Dancing with Madness

It's not often he gets messages left to him. It's more peculiar to find said messages written on a coaster. He'd come this afternoon for a short break from a longshoring stint and a cup of coffee. It ended up being the tender that had made him aware of the note, apparently addressed to him. "Y'name's Renne, yeah?" It'd been the same question the tender had asked at least sixteen times today. This time, much to his relief, he's lucky. "Eey-ess." Almost-smiling, the tender slides over the coaster and turns to fetch the now-known usual cup of coffee.

"Renne, whomever you are, you need not go through this alone. Let me help".

He ended up having to run his fingers over the coaster a few times before he could fully decipher the message but in the end, the method proved effective.

Now all he has to do is figure a few things out. One, who the message is from. Two, what the writer is talking about and three, how the writer knows his name. Typically putting two and two together isn't that hard for the blue-skinned imp. But now, as he finds the message, he realises that perhaps either there's a mistake or he's completely missing something. Not that he understands writing nightly letters to a dead man is just a tad off-kilter.

Why did you begin" -Hope. Faith, like he taught.- He is gone. -No he is not. He is merely somewhere adventuring.- That is an untruth. You know what 'Chee said. -I do.- He is gone. -No, he is not! He will come Home someday and I hear him!- Home is empty. -It has me to look after it.- Home is 'Chee and Serr. -Yes.- They are gone. -They will return and I shall be there when they do.- You gave the thunder-maker back. -Yes. But Serr will come back with 'Chee by his side.- You are certain of this" -I must be.- You will remain tied to this" -Yes. Gladly.- You killed him.

It's a good thing the bartender has another patron. Downing his coffee and leaving the usual coin in return, the imp finds himself wandering mentally down paths he knows he shouldn't go. Not now. Not yet. He reads and re-reads the mysterious note again. While he's as yet unaware of any other message to him aside from this one, it puts a minute prick of fear into his mind. Best to ask then, hm' Yes.

Chirping politely to the bartender, the imp trades another coin in exchange for a slip of paper. Out comes his pen and tweaked ink that raises when dry. Upon this paper, Renne writes as legibly as possible.

Stranger,

Who are you? You know my name somehow and I am curious. How" And what is it you speak? I do not understand your meaning.

-Renne

Without a word, he leaves this on the bar and almost races out of the Red Dragon. For a while the repetition of his longshoring work and his duties on the Pride keep his mind off of the dark thoughts that had sprung up. It works. For now.

Killing Cats and Conquering Pain

He never does anything now without making sure his letters are done and the Maritime is in absolutely perfect shape. Here, the line between duty and honour doesn't exist. Keeping every door locked except the back one, the imp crawls on out and for the yards. And as he turns away from a humble, stalwart building, a tear slips down his face.

—————-

It had taken a bit of time to get down to these yards but he'd gone without stopping to meet his destination. Chittering once as he smells the familiar guards, the imp offers up the note he'd received about meeting someone here. "Righ' then, critter. G'on in."

He's probably always looked a little queer to the watchmen here but never had a problem. Six years can be a nice bit of time, even with wandering on occasion. And really, these yards had become special in their own way. These dockyards house the Dream, the Al Na'ir — known only by name — and as far as he still knows, the Balclutha. He could be wrong on that but he'd likely find out soon enough. For now, the blue-skinned imp finds a spot nearest to the dockyard gates to await the stranger that had requested a night appointment.

Scribe, Thinker, Dreamer, Watcher

He could hear, even smell a few about these yards. Some more familiar than others, some Male, some Female. But so too, can he hear the quiet. It isn't too quiet, just the wary yet comforting quiet of the shipyards at night.

He doesn't let his guard down, but neither does he make a move except to keep his ears out on the listen for any calls of his name. The stranger's voice he knows not, but his name he does know. And so does the stranger. Whomever that might be.

As he writes and lets loose another of his traditional nightly letters — this one dusted with dry Sumatra — the blue-skinned imp pulls out his beloved journal for the first time in a while. No better time than the present to put down his thoghts.

Who knows. It might help him make sense of it all.

The diminutive woman rocked on the soles of her feet.

The wind spilt secrets.

Enkindled eyes of blue watched the exchange. Watched for danger.

Boot heels began a backwards march as she studied the blue-squiggle heading for her. Pazu" That was all she could think of, that strange blue Elfin thing beneath an Inn table, the same one that followed her to the Glen.

Eyes widened as she backed into a balistrate, barely laid a top a hulk of metal. Hands clenched and lips grew thin as she grimaced.

"You again!"

And then light caught the blue crawl and her expression changed. She bent forward, leaning into one foot as she brought it forward, and studied the creature.

"Not...who I thought you were..."

A sudden smile. Bright, warm, radiant. She stood a little straighter.

"Renne, I assume?"

And What the Blazes is That?

"You again!"

Honestly, the blue critter nearly jumps out of his skin at that sound. And honestly, the flash of confusion lights his useless eyes in a shade of brown fading to goldish-yellow. In all his years, he can't recall hearing such a voice. So, while maintaining the usual hjigh guard, Renne stops for a half-second. It's only when the voice asks to verify his name does he move or make a sound.

It's when the voice asks his name that he chirps twice and edges closer. If anything, a flash of blue flickers in his eyes — light blue. Curiosity — and he dares to be bold enough to lean down and give the stranger a sniff. Hm. Doesn't smell bad and no sign of danger. So far.

"Eeh. Rrr-enne. Eey-ess."