#ship: valdan | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

azurexdnd · 5 years ago

Text

So I’ve been known to write from time to time. Okay fairly often. But I don’t usually share it with more than a few people. But I’d written a snippet of Thistle meeting Dread a while back and figured I’d throw it up here as well. Is it good? I have no idea. But I enjoyed writing it.

Astoria held her tattered cloak tightly against her, trying to block out the wind as it blew against her. Not that she wasn’t getting used to the cold. She’d spent her last silvers a few nights ago and inns didn’t take kindly to those who couldn’t pay up front. When she’d told the man that her brother was supposed to be here any day now and he would have more money he had laughed at her and said told her in explicit detail what she could do if she wanted a room for the night. It had taken all her restraint not to slap him then and there, but she didn’t want a night in the dungeons either.

Cyris felt colder than her home in the Frostwilds ever was. Sure, her family name was well respected back home, but she was positive that even if that wasn’t the case that any villager would have welcomed her to their hearth in such a trying time. Here people hurried past her, mothers pulled their children away, and it was as though her very existence was offensive. She’d heard whispers about some plague that had ravaged the land and had been called a disease carrier more times than she could count.

Still, every day she went to the docks, finding her place to sit and wait for Nephemon. There were no gods as such in the Frostwilds, at least not those with names. So, when she prayed it wasn’t to any of these gods with strange names but instead to faceless gods of her people who guarded over the north and those hearty enough to live there, bringing them enough food to make it through the harsh winters and wood and furs to keep them from freezing. For the first week she sent prayers daily but then it occurred to her that perhaps they had done something to anger the gods. Wouldn’t they have protected her family if not? Or could they even hear her prayers here in this lonely city with no trees or warmth?

No, the gods were not listening to anything she had to say.

“No begging here, girl.”

She looked up from where she sat on a bench near the docks, frowning and shaking her head.

“No, sir, I’m not begging. I’m waiting for someone,” she explained, her accent making it clear that she was not a native of the kingdom of Armandia.

“Not only a plague bringer but a foreigner,” the guard growled. “Fine. But I see you pick up so much as a single copper and I’ll carry you to the cells myself,” he threatened, waiting for her to nod fearfully before walking off.

She reached into her pouch, counting the last few coins she had carefully. One, two, three, four… eight coppers left. She could get dinner tonight, maybe breakfast in the morning, and then what? She swallowed down the lump in her throat as tears stung at her eyes.

“Oh Nephemon, where are you?”

Maybe they found him too.

The thought came unbidden to her mind and made the tears swell and roll down her cheeks. It would have taken him time to journey to the port she’d left from and time still for him to find passage across the sea, but it had been nearly a month since she’d left Wintercrest herself. She tried to push the thought away, tried not to remember finding her mother and father, Nesolys, Rohiri, Valdan…

She wiped the tears from her eyes, not wanting to draw attention to her but it was no good. For every tear she wiped away another took its place as she quietly sobbed.

“Hey, pretty, what’s the matter?”

She looked up, vision slightly blurred by her tears, to see a blond half-elf with shining green eyes. He was squatting down in front of her and smiled charmingly.

“S-sorry,” she stuttered, trying to dry her face. “I’m waiting for someone, I’m just worried they may not be coming.”

“Well that’s a shame. Anyone who would keep you waiting is an idiot.”

She could feel her cheeks warm slightly and he chuckled.

“Docks are clearing out for the day. I’d say they ain’t coming.”

“I’ll have to come back tomorrow,” she said, frowning as she stood up, using her sleeve to dry her face before another breeze came, making the wet trails of the tears sting.

“Tomorrow’s always another day,” he agreed with a nod, putting a hand on her shoulder. “But for tonight you look like you could use a meal.”

As if on cue her stomach growled, making her cheeks warm again as he laughed at her embarrassment.

“C’mon, my treat,” he said with a grin. She looked at him, amazed that someone was finally treating her like a person.

“I couldn’t,” she told him, trying to be polite.

“I insist.”

She nodded slowly, a small smile spreading across her face as she started to follow him. He led the way to a tavern not far from the docks where plenty of the other workers were piling in, most of them getting ale to unwind after a long day of hauling cargo from ships.

“This way, lovely,” he said, motioning to a table towards the back. She nodded, chest swelling so much she could cry from his kindness. She’d known, she’d just known that there had to be some good people in this big city.

They sat down and he ordered some food, enough for the both of them though he hadn’t asked what she wanted. She wasn’t upset, just grateful to have something to eat and somewhere warm and out of the elements. The serving girl brought two ales and a tray of meats, bread, and cheese not long after and he grinned.

“C’mon, eat up!”

She nodded, shyly breaking off a piece of bread and a piece of cheese, watching as he downed the alcohol and paired it with mouthfuls of food.

“Go ahead, have a drink,” he encouraged with a chuckle. She looked at the ale, knowing that Nesolys had loved the stuff but never having been allowed much of it herself. She took the mug and took a mouthful. She sputtered, nearly spitting it out, but swallowed and looked vaguely nauseous as he laughed.

“Goodness, girl, you’re going to have to build up that constitution of yours,” he teased, ordering a second mug for himself.

“I suppose so,” she agreed, chuckling awkwardly.

“You haven’t given me your name,” he reminded after downing another hunk of meat, smiling warmly to her.

“A-“ she started but stopped, Nephemon’s warning not to use her name popping into her head. “Aster,” she finished, hoping she wasn’t too obvious as she smoothed her skirts and fidgeted with the hem.

“Aster. Pretty, just like you,” he complimented, making her flush again.

“You haven’t told me your name either,” she pointed out, smiling back.

“Elidal,” he told her.

“Well thank you, Elidal. You’re the first to be kind to me since I arrived, and it means the world.”

“A girl like you? That’s terrible,” he said with a frown.

“It’s very different than home,” she admitted, looking away.

“Well here’s hoping to making it feel more like home,” he said, raising his mug for a toast. She picked up her own, toasting and hesitantly taking another big gulp. This time she didn’t sputter as she forced herself to swallow, and she could feel her body growing a bit warm as she took yet another drink.

“Atta girl!”

She chuckled, soon finding that she’d reached the bottom of the mug.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough for your kindness,” she told him as they finished their meal. Her body was tingly, and her head was dizzy, but it felt nice after sleeping in alleys the last few nights.

“Course, darlin’,” he told her, putting an arm around her shoulders. She tensed slightly, not used to being touched so casually, but ignored her discomfort. He’d just saved her at least five copper, after all.

“So, where are you from?” he asked, working on his third mug of ale, his arm staying firmly in place around her.

“Draenys,” she lied, hesitating less than the first time. She knew her accent marked her as hailing from Rudalia, that much she couldn’t hide, but she remembered just enough of the capital that she was fairly certain she could field any questions he might ask her.

“That’s quite the journey. What would make a girl like you come here all alone?”

“My brother was supposed to come as an apprentice to a well-known architect,” she explained, not even having to think of the lies as she told them now. “Jarvin Tallmount? He’s known even in Rudalia.”

“I think I’ve heard the name,” he said with a nod as though convincing himself. She held back a giggle, enjoying the thrill.

“My brother was delayed by some family matters. He sent me ahead to notify Tallmount that he would be coming within the month. That’s why I wait for him at the docks each day. I fear he may lose his spot as an apprentice.”

“That would be a right shame!” Elidal exclaimed, looking a bit flush in the face as well now.

“It would. He’s so talented. I think he could become as well known as Tallmount if given the chance.”

“So, what did he say?”

“What did who say?” she asked, making him chuckle.

“Tallhorse!”

She couldn’t help but snort though she was able to hold back her laughter.

“Tallmount,” she corrected, “He gave my brother an extension but even that will be running out soon.”

“What will you do?” he asked, the hand around her shoulder rubbing back and forth slightly before moving to play with her hair. She glanced over at it, growing uncomfortable but trying to push it down as she looked back to him.

“I’m… not sure,” she told him, finally back to telling the truth.

“A poor girl all alone in a big city and down on her luck,” said Elidal with a sigh. “You poor thing. Look, I’ve got a bed for tonight if you like,” he told her, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an odd way that made her feel unsafe. She hesitated, swallowing, but nodded slowly. Anything was better than another night on the streets.

“I’d really appreciate it,” she said, fidgeting with the hem of her dress again. He grinned, standing up so quickly that he stumbled slightly. She chuckled, standing up and steadying him, glancing over as his hand found its way around her waist this time.

“Let’s go, then, Astera!”

“Aster,” she corrected, moving with him as he led the way to the door. Her feet moved slowly, almost as if trying not to move at all. She crinkled her nose, the smell of alcohol emanating strongly from him now that she was closer to him. But wasn’t that all the more reason not to leave him alone? She should make sure he got home safely to repay him.

“You know, tiefling girls aren’t very common around here,” he told her as they walked, his words slurring slightly.

“I haven’t seen many myself,” she agreed, eyes darting down to his hand when she thought she felt it move.

“Is it true that your women feed off of sex?”

“Wh-what?” she stuttered, staring wide eyed as her face flamed. She stopped moving which forced him to stop as well.

“That’s what I’ve heard. Aren’t tieflings like those sex demons?” he asked, turning to her with that same unsettling smile as before they’d left.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but we certainly don’t feed off of s-s… off of that,” she insisted indignantly. He chuckled, holding up his free hand defensively.

“I was just asking,” he promised. “No need to blow things out of proportion.”

She nodded slowly but looked unconvinced as they started to walk again.

“Is it much farther?” she asked, hoping they would be there soon so she could sleep.

“No, not much farther.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath to steady her growing nerves. Something was nagging at her, insisting something wasn’t right, but she wanted to sleep in a bed so badly. He’d been kind enough to buy her a meal after all. He’d had a bit too much to drink, that had to be why he was acting so oddly. Yes, that was it, she told herself as they walked quietly.

She could almost believe it until his hand slid low, cupping and squeezing her as though he was at a market trying to find the ripest melon. She squealed and spun as she pulled away from him, pulling her cloak tightly to her as though it would keep her safe.

“Oh, come now, my hand just slipped. I was going to fall!” he told her with a frown as though he thought she’d believe him. She shook her head.

“I-I’m sorry,” she started. “I think I dropped my… I left something back at the tavern,” she stuttered, tripping over her words. Where lying had become easy earlier it now took all her effort to even get a sentence out.

“Don’t be like that, Astrid,” he complained, reaching to try to grab one of her arms. She tried to pull away, but his time spent working the docks showed. “I’ve got a nice warm bed for you, remember? You don’t want to go back to those cold docks, do you?”

She struggled, trying to pull back and shaking her head again as fear coursed through her. There were no guards in sight, not that she was even sure they’d help if they were. Her breath came quickly as a feeling of helplessness overtook her.

She saw a flash of metal and suddenly she was falling back onto her bottom. She blinked, confused as she heard a howl of pain. Elidal was staring down at the hand that had been holding onto her arm, staring at the dagger that was now sticking out of it.

“Tsk tsk, that’s not any way to treat a lady, Elidal.”

Both Astoria and her companion turned to look down the alley at the newcomer’s voice. A dusky blue tiefling stood there, one hand on his hip and the other balancing a dagger by the tip before tossing it up and catching it again. His horns curled around his ears, coming to points at his cheeks and his dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Moonlight shone off of his silver eyes, mirroring their light.

“Shit, look, I don’t have the money,” Elidal told the man, looking slightly afraid and not quite as concerned about the dagger buried in his hand.

“Elidal,” the tiefling said in a drawn out, singsong sort of way. “You know that’s not going to make anyone happy.”

“Just… just give me time,” Elidal insisted, finally looking at the dagger and gulping as he pulled it out, yelping and dropping it to the ground, bloody. He balled the wounded hand into a fist and held it close to his chest.

“Tick tock, time’s already up, friend. I just caught you spending good coin at the Salty Mast after all,” the blue man told him, starting to walk closer. Elidal started to back up towards the other mouth of the alley, inching slowly.

“Dread, come on, please,” the half-elf pleaded, genuine fear in his voice. The blue tiefling’s mouth quirked up the way Elidal’s had earlier, but it didn’t make Astoria afraid like it had with the other man.

“One more extension,” Dread told him. Elidal visibly relaxed, nodding repeatedly and looking like he could cry.

“I’ll have it this time. I promise. You’ll see.”

“With interest,” Dread added. Elidal’s smile faltered but he nodded, turning to run as soon as he made it far enough away that he could. Dread sighed dramatically, tilting his head back to look up at the sky.

“That moron’s going to get it if he doesn’t come through this time,” he mumbled, more to himself. Astoria glanced from him to the dagger still on the ground and back to him. He wasn’t paying attention to her one bit. She jumped forward suddenly, grabbing the dagger and scrambling to her feet, holding it in front of her like a sword. He turned to look at the sudden noise and snorted with laughter.

“Sweetheart, do you have any idea what you’re doing with that?”

“Y-yes,” she lied, making him laugh again. He walked closer, ignoring her as she raised it higher to point at his chest. He reached up, gently pushing it away with his other dagger.

“I heard you back in the tavern. Interesting story you were telling.”

“It wasn’t a story,” she insisted, bringing the dagger back to point towards him. He rolled his eyes.

“Are you serious? You trusted him but you want to point that at me?”

“You stabbed him in the hand!”

“True,” he conceded after a moment. He shoved the dagger he’d been holding into a sheath at his hip and held up his hands.

“Jarvin Tallmount? Was that the name I heard you mention?”

“Yes, he’s a very well-respected architect,” she said with a frown, unsure why she was clinging to it now that Elidal was gone.

“See, that’s funny because I’ve never heard that name once and I’ve lived here most of my life. And don’t most apprentices get put up by their masters? Why do you look like you’ve been living in the dirt?”

She pressed her lips together, forming a hard line as she finally lowered the dagger though she held tightly to it.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile and crossing his arms. “You weren’t half bad at convincing him, although he was drunk so that’s not much of a compliment. It also sounds like you’re running a little short on coin. You wouldn’t happen to be looking for work, would you?”

“I… suppose I could be,” she offered, trying to keep her expression neutral. It was enough to make him laugh again.

“You’re a filthy mess in tattered clothes and I can tell from the clink of your coin pouch that you can’t even afford a room at the cheapest inn, which was why you were so desperate to ignore the fact that all Elidal wanted was to get you into bed. You can drop the pretense,” he told her, making her lower lip tremble slightly. “It’s not easy to find work when you’ve got horns and a tail, especially not in this city. You’ve got a bit of natural talent and a pretty face. You’ll be great at getting information out of people, you just need a bit of training.”

“This sounds… shady.”

“It is,” he told her with a laugh. “But you don’t have very many options, now do you? Tell you what, I’ll get you a room, your own room, at the Moon Dancer. I swear it’s not a brothel. You think about it tonight and we can talk more in the morning.”

She chewed the inside of her lip, looking over his face for any sign of ill will. He was right about, well, everything. Was she an open book or was he just well trained at finding these kinds of little details?

“Well?”

“Okay,” she said, though still hesitant. He nodded, holding out his hand. She looked at it questioningly.

“My dagger?”

She looked down at it and started to raise it to give it back before shaking her head, holding tightly to it again.

“Good to see you’re learning already,” he said, starting to walk. She started to follow, hanging back just slightly.

“I heard you use the name Aster, but I doubt that’s really your name.”

“Is yours really Dread?” she asked, a mix of challenge and curiosity in her tone.

“Maybe where you’re from tieflings get proper names. Here they like to use whatever sounds good.”

“Have you ever been a pirate?” she asked after a moment, making him howl with laughter and turn to her as they continued.

“A pirate? No. But I suppose it does sound like a good name for one, doesn’t it? Captain Dread? I should find myself a ship and a new line of work. Now, are you an Aster or not?”

She looked down as they walked, thinking on it. She’d chosen Aster for one of the flowers from Araquiel’s book. Though there were few flowers that could grow in the Frostwilds it never stopped her from staring at the pictures for hours. Astoria had never known there were so many different kinds or names for flowers. But she was a flower no longer. She had no jewels or dresses, no servants or attendees. She was alone in a foreign land and Nephemon was likely never coming. No, rather than a flower, she needed to become a weed growing in a place where it shouldn’t exist in the first place.

“You can call me Thistle.”

Dread looked at her for a moment before nodding, clearly noticing that this was still not her true name but accepting it nonetheless.

“Thistle it is.”

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #writing #thistle #dread #armandia

2 notes · View notes