed. "This thing, though... I have no idea what to expect."
He let out a small exhale -- and practically leaped into the bed, sinking down into the soft mattress with a muffled sigh. "By Ansgar, this is comfortable!"
Kella gave a delicate chuckle when he jumped onto the bed.
"Well it is full of feathers. And yes.." she mused, making a soft, contented noise as she nestled into the mattress. "It is kind of like sleeping on a cloud."
Aryn's only response was a loud groan of relaxation as he stretched his arms and then rolled over onto his back, eyes closed as he felt himself sink into the feathered mattress. She was right, it really was like sleeping on a cloud. There were no stray straws jabbing him in the back, no smell of rancid water. He really could get used to this.
He turned his head in her direction, though his eyes remained closed. "We should just stay here forever."
Kella smiled at the sentiment.
"I wish for the very same thing." Unfortunately, fate was cruel, and she knew it. Releasing a sigh she peered around the room while pressing her lips thoughtfully together.
"It's strange though, don't you think? That my brother simply abandoned this place?" But perhaps, with her gone, did he feel he had no more use for it?
"Well obviously he has no sense of value," Aryn replied matter-of-factly as he finally opened his eyes and gazed over at her. "After all, he let you get away didn't he?"
"But then his loss is my gain. On both counts."
Kella tried to smile at such a comment, but it proved difficult in the end.
"He didn't lose me," she corrected. "I lost him. I was the one who chose to run away."
And he was the one who evidently was losing his mind....
"And so he sent the dogs after you. What a nice brother," Aryn mumbled slightly under his breath. Though to be fair he'd been one of those hounds, who just happened to lose the scent at the most opportune time.
Kella dropped her gaze, going quiet at such a remark.
"He.. he has never been himself. Not since the new Grand Duke assumed the throne, or even before that," she said, quietly. "I fear he has become mentally ill,a nd I fear it might be because of our magic." ANd the very idea made her shiver when she recalled when she herself, had killed that little boy so long ago....
She still suffered from the boy's thoughts ad nightmares to this day. It's one reason she would forever have her child like innocence preserved.
Aryn sat up now, a slight frown on his face. "What do you mean due to your magic? You seem to have handled it well enough."
And though they'd acknowledged her affliction and had found a way around it during their fun in the drapes, reality set in that, at the end of the day, she still possessed a highly dangerous and deadly power.
Kella turned to him, delicate tears clinging to her eyes.
"There's... a lot behind our magics, Aryn. Those we touch, and those we kill... it's... hard to explain but, it's as if we're stealing their memories, their powers, whatever ability it is that makes a person them... and I just fear... perhaps... either that has become too much for my brother, or it's the war."
Something had to give.
With a frown, Aryn slipped his hand into the long sleeve and used it to dab away at the tears forming under her sad eyes. He also took the opportunity to lean closer, looking her up and down.
With slight hesitation, he asked, "So those times you touched me... you stole my memories?"
Kella blinked.
"I.. OH!" And her eyes went tremendously wide.
"Well, yes but I.. those moments were so small.. I.. I wouldn't be able to tell a memory was yours if it had been taken!" After all, this had only truly happened to her at length but with one other person.S he was too paranoid to let it ever happen again with anyone else since that death.
"A quick touch really just leaves a shock for us both." But she frowned anyways, feeling incredibly guilty for this realization. "But I am truly sorry that I've ever hurt you, Aryn."
"No, don't be," Aryn said in a tone that tried to be reassuring, though a part of sounded more unsure than anything. He threw on a slight smile and shrugged. "Besides, I don't really have any fun memories to share anyway."
Her eyes were downcast now, and he frowned slightly at it. Gently he took up the blanket and threw it over her bare skin before drawing her near to him. "Any fun memories I have, we can just share them together."
Kella melted at the phrase, and found herself nestling into him contentedly. And that night was the best night's sleep she had in a good long while. The pair slept well past morning and into the afternoon, and though the rain had only stopped long after Kella had awoken. She had changed into another dress, hoping to surprise Aryn, but finding the place bitterly cold, she took it upon herself to fix a fire in the hearth of their room.
So she slipped into her heavy jacket and gloves once more and trekked outside, surprised to see it was lightly glazed over with ice in some places that had yet to have melted from the afternoon sun. And the air was quite chilly, making the tip of her nose turn numb as she moved about towards the wood shed-
Though despite the fact she had found ample amount of wood...
Kella Harmond would not be returning to her Summer home ever again. And Aryn the Iron Hand would not awaken to her beside him- but to a long since gone cold imprint in the bed where she had once laid. And the only indication of what may have happened to her was the scattering of wood on the floor of the shed, and the multiple horse tracks that littered the ground and disappeared into a chaotic trail within the nearby woods.
Aryn woke groggily to a slight chill as a draft blew in from the open door. He, too, had fallen into a deep slumber that was more relaxing and satisfying that any from the last two months. Even Kella's gentle shifting in the middle of the night, nestling against him, had not woken him.
As his green eyes slowly opened and blinked in a blurry haze, he unconsciously realized that he was alone on the bed. Turning his head to his side, he could still see the soft imprint on the mattress where Kella's small frame had been. The blanket covering her had been draped over him, but it too had gone cold.
For a while he lay there, wondering where she could have been off to, but after some moments he groaned and swung himself to sit at bed's edge. A brief thought crossed his mind that, somehow, she'd chosen this moment to cut and run from him. That thought quickly evaporated upon glancing to the floor, where every single one of their packs still lay in a haphazard pile. She hadn't taken a single thing with her. She hadn't left.
"By Ansgar, this bed is a miracle," he exclaimed out loud, half expecting a muffled response from the closet or from another room. Only the echoing silence greeted him. With a frown he climbed to his feet and stepped across the freezing stones to the doorway.
"Kella?" he questioned, stepping outside. The corridors were all empty. The main staircase was empty. The main hall was empty. And the manor's front gates were tossed open, the source of the cool chill. Even from up here, he could see the dusting of snow and ice in the entrance way.
Nearing the front door, he could still hear the neighing and snorts of their horse, tied up in the little stable just outside the front door. But at his sight the horse gave a frightened whinny and backed away from the Ironhand. And no wonder why it was spooked.
There, outside the door, a pile of chopped wood lay strewn about, amidst a muddy mess of horse tracks that trailed away from the manor. At the sight, Aryn's heart sank.
"KELLA!" he bellowed into the distance, his voice echoing through the treeline and back at him. "KELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLA!"
There was no response.
He rushed back inside, struggled to throw on his boots over the swelling of his healing leg, and snatched up his sharp axe. He stumbled along in the cold, following the trail for as far as he could, before he realized that the falling snow had swallowed up the tracks. The realization hit him as hard as a biting gust of wind.
She was gone.