Sleepless in Rhy'Din

The Ancient had tried to rest. She'd gone home and went to work on the pieces of Baby's v-twin that were still littered about her kitchen floor, but it was a futile attempt. Though the wheel-less wonder was currently standing on its forks amidst the litter of its engine instead of bobbing in mid-air, its bond all but dead to the Trueblood rider, she could still feel the mage bike's ire. But, neither her head nor her heart were in the mood.

So, not bothering to clean the grease and oil streaks peppering her person, she grabbed her leather and headed out from the WestEnd, deciding a drink at the Inn was in order. All over, during her slow walk there, she could feel the eyes of her siblings watching her. They made no move, but they were spread over Rhy'Din like thick butter. She just thanked whatever and whoever would listen to one such as her that the dabblings in WestEnd had effectively kept it, the 'stone and her family off their radar, so to speak.

Tass had also gone back to the Inn. Appearing in a cold fire that grew to life and gathered around the hard lines of his form, he looked about, a small frown creasing his features. He had felt something . . . a . . . pulling. The frown hid quickly, though, as he saw Tera Destre and her husband Jean de La Fontaine lounging at the bar. Smiling, moving over to them, he bantered back and forth with the pair about the state of design in their new home.

Just about that time jackboots thudded up the porch steps and Sid's hand left the well-worn pocket of her jacket to pat Guido's shoulder in greeting. "'ello, big man. Aye, I be back. Canna sleep."

The Ancient laughed at the bouncer's reply, a sound warm and honey-rich. "I got ye, dux. Jus' the ticket, aye?" Another pat to his arm as he opened the door, and she stepped inside sweeping a few ringling elflocks from her eyes. One silvered brow was darkened by a streak of black and she arched it, looking across the room to find Tass. "Ye still here?"

The old man's frown had returned, and he cocked his head to the side. There it was again, that . . . pulling. At words near the door, he turned and his eyes locked to Sid's, her smile upon him as bright and warm as Summer World's own sun.

Tass' frown smoothed itself out, his lips lit once more with happiness. "Aye, it would seem that I was just coming from Jean and Des's new apartment when I felt I should come and let them know what I thought of that gaudy French style they have chosen." The tease to the married pair apparent in his tone.

"Och! Please be tellin' me it be nae Provincale?" Also a tease as she accented in perfect French. "'ello, Jean an' Des." A grin to them both, she finally stepped down into the commons. Striding across the room to the bar, peeling the leather from her shoulders, she made to get herself a drink. "Anyone be needin' anythin' whilst I be back here?"

"Ah, but what I be needing will soon be returning from back there," and Tass' expression turned coy.

The Ancient came around the bar, snapping up her jacket on the way to a table just as Des and Jean were saying their goodbyes. Folding into a chair and pouring some of the Midnight Tears to a small, spherical cup, she pushed out another seat with one booted foot and looked over at Tass. "Take a load off, sweet."

"So, what?s keeping you awake?" Taking only a moment to watch the couple depart, old man Tass moved to the table and the offered chair.

"Oh, I dun sleep much anyway. Nae like mos'. But, still, 'tis been a while since I 'ave rejuvenated. Guess there be too much on me mind. An' ye' Wha' be 'avin' ye stalkin' the night at this hour?"

Tass chuckled. "An old man such as me" No use for sleep these days. Too much on me mind, and my Barony here in town is a bit quiet. It would be with a dragon ruling it. So, I figured I'd come over to Topaz's side of town and see what trouble I could find."

Sid loosed wry chuckles into her cup before taking a swallow. "Hmm . . . trouble. Wan' some o' mine?"

"What trouble would you offer?" His brow lifting at her words.

The Ancient waved a hand to the air to dismiss such talk. "Nae mind me, sweet. Jus' problems. Me life comes attached to them. If"n it nae be one thin'. It be t'other."

Understanding bloomed in the older man's soft laughter. "I do mind you. Well, in one sense at least."

"Ye best be careful. Wha' did ye be tellin' me earlier" Be careful wha' ye be wishin'?" Sid gave a sly smile at that. Long pale fingers tapping the edge of her small cup now settled on the table before her. There was a game afoot between herself and Tass and the Trueblood understood such things, oft reveled in them. Grinning, then, those fingers splayed over the cup in order to lift it for another drink. "Care to join me? Midnight Tears be 'avin' a certain quality I believe ye can appreciate."

Stepping Out

Sid knew he would wait, but she felt compelled nevertheless. Something drew her to tell, even if the telling was hard. Words took on the tone of memories long forgotten. "Once, I bore a clutch. A bronze an' I mated. 'Twas at the beginnin', after the . . ." The next word came muffled, echoing within the confines of her cup before she gulped. "Fall."

Wrapping both hands about his wooden vessel, leaning to the table and resting elbows to it, his gaze turned and focused on her solely. This one before him had shown no fear of the hold he had leashed. The old man knew it would revisit this night, but it would do no harm and so thought not about it. Now was the time for that knowledge they had drunk to.

Relaxing under his study, letting her body slough the tension, the Ancient leaned again to the table and smiled into purple eyes. There was comfort here, with him. Something that told her he was no threat and that she could, perhaps, be free.

There was but one being, in all the realms of the physical, that gave her true release, afforded a liberty never known until they'd rediscovered one another again. But, with all the separations for matters not of their choosing, the influence was more sorely missed than she even knew.

"Me kind . . . Some o' us left. Some be made to leave. Given a borrowed World, we became our own creators. Birth parents o' a thousand races. Protectorates o' a precious treasure."

"We all have our treasures which we protect." His smile was drawn to her, and he could not help but consider her part of his. "As for my kind . . ." Chuckling softly, feeling himself driven to tell the tale, the beginning that so few knew.

"Of the true, there is only two left. The Elder and myself. The Elder is the first of all. He is the first light when there was none. He is what was created to fight the primordial darkness."

Bent to the table, Sid listens, watching as he reveals his story.

"The second . . ." Tass stopped then, shaking his head in a sorrowful gesture. Apparently, reaching a piece that could not be fully told yet, having to be sufficient as nothing more than that and the Trueblood's fingers reached out, brushing their tips against his hand. "I am the third. Born from both, but born of neither."

Trailing off, then, his eyes long lost in a fog of time that could never be found quickly shifted and turned at once hard and focused. The fog vanishing as his smile came softly. "Forgive me."

"Nae a thin' to forgive." And, not moving, her face softened, the depths of her gaze clouding with thoughts of an existence far gone.

She relates an account, a chronicle of beginnings more ancient than when Gomorrah fell, primordial before mankind knew the written word, a time before time began as she once heard it told. A legend passed around amongst Legion, a saga that once sparked a light within a single pawn and brought about a Grace-less Fall.

Into the lore she dives; a figure rising unbidden, darker among the shadows of the Inn. Immense, terrifying in stature and bearing, commanding in its form, large wings seem to sprout from behind. A suggestion of sound heard upon the air, feathers rustling and a murder of calling crows.

"Through the ages of fostering this world to its maturity, it was forgotten this home was not their own . . ." That strangely lilted and affected cockney had been lost throughout, her voice taking on odd quality and tone. One that seemed could easily be thought to move mountains as to calm a sickened and frightened child. And, at the last, she whispered. "Nae a thin' lasts fore'er."

He gave over warmth, it came to her within his eyes and upon his lips. "No, but one thing will never change, either."

"Aye' An' tha' be?"

"Change."

"Aye, change. Somethin' wha' me siblin's do nae like. Somethin' wha' be bringin' the latest troubles down upon me." The slightest of flushes coloring pallid cheeks as she rests under that smile of his.

Uncurling one of his hands from the wooden cup and turning it to her, he laid it across her own. "There's little 'nuff that can divert an angered dragon." His words were light, but he meant more than what he said. He was there for her if she needed.

Twisting her hand in his, fingers curve in a gentle grip. "Aye, though to bring ye into such a War..." The Ancient shook her head a touch, those elflocks eerily silent as words trailed off.

She knew what he meant. Appreciation for his offering lit her face, though it was undercut by the wish to not have him come to harm that shaded those glamoured blues.

"The war you speak on is nothing different from the one just done, and not even those of the Fallen could lay harm to this old hide." The old man was self-assured, emboldened. He would not say they couldn't hurt him, they had found ways to do so in the past through others, this was true. But, that was over and they were safe in the Isles.

"This be truth ye speak, aye. Still . . . Sometimes I be wishin' I could be returnin' to a time in the beginnin'. There be a moment there when thin's o' such nature didna intrude. When there be naught but pleasure an' discovery. I shunned me title, me station, but I still be wishin' for tha' time. Ye ken?"

Finishing off the last of his Midnight Tears, Tass set the cup back to the table and watched as it melded back to which it came. "We all wish for those times, but it's change that we live in now and it is the change which has brought me to you." All that spoken with the infuriating knowing grin he sometimes bore.

Sid bent her head and clutched at it, palms pressing into her temples, fingers splaying amongst the party colors of silent elflocks. "This be somethin' wha' makes me thankful, Tass, aye. But, I be nae sure I be liking this recent change. Wha' be done to me, Belial an' the other . . . There be new . . . thin's. Thin's I be nae created to know an' deal with as mos'."

"Then you shall have me as your weapon for these things."

"Me weapon' I dun think ye can fight wha' roils within me."

Rising, he moves to her side, lifting one hand to his. "That does not mean I won't try. Knowledge is easily gained when you know the right person to ask. Do you wish to return to WestEnd?"

Lacing long, pale fingers to his, she stands. "Where be ye takin' me?"

"To a place where you can find the answers you seek. The Athenaeum is on the way to my Baronal manor, and is close enough to WestEnd that if you feel the need you won't have to make your way across the city to get there."

"Nae worries o' tha', sweet. I can be gettin' where an' when I be needin' whene'er I be needin'. So, I be likin' to see ye home, Tass."

"And I be liking you to join me," he chuckled.

"You will not succeed. These are not for one such as you. Just come back, you alone hold the key to my den. You know I am waiting with arms open to receive you." And with that, the Ancient shuddered for a moment, her spine stiffening as the words rang out in mindscape.

A frown creases the faultless skin between silvered brow until Tass' words brought her around. "Uhhh . . ."

He searched her face, sighing. "The choice is, and always will be, yours. That is the thing with free will." Irony in the sideways grin he gives.

"Aye, somethin' I ken verra well. Verra well." Forcing a genuine smile to bloom, she nods and snaps up her leather from the back of the chair. "Shall we?"

"We shall, my lady, we shall." The cold blue flames he'd entered with previously turned a mystical silver as they made their way up his form, dancing lightly over his and hers.

Flirting with Disaster

The Ancient knew they watched, knew they were spread over the city so thick she could taste them. Would this incident bring Jodiah more to their attentions, would they know and use him at some point to get to her like they have done others associated closely with the Three since Ber had worked his spell" Did she now put him into the line of fire" Maybe she should cold-cock him and jump up, kicking him as he . . . His words paused those thoughts and she scoffed, her own words holding truth tempered by mirth within her tone. "I be lookin' to kill somethin'. An' ye, Jodiah?" Shifting atop his form, those well-toned thighs flexing along his hips. "Why be ye hidin' out here like some . . . rogue bandit?"

"I have been known to be the proper rogue from time to time, I'll have you know." A wolfish grin, of sorts, played along Jodiah's lips though it may have appeared odd on the face of the aging knight. "The common room inside is . . . well, entirely too occupied for my tastes. I've been acquiring a great deal of attention lately, for some reason. Commissions from other patrons of the Red Dragon. Grem contracted me to build him some kind of collar big enough to fit onto a bear, and that dark elf . . . " He shook his head. "Too busy, for me. I was enjoying solitude when I heard you come up. Had I known it was you I would have greeted you somewhat differently."

His head rolled back, now, relaxing onto the cobbles behind him. Oh, what a compromising appearance they would make should anyone come outside, or look out one of the windows. It's a good thing Jodiah Ayreg didn't particularly care what anyone thought about him. Well, what most thought about him. A close few - though perhaps they did not realize this fact - he did, indeed, care about. "Looking to kill, you say?"

"I..." Sid looked about her now, teeth worrying briefly at her lower lip. "I be nae realizin' I be this close to the Red Dragon." Oddly, this seemed to disturb her, but she recovered swiftly and stuffed the blaster back to its place beneath the leather. "Och! It canna be comfortable on this ground." Looking back to him, then, head bowed over so those elflocks formed a ringling curtain around them. "An' aye, lookin' to kill somethin'. 'Tis Rhy'Din, Jodiah. There always be somethin' or someone about needin' to get dead. Or . . . close enough."

"Comfortable, no. But you know what they say - it's all about location." His hand lifted to lightly lay atop her thigh, apparently tempting the Fates to become one of the next things that needed to get dead. "I suppose you have a point, but most people prefer to do their murder under the cover of night."

The grin came at his joke, fox lit and sly. Her laughter whiskey-tinged and honey-warm as elflocks joined in with a gentle chiming. "Ye made a joke, Jodiah. I be 'avin' nae idea ye be such the wit." Her own hand moved from her hip to slide down to his on her thigh, fingers just barely a breath from his own. "An', aye, I suppose ye be right about secretin' thin's 'neath the cover o' night. But, if'n one nae fears the day or the eyes about, then 'tis when convenience calls be wha' works best. Aye?" The Trueblood spoke all this so casually, as if she was giving him a recipe for some tasty treat. Still, behind those eyes now morphing back slowly to the glamoured hue, a shadow lurked. One which the Ancient was becoming increasingly annoyed with.

He had to always think about what she said. He, himself, had been born and raised in Rhy'Din, though he never exhibited any sort of dialect. Others did. Sid in particular. Occasionally he had trouble understanding what exactly it was that she was saying, but it was a rare thing to completely miss an idea, or a statement. In this case, it was quite clear. If it had bothered him that she spoke so openly of wanton acts of murder - in broad daylight, no less - it didn't seem to reflect on him outwardly. "I'm not possessed of any great wit, Obsidian. Sometimes I try, though. You are right about the other thing, as you often are. I've discovered women having a tendency to be that way more often than not. Being right, I mean. And if they are not right, then they try to convince everyone that they are anyway."

He shifted beneath her as a single cobble had started to push awkwardly into his shoulder blade. Another shift. Finally his hands drew back behind him, and he leaned upwards toward her to tickle his own face on the bits of mirror and bells woven into her hair. "You have been distracted of late, Obsidian. I....I haven't seen you around often at all, save only on the day of your shifts here at the Red Dragon."

"I find nae much difference in the genders after all this time, it sort o' all balances out. Either tha' or I be forgettin' more'n I remember. Which be possible." Her weight slid back until she rested on his thighs, most of it held off him as she rocked upwards onto her ankles. She had been distracted, too distracted and that could prove dangerous.

His words brought a lowering of her head, a sliding of her gaze off to the right to study some bit of brick for a moment before she looked back. And, for the briefest of seconds, she opened so plainly to him it might well smack him in the face. Then she breathed, thin lips drawing a smirk, and the moment was gone. "Aye, distracted. An', in this burg tha' be dangerous, oft deadly. Ye can be sayin' tha' many thin's weigh upon me which I be nae accustomed to, Jodiah. I find meself dealin' with such I be nae created to know."

Jodiah Ayreg was often a study in dualities, and never more so than now. Secret games and meetings and liaisons played with the nymph had softened him terribly - far, far more soft than when he first arrived at the Red Dragon so many moons ago. He craned his head forward, the tip of his nose touching against one of her woven elflocks. Perhaps he would have used his hands had they not been occupied with keeping him leaned upward, but that is in the realm of what-nots and might-haves. "You smell nice." Then, a blink, as if remembering himself and regaining his composure his head pulls back, awkwardly, and his thin lips twitch. "It sounds like you need a holiday, Obsidian. Tell me of your troubles; perhaps we can find a way together to ease them."

He pulled back too soon, one of her hands raised to touch upon his jaw, or stroke a strand of graying hair. Instead, it fell back as she sighed, the smile soft and conveying a gratitude for his compliment, his presence, his . . . Him. What was this male to her" Why had he wheedled his way within the confines of her being" These were questions, like many more on even more subjects she had not the answers for. "A holiday?" This bringing a most unladylike snort. "Aye. Except those like me, we get nae holidays, Jodiah. I 'ave gone away o'er times, but it be nae pleasant for those left behind nor for me. An' truly, Jodiah, do ye wish to know me troubles" Methinks ye 'ave ye own, an' I wish nae to be a burden when I know dire thin's weigh upon ye head. In fact, if'n I were to speak plain . . . an' mind ye, I only possess the knowledge I get from talkin' to ye an' watchin' ye . . . But, if'n I were to speak plain, I believe mayhaps we share similar troubles to some degree."

And then she did it, she let that hand come up and the silken touch of her fingertips drew down the line of his jaw, her smile soft in quicksilver sparked eyes. Her voice a whisper. "Sometimes, methinks, War be the simpler o' existence."

What was this male to anyone" To Alysia he was bodyguard, and valuable aide-de-champ within the boundaries of Rhilshen. To Rhaine he was a tool, and nothing more. To Sluiss, he might as well be a forge hammer with feet. To the nymph' To Sid" And to think - all of it started when Tara harassed him about trying to be nicer, and Sid had just happened to be the tender on duty.

The only reaction he had made in response to her velvet touch - amazing how not a few minutes ago it was likened unto iron - was a faint twitch of his thin lips, though his green eyes did indeed take a sparkle or two. His head canted again, then, in the direction of her fingers. "Everyone can have a holiday, Obsidian." This was one of the many lessons he had learned from the nymph. "And everyone deserves one. Surely people do not rely so heavily upon you that their lives diminish with your absence?"

But he continued, not waiting for an answer and not expecting one. "War is simple. Lead well, and be victorious. Win or lose, with no middle ground for partial failure or partial victory. I like the life, but those days are gone, Obsidian. I've had to adjust. Speak plainly to me, woman, and I will hear your words. If there be nothing to do for them, then I am no more impressed upon by duty than I was a few moments ago. True?" He dared something himself, then. His hand lifted from behind him - his other readjusting to be more central - and he touched lightly over the sapphire-inlaid silver necklace dangling down her chest.

His words struck a chord, her smile wry, the nod knowing. Those eyes followed his hand and she drew a deep inhale before meeting his gaze. "I wan' ye to know somethin'. Somethin' true. Nae illusions, or thin's gettin' in the way. Mayhaps this be foolish on me part, but I wan' ye to see, to know o' me. Will ye let me show ye, Jodiah?"

Ayreg gave a simple, wordless nod and reaching up, she took a hold of his hand touching lightly upon that necklace. Slowly, in the dying light of the day her eyes were morphing back. Darkened threads swam in the glamoured blue fields, overtaking them. This was something he hadn't been expecting. Obsidian was an elf, after all - tall and lanky, toned yes, but he hadn't noticed much in the way of magic capabilities from her, and this was beyond the scope of most magics he was aware of in general. His head craned a bit as he stared into her eyes, watching in rapt awe as the darker shades began to engulf the lighter hues.