<font color=thistle>She was familiar with that faint smile, and it weighed on her heart a little to consider what underlay it. He's not really convinced. She trudged on, her eyes darkening a little. Or worse still, he's only humouring me.

It was not too long ago that she herself had given that smile, and thinking of that incidence now, she could assume a detachment that had been near impossible then. Poor Justin...

<font color=cyan>It was her coming-out ball, and Mama had nearly flipped when she had refused to wear the pink satin dress with a layered skirt that resembled a wedding-cake, and those horrendous laced sleeves. <font color=white>"It's my ball, Mama, and I'll wear what I want, or not turn up at all."</font> Papa had sided her, of course; and besides, his raised eyebrow when he saw her mother's choice had given him away from the start.

So reluctantly, even if she had succeeded in getting her own way for her choice of garment, she had made her way down the grand staircase. Reluctant she was, as she knew that this was a parade to the eligible bachelors around the vicinity and beyond; and for the right price, the victor would take her as his wedded wife and bring further glory to the family.

Despite her misgivings, and a further lament that Altair had completely disappeared from the society circles, the gawking stares and envious glares she received had given her a tremendous boost of confidence. She had known that the empire-cut, long-sleeved beige gown with simple lines had fit her, but this was more than a look of tolerance in her viewers' eyes and she smiled irresistibly. That smile had pierced more than a handful of hearts, sealing her fate as the most-engaged dance partner for the rest of the evening...

<font color=yellow>"Lady Mehlingard..."</font> Justin Everloft had later summoned his courage to approach her as she escaped from the ballroom to take a breather in the gardens. <font color=yellow>"I... I would have a word with you, if I may."</font> Nodding her assent, she let him continue. <font color=yellow>"I don't know how to make eloquent speeches, Lady Mehlingard, but I..."</font>

<font color=white>"Please, just call me 'Robyn'."</font> Altair would have rolled off the balcony laughing, if he had witnessed this scene. He would never have called her that... but was it fair to compare Justin against Altair, though? He had never had a chance of being her playmate, and his honest face and frank demeanour were not altogether repulsive. What was she doing, thinking of Altair anyhow? Almost angrily, she banished these thoughts of him away; that was what one did to traitors.

<font color=yellow>"Very well, then... Robyn."</font> Justin's face was brightening, with his gathering confidence and gratitude. <font color=yellow>"I wanted to say that I... I think that you're the loveliest lady I've ever met, and I... I do hope you'll give me a chance, to revisit you again."</font> He swallowed a gulp, before continuing. <font color=yellow>"Very soon, and not simply as a social visit."</font> Then he fell silent, probably taken aback at his own forwardness.

Robyn watched him closely, her heart alternating between the states of softness and hardness. He was a harmless fellow, and really, it would serve Altair right if she just took this artless young man for her lifelong companion! But the pendant weighed on her conscience and chest, and she could only fix her compassionate gaze on his flushed countenance.

<font color=white>"I'll be pleased to receive you as long as my father is, Justin."</font> She hoped the sincerity of her voice came through. <font color=white>"I'm always happy to make new friends, but I can't be allowing them all to make more than social visits, can I?"</font> This attempt at light-heartedness did not seem to go to well with him, however, and she bit her lips. There was no point encouraging or discouraging him; it was too early to tell if he was the right one, and she did not want commitment at this point. <font color=white>"Come, let us return to the party. They'll be looking for us."</font>

And as they re-entered the ballroom, she caught Papa's speculative frown. Poor Papa; he did not want to lose her so soon. She dimpled and threw him a reassuring nod. But as she turned and saw the exchange of smirks between her mother and Lady Everloft, she suddenly felt like throwing up. Papa caught her look, stepped up and rescued her, whisking her off to another delightful dance.

<font color=gold>"What am I to do with you, you little hoyden?"</font> He raised his left hand momentarily to pluck her nose playfully. <font color=gold>"This old man is getting too old for you, eh?"</font> He chuckled, his breath warming her cheeks delightfully.

<font color=white>"Then why throw this silly event in the first place?"</font> She retorted, her green eyes flashing as she threw back a wicked grin. <font color=white>"Come, Papa! Let's show these people what real dancing is about!"</font> And they spun around the room, their spirits soaring as they heard the applause and compliments swirling around their ears. Papa, Papa... I don't want to leave you...</font>

The happy moments collapsed as once again, reality sank in as she recalled his piteous state. Inhaling deeply, she plunged ahead, determined to reach Alesbridge by nightfall.</font>

[ 08-05-2006, 10:32 PM: Message edited by: mistral4543 ]

<font color=darkkhaki> Alesbridge could be spotted far into the distance, and Altair couldn't help but keep his thoughts occupied on what waited him past the city walls. Markam was somewhere inside and hoped not to run into him. He couldn't think of how to explain to Robyn that the man had hired him to rob her family.

<font color=orange> "Ya lost five coins?"</font> Altair nodded his head sullenly. He didn't know there had been a rip in the pouch when he stole it. Berad 's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he gripped Altair's wrist and pried his clenched fist open.

Emptiness greeted him, and a smirk appeared on the older man's face. <font color=orange> "An honest thief doesn't pay off boy. Another failed lesson from you."</font> Reaching for a bottle of ale, he took several swigs before sitting it down loudly. <font color=orange> "I want ya to tell David that ya're willing to clean his tavern tonight for food."</font> A grimace appeared on Altair's face at the thought. David's tavern was huge, and cleaning it would take all night.

<font color=orange> "Don't give me that look boy. Ya botched another lesson and I ain't feeding ya."</font> Berad's mud colored eyes drilled holes into him until he had to look away. Walking outside of the run down house he called home, Altair let the door shut loudly behind which he knew he would pay for later.

The sun was lazily falling down the sky until it would soon be nestled below the horizon. Shouts of children could be heard as he made his way down the old wooden stairs that lead to the street below. Four children were brandished with wooden swords and occupied in a heated battle over who would get the last apple for the night. A young blond girl was triumphing over the others and the sight made him think of Robyn.

Deep regret would always flare up inside him when he thought of her. He had left without a word, not even to her, and wondered what she was like now. She was probably safe inside her father's manor kept away from harm. "Exactly where she should be..." He said quietly as he made his way past the children and towards a tavern with boisterous laughter emanating from it.

Smoke hung heavily in the air causing his eyes to sting on contact. Rubbing at them, he made his way over to the counter where David stood. He was a frail man with pale skin. Altair had stolen several bottles of various alcohols from him before, which he knew the bruises on his back could attest to.

Coughing to get his attention, "I'm in need of food and willing to clean your tavern tonight for it." David peered at him under his sharp gaze. "<font color=silver> "Ruse to steal more of my ale? Every bottle is important to me and you've stolen well over twenty! I have every right to kick you out of here on sight."</font>

Altair sighed, he didn't need this. Today was his 16th birthday, and he would be spending it cleaning a tavern for food. His tone became cold as his knuckles bit into the counter. "Look, I know your tavern well and I'm fast. If I clean it you won't have to and can sleep earlier tonight." David's eyes scrunched up as he thought of the proposition. <font color=silver> "You can have one mug of ale and the remains of the whatever meat that’s left. I want you out of here before dawn."</font>

He nodded, though knew the tavern would still take hours to clean regardless of how fast he was. Gripping a mop, he got to work on sections of the tavern that patrons had left alone that night. Yes, he was right to leave how he did. If he had left a letter for Robyn she would have only tried to follow, and he wanted her far away from a life such as this.</font>

[ 08-05-2006, 11:54 PM: Message edited by: Deiter Leafblade ]

<font color=gold>Nightfall. The second in a row, that he had not seen his beloved Robyn. Just where is that minx? Vexation tugged the corners of his lips downwards as he mentally scanned the list of places she could have gone to.

Robyn. Pronouncing her name inevitably induced fond memories of the day of her birth. Like a fighter, she had emerged from her mother's womb bawling her lungs out and shortly after, two huge emerald eyes had stared unblinkingly at him. Yasmine had been completely drained from the delivery, and would not have anything to do with the babe. He, only the other hand, had scooped the bloody source of mischief into his arms and returned her stare solemnly. His heart had been lost the moment the baby opened its mouth and yawned after its wailing session.

If only it had been a boy. For a boy was needed to continue the family line, and ensure that the inheritance was passed on the way it should be. But alas, this was a girl. More was the pity, since she seemed to possess the energy and fervour of a spunky lad. Almost in defiance, he had torn his gaze away from her and announced his decision. "She shall be named Robyn." This was, of course, a play on the more usual 'Robin' that boys adopted.

The years that passed had been such enjoyable ones, he almost regretted that his daughter was growing up so fast. Her every movement spoke volumes about her upbringing, but what was equally evident was her untamed 'wildness', or "naturalness" as he liked to term it privately. Robyn had always based her decisions on her own set of principles, and these had mostly been good ones; or at least, she had borne good intentions when she took a course of action. The last episode had shaken him terribly, even threatened to cause a rift between him and his daughter; but for now, all he wanted was for her to be safe home...

Snapping into attention as he heard the approaching footsteps, he tilted his head to see the new steward Benedict.

<font color=silver>"Lady Mehlingard returns, my Lord."</font> It could not be! He jumped up, his eyes shining brightly. His darling daughter was back! He prayed that she was safe... <font color=silver>"... my Lord, she returns with another."</font> The steward coughed discreetly. <font color=silver>"Another young man, my Lord."</font>

Another young man?! Gerald tried to stifle a frown as he took in this announcement. Had she gone off on a romantic stroll amidst the deadliest battle that Alesbridge had been engaged in?! A countering inner voice soothed him, asking him to suspend his judgement.

"Show them in right now, Benedict." Grimly, Gerald leaned against the back of his chair, awaiting the two arrivals.</font>

[ 08-06-2006, 12:28 AM: Message edited by: mistral4543 ]

<font color=darkkhaki> It was an odd feeling to be inside the manor again, and to know only a few days before ill intentions directed his actions inside of it. Memories of his home once again filled his mind as he took in the areas they were being lead through. He noted items of interest and valuables that would be worth taking subconsciously. Realization hit him and he felt disgusted with himself.

Hello, Lord Gerald. You probably don't remember me. I ran away from home years ago and just recently attempted to rob your manor and kidnapped your daughter. Altair sighed at the thought. Once Gerald found out about him he was afraid prison would ensue shortly after.

The steward had taken in their appearance with suspicion. Hair and clothing remained damp still, and he could only imagine what thoughts would churn though Gerald's mind at the sight of it. Do I lie to him about me? Robyn would know though, and that would backfire... Telling the truth could also earn me a trip to prison or the gallows...

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this nervous. His countenance showed nothing much to his relief, but could he make it through this? Berad would laugh and hit him across the head at how foolish he was acting. <font color=orange>Walking right into the enemy's hands."</font> That was all wrong though. Robyn's father can't be the enemy... right? His thoughts left the question hang in the air deciding it best to torture him with uncertainty.

His time ran out as the steward pushed open the doors leading to where Lord Gerald was waiting.</font>

<font color=thistle>"Papa!"

Robyn's eyes widened in disbelief as the visual impact of her completely recovered father sent her staggering backward.

"Papa! You're alright!" Before she knew what she was doing, she had rushed up to him, flinging her arms around him, not caring if she were crushing his ribs. "This is too wonderful, Papa! A miracle, indeed!" She felt his warm embrace turn stiff gradually, however, and guessed at his reproof.

"Papa..." Disengaging herself, she knelt before him and lowered her head. "I am so sorry to have endangered your life like that. It was so thoughtless of me." She almost could not breathe from the sense of relief and ecstacy that the gods had been thus merciful and answered her prayers. "It won't happen again, Papa."

When still he spoke not, her eyes flitted to his face and she read helpless acceptance in them. Yet there was unmistakable mistrust, not to mention suppressed restlessness. Yes, it must be Altair he wonders about.

Taking a deep breath, she continued, speaking slowly and hoping that the words would sink in. "This is Altair, Papa. Do you remember?" Another glance confirmed that she need not repeat herself. "We have just returned from the forest, Papa... or rather, around it." Her cheeks flushed as she felt her father's burning gaze turn back towards herself.

<font color=gold>"That will do, Robyn." Gerald's tone was assertive but not unkind, leastways not to his daughter. But the sight of the unkempt figure before him was a distressing one, especially when he associated this with the Swizec family.

"Robyn, I'm going to have to ask you to leave us alone for the moment." His gaze turned stern as she showed the first signs of protest. "Be assured that Altair will stay the night here, minimally. And I will neither throw him out nor into the dungeon, which is what you seem to fear." The very apprehension in those beloved green eyes showed that some unpleasantness had been involved, and he had no intention of anyone varnishing the truth.

"We will talk over this tomorrow morning, the three of us. But for now, you and Benedict will leave." It was an order she could not disobey.

Left now man to man, Gerald returned his attention to the criminal-like Altair before him. Suspend your judgement, Gerald. It was difficult indeed, considering the circumstances, but he would try.

"Suppose you tell me your entire tale, Altair." Quiet was his tone, as he motioned for the lad to take a seat beside him.</font>

<font color=lightsteelblue>The second half of daylight spent, she led her horse to the stables of the inn they would be stopping over for the night. "You'll be safe here, Canna." The mare rubbed its snout against her hand affectionately, drawing a smile out of her mistress' weary lips. What a flirt. Acacia caressed the mane in return, instructing the stable lad to take good care of her companion.

Stepping inside the inn, she sat herself down at the table where the innkeeper's wife had prepared a bowl of hot soup and bread. Ravenously, she downed a spoonful of the soup, only to half-yelp as it scalded her throat. The sight of her spluttering and almost choking on her bread thereafter, brought much amusement to the other patrons. What do they know? She winced to herself. They'd do the same if they were as hungry and tired as I am.

When she had finally made it into her room, she took care to lock the door securely before sitting herself and removing her boots and socks. The bath would have to wait till the next day, for her eyelids were fast closing and yet the most important task of the day had yet to be completed...

It was the diary, of course, that she needed to read. My last link with my mother. My mother. How awfully distant it sounded. Her forehead creased with irritation. It's not as if I had a choice. To bar these useless laments from re-emerging, she extracted the bundle again. Then, flinging herself onto the bed, she leaned against the bedpost and read the next few entries:

<font color=pink>February the 14th, 931

My two months are almost up, Tatyana. Anya sleeps peacefully beside me, unaware of the changes that are to come.

I am to leave the Freelight manor on March the 1st, heading for my final destination: The Temple of the Heironeous. There, I am to stay for the rest of my life in penitence. I do not know how I can live without Anya, who heads for a separate venue with Mother. But as I have sworn that I will do anything to let her live, so must I keep my word.

Anya lives if I abide my vow to Aragorn, Tatyana. If you have only that much to give, please pray for my daughter first. She is innocent.
-------------------

March the 20th, 931

It is worse than I had thought possible.

Every care is given for my physical well-being, but the walls that surround me blot out any rays of hope. My only consolation is that Anya is not here to suffer with me.
----------------------

August the 20th, 931

It is exactly five months since my last entry. Imagine my astonishment to receive Mother's letter today! It must be the miracle of Anya softening her heart; once she had wanted to disown me, but now she offers me only words of comfort.

Be patient and hopeful, her letter says. But I do not count on Aragorn's forgiveness. I know that temper and pride of his too well; he will never cave in. It is so difficult, Tatyana, to cling on to our happy childhood when I see this unyielding side of him. All his mind is filled with right now are family honour, that silly Shattered Reality of his, and that young Eilonwy he had met during the battle. The battle that killed my beloved Shane.

I tell myself I must not despair too much, but I wonder who, apart from Mother, would really care what became of me.
-------------------

December the 25th, 931

It is Christmas, and what would have been the second year of our wedding anniversary. What a novelty it is, to spend this day in this prison; for "temple" can only be an euphemism for what this place truly is.

Hush, Anneliese! I hear you cry; for you worry that the priests might chance upon this treacherous piece of writing I am scribbling down. Cease your crying, love. I hear you urge; but how can I stop, how long do you expect me to put on a placid face for these decrepit fools to see and believe? It is hard work pretending to be a full convert, but I seem to have persuaded them with a talent I never knew I possessed.

Nay, I must say my piece or go mad... or is insanity my escape valve? Fear not; I shall not go amok yet, not without receiving Mother's updates of Anya.
--------------

December the 26th, 946

Anya turns 16 today, Tatyana. I wonder what she looks like.
--------------

October the 29th, 949

I don't feel too well, Tatyana, and my body tells me to let go. Why shouldn't I? What have I to look forward to, really? A lifetime imprisonment here in the temple? Knowing that the rest of the world out there is experiencing something, rather than nothing?

Please forgive me for ranting, Tatyana. Indulge me as you would, a dying person. For I am dying emotionally, if not physically. I don't even know how I could have lived the past 18 years here... and the frightening thing is, I don't remember. Each day passes as blankly as the next; I eat, I pray, I sleep. And contact with fellow human beings is kept to a minimum, because of my so-called sins.

What sins have I committed, Tatyana? Of marrying a man I loved, who had no title? Of getting wedded without my parents' permission first? If Mother could forgive me, why can't he?! Who is he to judge me so severely, as if he had no sins of his own?!

There, I have long wanted to vent this out, and I have. How ironic it would be, if this were my last chat with you. For remember how I had gushed about my love for him on the day I penned my first entry?

I was never more blind.
------------</font>

The diary's remaining pages were empty.

Finding herself nodding away, Acacia rubbed her eyes and hastily kept her bundle, her mind too fatigued to think.

Yawning, she stretched out her arms, lowered herself under the blankets and promptly fell asleep.</font>

<font color=darkkhaki> Pull yourself together! Altair took a deep breath and met Gerald's eyes. He felt trapped. People lied all the time, and even more so if it fit their need. How did he know Gerald wasn't simply saying he wouldn't toss him into the dungeon so Robyn would leave? The paranoia of a thief ate at him until he banished the thoughts away, deciding he was being stupid and that Gerald had always been a man of his word.

"My tale is full of twists and turns on a path that I am now uncertain of." He couldn't help but be reminded of his stories to Robyn. Clasping his hands behind his back, Altair stood before Gerald and started at the beginning.

"I ran away from home nine years ago. Forced marriage and the confinement of nobility was a life I wished no part of. I deserted that life and left without a word." How cowardly and selfish I must sound. Turning my back on my family, leaving Robyn behind, and shirking my responsibilities as being a member of the Swizec family...

Meeting Gerald's gaze, he continued on about his life in the streets of various towns and how he resorted to stealing as a means of staying alive. His tale was of a difficult life with no mercy or compassion. "Freedom is a very important thing to me. Father..." He paused, for he had not spoken of his father in years. "My father was only concerned with our family image and rank. What you have heard of so far is true, and the trials and tribulations I went through could have easily been remedied if I returned home. I would be offered food whenever I was hungry, have a roof over my head, and rest assured that I was safe within my family's manor. I didn't go that route, and I hope you realize how much my decision meant to me with the consequences I faced because of it."

Altair felt odd that he was being so open with this man. He knew Gerald needed the truth if he would ever progress with Robyn, but he had usually kept to himself during the years. Being a thief with a familiar face was not something any criminal wanted.

"I met a man by the name of Berad. He taught me the art of living amongst the cities as a poor man, and was a father and teacher to me. Berad died several years ago though, and I suppose that was a relief to those who were victim to him..." Memories of the old man faded in and out of his vision, causing Altair to shake his head as if to clear his thoughts.

Curling his fingers into his fist, Altair left out the more gruesome details, along with the kidnapping and being hired to rob his manor. He didn't lie, but also didn't tell the whole truth. He knew Robyn would be disappointed if she found out, but he didn't want to give Gerald anymore reasons to toss him into the dungeon.</font>

<font color=gold><font color=silver>"You're going to be fine, Alfred." His dark green eyes were awash with tears of panic as they scanned the ashen face of his mentor. Yet hollow did these words ring as he saw the colour fading from the elder's face with each minute that passed.

"Ughh..." Alfred cleared his throat, trying to speak but lapsed into silence as the effort proved too much. A few seconds later, he gurgled, sending a stream of bright red blood running out of his mouth; the colour contrasted starkly against the pallor of his skin. Tightly, he gripped Gerald's hand, their hands shaking from the intensity of the clasp.

"Don't speak." Gerald now begged, his hand still pressing fervently against the wound so that the bleeding could stop. But try as he might, it was impossible to do so, not with the slippery surface that the blood created. Knowing that the end was close at hand, he began to babble whatever came into his mind. Anything, regardless of its level of significance... he had to release the torrent of words he had always held back, before it was too late...

"I've always treated you like a father, Alfred." He was rattling in a trance. "No matter what the others have said or continue to say, you are my equal. Nay, more than an equal!" His heart burnt with feverishness as he read acknowledgement in those wondering eyes. "Your teachings, your companionship, your understanding... everything! I'm grateful for all of them, Alfred!" As the life continued to drain out of that dearest face, so did he persist in his confessions. "I'll never forget you, Alfred, and what you've always stood for!" It was dreadful, saying the words which accepted his impending death. But what else could he do? What else except lay bare his emotions and give comfort? "You're the best friend and master I ever had and will ever have."

A single tear rolled out the closed eyes as Alfred succumbed to exhaustion and the welcoming embrace of the next world. Their hand clasp lingered for a couple of seconds before Alfred's hand grew limp and fell away harmlessly...</font>

Why had this farewell sprung to his mind? It must be the work of Altair, who relighted this image of mentor and disciple before him. Altair, who had snubbed his own family, and the privileges as well as obligations that came from it. Could he, Gerald Mehlingard, understand this perspective?

It was not difficult, now that his memories of Alfred were back. He was a nobody to the rest of the world, and yet he meant the world to me. The ancient pain was returning at the thought, and he had to inhale deeply to regain his composure. Titles and riches he lacked, but in freedom and wisdom he was clearly the wealthiest.

There was something despite his willingness to overlook Altair's act of betrayal to his family - and besides, who was he to judge, not being Altair's kinsmen? - however, that continued to nag at him. He played Altair's account over his mind again and again in the awkward silence that followed, and then he finally realised the crux of the situation.

"All that you say, Altair, is well and good for now. But that doesn't explain how you ended up meeting Robyn, who had been in this manor since yesterday morning." His eyes narrowed as he scrutinised the youth's reaction.

"And what of the forest? Why did the both of you head there, and what has made you come back?" A bully he could never be accused of being, but the gravity of his voice warned Altair that he would not take kindly to any attempts at deceit.</font>

<font color=lightblue><font color=gold>"Sean! Sean! Are you okay?"</font> It was Frederic, his sparring partner, pulling the bloody carcass of a puma off of Sean. He had been searching for Sean for the best part of the day. A deep gash, with dried blood around it on his left side was the source for Sean's unconsciousness, and by the time Frederic managed to take him to the infirmary he had lost a lot of blood, but was still fully at his senses, contemplating what he had done wrong in the battle.

He had thought valiantly until old Pete, who had first trained him, was mauled down by a powerful strike from a jaguar's claw. Sean didn't really remember what had happened after that, but he remembered bits and pieces of throwing himself recklessly at the beasts, ready for almost anything to avenge the death of his friend.

He had almost paid for it dearly. He had noticed the approaching feline, almost too late, and could only half bring up his sword to defend himself. The creature, although impaling itself on his sword, managed to claw a deep gash in his side. Sean had spent ten hours trapped under the weight of the puma, inhaling the scent of its wet fur until he had become sick from it and threw up next to himself. Had Frederic not found him, he might even have died there.

The infirmary was a welcome sight after all the suffering and after collapsing down onto a bed, and flashing a charming smile at the female healer taking care of him, Sean was finally able to offer himself the luxury of passing out.</font>

<font color=limegreen>Once the food had arrived, Esaha almost threw herself at it, but managed to restrain the urge, while Lord Gerald was still there. However, once he was gone, she put aside all her usual dignity and gulped down the food as fast as she could, not even caring much for burning her tongue with the hot stew.

To her surprise, for normally she had but a small appetite, Esaha managed to eat even all the bread and meat. She almost considered asking for some more, but deemed it to be too unpolite to profit off the Mehlingard hospitality. She considered taking a short walk in the gardens after eating, but fatigue overcame her once more, and sitting there in the chair she fell once again asleep.

She awoke late in the afternoon, with the sun already well on its long descent towards the horizon. She needed to think. Just about a day ago, she had unleashed powers she had never even suspected she possessed. Whether it was the circumstances which had brought them forth, or whether she had always had these abilities, she did not, and could not know. She had to find someone to answer these questions.

She walked out into the corridor, and hailed down a servant. As he approached she hoped that he wouldn't notice the sweaty smell from her clothes, for indeed she had not changed her clothes for almost seventy-two hours, and with everything that had happened since then, the smell was not pleasant.

"Excuse me, but is there anyone well-versed in the magical arts in this town?" she asked, then added as an afterthought, "and if you could point me to where I can have a bath in this manor, I'd also greatly appreciate that."</font>

<font color=palegoldenrod>"I've never been so tired in all my life!"</font> A young girl about fifteen years of age panted as she entered the laundry room carrying a basketful of filthy clothes. Wrinkling her nose at the smell of caked mud and dried blood, she nearly retched <font color=palegoldenrod>"A good thing this sort of thing doesn't happen often, eh, Martha?"</font>

The woman she was addressing turned around and shot her a toothy grin. <font color=mediumpurple>"Had enough of it already, Betsy?"</font> She shook her head in mock disapproval. <font color=mediumpurple>"You haven't seen the worst yet, believe me, but this is close enough, I'll concede."</font> Then returning to the basin of rinsed shirts before her, she rubbed them vigorously.

<font color=palegoldenrod>"They do say that our Lordship fought valiantly during the battle. He hardly earned a scratch!"</font> Betsy prattled on, dumping the basket onto the ground with relief and pouring a bucket of soapy water into a fresh tub. <font color=palegoldenrod>"Pity, though, about that wife of his, although..."</font> The tone of her voice had gone sly.

<font color=mediumpurple>"Ho ho! Our dear Betsy sets her cap on none other than his Lordship then!"</font> Martha burst into a bout of raucous laughter. <font color=mediumpurple>"Get nothing but the best, eh?"</font> The laundry room rang with tired laughter while Betsy stuck her tongue out her senior. <font color=mediumpurple>"Mind you, we're an open-minded lot here, we are. But take care that your daydreams go no further than this room... yer'll only invite jeers if news travels beyond here!"</font>

Pouting, Betsy continued to scrub the clothes. <font color=palegoldenrod>"When will all these folks be gone, anyway? It's not just tonnes of clothes here, but the bedsheets, pillow-cases... everything!"</font> She threw her hands up in despair, sending a spray of soapsuds flying about to her fellow colleagues' alarm. <font color=palegoldenrod>"His Lordship's too kind, that's what's the problem! Whoever heard of soldiers bursting into the kitchen, milling around the corridors and flinging themselves onto the beds as if the place belonged to them? It ain't right..."</font>

<font color=mediumpurple>"It's alright as long as Lord Gerald says so, and you'd do well to remember that, Betsy Bryan."</font> Martha was suddenly serious. <font color=mediumpurple>"We work here for a living, and if he deems fit to bring in lepers - not that I mean any comparison here, it's good enough for us!"</font> Caught up now by some inspiration, she added passionately. <font color=mediumpurple>"His Lordship's enlightened, that's what! And a more compassionate ruler we'll never find. So it's an honour to work belongside him, see?"</font> Her eyes were shining.

<font color=mediumpurple>"As for your complaints, you lazy lout..."</font> Her bantering tone unruffled much of Betsy's chagrin, <font color=mediumpurple>"They'll clear out as soon as they can. They wouldn't want to catch you on your moods, girl."</font> Reaching out to pat the girl's shoulders, she chuckled as Betsy made a face at her.

Tucked away in an obstrusive corner of the east wing, two men - one in his late twenties, and the other in his early twenties - were preparing to call it a day.

<font color=orange>"What do you think of that pretty young girl, Bernard? You know, the one who saved his Lordship's life."</font>

<font color=lightseagreen>"Ah, you noticed her as well."</font> Bernard shot his friend a competitive smile. <font color=lightseagreen>"A born charmer, Edgar, A born charmer."</font> Taking out his pipe, he began to smoke keenly, as if the cloud puffs he produced could reconjure the image of she whom they were speaking of.

<font color=orange>"Her name's Esaha, did you know that?"</font> Yet the boast turned sour as Edgar seemed to regret this revelation. Hurrying on, he continued. <font color=orange>"Has she left the compound already? I didn't see her this afternoon and evening."</font>

Bernard's eyebrows arched as a lazy smile crept upon his lips. <font color=lightseagreen>"You can't be everywhere at the same time, now, can you?"</font> The smile widened into a grin. <font color=lightseagreen>"I saw her."</font>

<font color=orange>"You saw her?!"</font> Edgar practically yelled, then cupped his mouth at his indiscretion. A paused ensued. <font color=orange>"Well?! Where is she?? Where did she go and is she coming back?"</font>

Bernard fended off the persistent questions with a non-committal shrug of the shoulders. <font color=lightseagreen>"How should I know? I only directed her to the bath..."</font> Here, he could not help but smirk at the envious "O" forming on Edgar's mouth. <font color=lightseagreen>"It's nothing raunchy, you pervert!"</font> Picking up a shoe, he flung it at his junior. <font color=lightseagreen>"In fact, she badly needed one... and knew it."</font> His nose wrinkled at a recent memory. <font color=lightseagreen>"Anyway, she also asked for directions to any person in town who knew the magical arts."</font> He shrugged again. <font color=lightseagreen>"I've no idea whether she eventually headed there and where she is now."</font>

<font color=orange>"It's seldom that we get visitors here."</font> Edgar's eyes were still glazed. <font color=orange>"It's harder work than usual, to be sure, but I don't mind it, not when they're as attractive as she is."</font> He ducked as another shoe came flying at him. <font color=orange>"Hey, stop that!"</font> He glared at his friend. <font color=orange>"For a person of eight-and-twenty, your behaviour is incredibly childish!"</font>

Bernard ignored the taunt, tucking himself into bed. <font color=lightseagreen>"This is the last time I'm warning you, Edgar. We work here. We don't get paid to hover around young ladies, trying to make eyes at them."</font> He yawned in an exaggerated way, showing his disinterest in continuing the discourse. <font color=lightseagreen>"There are enough tasks awaiting us tomorrow. Get some rest."</font>

<font color=khaki>"How many wounded do you think we've helped today?"</font> Christopher glanced at his companion as they strolled out to the gardens. Above, the silver moon beamed upon them, thanking them for the relief that they and their team of dedicated healers had brought to the casualties of the battle.

<font color=salmon>"Close to a thousand, at least."</font> Marian replied, her lips twitching. <font color=salmon>"You must be exhausted. I hardly saw you rest."</font> The scent of the flowers was pure bliss, after a full day of inhaling sweaty bodies, infested wounds and raw blood. <font color=salmon>"That's why we have shifts, Christopher. You are no human with godly powers. Like the rest of us, you need a break."</font>

A chortle emerged from Christopher's weary lips. <font color=khaki>"I would gladly welcome rest, if I did not have this constant worry that we are shorthanded, and any delay puts the lives of these brave heroes at risk."</font> His steps were slow, and the walk was altogether pleasant now that no dark thoughts were clouding their heads. <font color=khaki>"Many have lost their lives, and those who survived must have been given a chance to stay, by the gods they worship."</font> His eyes glistened as he tilted his head to look at the moon. <font color=khaki>"It was in our power to save them, and we had to do what we should."</font>

Marian remained silent as she directed her gaze to the nearby shrubs. It was a long time before she spoke up again. <font color=salmon>"Well, whatever it is, you've every right to be proud of yourself. Your family, too."</font> The last phrase was pronounced cautiously, and she glanced away when she felt his eyes drilling holes into her left cheek.

<font color=khaki>"I hardly think my aunt would have much to say about my deeds."</font> Christopher gave a dry laugh as they continued on their ramble. <font color=khaki>"She never approved of me taking this profession. Thought that it was too demeaning and low-paying a job."</font> Yet self-consolation and gratitude were evident in his tone as he went on. <font color=khaki>"It doesn't matter. I like what I do, and I'm glad you don't share her views."</font>

Aware that her heart was throbbing, Marian tried to keep a straight face as she tried to answer light-heartedly. <font color=salmon>"I ought to support your decision; after all, I am in the same line as you."</font> She giggled nervously. <font color=salmon>"Besides, who else has the power to aid a person in his course between life and death?"</font> She stopped to sniff a rose in full bloom. <font color=salmon>"And no one is as dedicated as you, as I mentioned earlier. You, who never stop to think for yourself. You need someone to watch out for you, make sure that you don't stretch yourself too far..."</font> She stopped, thankful that the night was camouflaging the shade of her cheeks.

<font color=khaki>"Will you be that person, Marian?"</font>

Wildly, she glanced at him, caught the sober expression on his face. Neither boyish earnestness nor patronising condescension was on that face; it was steadfast hope that gleamed from his dark eyes. She did not know how she managed to stand upright and hold her head high, but she managed it somehow.

<font color=salmon>"You are sure?"</font> The foolish words of an insecure person. Of course he was sure, she scolded herself. Why else would he have asked you? But she knew the answer, knew why she had posed this unnecessary question. It had taken so long to come to this point, and she wanted to savour every moment of it.

<font color=khaki>"Yes, I am sure."</font> He made no attempt at promises or poetry, opting instead to come up to her and hold her trembling hand. <font color=khaki>"Forgive me for torturing you so long. I... I wanted to be sure."</font> Was this the confident Christopher she had faced over these eight years? There was a crack behind that facade, and she rejoiced in it. There would always be flaws behind humans; some just needed more time to be uncovered.

<font color=salmon>"Yes."</font> No further games would she play, too. Briefly, she wondered if it had partly been the games she had adopted earlier, that had caused this delay. <font color=salmon>"Yes, I will be that person, Christopher."</font> She repeated, feeling that her heart would burst.

Several moments passed, before they turned back towards the infirmary, hand in hand.

[ 08-08-2006, 09:53 PM: Message edited by: mistral4543 ]

<font color=darkkhaki> How to tell him... Altair knew he couldn't lie on this piece of information. Gerald could possibly consult with his daughter over what has transpired and there he would be caught.

"I kidnapped your daughter, and took her through the forest. I foolishly didn't believe in the stories of beasts lurking within. We were attacked, but I saved Robyn and together we made it through to the either side. Due to wounds I suffered we had to make camp and make the trip back the following." He responded bluntly, leaving it up to Gerald to decide what it was he thought of him.

<font color=orange>"Ya see this, boy?"</font> Berad pointed to large lock that was lying on the table. Altair nodded as he moved in closer to examine it. Shades of silver and brass along with bits of wood greeted them. <font color=orange>"Use the lock picks ya got on ya and try to open this. I have a job tonight, so if ya ain't opened it by then don't bother showing me yar face."</font>

Altair had an amused expression etched on his face. He was feeling confident that he could pick the lock open in no time. Sitting down at the table, he pulled out his lock picks from inside his jacket. Cool metal was slid into the lock entrance as concentration took over.

Thirty minutes later left Altair in the same position that he had started in. Cursing, frustration started to take over as he continued to try various lock picks. "What kind of lock is this...?" He grumbled to himself. Nothing seemed to work.

Several hours went by and he vaguely wondered if Berad would be returning soon. Exhausted from the hours of energy he poured into attempting to open the lock left him irritable. Berad returned home a few minutes later with a smirk. <font color=orange> "I see ya still haven't managed to open that lock."</font> Alatir looked up at him hotly. "What of it?" His words were bold, and he knew the second they left his mouth that he'd regret it.

Ignoring Altair's words, Berad made his way to the table and picked the lock in one swift motion. The younger man could only stare at him in a mixture of envy and awe. <font color=orange> "Some of the most intimidating locks are the easiest to open. I thought I beat that into ya enough times to know that."</font> Berad gripped Altair's shoulder and roughly threw him outside. <font color=orange>"Ya can come back once ya learn to be a real thief, not a pathetic excuse for one."</font> His words stung, but Altair turned away stubbornly and attempted to find a place to sleep for the night.</font>.

[ 08-10-2006, 04:00 AM: Message edited by: Deiter Leafblade ]

<font color=olivedrab> "What do you mean we're out of bandages? I asked Peter to bring in a new box over an hour ago!" A young woman glared hotly at the man in front of her. <font color=silver> "I'm sorry ma'am, but Peter hasn't been seen since you sent him off."</font> The man winced at the look she gave him. He was just a lowly servant, what did he know about medical needs!

Sighing, she brushed back loose strands of her dark blond hair and then pointed behind the man. "Since Peter has went missing I'll give you the task to retrieve new bandages for us. We have wounded men here! Why is everyone being so incompetent?" Turning quickly, she made her way in the opposite direction of the servant and didn't bother to check on if he had left.

Briskly walking down the long corridor to the south wing, she stopped briefly as she caught her reflection in a window. Tired hazel eyes stared back at her, a mixture of green and brown. Her dark blond hair was tied back to keep the strands away from her patients as she worked. She had recently celebrated her 20th birthday and the memory caused a sarcastic grin to appear on her face. She was young for a healer, causing others to look down on her when they noticed her youth. Any doubts in her skill were quickly dispelled when they saw her in action.

<font color=silver>"Miss Algori! Hello! Miss Algori!!"</font> Throwing formalities out the window, a man walked up to the young healer and placed a hand on her shoulder. <font color=silver>"Jin! Stop gawking at yourself and hurry to the southern wing."</font> She jerked away from his touch and felt her cheeks redden. Noticing whom the man was, her embarrassment was quickly replaced by annoyance.

"Peter! Where the hell have you been? We needed those bandages over an hour ago!" She crossed her arms across her chest and waited for his excuse. Peter suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable. <font color=silver> "Well I... uh... Christen distracted me. She uh... needed help and being the gentleman I am had to stop what I was doing to uh... help."</font>

Jin's gaze was smoldering as she watched him squirm. "So, you were off fooling around with the kitchen girl while we have dying men in our care. Men who died already from the lack of bandages we needed! That YOU were supposed to get!" Pushing him out of the way, she continued her brisk pace to the southern wing. Peter watched her leave, and before she was out of earshot, <font color=silver>"Well then, since you're so high and mighty, maybe explain to your patients that you're late because you were too busy looking at yourself in the window!"</font> A smug look took over his face as he saw her fists clench. Curses could be heard under her breath the rest of the way to the infirmary.

Groans and cries of pain reached her ears before she opened the door. Once inside she busied herself with a wounded archer. The man had lost his right arm and a lot of blood. She could tell he wasn't going to survive as she took a seat next to him. His labored breathing was harsh and the ashen colors of his skin were telltale signs. <font color=silver>"Am I gonna make it?"</font> He managed to rasp out to her. "It's highly unlikely. You've lost a lot of blood and that torn off arm doesn't help matters." She told him wryly. His eyes grew moist at the information and weakly reached for her hand.

<font color=silver> "Can you tell my family that I love them?"</font> Jin nodded as she held onto his hand. The man started to cough and specks of blood stained her white robes. <font color=silver>"My... my son is gonna be five this year."</font> He coughed out proudly. She quietly listened to him ramble about his family until his life finally ebbed away. Gently closing his eyes, she stood up without a word and moved onto the next patient.

Avis, the senior healer, made his over to where Jin was bandaging a young soldier's arm. <font color=brick>"Why did you tell that man he was going to die?"</font> He asked curiously. Tying off the bandage, she stood up and faced him, her face blank of any emotion. "People die all the time. Why give him false hope in his last moments only to be disappointed as death takes its hold of him?" The elderly man shook his head. <font color=brick> "That last shred of hope is something they can hold onto. Leaving a man to die in despair is a cruel wish."</font> Moving away from the patient, she made her way past Avis. "I don't plan to lie to the people I take care of. In the end you can only do so much and when your skills are not enough to overcome death... that false hope crashes down on you as well." The ederly man frowned as he left Jin to care for another soldier.

Blood saturated his clothing in several areas, forcing her to gently peel it off. "Nice claw marks you have there. By any chance did you forget to use your shield?" The soldier glared up at her. <font color=skyblue> "What do you know of battle? I fought hard and had my shield knocked away from me early on."</font> Jin slowly began to clean the claw marks on his leg with alcohol. She ignored the sharp intake of air as the soldier felt the painful burning sensation. <font color=skyblue> "Be careful woman! I didn't survive only to have you kill me in here!"</font> The young healer began wrapping a bandage around the soldier's leg wound, and tied the ends off tightly causing him to cry out in pain. Smiling sweetly in responce to his murderous glare, she continued on to the next wounded guard.</font>

[ 08-10-2006, 04:18 AM: Message edited by: Deiter Leafblade ]

<font color=gold>There was something in the way Altair made his announcement that he found disturbing. Remaining silent for a moment, he tossed and turned his assessment, his eyes fixed upon the youth's face.

He speaks the truth, but as briefly as he can. That was some consolation, he supposed, compared to if Altair had lied blatantly. That would have been the end of all discourse. For he was not quite sure that his own anger would not have gotten the better of him, had that happened, and sent the youth out of the house.

But what struck him particularly was the attitude of the boy he had seen growing up a decade ago. Altair was still feisty, though not in Robyn's overt way; he drew strength from silent defiance or innocuous detours instead; just like he had run away from home without a head-on argument.

Defiance. That was the word. He showed no sign of remorse for what he had done. And what aggravated matters was his relationship to Robyn. Gerald's jaws tightened as the memories of his daughter's sleepless nights and suppressed misery came back to haunt him.

He's not good enough for her. The foregone conclusion that Robyn still loved this reckless wanderer - and a ruthless criminal at that - was not lost on him. He closed his eyes painfully, but knew that no matter how he tried, he could not blot this reality. I'm not giving her up without a fight.

Yet the effects of a punishing battle in the morning, followed by the emotionally draining experience of witnessing his disloyal wife's demise were kicking in. Not feeling up to the task right now, he smiled grimly at his foresight of suspending judgement until the next morning.

"Thank you for your honest, though brief account." He chose his words carefully, as both of them arose from their seats. "You are tired, I am sure, and frankly, so am I. We shall talk more tomorrow." Nodding formally at Altair, he rested his hand on the lad's shoulder as he passed him by, calling out for the servants to show Altair to his room.</font>

OOC>>> In case any of us are losing track of time (which I am, at times [img]tongue.gif[/img] ), here is a quick stock-check on where our characters are at the moment:

Day 1 evening (reference point)

Rehan arrives in Alesbridge.

Day 2

Rehan explores the forest, meeting Gatha along the way. Shortly after, Robyn charges into the forest out of spite. There, both of them meet up with Esaha. A brief fight with the forest ensues, ending when Esaha saves Rehan and the three of them head back to Alesbridge.

Meanwhile, Gerald has taken off to rescue Robyn but ends up seriously injured by Gatha. He is brought back to Alesbridge late at night, and Robyn moves him to a less occupied wing (west) of the manor.

Day 3

Robyn assumes leadership of the city to allay confusion and fear. Meanwhile, Rehan and Esaha take time to rest themselves.

Later that evening, Altair kidnaps Robyn and takes her through the forest. They are attacked by a lioness, and escape through a storm to safety in an overhang by the hill.

On the same evening, Gatha dies. Yasmine, Gerald's wife, reveals her coolness towards him after discovering his condition, and provokes him to commit suicide. Esaha not only rescues Gerald in time but heals him fully with unknown powers; the ordeal completely drains her.

Before Esaha passes out, she alerts Gerald to the attacking forest beasts. Gerald summons his troops and Alesbridge prepares for a battle amidst a storm.

Day 4

Altair and Robyn take an entire day to walk around the forest and back to Alesbridge in a safer route.

Gatha discovers her "suspension" mode and heads elsewhere seeking answers.

Esaha awakens and receives nutrients and a good bath after her 3-day ordeal. She sets her sights on seeking more information on her condition from a local magical arts- user.

At night, Altair and Robyn finally reach the Mehlingard residence where Gerald has finished interrogating Altair for the day.

Meanwhile, Rehan and Sean are resting in the northern wing along with the wounded soldiers and Algori is one of the healers attending to them.


There... I hope I've covered the key events; let me know if I've left anything important out ;)

OOC: thanks for the resumé of events so far! It definitely helps! [img]smile.gif[/img]

<font color=darkkhaki> Altair nodded to Gerald as he was taken away to a room. He could see images of him and Robyn as children run through the halls laughing and sneaking around getting into mischief. He felt a pang of guilt as he thought of the story he relayed to Gerald moments before.

Why was he not being completely honest with him? Didn't he want to change? His eyes were downcast as they reached his bedroom. Opening the door, he wondered what he was doing the last time he was in a room such as this. Kidnapping your childhood friend. Altair shook his head, slightly amused. He had been reckless with that, and Robyn almost caught him. Circumstances would have been rather different if she did.

Closing off his thoughts, Altair climbed into bed and watched the ceiling above him. Even after all that happened in the past day he couldn't fall asleep. Being in a room such as this, in Robyn's home, made him feel uncomfortable. Realizing it was no good; he made his way out of the bedroom and to the gardens.

It was beautiful to watch the scenery in the moonlight. Sitting against the manor wall, he made himself comfortable as the familiarness of sleeping outside crawled into him. Before long he had dozed off into a restless sleep.</font>

[ 08-10-2006, 01:28 PM: Message edited by: Deiter Leafblade ]

<font color=limegreen>After having asked the servant for directions she could almost feel his eyes devouring her as she went to take a bath. The warm water welcomed her body and after several minutes of scrubbing she finally felt that the dirt and grime of the last few weeks, and indeed months, was finally washed off.

She did not linger long in the Mehlingard manor, for if she wanted to see the magic user whom she had been recommended. There had been a knowing look in the servant's eye, when he had spoken the name, but Esaha had been unable to decipher the meaning behind that look. She considered telling Lord Gerald where she was going, but decided against it when the guard in front of his chambers told her that Lord Gerald was having a private audience.

The streets outside were still soaked from the storm and not walking in puddles of rainwater muddled by blood was almost impossible, yet somehow, Esaha managed to keep her shoes relatively clean. Unwounded soldiers and townsfolk were cleaning up the mess from the night's attack, pileing up the carcasses of the dead beasts in front of the temple. Esaha guessed that there would be a bonfire to burn the bodies later that night.

The small home she reached, following the servant's instructions did not look like what she had imagined a mage's home to be like. When she was still young and her father had taken her to visit other magic-users, their homes were always richly decorated and much bigger than the one she was standing in front of. Those men she had seen in her early years had used their magical powers to gain public recognition and through their exploits were able to afford the homes and lifestyle they kept.

A simple exterior was not going to discourage her, and determined, Esaha went up to the door, and knocked firmly, two times.</font>

<font color=olivedrab> "If you don't hold still I'm going to cut that arm off instead of stitch it!" Jin scowled at the soldier next to her. He was being difficult with her on the matter of stitching up a deep cut on his arm. <font color=cream>"I don't trust you with that needle! You crazy wench! I saw you coming through here hurting everyone instead of helping."</font> The soldier looked at her defiantly as she took a step back. "Well, then I suppose I'll come back later when your arm needs removed." She sat the needle next to his bed and moved to another.

<font color=pink> "Is she always so... unorthodox? She needs to be calm and soothing for these men, not fighting with them and being threatening."</font> An older woman commented to Avis. <font color=brick>"Jin means well. She wants these men to live, and feels she doesn't need to coddle them. Her fiery spirit is attractive."</font> The woman raised an eyebrow at what Avis had just said, but didn't voice her opinion.

Jin shrugged the hand off as soon as she felt it. Turning, she saw Avis standing there watching her intently. <font color=brick>"You should get some rest. I can see in your eyes how tired you are. There isn't anything wrong with regaining your energy to help the men later."</font> She knew he spoke the truth, but hated to show a sign of weakness when she could continue to help the wounded.

Stepping closer to her, Avis placed his hands on her shoulders and gave a slight squeeze. Jin could feel his breath against her face, and she felt nauseous at the look he was giving her. <font color=brick>"I could treat you to some dinner before you turn in for the night."</font> She could tell he was after more than just dinner as a crooked grin barely made itself visible. Everything finally came crashing down in realization like putting a puzzle together. All those nights Avis had offered to say with her to help the sick, the odd stares she would notice from him, everything made sense now.

"I'm not hungry." She told him curtly. Knocking his arms way, she stormed out of the infirmary furious at what he had done and been suggesting. He's nearly old enough to be my grandfather! Damn pervert... Has to just make my life more difficult doesn't he?! Glaring at anyone who dared to look at her, she made her way to a small room located in the servant’s quarters. Not bothering to change out of her bloody uniform, she sat down at a desk and began to write.

Dear Bradley,

I apologize this letter is two months late in reply to your last response. Life is hectic as usual and it slipped my mind.

I'm writing to you to let you know I may be leaving Alesbridge soon. My mentor, Avis Gaviel, has apparently taken a great interest in me. His lecherous stares now make sense, and I blame my foolish pride. I thought he was interested in my skill as a healer, but after today I now realize that wasn't the case.

I know you're my older brother, but please don't come out after me. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself, as you can ask any of the staff inside the manor.

How is your health doing these days? I hope that cough you mentioned has gone away now. I became a physician because of you, you know? So you better be taking good care of yourself in my absence.

Your sister,
Jin

Folding the letter away, she felt the hunger pains stab at her and directed her next course of action. She was promptly kicked out of the kitchen as soon as she opened the door. "What the hell is this? I need food, damnit!" To make matters worse, Christen was the one to respond. <font color=violet>"We won't have your bloody clothes in here."</font> Drilling holes into the door with her eyes, "Can someone bring me out a bowl of soup then? I can't exactly heal these soldiers with starvation having its way with me." Various curses could be heard directed at the healer as a bowl of soup was shoved at her. Smirking, she quickly gulped it down and left the empty bowl on the floor next to the door.

The food rejuvenated her a little, but what she badly needed was some rest. Sleep can wait. While she didn't want to go back to the infirmary and see Avis, she knew men still needed to be taken care of, especially that man with the wounded arm. Sighing, and wondering why she put up with some of these people, she made her way back into the fray of death.</font>

OOC>>> There's still a time lag, I believe in the Esaha scenes (it should be close to evening though) and the rest (where it's night-time). We'll just have to bear that in mind as we continue with our posts and hopefully at some point we can all be in sync [img]smile.gif[/img]

<font color=orange>A nice, untroubled afternoon this was. Just like all the afternoons for the past few weeks, which suited him just fine. Yawning, Ignatious cast a sleepy smile in the direction of his pudgy cat, but not quite catching its equally insolent grin. "If only every day were like this, eh?" He could barely pronounce his words, so wide was his mouth from the yawn. "It's time to rest in our laurels, Jade. Yessiree."

The last few days had been particularly satisfying, when he considered all the cries of the city messenger and guards in the streets - not that he had bothered to venture outside to listen to the details. All he had heard were muffled cries, all hovering around the same few topics:

<font color=skyblue>"Someone's been killed!"</font>
<font color=yellow>"The forest creatures have attacked again!"</font>
<font color=springgreen>"Alesbridge needs your help!"</font>
<font color=crimson>"The hero has arrived!"</font>

and cringed at these unpleasantries. Why all the fuss? Why not just mind one's own business and be contented? He could not understand. But the only instruction he had wholeheartedly agreed with was this:

<font color=hotpink>"Stay within your houses!"</font>

Yessiree. That would suit him just fine, thank you very much. He exercised his jaw muscles, trying to rid them of their stiffness from inactivity. "My only regret, Jade, is that all this came so late..."

KNOCK, KNOCK.

He bolted upright at the unwelcome sound. "Hear that, Jade?" The tabby made a ferocious purr, showing her irritation. "What is it now, I wonder..." Hesitantly, he removed his bottom from his comfortable, dear chair and shuffled his feet unwillingly to the door. Sliding the eye-hole panel, he found himself staring into a pair of young, earnest eyes.

A girl.

Grimacing, he shut her from his view and shook his head sadly. I shouldn't have done that. Now he had to entertain another visitor. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

There was nothing now for him to do but open the door. His reputation as a genial character - which he had put up with so much to achieve - must be retained.

With an air of defeat, he unbolted the door and opened it, his depressed eyes taking in her full appearance.

"What is it you want?" The tone of his voice was pleading, wishing that she would go away.</font>

OOC>>> I'm going to be out the whole of tomorrow, Deiter, so I'm leaving it sufficiently ambiguous for you in case you want some night adventures for Altair ;)

<font color=thistle>What was happening in the hall? What would Papa do to Altair? Robyn paced about her room, chewing her nails uncharacteristically. Could he have gone back on his word? She shook her head sternly. Papa would never do that. Papa is always fair and keeps his word.

Mentally, she went through the scenes in her memory that had involved Altair, Papa and herself. There were a number of these, but mainly moments when Papa had chanced upon them when they had emerged from forbidden territories, and lectured them thereafter. Groaning, she realised the pattern in all these dealings. Papa has always seen the wild, naughty streak of Altair. Never the gentle and kind side... And those instances had not even been of a harsh nature, such as those Altair had since run into. Please, Altair... don't fail me... don't fail us. Her faith was wavering when she considered her father's high standards of morals, those she herself had tried so hard to attain but failed in the past. Please, Papa, have an open mind...

It was then that she heard the familiar footsteps, followed by the familiar knock on the door and that familiar voice. Not knowing whether to rejoice or tremble, she answered falteringly.

"Please enter, Papa."

The father who came into her room bore brooding and weary eyes, eyes that beckoned to her to have mercy on him just as she was hoping that he would be forgiving towards her beloved. Papa is tired. And no wonder. Her heart began to ache for him, especially when she had learnt of Mama's death a few moments ago. My sorrow for Mama can never reach even a-tenth of that Papa must be feeling.

For she had never truly loved her mother, who had laid the barriers in the form of superficiality between herself and her daughter. In her childhood, she had heard about rare toys from kindly strangers; in her adolescence, she had started hearing about the hateful world of beauty, jewels, beautiful clothes, family wealth and inheritances. It was not that she abhorred these possessions - who in the right mind could, if they were there for the taking? - but because they pushed her away from the soul of Yasmine Mehlingard. The more she had tried to reach out to Mama, the more she had been repelled by those hurtful words. Now, it seemed that the death of her mother was in a sense, a release from a daily ritual which meant nothing to her.

<font color=gold>"I have spoken to Altair, Robyn."</font> She jerked back to reality, studying her father's countenance. It was not easy to decipher the feelings beneath it, however, because of his obvious exhaustion. <font color=gold>"I have to tell you, daughter, that I am not impressed by the fresh tales he brings back."</font> There was a coolness in his tone which half-brought tears to her eyes. <font color=gold>"His only redeeming feature is that he tells the truth... but even that, he hides as much as he can."</font>

Nothing that Papa had just uttered was untrue. She could only stand wretchedly, soaking in his preliminary judgement of the one she loved so much. I should speak up for Altair... But in Papa's current mood, to say more might cause her intentions to backfire. Besides... and here, her heart softened... Papa really should rest.

Nodding in a daze, she finally replied, her eyes glistening in the candlelight. "You have a right to your views, Papa, and it would be really unfair and selfish for me to start defending Altair right now, for I would not stop anytime within the next couple of hours if I were to do so." Was that a grin on Papa's face? Her spirits lifted as she saw that with just these words, she had managed to insert some humour into his heart.

"I hope that you will have a good night's sleep and sweet dreams, Papa." Impulsively, she walked up to him and gave him a bear hug, which he returned feelingly. "But tomorrow, you must give Altair and I another chance." She nestled her head against his broad chest. "Is it agreed, Papa?"</font>

<font color=gold>Gerald held his precious daughter tightly. If only I didn't ever had to let you go... On a night like this, when all momentous events seemed to be over, all he wanted was for his little girl to lie in bed, listening to himself count over and over again until she fell asleep. If only you hadn't grown up so soon. Why couldn't she forever be running up to him, demanding for more horseriding and archery lessons? Now, she might even have bested him! If only you hadn't fallen for that scoundrel so soon...

The last thought pained him and he tried to stifle it as he released her eventually. "I'll think about it, Robyn." He was not about to give up his authority so soon, and to let her be misled by a good-for-nothing... There you go again, Gerald! You've got to stop thinking, that's your problem.

Brushing her cheeks with the tip of his right thumb, he bent forward and kissed her forehead before wishing her goodnight.

"Sleep tight yourself, my pet. Tomorrow will be a better day."</font>

OOC>>> Finally, this post, so that those of us who want to move on to the next day for some of our characters can do so [img]tongue.gif[/img]

<font color=lightsteelblue>Tossing and turning, Acacia finally woke up from the brief spell of rest she had just caught, her fingers pinching the ridge between her eyes to rid herself of the dull ache there. What time is it, in the seven heavens? Groggily, she raised herself into a sitting position and peered out of the window.

The sky was a deep blue, but a closer look revealed that dawn was less than an hour away. The air smelt fresh enough for her standards, and she half-reluctantly dragged herself out of bed.

It was another of those days when her mind was ripping itself into insanity with indecision. To return to sleep or not, was one of the worst afflictions she could give her mind. Over-indulgence would mean a delay in her travels; but insufficient rest meant that her progress for the rest of the day would be sluggish. Make up your mind, damn it, Acacia! But the scolding rang hollowly somewhat, when she recalled her discoveries of the previous day.

You might as well admit it, Acacia. Sighing, she reached for her duffel bag. You couldn't possibly sleep again so soon, after all that baggage. In fact, the thought of rescuing Rehan was doubly attractive now; she would not only be useful to him, but he would provide a welcome diversion. Glancing out of the window again, she confirmed her decision. Canna should have had enough rest by now... leastways, more than myself.

Determinedly, she swung the duffel over her shoulders, unbolted the door and made her way to the stables.

"Ready for Alesbridge, Canna?" She whispered in response to the mare's happy neigh. "It's not that near, you know, so it's a good idea we're starting early." Rehan would love Canna too, she was sure... but then again, did it matter? A wrinkle appeared on her forehead.

"Let's go, girl."

The trot fastened into a gallop, and rider and horse charged into the brightening horizon.</font>

<font color=white>OOC: I've got to start cutting back from posting till around end-September, everyone. :(

An intensive period of work faces me, and I'd rather not compromise the quality of my posts with scrappy ones at the end of each day when I'm completely drained.

However, I'd really be pleased if the rest of you carried on with your RP-ing if you felt like it, during this period. My next few posts will be targeted at tucking my characters away, so that you do so without being trapped by them [img]smile.gif[/img] </font>

<font color=limegreen>Esaha was slightly taken aback by the man's attitude, but, she hoped, she managed to mask her emotions well. Trying to peer over the man's shoulder, she glanced at his cat. Esaha had had enough of felines in the last few days, and was not sure whether she wanted to approach the cat.

Don't be stupid! It's just a normal house cat! Nothing to fear, she tried convincing herself, with only a bit of success. She made two hesitant steps towards the door, but then stopped again.

"Err...my name is Esaha, and one of the servants in Lord Gerald's manor told me that you might be able to help me." She found that she had said all that pretty fast, and without taking breath in the middle, for some reason wanting to get it out as fast as she could.

"You see," she continued explaining, "something rather unusual happened to me last night. I have never cast a magical spell before, but last night, I did so. And not a weak one either. It left me completely drained, and I still feel quite tired from it. I was wondering whether you were able to offer me any explanations on what had happened?"</font>

<font color=orange>Just as I thought. He eyed her distastefully, and the smile - if there had even been one - on his face turned uneasy. What does she think I am, a genius?

Not trusting himself to speak, he stepped aside so that she could enter a little further into the house. As much as Jade would allow, that is. Now look what you've done, invited an unwelcome visitor further in. Great, Banadu, just great.

Coughing in the awkward silence that followed, he took in her appearance closely and assessed that she was quite harmless. Well, obviously not so harmless as to be void of spellcasting, but the expression in her eyes gave assurance that she would not resort to violence, for now.

"Well..." What to say, Banadu, what to say? It had been so long since he had last spoken to a fellow spellcaster that he was rather tongue-tied. Bashfully, he scratched his head, turned to his most unhelpful tabby and then back to Esaha. "... obviously, you have untapped power." He did not know whether to be impressed by this, happy for her or entirely threatened. "You need to learn to harness it."

All this was spoken in a drawl, as if she ought to be grateful that he was even answering her questions. Yet there was nothing he could do to stop the occasional twitch in his eyes, or the clenching and unclenching of his fists.</font>