#eddard crowther

[courieroflight]

Prompt 8: Crag

The sound of dice hitting wood echoes throughout the small, dimly lit room, as three men sit around a circular table, laughing and drinking and having a good time, despite the harsh snows of Coerthas bearing down on the building they were currently residing in. One of these men, a middle-aged Hyur with a penchant for flirting, gathered up his dice and rolled once again, inspecting the numbers shown to him.

“That one’s a thirteen, lads.” He chuckled, noting his score down on a piece of scrap paper. “Puts me in the lead.”

Another man, a Sea Wolf with a scar running across his cheek, scowled. “Yer a bugger, Eddard, y’know that?”

Eddard chuckled again, grinning at the Roegadyn fellow. “I’m just doing my best, Zwynrael. S’not my fault I’m better than you!”

Zwynrael shrugged, gathering up his own dice. “Least m’better than that poor sod Allemont.”

The Elezen parallel to them shook his head. “You say that, but really, isn’t this a game of chance? You cannot influence the dice without cheating, you know.”

Their banter went back and forth like this for a while, complimented by ales and meads throughout the night. The atmosphere was amicable and the men were enjoying themselves, and between talks of business and world politics and the like, their friendships were strengthened more and more as the clock ticked. While the icy kiss of Coerthas threatened to worsen at any moment, these three men were simply trying to live their best lives, waiting for the next day they could continue their journey into Gridania.

[a-memory-of]

After leaving that morning once she had made sure Ruran at least had a bite of breakfast, Ellere Valahan had promised to return later that evening with the balm she had spoke of. It was just getting dark by the time a knock came at his door before she tested the handle.

The door opened easily; the once overly secretive knight had become more absent-minded as the days went on. The aether remained thick in the air. It was good she had gotten away for several bells, else she would have been at risk for headaches and minor aethersickness. Ruran Vas was not in the front room, and there was some soft noise coming from his bedroom.

Ellere frowned at the unlocked door, remember how he once kept it so firmly locked and warded. But she slipped in quietly, shutting (and locking) it behind her. The aether was palpable, and she was already worried. "Ruran dear?" she called out, before the sound drew her to his bedroom door. She tapped her knuckles gently on the wooden frame, "I'm back."

"I am in here," came a voice muffled behind the door, answering with a rather obvious statement to a question that had not been asked. Should she open the door, she would find Ruran standing in front of his desk. Wood shavings littered across the counter-top and down at his feet. A small statuette of Azeyma had been carved--a woman holding a fan and a balance, or at least the rough approximation of one--and stood on the counter top near Ruran. He was already starting on another carving, this block of wood still fairly fresh. He quietly murmured to himself.

Ellere opened the door, smiling that at least he seemed engaged in something, rather than alone and silent on his bed. "Look at you," she praised, eyes finding his little project. "She looks radiant." As she moved closer, one hand rose up and settled on his back, the other dug in her bag for a small jar. "I brought you the balm. And I have a bit of good news, if you'd like to hear." Ruran hardly looked away as she entered, but he seemed aware of her presence. "It does not do Her justice," he mumbled, turning his hand to continue carving a curve. His back was still quite warm, to be expected. At her touch, his focus seemed to finally pull away, and he looked toward her bag. "Good news..?" "Mm," she nodded, setting the jar on his table. But she also drew out an envelope. There was no lettering on the front though there was a wax seal on the back that had already been broken. Ellere passed it to him, and if he looked closer he might note the stamp was a swordfish. "I called in that favor I spoke of as well. 'Tis why I was a bit later coming today." "Favor..." He was hesitant to put down his carving knife and wooden block, but he did and retrieved the envelope. Part of him had already forgotten what the favor was, but the stamp of the fish seemed to stir something in him. He opened it up to see what was inside.

Inside was what appeared to be a simple contract, stamped with the same swordfish insignia as the wax seal on the outside. At a glance, he could likely figure what it was. It spoke of paid passage for an Ellere Valahan, and guest, to the Pearl Isles. It listed the ship name, pier number, and was signed by a man by the name of Eddard Crowther. 

"Some time ago I tended his son in my clinic, he had an accident and nearly lost his leg. Eddard was quite adamant in paying me far more gil than needed, which I declined. However... well. I did remember he has a fine ship, a merchant vessel, and he is a man that will not ask questions of you."

Ruran read the paper over carefully. Twice, since he was certain he had lost focus a time or two along the way the first time. The stone at his chest flickered, a rather rare thing despite the circumstances. He was quiet for a long moment. "This is...very generous," he began, his words slow as he worked his way through them. "I...have been thinking, perhaps you..." His words trailed off as he stared down at the ticket.

“Hm?” she blinked, looking up to him as he trailed off. It was not the reaction she expected, though, the way he was now, she was not certain what she really did expect. Ellere continued after a moment, giving him time to perhaps find the words he wanted to say. “He will be in port for the next sennight, though I did say we would likely not need so much time to prepare. So,” she paused, leaning forward a bit to offer him a smile. 

“You need but say the words, dear, and we’ll be on our way.”

"You are in danger, Ellere," he said softly, keeping his eyes down. "Around me, as I am. Surely you have felt it." His brows furrowed behind the mask, his eyes still occasionally shimmering with gold. "You should...--you should stay. I am capable of doing this." By myself, he didn't say.

Her smile slipped, and her brows furrowed in confusion. Then she shook her head, “Absolutely not. Do not talk nonsense, Ruran. Capable or not, why should you do this alone? How many times must I say that we walk this path together.”

Ruran's free hand reached up and rubbed at his head. He barely knew how to think, let alone how to explain, or how to convince her. "Please trust me." His voice held a frown, and his shoulders fell. "You must...stay away from me." The words didn't feel right, but there they were.

____________________________

With @weepingknight​

“Ruran,” she shook her head again, taking a step forward and trying to guide his shoulders to face her. Her hands squeezed, almost desperately, for a moment. “Ruran, what has gotten into you? I am not going with you because I do not trust you. You are not going to hurt me, and I can take care of myself.” Ruran turned with her hands, still avoiding eye contact, though that was not difficult to do with how his gaze was prone to become distant. "Please... I-I can do this. Cradled--I do not need to be...cradled." He didn't seem to have much more to say, his position weak from the start, and the purpose behind them still unknown.

“I am not cradling you,” Ellere was firm, but her voice still held no hint of anger. “I do not mean to. I know you can do this. I do. Ruran, I believe in you more than you know.” Her hands were still held tight to his shoulders, and she dropped her eyes a moment. “You are strong and brave. But… I’m not.” She paused again, eyes still down.

“I cannot- I cannot watch someone else walk away. I cannot watch someone… die without being there, not knowing I did everything in my power. That there was no other way. Please, Ruran… just let me stay with you a little longer.” Ruran's head tilted in a way that suggested he would speak, but he didn't. He swallowed thickly and looked down. "I...I want you to be there--I do..." His feet fidgeted, and he began to mutter. The soft words hid behind the mask, but grew audible the more he spoke. "--what is easy, what is right. How am I to know..? Everything is more than I thought. Nothing is easy, and now he will be cross with me--with her, and I don't know what to do..." 

He was talking to himself perhaps, or Ari'doram, or one of the hundred other voices in his head.

Ellere looked up at that, brows furrowing again as she caught bits and pieces of one side of a conversation.  Knowing he wanted her there was enough, whatever else they could work through. Her hands dropped from his shoulders to find his hands instead. “Who will be cross with you?” He had never referred to Ari’doram as such, which despite everything was her first guess. “Is someone telling you to go alone?”

Ruran looked up, nearly forgetting where he was. The stone flickered. His head shook. "N-no, not alone... ...My mentor," he answered reluctantly. "He has been teaching me--meditations, ways to keep myself from slipping away..." His gaze moved to the wood whittling tools for a moment.

Frowning, Ellere shook her head slightly. He had never spoken of a mentor before, nor did it fully explain why he had said what he had. "That is all well and good. But this mentor is the one who said I should stay behind? And who will be cross with you if I do not?"

He nodded once, his calloused fingers idly reaching to touch the half-whittled block in front of him. "Yes. He...knows much more than I. About Azeyma, Qarn, perhaps...even about Ari'doram." His brows furrowed, committing more now to divulging more information. "He told me to let none come with us, and he was...quite insistent."

"Ruran," she reached for his hands again, gently covering his as it touched the wood. "I made a promise to you, that I would be there. That I would see this through with you. If you wish for me to be there," she gave a small squeeze, looking down before trying to find his eyes again. 

"Or anyone else, for that matter. No one should tell you no. This mentor of yours is welcome to come with us. But he should not be standing in your way. Pardon, but I don't much care if he thinks he knows better. If he grows cross, you let me handle it."

Ruran turned his attention toward her, studying the determination in her eyes. His head gave small nods, but a glance toward the floor indicated he didn't seem entirely convinced. "I do not wish for either of you to argue. I told him I would try to convince you...and I did try." His feet fidgeted, and he pinched at the contract in his other hand. "I am grateful for you, Ellere. I pray I do not cause more trouble in all this."

One hand moved up from his and tucked under his chin instead. "Eyes forward, dear. Not on the floor," Ellere reminded him gently. "Remember we must face this with no regrets. Azeyma Herself would have a hard time convincing me my place is not right here, with you. Do not worry so."

Ruran allowed his head to be guided back up, and he met her gaze. A glimmer of gold circled around his irises, but it disappeared without any affect on his demeanor. "You know it is impossible for me not to worry." A frown pulls down his tone.

"As it is with me," she smiled, dropping her hand slowly from his chin and toward her own. Two fingers touched her lips, the beginning of an old gesture that she had not done in some time. Those fingers moved up, touching his mask, "But that is why we also have hope."

[courieroflight]

Prompt 5: Show of Hands

[ @ignorantblind ]

One-two-three, one-two-three.

A gentle step forward, a second to the side, and a third step to close it.

One. Two. Three. Faster? Slower. Too slow. Too fast.

“Not perfect, but good enough. Passable to show to others. Nobody cares when you compliment it with your magic.”

A honey-sweet voice brought the Hyur girl out of her trance as her head whipped around. A taller midlander male stood in the doorway, and Freyja stopped dancing. “Mister Crowther... I don’t really think I understand the waltz.” She laughed, her hands clasping together as she circled her thumbs around each other.

The other Hyur, Eddard, shrugged. “You don’t need to, my dear. Your skills lie in your showmanship, do they not?” He inquired, as he strode over to the orchestrion and stopped the music. “Your magic, specifically. Very strong, and you’re a natural at inventing new routines.” He gave a smile before walking over to her and planting a hand on her shoulder. “So it doesn’t matter. If it really is such a concern, though…”

Freyja felt one hand on her waist, and another take her left hand in its own. Instinctively, her own free hand found itself on Eddard’s shoulder as he began to whisk her around the room, counting each beat. “One-two-three, one-two-three. It’s a fast dance, my dear.”

“I’m trying my best! I want it to be as accurate as possible.” Freyja responded, focusing on moving herself in time with him. Step, step, step. She wasn’t graceful, but she wasn’t clumsy. She could carry her own weight in the dance, but it was clear to any observer that even during this practice session, Eddard greatly outshone her. To him, this was a natural act, whereas Freyja, as young as she was, had plenty to learn before she could think about being on any similar level to the older Hyuran male.  What she lacked in grace and performance, though, she made up for with her magic.

She found herself more at home on the stage; performing for the circus as a stage magician was a talent she prided herself on, but as of late she had been feeling a need to make her performances more flashy. For a while, roughly something to the tune of four years, she had taken dancing lessons from Eddard, who in general had taught her a lot of things - such as how to read and write when she was younger. It was Eddard, too, who had brought her out of her shell when she first joined the troupe. Freyja felt that by adding dances to her performances and making a bigger show out of them, she could give back to Eddard, and make him feel proud. For all intents and purposes, it was much like a daughter trying to please her father with her accomplishments.

It just so happened that Freyja couldn’t quite crack the waltz. While Eddard said it was passable, she didn’t feel as if she could begin to add any kind of illusions or tricks to her set just yet.

“You’re doing fine, girlie. You just need to keep working on your timing, is all.” The man whispered as he continued to lead her around the room. “And don’t worry about the music. I doubt anyone in the audience will be judging you for every step you take. Come on, why don’t you take it from the top? And show me some of that magic!”

And so Freyja returned to the centre of the room, ready to start again.