#oh someone showing genuine affection towards wormy and them just being so '????'

[colleydogstar]

A Ranger’s Tale - 17 - Rahne

(Art by @duckdraw)

Rhodie and Rahne have a chat...

Rhodie wasn’t sure what she was really expecting. Monologue? Gloating? Double agent? But that specific description, she was not expecting at all. Her eyes narrow at Rahne, still holding the chair ready to throw or swing. “Collects things no one else will ever find, forgets to put her books away when company visits blond girl?”

“Far too young for her age,” the woman says. She slings the pistol back under her breast, but she retains the dagger in her hand. Brandishing it as she talks, despite the higher end of her accent. “I believe the answer is yes. She moves terribly quickly and I was at hand to serve as your protector in place of the master of the house’s pet assassin.” She laughs and her smile is a darkly pragmatic slice of her teeth in her muzzle, “I admit I expected a greater deal of challenge from the Briarbough Company’s elite and pretty. Shame there a boy’s club more often than not.” “Can you please get on with it,” Pritchard says, with a bit of exasperation in his voice as he checks his blade, a frown on his face. “But of course,” Rahne says with a smile and a flick of her knife toward Pritchard. “As for the matter at hand, our shared acquaintance wanted you protected. For her scattered brain, she’s got a nastily accurate eye for what’s to come. More often than not. But she informed me that I should protect you for this night, and to keep you in this place until the third bell of the morning.”

Rhodie isn’t too sure how to take all this. On one hand, could be a trick, a really odd trick, but on the other hand, there’s not many folks out there that are going to know she and Izzivix are friends. The demi-setter moves over next to Pritchard to check on him. Rhodie turns her attention back to Rahne. “That’s an oddly specific time. Did she say what exactly is supposed to go down during that time? Or did she pull the 'I mustn’t tell everything’ routine? Also, you didn’t think to lead off with this before quick fight time?” “I been getting bored, gel,” the fox speaks in the heavy accent she spoke in during the intensity of the fight. She laughs and spins her knife about in hand. “And I wanted to see if the slip that yer man came on in here with weren’t some waste of he time.” She looks imperiously down at Rhodie. And then the proper and posh accent returns. “Attempting to hamstring me wasn’t what I expected, but perhaps if he has a woman as clever and willingness to be pragmatic as you at his side, perhaps he isn’t wasting his time and effort.”

(Our story continues….)

Rhodie stares blankly at Rahne for a second or two. What is WITH this lady? "Most people usually wouldn't be amused about someone trying to slice the back of their legs. Nice trick with the fire, by the way." She's still got a tight grip on her knife in one hand. "So. Third bell of morning. Then... what, you're out of here, vanishing into the world like you were never here?"

"You're Galsian," Pritchard says. He looks to Rhodie and shakes his head. "I'm okay. I'm fine. I think the fight is truly over here." His hand goes to Rhodie's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

Rhodie hmms, and looks down at her hand, apparently not realizing how tight she was holding the handle of the blade. She relaxes her grip, before carefully putting the blade back away in her belt. "Galsian. I've heard that before, haven't I?"

"Aye. That obvious?" the fox drops the educated accent for a moment before switching back. "We're from the Northeast. Your partner, for all his education didn't inform you of proper geography?" she covers her snout in an affected manner and titters. Even as she spins a knife in her fingers. "But in all seriousness, I hope you don't take this too terribly seriously. I needed to make certain you didn't leave early. Our mutual friend is a diviner, you know, she saw some form of ill portent."

The demi-setter pinches the bridge of her muzzle, "Right, discuss concept of codewords with our mutual friend next time I see her." She lets out an annoyed breath. "So she sees shenanigans going down in the future, contacts you, you drop in and I'm assuming eliminated the girl you replaced, with the goal of making sure we get through tonight, and don't depart until this 3rd bell. That about right? What all else did she tell you that you'd be willing to let us know?"

"Third bell just means a few hours past the stroke of midnight," Pritchard explains in a quick aside. Rahne smiles. "I know a good deal about you, Rhodie Michaels." She licks her teeth and grins, a reminder that Rhodie is not the only demi with sharp teeth.

Rhodie looks over at Pritchard, "Oh, so like 3 AM then, or the equivalent. That actually makes sense in context." Hearing her full name makes her tense up, and she looks back at Rahne. "I'm not sure if I should be more worried about that, or how she described me. She's a bit... fangirl is putting it politely. Ok, Ms. Rahne, how worried about that should I be right now?"

"I think I seen more'a you than yer boy," Rahne says with a dark chuckle. "If you care to mince words twixt the two of us, you can ask him to give us 'girls' some privacy."

There's an obvious wince, "Yeah." She sighs and looks over at Pritchard. "Hon? If you're OK with it?" She looks back at Rahne. "Though the way you just said 'girls' seems to give me a good idea where this is going."

Pritchard looks to Rhodie with concern writ strong. "I'm going to speak with Donnel. He should know." When Rahne doesn't object, Pritchard heads back up the stair to the suite floors. Leaving just Rahne and Rhodie in the lounge. Silence hangs.

Rhodie watches Pritchard leave, then goes to start picking up some of things she tossed, and set them back where she thinks they were. "Just in case someone comes back in, probably not good to show a fight just happened." She stays silent for a few lingering moments before speaking up again. "So what I'm dealing with here? Cause last time someone knew I was an Errantblood, they were trying to brainwash me into being one of their servants."

Rahne crosses her arms and looks down at Rhodie. She clicks the heel of her shoe on the floor. "Yer dealin' wit me," she says. "I've seen you, the real you. The world you were in. A podgy clown. I don't see what the dragon sees in you."

Rhodie shrugs, "I guess I entertained her. Means I did my job well at least." "And podgy clown?" She thinks that one over for a moment and laughs, "That is one I've never heard before. Nicely done. Improv actor trying to make people laugh. Bit more weight than I wanted, true, but I was starting a new exercise regime to try and fix that. Still, accurate. Was accurate at least." She looks herself over. "Changing worlds is a hell of a weight loss program."

Rahne frowns deeply. "Do you even know what you've had just handed to you?"

Ah, OK, that's where we're going, Rhodie thinks to herself. She overly gestures, "A realm of INFINITE possibilities, power and vitality countless individuals would kill entire civilizations for, the ability to reshape one's self to fit their needs at a near moment's notice." She shrugs, arms out, "And no instruction manual on how it fully works, no guide to make sure that you don't screw it up and turn yourself into a sentient bookcase. For every confirmation, a new uncertainty and concern."

She looks up at Rahne, "Let me guess, everything you want?"

"No, everything I want right now is to put a bullet in your fucking brain," Rahne says. "Burn you alive, watch you dance like you did in that get up. We'll all have a grand laugh, wouldn't we?" her voice is low, her tone quiet, she leans toward Rhodie. Her fingers flick, a knife appears in her hand, long and narrow, the slender blade tip solid, more than half of it serrated like fine fishbone ribs. "No guide? A dragon and one of the best magi in his generation are at your beck and call. Do you really think that learning to bleed monthly is all that fucking tough with what you got handed to your pasty, wormy, wood in the footlights ass?"

Rhodie feels her pulse quicken when she sees that blade come out, but she does her best to steady those nerves. Inhale, exhale, Rhodie. "Not the worst thing after the initial shock of the blood appearing, if I'm to be perfectly honest. Has given me a much deeper respect for the female sex."

"But you're right. I've been fortunate enough to wind up with advantages most Errantbloods probably don't get. I got lucky, pure and simple. Don't deserve a single bit of that luck, but here I am with it. What would you have me do? Change myself to be able to infiltrate at the level you can? Kill the hired goons outside prepping to fight a lady I know will bury half of them in the ground up to their necks? Right then, if you had the power, what are you doing with it?"

The knife is gone, the woman's sleight of hand a thing of no small skill. She backs from Rhodie, a few feet, turning, looking at the fireplace. The tired old logs inside burst to a vibrant light. The light plays off the orange of the fox's fur and the deep black of her dress. "You're a bad actor. Can't tell if that was rhetorical or not."

The irish setter-demi didn't even notice when it vanished. That was pretty impressive. She takes another breath, but doesn't move toward Rahne. "Never said I was a good one. Probably why I was a C Lister in the gaming media community."

She watches Rahne for a moment, "But wasn't being rhetorical, genuinely curious. This tonight, bailing on everything to go aide Ember, this is the first real decision of action I've made since getting in this mess. But you... what WOULD you do?"

The woman hugs herself, watches the fire. Faint shimmers hang in the air about her throat. Not unlike the vague shape and movement that signifies Pritchard's near invisible familiar. "You're a disgrace to the title of clown," she says, smiling bitterly, teeth showing. Demi, for all their human shape, do have quite sharp teeth at times. "I would be free. It wouldn't matter what, if anything, I did, because I would be free." "I know this is the part of a good story where I rebuff or lie. And our mutual ally does love her stories, but I know them too well," Rahne says, turning back toward Rhodie. Her hair, long and dark, cascades at her shoulders in rolling waves. "So I won't waste your time with half truths or my own insecurities."

Rhodie tilts her head slightly as she listens, noting the shimmers.  "Heh, Izzi showed you my works, you should've already known that about me," she says with a small laugh. She takes a breath and looks at Rahne for a long silent moment before she speaks again. "What you just said? Kinda gives me what I was wanting to know, so I'm not going to press it for now." "This power, everyone keeps hyping it, but you're the first person to say anything about what they'd do with it themselves. I can stand here and grouse about all the shit I've gone through, but it wouldn't compare, would it? And I would love nothing more than to let that power sit idle, go find someplace to settle and maybe see what life I can build, but... a friend is in trouble, and if I can use this ability to help her, well, then I guess I should get off my ass and do it."

Rahne draws one of her pistols from her side. Whorls of a silver and gold embellishment glint off the light from the fire. She looks past Rhodie, watching a door behind the bar. Every so often, the barrel of the gun directs toward that door. "I can tell you because I can't use you," she tells Rhodie. "I'm not some lord. I'm not a dragon. I have no greater political or social ambition. My only power over you is that I can kill you. And even that will fade with time." The fox's fingers don't grasp the trigger as she tilts the gun toward the back door. "The captain is watching us," she says. "The false eye in his doll's face. It can see anywhere around him. I don't doubt he sees us talking. Try not to get in front of my pistol if he comes through the door."

The setter-demi's hand instinctively moves over her knife hilt as the gun is drawn. "Then for the time being, I'm going to be very thankful our friend hired you not to do that, and hope that it is a really good payout."

She gives the smallest nod in acknowledgement to the order. "Yes, m'am."

"I'm younger than you," Rahne seethes, ears flattening and eyes narrowing. "The real you." The look passes. "And you have no idea what she is paying for my services. She's too kind for my own good." Rahne clicks the heel of her shoe against the floor. Small sparks dance. The air is thick. "Your father died," Rahne states after a time as the night grows long and shortly after a second chime of the great mantle clock.

"She's a giant dork, and I think slightly obsessed with my world, but she also seems to have a good grasp on what she's doing. If she has faith in you, then I'm going to trust her judgement."

Rhodie stays silent after the statement at first, but finally responds. "Yeah, when I was 12. Helped a lot of people, but at a cost to himself."

"She can breath fire and look into possible futures as well as minds and whole other worlds. Don't let anything about her fool you," Rahne says. "She can afford to act like that because outside of another dragon not a one of us means anything."  Her ears fall and she sighs. "But she is generous." The fox looks back to Rhodie. "The last time I saw my father was when I was about, probably eleven years. I was midway at my time in the Conservatory when I found out he, my mother, and my brothers were put to the sword by Didier Varne. So-called Maquis of the Pines."

Rhodies smiles lightly at the comment on Izzi's generosity, but the mention of the fate of Rahne's family snaps her back. "Christ. I'm not familiar with him, but he sounds like a real sack of shit. I'm sorry for your loss. To lose one member of the family is enough of a trauma, but to lose them all..." She does her best to keep watching the area around them, essentially trying to watch Rahne's back as she's kinda watching her's. "This tie into the 'free' comment earlier? These guys holding you to a contract of sorts?"

"I hadn't seen or heard from any of them in years at that point," Rahne admits. "We had a small landhold. Sugar farming mostly. From the trees we could tap. The Marquis didn't like competition. My father apparently wasn't willing to sell. Dueling wasn't something the Marquis much cared for." She smiles, more to herself than anyone else. "No. But I do have a writ from the Prince of Galsia himself. I'm legally allowed to kill Didier Varne so long as I do so with a blade. It's just a matter of biding my time."

"That's something at least," Rhodie says, imagining how that even might go down. "The ones responsible in my dad's death sadly got away with it. They had better paid lawyers in the long run."

"Sounds like Mikkelsbrugh," Rahne says with a slow nod. "They like their lawyers. Course, you need to be alive to pay a lawyer. And lawyer's don't work without pay."

"That they do not," Rhodie responds. "If I say I'm scared of the fact I'm probably going to end up having to kill someone to survive here or protect my friends at some point, are you going to chastise me for it? I mean, technically I had a hand in the death of that necromancer, but I don't know what's going to happen when it has to be by my own hand."

Rahne turns back toward the fire. "There are many arts one learns when attending the Lannoch Conservatory," her voice slicks effortlessly to an academic and proper accent. "Vocal, physical, emotional. To play the instrument. To compose the sonnet. To command and audience's rapt emotion." She runs her fingertips along the length of her pistol barrel. "Among those is teaching how to kill. I spent years of my life coming to terms with what I am and what I can do. Your friends each has had their own lessons. Most aren't able to kill easily. You just happen to be an Errantblood. They travel in bloody circles."

"So I'm learning, so I am definitely learning." Rhodie stays silent for a few moments, letting her thoughts on that settle. "People want the power, or to control those with it. That won't always end pretty." "Izzi paying you to come with us after the 3rd chime, or will you be going on your way?"

"I'm here to make certain he," Rahne points to the door behind the counter. "Is comfortable this night right where he is. If I see you again, then I've done my job well."

Rhodie glances at the door, then nods. "I suspect you'll do a pretty good job of that." She silently paces in thought, and then laughs to herself. "She seriously showed you the video of me in the dress? Of all the dumb stuff I did, that's what she included in the Intro to Rhodie?"

"Before you ask questions you should ask if you want answers," Rahne counters with a wicked grin.

The setter-demi laughs again, "Ain't that the truth. Ugh, it wasn't even that good of a comedy routine. Are timing was off, and to be perfectly honest, we were a little bit too drunk to be filming that night." She looks over he hands, examining the fur and  the pads on her palms and fingers, "Weirdly enough, probably look less stupid on this body instead of, as you put it, the 'real me.' Maybe I should get Izzi to try and show me some of my old stuff sometime... might help remember how I used to look."

Rahne looks back to the fire burning in the inn's hearth. "Wisdom is wasted on you," she says with a chiding laugh.