Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
10
Renown
Male
317 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Marion Aurea on Jun 13, 2024 1:12:22 GMT -5
"You are somebody, though- you are Beak, now." Marion said, softly. "If you had decided to leave your old life behind- then, your new life had already just begun."
Standing up and patting off the foliage and dirt from his clothes, Marion picked up Idun- which he had dropped when the tackling began- and held out a hand. An offer for the other to take, to help her get up from the ground.
"If you want, you can tell us your story- we will remember it, and if you don't want to, that's alright as well."
And he smiled. Sunlight flitted through the canopy into flecks of light, shifting as leaves rustled in the breeze, and the world, now, is gentle.
"You can do anything you want, from now on untill forever- it is your new life after all, and you alone live it."
To Marion- life after certain death is nothing short of a miracle. Perhaps, it could be a curse- but the young elf had not yet understood the agony of a life stretched on too long. Instead, he think of the weeping at a deathbed, and he think of how many times someone had whispered, pleaded, cried to his father- 'save me'. They said. 'I don't want to die'. And he think of when they were in time, so fortunately, that a resurrection spell would work, and the tears that followed- and how incredibly novel is the simple idea of being alive, being able to see another sunrise, and the many, many more sunrises after that.
"It's nice to meet you, Beak. And if I had a coin for every skeletal friend I have at the moment, I would have... three coins. Which isn't a lot, but it's incredible how I got to know all of you!"
|
|
Tradesfolk
IS OFFLINE
18
Renown
Crescent Isles
ring ring ring ring ring ring ring, BABY CROWS
646 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 13, 2024 12:44:20 GMT -5
The children let out curious chirps, Loci reaching out with gentle talons to lightly poke at Beak’s desiccated fins, the emerald eyed skeleton tilting his head as he lets out a curious trill…then his eyes sharpen and fuzz and sharpen, as though he’s focusing on something that keeps shifting back and forth…and then the little skele-corvid nods, trilling something to himself and gently patting Beak on the snout as he murmurs, “...bit too early for that…gives me time to work on it, though…”
Wind tilts her head slightly, gently poking at the side of Beak’s snout as she trills, “...never done these shapes before…might need a few days to get a good one out…” the youngest skelechick bobs her head, then shifts a little to the side so she won’t get shavings on Beak or Marion as she pulls a block of wood from…under her tunic…alongside a woodcarver’s knife. Once she’s settled - and after squeaking as Nev pulls her back into a hug - she sets to work, slicing away sliver after sliver from her block of wood, a shape slowly forming in the block…
Nev trills happily, softly nuzzling Wind as they hold her close and gently squeeze the little skeleton in their arms, a low, stolen purr resonating from within the wraith’s chest as Bell and Rena nestle close.
|
|
Tradesfolk
IS OFFLINE
9
Renown
Female
Crescent Isles
Act with love and sincerity.
320 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Beak on Jun 13, 2024 13:57:44 GMT -5
Beak gives a quizzical headtilt at the chicks' comments, unsure what they're referring to, but seemingly content to allow them to mind their business without prying for now. Even the most basic and cursory touches, such as the way Loci pokes and prods at her fins just to examine their shape, feels good to someone who's been deprived of the sensation of friendly touch for as long as she has, and she lets out another low-level pur-equivalent "happy emotions" telepathic broadcast in response.
"Well..." She turns her attention back to Marion as the chicks continue... whatever it is they're up to over there. She supposes she may as well get this off of her chest if the elf is kind enough to ask, to offer to keep this story for her... he is perhaps the first person in the realm besides her who will.
"This land didn't used to be a marsh," she began. "There was a plain. There were villages. People. Before it all flooded and washed away... how long ago was that? Hundreds of years? Thousands? I am unsure."
"I was just... a simple tribeswoman, in a simple village. We kept to ourselves, knew nothing of the outside world, but looked after our own... we knew peace. Our leader... he was kind."
"Invaders came. Some warlord from some other tribe, some other village, wanting to conquer. We stood up to them. We fought back... and I died."
There's a low... something, a sort of wordless vocalization with a tinge of dark emotions... sadness, regret. The telepathic equivalent of a sigh, one supposes. "I don't know how long I was dead, or when I came back, or why. I remember my previous life, and I remember this life, but everything in between... I was asleep. I was asleep until I woke up again."
"But when I woke up... it was all gone. Not just... not just my village, but the entire plain. The waters came in. The Marsh Flats became what you see today."
"I know what you're thinking. It's a sad story and all, but what does that have to do with me feeling so... purposeless, now? I fought for a worthy cause and died a hero's death and now I'm being given a second chance, what's so bad about that? The thing is... I never learned how that story ended, because quite honestly, it doesn't matter how that story ended."
"I was dead long before a winner of that battle was decided, but... say the invaders won. Say my village was conquered, its people oppressed, and then... eventually my entire civilization washed away. Or, say we repelled them. Say we stood our ground, fended the invaders off, kept our village peaceful and safe, and then... eventually my entire civilization washed away. Ultimately, we're talking about the difference between who got to rule one small patch of land, what, hundreds? thousands? of years ago, before it was all gone anyway. All of it."
"I..." Skeletons can't cry, of course, but the increasing desperation in her voice, and the way the telepathy spell... falters a bit, as she struggles to maintain concentration on it, gives a sort of equivalent "choking up" sentiment. "I can't even go to any historical societies about this. If this was a known historical event, I could at least look up who won or how long ago this was, find out how old I even am, see if the time between the war and the entire plain dying out anyway was at least... happy. And if no one knew, then perhaps I could be of use to... someone. As someone who was there, someone who knows... if not the whole story, then at least more of it than your current historical records do. But here's the thing... no one cares! No one cares who conquered or didn't conquer whom from that era! Every scholar I've asked has had... more important concerns, either chronicling the here and now or, if they're looking backward, then they're looking backward at kings, at people who changed history itself. I fought and died for some unimportant village in some unimportant part of... "Marsh Flats used to be a plain with villages, and now it's a marsh. There may be ruins here and there, if you look." That's all the records have to say about this continent. That's all any of this ever amounted to, ever mattered in the grand scheme of things."
"And so... I say it once again. I am nobody. I'm just Beak. And I... apologize in advance, if I've been... somewhat... uninvolved in keeping up with the struggles of the day. I've seen too much... seen what even the most important battles, even the ones that feel like they'll decide the very fate of your entire people, ultimately amount to, if you "sleep" long enough."
"Anyway, I... I thank you, Marion. You... part of what has been weighing on me all these centuries is the feeling that none of these people or places or events may as well even have existed outside of my own heart, but... you now carry them in yours, as well. You may well be the first person since I woke up to do so."
|
|
Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
10
Renown
Male
317 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Marion Aurea on Jun 13, 2024 18:42:01 GMT -5
Marion, as he always did, listened. And he grew somewhat quiet- thoughtful, more like.
"People are unimportant."
He said, tilting his head at the skeleton.
"But people make themselves important. The earth do not remember heroes, or villains, and it will swallow villages and bury cities and both king and pauper will rot in her embrace, all the same in the end. But people choose to anyway."
The elf then motioned to the group around them- and himself.
"And we will remember. If it makes you feel better or not- all of us will remember your story now. Perhaps you will have your story written into the tomes themselves, if you can come across the right people, in the future- and, we- even the ones that put their names on monuments- all the palaces and kingdoms will still amount to little more than dirt and dust on this wide earth. Time will claim them, the earth will bury them, and it was as if they had never been there at all."
Marion smiled to her.
"But we amount to as much as we make out of ourselves, too. Because even if the world of nature is benevolent as it is, we built ourselves in it a world of people, too. People that are less benevolent or fair, but people that will remember, in their short lifetimes- and you were there. People saw Abek chose, and she was brave, and both her enemies and her own people know. She had done well, and she could rest knowing she had given her all in the end."
"If Beak want to let that story be known, I am certain it can be done, too. It is up to you- again, you alone live this life. But I think, now that she had woken up and found herself abit lost- would she like to accompany me for a while? To the capitol, where there is a festival in full swing in celebration of another summer, and there will be music and food and games- and it's alright to not know what to do after that. Neither do I, really, but we'd probably see something interesting we'd go check it out!"
|
|
Tradesfolk
IS OFFLINE
18
Renown
Crescent Isles
ring ring ring ring ring ring ring, BABY CROWS
646 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 13, 2024 22:39:07 GMT -5
Rena bobs her head as she trills her agreement, “...the Valley of Crows is…basically lost, after what the Hag did…that last deal she made before Fimbulwinter came…I dunno what my brother asked for, but the witch took her payment in our people’s suffering…and now no one’s left to remember them…no one but us…” she smiles wanly, her wings shifting a little as she nestles back against Nev’s side and nuzzles into their feathers, “...an’ who knows how much of what we remember is accurate anymore…Hag could’ve run dozens of deals like the one that made us forget you, Nev…how many stars did she snuff from the sky for her own amusement?”
Bell chirps softly, nestling in against his own side of the larger corvid, his amber eyes shut and a contented trill escaping his throat as he nibbles at his larger partner’s feathers. Stars but he’s missed this. He hadn’t even been able to remember anything to do with his raven and he’d still missed them so much.
Nev trills softly, happily holding both their partners close, those cobalt eyes watching their living children tussle and play in the grass, the little ones occasionally bumping into Beak or Marion as they ‘fight’ over a particularly shiny rock.
Wind continues her carving, a little tongue of rose gold light blepped from her beak as she concentrates on each little detail…a little more depth here for the sockets, a careful shaping of the wrinkles on the fins…
Loci trills softly to himself, nestling against Beak’s side and doing the best he can to project joy and comfort and contentment, a low purr beginning to rise from the little skeleton’s chest as he nestles in, “...y’know…Mom ‘n Dad always say…everyone deserves to be remembered. Maybe not for every little thing they did, but…everyone deserves to have at least one story told about them…sometimes I wonder if that’s part of why Mom’s put so much effort into giving me ‘n Wind a second chance…’n part of why she’s so determined to do the same for Hum…’cause our first chance was taken away before we could make any memories or tell any stories, or have any stories told about us…”
Nev smiles softly, letting out an approving chirp as they bob their head, “...that’s very right…the Valley of Crows used to stand for memory, you know? None of us were around then, this was centuries, maybe millennia back, before the schism between the Crows and the Ravens, but…even up to Fimbulwinter, there was this belief that everything and everyone deserved to be remembered in some form…” that smile turns wistful as the raven speaks, “...I remember visiting the ruins of the Raven Queen’s Archives with my parents when I was little more’n a chick myself. I marveled at the splendor of the ruins at the time…now I can’t help but wonder what could’ve caused us to turn on each other enough to destroy the greatest symbol of what we stood for…”
|
|
Tradesfolk
IS OFFLINE
9
Renown
Female
Crescent Isles
Act with love and sincerity.
320 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Beak on Jun 14, 2024 1:49:33 GMT -5
"Oh, little one... you sweet, sweet child...."
It belatedly occurs to Beak that she'd forgotten to get the names from... well, anyone in the family of corvids. Marion had introduced himself first, of course, and then Beak did the same, and then... things... happened. Still, she very likely would be speaking to the skeletal chick in exactly the same manner, even if she did know Loci's actual name.
"That... is a lovely sentiment, and in truth, your family is the first to tell me that. I've had actual scholars tell me to my face that the matters of some nameless backwater village from hundreds or thousands of years ago means nothing to anyone, but... my people meant something to me. And... they mean something to you. As if it is not enough that I owe you my life..." ... wait, what? ... Well, in that the others chose not to kill her when that was what they were specifically hired to do, yes. "... I now am no longer alone in carring my people's memory. Truly, you are extraordinary... all of you."
As if even all that weren't enough, she has now spotted the little woodcarving in progress--is that... her?? and heard the generous invitation from Marion, as well. This group is positively spoiling her... perhaps they are here to kill her after all, only with kindness. "I would love to accompany you... that sounds delightful. Thank you. Perhaps when we finish seeing to the matter of this curse... I have a name to clear, after all. Or... what's left of a name, perhaps. Ehehe~"
She is far too good at that "old crone" laugh when amusing herself with her own remarks, even after having revealed her true nature.
She turns her attention to Nev, a solemn and respectful nod tinged with sadness. "Yours is a loss that we both mourn. You speak of a library that sought knowledge from all corners, from all people... and I seek anyone who would even want the knowledge I possess. A natural arrangement, it would have been... I am sorry."
"Regarding my people, I suppose... well...." She thinks, unsure at first how exactly to phrase this. "One barrier to my research is that I was never... quite... the sort of person to whom this duty was supposed to fall. My tribe had shamans, healers, elders and leaders... they had storytellers. I... I was a warrior. A soldier. A... the expression I have heard in the modern day is "dumb muscle." There were entire books of rites and rituals, secrets of my people's ways passed from one generation of mystics to the next... and none of that was ever supposed to be my job. I was the last person to be tasked with learning and preserving our ways, our culture... but now, I am the only one left who can."
"It is... perhaps a silly dream of mine, but... I still sometimes dare to dream that such records of our rites could be out there, somewhere... preserved as my bones have been, even under all this marshland. That... if only I could find such a book of rites... even enough scattered pages of one... if I had something to study, something to teach me...."
"I never was a mystic or a storyteller for my people. But perhaps, someday, I could become one. The last Wise Woman of the Ibekki... and what an unlikely one, at that. But... desperate times, as they say."
|
|
Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
10
Renown
Male
317 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Marion Aurea on Jun 14, 2024 2:10:12 GMT -5
Even if himself is not versed in human studies, Marion could still try to imagine the sentiments- wishing to tell of a world that he had lived in, but only himself remembers...
“It’s not silly at all!" He exclaimed. "Of course there could be- even, even if the sea washed away all traces of land and buildings- even if there are not a single relic to be found under the mud, there are still people. People doesn't get washed away by the sea like that. They'd have moved to other places, and they'd have grown old and had children, and maybe many would have forgotten, but perhaps, you'd be able to find them out there. People that knew and have memories passed down, even in fragments- "
Nodding to himself, Marion continued.
"Oh, this just like tending to a dying species. Nature claimed it, and we will not fight her, but we do what little we can to preserve them. Mother had gone out of her way to collect and document rare species of apples and visited a ton of people that sent her letters of weird looking fruits- and she'd go visit and sometimes bring back seeds, fruit and even sapling."
|
|
Tradesfolk
IS OFFLINE
18
Renown
Crescent Isles
ring ring ring ring ring ring ring, BABY CROWS
646 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 14, 2024 10:33:27 GMT -5
Nev blinks, “the…Ibekki?” the inky raven tilts their head, cobalt eyes observing Beak with far greater interest than before, “...the Ibekki were wiped out…somewhere between three and four thousand years ago, I think? When…” they frown, jaw working a little before they speak again, “...Gri'kka Narikkei? I…can’t be certain, but I remember my Dad and Bab’sk teaching me the few stories their families had managed to preserve from the time of the Archivists…and the name Gri'kka Narikkei came up a few times in relation to the Ibekki being invaded…” the wraith of ink and starlight trills softly, bobbing their head as their cobalt eyes shine with determination, “...they will be remembered. We’ll find everything we can, I promise you that. Everyone deserves to be remembered…everyone deserves their place among the stars”
Loci continues his gentle purring, eye lights shrinking to lines across either socket as he nestles against Beak’s side and lets out a soft chirp, one of the emerald eyed skeleton’s hands finding Beak’s as he trills happily.
Wind continues her carving, slowly refining the shapes of her carving as she turns the block of wood into a little Beak figurine, one stroke of her knife at a time…
Whistle seems to have Wind beat, the elder sister smirking down at her flailing younger brother from her spot on the protesting Wind’s back as she admires the shiny stone she’s just won.
Rena nestles into Nev’s arms, a low purr rising from her own chest as her silver eyes drift shut, wings shifting a little as she lets out a contented trill and nibbles at her inky partner’s feathers…
Bell blinks, proving himself as the most manners minded member of the murder as he speaks, “...ah, we never introduced ourselves, did we…” the specter of smoke and embers lets out an embarrassed trill before collecting himself and beginning to gesture to each member of the murder in turn, “...I’m Tolling Bell, this is Rena Brighteyes and Quoth Nevermore, and the children are Loci, Whistle, Wind and Wind. Mael is back at the Barrow, and Hum and Chime aren’t hatched yet…”
|
|
Tradesfolk
IS OFFLINE
9
Renown
Female
Crescent Isles
Act with love and sincerity.
320 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Beak on Jun 14, 2024 13:36:57 GMT -5
Beak's eyes... make no actual movements; her face is a skull. But the reflex to have her eyes go wide at that information is so strong that one can very easily pick up the intent through her telepathic broadcasting. "They were... wiped out, you say...." She has to think for a moment; these are quite a few revelations to be taking in all at once. "You most definitely are thinking of the correct people... Gri'kka was a title in our village, meaning "Leader" or "Elder." Once they assumed leadership, they rarely used their given names anymore... our Gri'kka was simply Gri'kka, as were all Gri'kka. I wouldn't have recalled that name without you mentioning it, but Gri'kka Narikkei... that... that sounds right, I believe..?" So, the Ibekki were wiped out during the reign of the same Gri'kka in whose name Abek fought and died. That can only mean that they lost that battle... that the invading tribe either conquered and absorbed them or slaughtered them to the last. And knowing what she knows about her people's culture, the notion of any of them choosing assimilation over death seems... unlikely. "I... supose that rules out Marion's supposition that there might have been survivors, then." She should be taking this with utter heartbreak. She gave it her all, she died fighting to keep her people free, she spent all these years not knowing how the rest of that battle went after she was so rudely ejected from it, and now she's being told that they lost? That it really was all for nothing? And she is sad to hear this--make no mistake of that. The tone in her "voice" makes that plainly obvious. Yet... she's spent so long grappling with the nihilistic notion that, win or lose, the Ibekki died out anyway.... "At... at least it was quick. Never let it be said that my people were slaves or subjects." Between this news and Marion's encouragement, she feels more determined than ever to walk the path of an Ibekki Wise Woman, to learn the rites and rituals, the culture and history... even now that she's finally found people willing to hear their stories and honor them, there is still so much she simply doesn't know of her own heritage due to her position with the fighters and warriors of the tribe, not the scholars and mystics. She'll need to find... some sort of surviving records to draw from... a book of rites... something... Ah, but that's for later. She's getting ahead of herself. There is still the matter of this merchant's daughter and her curse to put to rest, is there not? "A pleasure to meet you all," she answers, "and... thank you. You saved me quite a lot of trouble. I was only in this clearing in the first place because Rekkel said I could find laughingstalk here... supposedly that could help with memory issues, curing amnesia, that sort of thing. I can't even drink potions, and stars only know if my fins can still absorb anything the way skin could enough for a topical salve to work, but that's about how desperate I was... for the information that you have just freely given me. Thank you... truly." ( OOC NOTE: The following information is gated behind a knowledge check for Academic Herbology Culture--that is, knowledge of cultural traditions among people who study herbs in any formal academic setting--alchemy students, medical students, botanical scholars, etc. If you would have experience with these traditions or you know someone who would have experience with these traditions and could conceivably have told you about them, then something about what Beak just said jumps out at you... and you are free to share this realization with the rest of the party if you wish; it's not a secret. This is just a check for whether you notice this little detail in the first place. What you do after noticing it is up to you.) Did Beak just say laughingstalk? Oh, there's a name with unpleasant memories... simply put, laughingstalk is a prank. A trick. An urban legend devised among maliciously mischievous elder students and even some teachers in circles of formal herbology studies, wherein they will task the newer and younger students with finding laughingstalk for some initiation or assignment as a hazing ritual. Said to be a central grass-like stalk covered in pairs of flowers--a circular one in any color with a crescent-shaped inner bloom giving the appearance of grinning faces, hence the name--the true "laughingstalk" is the poor humiliated student who wastes their time looking for an herb that quite simply does not exist.
It's no major revelation that Rekkel lied to Beak to send her to this clearing, of course... Rekkel was quite open in explaining that that was his plan, and that she was to be ambushed here. However... if Rekkel could have made up any imaginary herb in the world to have Beak go chasing, how is he he knows about laughingstalk? That's an academic tradition... that means that Rekkel must have had some sort of formal alchemical or medical herbology studies, or known someone who did. That's... curious, for a simple fruit peddler. For now, though, she is content to enjoy the feeling of that touch along her hand--again, how long has it been? Three to four thousand years, Nev says.... Once again, she finds herself wondering if the touch would be even more heightened without her gloves in the way, and this time, she decides to follow her impulses. Her secret is out now, anyway... would anyone truly be shocked to see a skeleton's hand at this point, when they've already been gazing upon a skeleton's face? In fact, this allows her to make a sort of connection to Loci... one bony hand to another. "We are of a kind," she says with the telepathic equivalent of a smile. Which, of course, is just the fancier, more grown-up way of saying what Loci had already proclaimed. "Skelefriend."
|
|
Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
10
Renown
Male
317 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Marion Aurea on Jun 14, 2024 17:24:37 GMT -5
... oh dear.
Marion rubbed his nose, abit unsure of where to start- but, well, that was rather unfortunate to let her know, especially with the implication of that- but then being up front and open about things is always better than trying to cover them up.
"Ah, Beak- that plant doesn't exist... anywhere, really. It's more like, a joke- laughingstock, you see."
He went quiet for a little bit, and then realized that he should probably elaborate.
"I mean, it's always been a joke- at least from what I've heard from my dada. As a freshmen he got a potion recipe with laughingstalk from a senior and went to search for the ingredients... the locations for gathering the plant listed beneath proved to be rather deadly. And the plant didn't exist, which was really mean of them to do. But at least afterwards when other people tried to pull it again, he would just fetch mama from next door, and she'd bash a few noses in."
Marion did not really know how much is something that everyone needed to know, and how much is oversharing- and he so then habitually continued sharing.
"- and then she'd heal them, and then punch them in the face again. I don't know if that really happened or it's just one of her jokes- but she said she did, anyway."
|
|
Tradesfolk
IS OFFLINE
18
Renown
Crescent Isles
ring ring ring ring ring ring ring, BABY CROWS
646 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 14, 2024 17:54:00 GMT -5
Rena blinks, then lets out a low, angry hiss at the reminder of the crooked merchant who’d sent Beak to this clearing to die, the crow’s silver eyes beginning to burn a bright, caustic white, “...going to kill that sorry excuse for a lizard. His daughter’s got a wasting disease, and instead of trying to make her comfortable or properly searching for help, he goes and pins the blame on an innocent who’d made the ‘mistake’ of being undead before hiring mercenaries to kill the supposed witch…that ‘man’ is going to regret making it to adulthood by the time I’m done with him…” a low, grinding sound akin to stone on bone escapes her throat before she lets out a series of whistled notes to bring Hanehiko floating over with a curious trill, “...c’mon, everyone…we’ve got a name to clear and a merchant to ruin...” she stands and makes for the Celestial Manta…
…then staggers and falls backward when Nev pulls her back down and gently baps her on the beak, “...no, we’re not going to be ruining him…yet...let’s wait to see how he reacts to being confronted with his misdeeds before we do anything rash…” …despite their soft words, the raven’s eyes shine a caustic, electric blue as they speak…
Bell just lets out an aggrieved sigh, “...well, it’s nice to not be the only reasonable one anymore…even if calling my lovely raven ‘reasonable’ can be a bit of a stretch sometimes”
Nev lets out an offended squawk and playfully shoves at their husband as their eyes dim back to cobalt, “please, just because I know when enough is enough doesn’t mean I’m unreasonable!”
The children, having paused their various activities during Marion’s reveal, giggle at their parent’s antics.
|
|
Tradesfolk
IS OFFLINE
9
Renown
Female
Crescent Isles
Act with love and sincerity.
320 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Beak on Jun 14, 2024 19:29:33 GMT -5
... Oh. Oh. Laughingst... oh, she fell for every word that merchant peddled to her, as full of false promises as those middling fruits in his stall, didn't she? Well, that's... humiliating. It'd be humiliating even as a "harmless" prank, the kind Marion is describing... but Rekkel sent her here looking for an herb that doesn't exist just so that the others could ambush her, didn't he?
As everything finally connects, she looks around at all the gathered faces solemnly.
"... The only reason I still live is your mercy." It's... she knew that, one supposes. She knew that the first time she thanked them all for choosing to alert her to their presence and talk rather than put a crossbow bolt in her skull when she hadn't seen them yet. But something about the intimacy they've all shared, paired with the revelation that the herb she'd been sent to find never existing, makes it more real somehow. "You... you were here to kill me, and we were able to... forge these bonds, instead. You were hired to give me a swift end, and instead you gave me information and affection...."
For the first time since she stopped with the "feeble old woman" act, she reaches for that walking stick again, crouching down to her knees on the ground while using it to hold herself aloft, as she just... processes. Everything.
For a moment, all she can think is "... why...?"
It's a stupid question; she knows what the others are going to say before they even have to answer. Because the corvids may be a murder but they're not murderers. Because she was kind and polite and never gave them a reason to lift their blades at her. Because the last person in the realm who would slay her as a monster for the crime of being undead is a mother with two skeletal chicks and two spectral partners. Because they saw through Rekkel's lies and, without those, they had no reason to strike down an innocent woman. Because she did nothing to deserve death. Because she deserved to live, too. Becuase she deserved to be loved, too.
She just... it's the difference between knowing something and knowing it. It's the difference between knowing it in one's mind and truly feeling it in one's heart, if she still had organs for those expressions to be accurate. Intellectually she knew the answer to that question before she even asked it, but emotionally she hadn't thought of herself as... well, anything, really, since before she died. She died. She died, and her whole tribe died with her. If only she'd been better, stronger, faster, a finer warrior who wasn't slain so easily, could she have saved the people who were counting on her...? She's been nobody, just Beak ever since, and the idea that she's among friends... the idea that she's the type of person who was worthy of having friends to be among....
"No... I know. Forgive me, I...."
That... well. That is... far, far more than she can process now. The others doubtless have better things to do than stand there and watch her be catatonic for a while. Instead, she just... files that entire notion away for now, perhaps to revisit some other time... or perhaps not. "The merchant. Yes."
Standing up again, clearing her thoughts, she considers her options. "It might not be wise to confront him during the daytime, in his stall, in the middle of the crowded market where he is but an average fruit peddler and we are causing a scene. If we want to confront him with his misdeeds, better to strike when he's among them. It just so happens that I know of his other set of hours for his other business...."
|
|
Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
10
Renown
Male
317 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Marion Aurea on Jun 14, 2024 20:26:44 GMT -5
"What do you mean by... other business? " Tilting his head, Marion asked. It became somewhat apparent how Kweh had picked up some body language from him with the way it expressed inquiry as well, despite not having mammalian ears, which this gesture stemmed from at the start.
"Oh, no, he just said we should be careful, but I don't think he meant for us to kill you outright... right? More like, 'threaten-until-she-dispels-the-curse'? But I don't think you've warranted any of all this trouble at all. Maybe he just didn't like you and was petty about it until his daughter got sick... and then decided to blame it on you."
It sounded all logical in his mind, really, and Marion thought to himself that no one would want to randomly go up and try to kill a witch, not anyone in their right minds, anyway- there are so many stories about people offending magical old crones by being mean in the first place and then getting all sorts of nasty stuff dished out on them like, being turned into a frog and such. No, Marion thought, if the vendor really believed that Beak was a witch, he'd totally try to ask her for help even if it meant putting down his pride and grievances- instead of just brazenly trying to offend her like this.
"I'm just... I still worry about his daughter- I do want to take a look at her, just in case, I mean. I don't mean I do not trust the previous healers that checked, of course, but..."
|
|
Tradesfolk
IS OFFLINE
18
Renown
Crescent Isles
ring ring ring ring ring ring ring, BABY CROWS
646 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 14, 2024 22:19:07 GMT -5
Loci blinks, tilting his head as he processes Marion's words for a moment before letting out a noise of confusion and leaning over to pinch the golden-haired elf...the little skeleton only seems more confused when this elicits a flinch and a yelp of pain, "...oh stars, you poor boy..." the skeleton - who's probably half Marion's age at most - murmurs... Rena grumbles softly to herself even as she nestles back into Nev’s embrace, those burning white eyes swirling like miniature storms as she tilts her head, seeming to consider for a moment before it clicks, “...ah. A black market salesman. Some of those can be useful…others…” there’s a coldness in her voice akin to a razor edged glacier, “...less so,” then that voice brightens to a twisted imitation of her prior cheer, “depends on what they sell!”Nev gently baps their wife on the head, “...calm down, love. Y’won’t solve this by sinkin’ int’ the ice. A touch is fine t’ keep ye focused, but not what y’re doin’ right now…”Rena, for her part, presses into the gentle bappage with a little grumble, but her eyes fade back to that shining silver, and she nestles a little more firmly into her partner’s arms, “...fine, fine…but we’re gonna do everything we can t’ ruin ‘im for this. An’ if ‘e tries t’ get back at us…” she smiles pleasantly, “...well, that’s when we remove ‘im from the board entirely. Should nae be too hard…little more’n a sack o’ potatoes, just from the look of ‘im…”Bell snorts, amber eyes glancing in amusement toward his wife as he idly spins a peculiar coin along his knuckles, “...you’re likely underestimating ‘im, but probably not by much…the merchant did nae strike me as particularly dangerous in an’ of ‘imself…the real danger’ll be in whatever contacts he’s got, but those’ll only go so far, ‘specially once word gets around that these two-” he gestures to Marion and Beak here, “-are under the claim o’ the Blackfeathers…”(Background Check - Criminal. If your character is familiar with the blackened underbelly of society, the following is known to them) did…did Bell just say the Blackfeathers? That’s…well, to most people they’re more akin to a scary story than anything else, but to the criminal underworld they’re something of a recent legend - a family of mercenary and assassin crows who’d appeared out of nowhere before rapidly building a reputation for ruthlessness and cruelty toward those who crossed them, with members whose eyes shine with caustic light, each job marked as their work by a calling card of an shining eye wreathed with black feathers…a symbol shared by the coin that Bell is currently spinning along his knuckles…
|
|
Tradesfolk
IS OFFLINE
9
Renown
Female
Crescent Isles
Act with love and sincerity.
320 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Beak on Jun 14, 2024 23:24:39 GMT -5
Beak nods, a plan coming together as she brings the others up to speed. ¨Right. Rekkel sells-"
Wait.
"Blackfeathers!?"
She looks over the assorted corvids. These are the crew that even other assassins warn each other about?
"I... ah... I'm... not much of a seedy underbelly type myself... not by choice, anyway. But I am a skeleton, and where I came from, the undead were... not exactly free to walk around towns and shop as they please." Granted, "where she came from" ceased to exist three or four thousand years ago and oh sweet scales is she going to have a lot to unpack next time she's sitting around a campfire at the end of the day, but.... "I've never known a world in which my kind were anything less than "kill on sight" in the eyes of the living. I still can hardly believe that your children can just... be, out in the open, without having to hide themselves as I have. And so, I've taken to doing all my shopping in only the shadiest establishments in Lilicors. Not because I want to, but because they take my money and they don't ask questions."
"... The Blackfeathers, though?? I try to limit my black market exposure to the shallow end, but even I've heard the name. That... would explain why no one's tried to stop you from being yourselves so openly. No one would dare..."
"... Anyway. As for Rekkel... ah... he isn't much in a fair fight. He's no fighter. He tends to back down when so much as yelled at. But... I'm not going to underestimate... he sent the realms-damned Blackfeathers after me? And I'm still alive??"
Not that the children haven't done an admirable job attempting to snuggle her to death, though. She somehow doubts that was what Rekkel meant when he hired them, but....
"Anyway!" Her voice carries a suddenly heightened sense of wanting to get to the point and not withhold any information ever because oh stars please don't hurt her. "Rekkel is an illicit potion vendor by night. Mostly quack medicines... miracle cures, brews he claims make you more attractive and virile, that sort of thing. I wouldn't know; I can't drink them anyway. But he did help me out when I needed to know if there was a way to remember what happened after I died. Or... I thought he did. Either way, we find him at his other stall, and we'll have him in a quieter location at night, fewer witnesses or distractions, and no way for him to feign innocence."
|
|