Fantasy Lost Glory . [ closed ]

[PhoenixMire]

Once a goddess, she's been all but forgotten now, and seeks to regain her former glory. Her travels bring her to cross paths with a rather mercenary-like traveler - whose allegiances and loyalty are uncertain.
Neither of them really know where this journey will take them.

image credit​

 

[StarryKnights]

To say that things hadn’t gone as intended would’ve been an understatement. All she’d wanted was directions, she’d been wandering for days and had no idea where she was going. She normally did her best to avoid talking to people or going into cities, as she tended to freak the average person out.

Maybe there was something inherently unnerving about a child traveling alone. More likely it was due to the fact this child was a walking, talking and mostly unfeeling corpse.
Patchwork did not require food or water like a normal child. Her skin was a sickly pale combination of gray and blue, leaving her looking as if she’d just about drowned. Her hair, short and oddly neat, was a deep green and her eyes, her empty blank eyes were a pale shade of red.
All in all, she was an unnerving child, one that tended to scare people. So when she’d stumbled across a small tavern on the outskirts of a hunting town, she’d been apprehensive.

It wasn’t the first time she’d been chased out of a building, but it was one of the first times someone had chased after her.
She could hear them behind her, the snapping of twigs and the rustling of the leaves told her there were many. Hunters, armed to the teeth, one had said something about some sort of reward.
Patches didn’t know why anyone would pay a reward to have her, but fear gripped her unbeating heart like a vice. She didn’t want to go with these people.

So she ran. She slipped and fell several times thanks to poor lighting from the rising moon, and her general clumsiness.
Leaves and twigs caught her hair and face as she desperately weaved through the undergrowth.
This sharp whistling of a projectile gave her enough warning to veer left, but that alone couldn’t dodge the arrow. She let out a cry and was sent to her knees when it collided with her small frame, the arrowhead pierced her from behind and seemed to firmly lodge itself somewhere around her ribcage, and by the gods did it hurt.
Crawling now, the girl struggled to move forward, desperate and afraid she managed to cry out.
“S-someone, h-help me please…”.

 

[PhoenixMire]

Frey wasn't really a drinker, but he appreciated good ale once in a while - if only the ale in that shabby tavern had been any good. It had tasted bitter and unpleasant. He'd stopped drinking after only a couple sips and was now leaning back in a rickety chair at one of the tavern's tables, slowly swirling the liquid within its wooden mug. Too bad he'd paid for this. With a sigh, he stood from his chair and made his way out of the tavern, dumping the ale onto the dirt streets beneath his feet.

His lips twisted into a frown as he stared at the evening sky above him. The moon was already out, and stars were beginning to glow as the sun dipped below the horizon. The owner of the tavern had informed him that all their beds were full. Where would Frey sleep for the night? He didn't know. He drew a rolled-up map from the satchel at his hip, unfurling it and scanning its contents. There was another town just beyond the woods. It was probably very small, but he hoped it would have a tavern, and one that wasn't full.

Now his only problem was if he could make it through the woods before it got too dark.

He'd just have to hurry. Frey quickly tucked the map back into his satchel and started toward the forest looming on the horizon. When he followed the narrow dirt path out of the hunting village, it didn't take too long to reach the woods - but by then the shadows beneath the trees had grown longer and darker with the failing light.

At first, he fully intended to stick to the path and trek through the small forest as quickly as possible. But then a weak and desperate cry reached his sensitive long ears. Furrowing his brows, he stopped, and cocked his head to listen. The sound had seemed to come from deeper into the trees, off to the right. Frey wasn't really the type to rush off into the darkness to save some unknown person, but the voice had sounded like a child's in distress. Could he really ignore that and continue on? He almost wanted to, but...

He turned off the path and set off into the trees. He could hear other voices too, men's voices, as well as the cracking of twigs. Was someone in pursuit of the child? Frey quickened his pace.

Eventually he came across a small child lying amongst fallen leaves and scant undergrowth. Was that an arrow, protruding from her little body? Who would harm a girl like this? He knelt at her side, not able to get a good look at her face in the fading light, but her skin seemed very discolored. Men's voices off in the woods behind them told Frey she was still being pursued. "Hey," he whispered. "I'm going to try to get you out of here." But how? It might be too dangerous to remove the arrow from her body, and the projectile would make it difficult for him to carry her... he'd have to manage somehow.

 

[StarryKnights]

Her eyes snapped upward at the sound of approaching footsteps, she whimpered softly and tried to crawl back the way she came, but she wasn’t fast enough. A figure broke through the undergrowth, a dark-haired man with mismatched eyes.

She stared up at him, her own eyes wide and full of uncertainty. He didn’t look like one of the hunters from the tavern, but she had no real way of knowing who he was or why he was here.
Had he heard her pathetic cries for help and came running? She determined that was a possibility, his words only increased the odds of this outcome.

She kept her gaze down, not wanting the man to get a clear look at her scarred face. She didn’t want to know what might happened if he discovered the helpless child he was trying to help was undead.

“…T-thank you”, she squeaked out softly. She stiffened as there was movement behind them, the voices were getting closer.

Patchwork let out a small sigh before using a nearby stump to help push herself up and off her knees. Though she didn’t live she still felt pain somehow, and the arrow in her back sent hot waves of it through her system.
But there was nothing to be done about that now. She could feel the blood running down her back, in the dark it would be difficult to tell that it was in fact inky black.

It would also make a nice trail for the others to follow.

She hesitantly looked up to the stranger and back down again. “W-where should we go…?”.

She knew there was another town somewhere, but she had no idea where it was and at the moment she couldn’t concentrate and allow herself to commune with her eight legged allies.

 

[PhoenixMire]

Frey heaved a long sigh. He didn't care for children too much - not that he hated them, but he would rather not be around them. Still, when one was in distress like this, he'd feel like a horrible person for not trying to help. And it wasn't like he had to babysit her for long. He could probably just leave her in the next town with a healer or something.

He bit his lip, hearing the voices of their pursuers coming ever closer. The girl would be too wounded to walk on her own; he had to carry her. Not that it would be any trouble - his race was gifted with incredible strength, after all, and carrying her would be as easy as carrying a leaf - but he was nervous to disturb the arrow protruding from her flesh. He'd just have to be careful.

"Here, don't shift around too much," he told her, bending down to hoist her onto his shoulder. He cast a glance behind him before setting off into the trees.

It wouldn't be a good idea to return to the path. That would make the both of them too easy to find. He hurried through the trees as quickly as he could, trying to keep his footsteps quiet so as not to draw attention to himself. Once he thought he was far enough away from the men following them, he said, "The next town shouldn't be far from here. There should hopefully be a healer there that can patch you up."

Frey paused, looking at the young girl on his shoulder. It was fully dark by now; the moon shone high in the sky and the sun was long gone. He could only see the child's silhouette, and some vague details, but nothing much. "Where are your parents? Why are you out here, being chased by those men?"

 

[StarryKnights]

She blinked in surprise as he knelt down to her level, only to pick her up and hoist her over his shoulder. She hung there, like a sack of potatoes. She’d never been carried before, at least she couldn’t remember such a thing happening.
Her injury throbbed at the sudden movement, but Patches swallowed her whimpers less she upset her unorthodox savior.
The pair made their way through the darkened woods, she was thankful it was a dim night, less the man catch a glimpse of the thing he was carrying.
Now that she was closer, she could see that this didn’t appear to be a normal man at all, as he had a pair of horns protruding from the top of his head.

In the darkness she could just make out the shapes, but the color was unknown at the moment.
How odd, saved by a Naimar.
The thought came to her as easily as one might think of their name. But how did she know what a naimar was? She’d never met one before, at least…not that she remembered.
Her brow furrowed as she thought on the vexing memory, but she was soon snapped out of it when her savior addressed her.
“Oh I…I have no parents. I’m alone…and always have been”, she replied simply in an oddly monotone voice. She didn’t know why these men were chasing her, so she just shook her head.
“I don’t know…perhaps they dislike…”, she paused there. It could be these people were after her for being undead but admitting that to this man could also be dangerous.

“…Orphans…I don’t know”, she paused for a moment before continuing.
“But you can ask them yourself”, she looked expectantly to her left, after a moment two men broke through the tree line. The one on the right carried a torch, allowing Patches to get a decent look at her pursuers. They both looked like humans, average hunters no doubt. One had a bow slung across their back, the other carried a sword, likely used to cut through the undergrowth.
They grinned.
“Hey now, we’ve found you little one”, the sword wielding man smiled. The archer slipped his bow off his back.
A foolish move, shooting in close quarters was less than advantageous, Patches thought to herself.
“Hand her over”, the archer snapped in a gruff voice.

Patches blank gaze shifted to the man carrying her, with the light of the torch she could make out the color of his horns now. They were a pastel shade of purple at the base, and green toward the tip, similar to the color of their eyes.
With the light he could see her now. The pale skin, the ugly stitch like scars running across her face and her dark green hair.
An undead child and a naimar, what an odd pair they made.

 

[PhoenixMire]

Frey tried to move carefully as possible so as not to disturb her wound, but he had to be quick. The men would catch up with them otherwise. He listened as she spoke to him, and frowned when she said she didn't have parents. Why had she always been alone? How was it possible for a child to travel alone that long? How had she made it this far?

And she didn't even really know why these men were after her. Frey rolled his eyes. What had he gotten himself dragged into? He hoped he could just leave her at the nearest village and be free of this mess soon.

But of course it wasn't that simple. He could hear the sound of cracking twigs, but by then it was too late. The girl's pursuers had already found them. They looked human - but both of them had a distinctly wolf-like look in their eyes, as if they had found their prey. What did they want with her? Frey looked between the two of them for a moment before idly casting a glance toward the child.

He was surprised to see very discolored, patchy skin riddled with stitch-like scars. What was she?

One of the men ordered him to hand over the child. Frey cocked a brow. "Picking on innocent children? What, too weak to face someone any stronger?" He carefully removed the girl from his shoulder and set her down on the ground behind him. "Stay here," he instructed her, then straightened and rolled his shoulders, glancing between his two foes.

One of them had a sword. The other held a bow. Frey was more worried about the former; it wasn't too easy to use a bow in close quarters, but what would he do about that sword? He always carried a little dagger with him just in case, even though he rarely used it - his physical strength was usually plenty, after all. He didn't think his weapon would be much use in this fight though. A dagger was no good against a sword.

Frey hesitated for a moment before rushing toward the man with the sword. He ducked beneath the blade, intending to grab the man's legs and tug him down to the ground, and could only hope he wouldn't dodge. It all depended on how quick his enemy's reflexes were.

 

[StarryKnights]

She stared back at the naimar, eyes as blank as ever. She wondered what he thought of her. Was he confused or curious, did he have an inkling as to what she might be?
If he did it didn’t show, he set her back down on the ground and faced the two hunters. Average human males, who must’ve thought she’d be an easy mark.
The sword wielder eye’s narrowed at the naimar’s remark.

“You must be out of the loop brother”, he snickered. “That…thing isn’t much of a kid. But what she is a huge score, those Temple of the Fallen freaks are willin to pay handsomely for her”.

Temple of the Fallen, her eyes widened at that. Why did that seem so familiar?
She looked down to the dirt, that name felt as though it was stuck inside her head. It seemed achingly familiar, but the harder she thought on it, the farther away it seemed. She shook her head, her fingers dug into the moist soil below.
What was she forgetting, it was important. So very, very important.

She snapped back to reality when the naimar went after the man wielding the sword, who let out a swear as he attempted to doge but wasn’t fast enough. Truly there were just two average humans, looking to make an easy score.
The sword wielder went to the ground, he dropped his sword in favor of grabbing a knife from his belt, which he slashed at the naimar.

“Get the girl!”, he cried to his companion.

The archer, realizing that the interloper was distracted, took aim for Patches. Close range or not, there was no reason for him to miss this easy shot. Letting the arrow fly she let out a small cry as the arrowhead collided with her forehead with a soft thunk.
Patches small form crumpled to the ground, twitching. The blade wielder attempted to slice at his opponent’s throat while the archer side stepped them both to retrieve the girl’s unmoving body.

 

[PhoenixMire]

Temple of the Fallen? It sounded vaguely familiar, but he didn’t really know what it was. Some strange cult? And they were willing to pay handsomely for a child. If that was true, then it was best to get these humans out of the picture as soon as possible, because then it would be easier to collect reward money without them interfering...

No, what was he thinking? There was no way Frey could sell out a little child like that.

He charged forward still, trying to ignore the thoughts in his head and focus on the moment. He succeeded in toppling the swordsman to the ground, forcing him to drop his weapon in the process, but the man produced a knife and slashed it at him. Frey tried to dodge, but was just a bit late - the blade tore through the sleeve of his tunic and cut a sizable gash into his arm. Frey gritted his teeth and tried to wrench the knife free from the man’s grasp.

It was then that the archer let loose an arrow. The Naimar could only watch in horror as the projectile flew and embedded into the girl’s forehead. There was no way she could survive a hit like that. He supposed his fighting was all for naught.

But he refused to stop just yet. He was angry now, glaring fiercely at his opponents. He could stop the archer by kicking his legs out from under him - if he kicked hard enough, he could even break the other man’s legs. Although... it would be difficult to do that while simultaneously trying to keep the swordsman pinned down.

He had to try. Frey grabbed the swordman’s hand and tried to pry the knife from his grip, all while sending out an uncoordinated kick toward the archer. Frey was not the best fighter in terms of skill; he relied mostly on his magical strength and not much more, and that was obvious in his unpracticed movements. Still, if the archer didn’t dodge, Frey’s kick would manage to send him sprawling to the ground anyway...

 

[StarryKnights]

The archer, as preoccupied with his prey as he was, paid little mind to the fool struggling with his brother. This turned out to be a big mistake as the bastard sent out what could only be described as a donkey kick, one that caught the archer off guard.
He let out a cry as Frey's feet connected with his legs, buckling underneath himself the man fell to the ground, hard.
The brother the naimar struggled with grinned as he managed to get a cut in though it wasn't where he was aiming for.

"Get up you stupid git!", he snapped a this brother, who was currently on his knees, wincing in pain. God damnit the interfering bastard had hit him square in the ankle, as the archer struggled to stand he found his left foot didn't want to support them.

"Mother fucker", he spat angrily. Both men were too preoccupied with the newcomer that the didn't notice the girl's body twitched.

Patches laid crumpled on her side, staring blankly ahead, eyes glazed over. A normal person wouldn't survive an arrow to the head, the iron tip was embedded under her pale skin.
It hurt.

Patchwork twitched slightly in pain, as the archer struggled to stand once again he found his arm was being held down. Looking to his wrist he saw a thick black thread like substance was wrapped around it.

"The fuck?", his attempts to pull the threads off only got him more tangled as the web like tendrils continued to crawl up his arm.

"The fuck, THE FUCK!", he attempted to scramble backwards as he noticed the child he'd shot was stirring.
Slowly, with jerky movements Patches pushed herself up. The ground beneath her was soaked with her blood, in the light of the torch illuminated a clear web like pattern fanning out under the girl.

"That hurt", she spoke softly as her blank gaze shifted to the man who'd shot her.
The archer grew pale as Patches pushed herself to her feet, slowly she reached up and snapped the arrow sticking out of her forehead in half.

"You shouldn't shoot people", the girl said simply as she took a step closer, more of the black webs were working up the archer's arm, and now his legs. The man struggled to move away but the webs held him firm.

"Little freak", the knife wielder desperately tried to push Frey off him, this fight was not going the way he'd imagined. The bounty had mentioned the girl was dangerous, but not undead.

 

[PhoenixMire]

He'd managed to land a kick on his opponent. That was at least a small victory, despite the fact he couldn't pull the knife from the other man's grip. Frey only wished he'd been able to save the little girl.

Ah well. He'd done his best to help her; he supposed it wasn't any of his problem that he'd failed. At least, that was what he tried to tell himself. He felt a little more guilty than he'd like to admit that a small child had died on his watch.

But then, from his peripheral vision, he saw her twitch, and rise.

What? She should have been dead. It was impossible for her to be alive! No living being, magical or not, could survive an arrow to the forehead... unless she wasn't actually alive. Maybe she never had been. Frey managed to pry himself off the opponent he'd been grappling with, rolling off to the side for a moment before scrambling to his feet. The child was summoning strange black webs to tie up her attackers with. She could clearly take care of herself. And her blood, staining the forest floor beneath her, seemed to be inconsequential to her.

So then why in the world had she acted like she needed help? Why had Frey bothered to rush to her aid? He'd gotten himself wrapped up in this mess for no reason! He narrowed his eyes. Past experiences had taught him not to get involved in anything if there wasn't something in it for him, so why had he gone against everything he knew and helped her out anyway? Probably because she'd seemed like a helpless child...

And yet here she was, displaying her power. She didn't need his help. Was she even truly a child at all?

He recalled what the men had mentioned about someone willing to pay handsomely for the girl. If she truly wasn't a child, and was something more dangerous than she'd at first seemed... would it really be so bad to give her over to someone for a price? He always liked getting money, after all. Or maybe she was truly innocent and didn't deserve such a thing.

None of that mattered at the moment. Frey's top priority was getting out of this dark forest and into the nearest town. Clenching his jaw tight, he turned toward the swordsman, throwing a punch right at his face. He was holding back his power a little bit - he didn't want to kill the man, after all; but if the punch connected, it would do a fair amount of damage, hopefully even knocking the other man out.

 

[StarryKnights]

Honestly, Patches wasn’t really sure how she was doing any of this. The webs seemed to move based on her whims, but she couldn’t pin down exactly where they were coming from or how she’d created them. These were questions for another time she supposed, there was still a fight to be had.

Sort of, the archer was all but out of commission, he let out a strangled cry as the webs continued to climb up and over him, obscuring his form entirely. Some must’ve crawled down his throat because he let out a horrid coughing sound that sent a shiver down Patchwork’s spine.
She was killing him.

She glanced to the naimar as he rolled to his feet, she sensed there were a great many questions to be had.
Patches had her own as well, though she doubted this helpful stranger could answer any of them. The blade wielder watched in horror as the cocoon his brother was entombed in gave one last twitch and a final strangled cry before falling deathly still.

Patches blinked as she felt a small rush overtake her, a small burst of energy. There was also a flurry of emotions, mainly terror, confusion and lastly, worry.
Worry, for the little brother who was left behind at the mercy of this monster.
She blinked and looked to the cocoon.

Am I…sensing the dead’s will…

The tip of the arrow lodged in her head fell to the forest floor with a soft tink, Patches stared down at it, confused. She raised a hand to her forehead and found that the wound was all but gone, saved for what felt like a new scar.
Patches didn’t understand any of this, fear flashed in her red eyes. She shook her head and fell to her knees.

“…Run away, run away if you don’t want to die”, she spoke simply with her head hung low, though there was a slight edge to her voice. Fear and uncertainty rang true in her words. She didn’t want to kill this man, she hadn’t wanted to kill the other one.
She just didn’t want to be taken away…and she didn’t want this stranger to die protecting her.
The blade wielder staggered to his feet, white hot rage apparent in his eyes.

“You little bitch, I’ll kill you!”, he screamed as he frantically charged the little girl.
His charge came to an abrupt end as the naimar decked him right across the face, knocking the poor man out cold.

Patches peeked up just in time to watch as the man collapsed into the dirt, bloodied but alive.
She sniffled.

"...Thank you, naimar", her voice was soft, but still full of that child like quiver.

"...I-I didn't mean t-to...to", her gaze shifted to the dead man's cocoon.

 

[PhoenixMire]

The whole moment was chaos. The child had killed a man, and Frey had managed to knock out the other one. The Naimar and the child would be free to go it seemed - but that was the least of Frey's concerns at the moment. He looked to the dark cocoon that held the body of a newly-killed man, and his mismatched gaze flicked to the girl. She was dangerous. He'd gotten himself into a huge mess by attempting to save her, especially when she didn't even need his help.

Still, she thanked him anyway, and then went on to say she didn't mean to kill the man. Frey cocked a brow but didn't respond.

Instead of trying to talk to the girl, he knelt down by the unconscious man's side and dug through his satchel, looking for anything of worth. He only had a few copper coins. Frey scoffed. No wonder he was trying so hard to sell off the child... the man was dirt poor. The Naimar decided to leave him with his weapons - it would be cruel to leave him defenseless in the woods, and he didn't even really use weapons much, anyway.

Frey got to his feet again. He tucked the man's coppers into his own satchel and brushed a hand through his dark bangs, looking over his shoulder at the little girl. "What are you, anyway?" he asked.

With a sigh, Frey shifted his weight, still considering selling her off if she wasn't truly an innocent child. He had no qualms about handing over a dangerous being to someone who was more equipped to handle her. Of course, the reward was the main reason he was even considering this whole thing; if he wasn't going to be paid handsomely for his time, then he wouldn't want to bother. And he couldn't let the child catch wind of the any of the thoughts going through his head. He had no doubts that, with as dangerous as she was, she wouldn't hesitate to attack him if she knew he might just sell her off. He had to keep acting kind to her for the time being.

"Let's keep going. I don't want to be in these woods all night, you know?" he said with a light shrug. "We should be close to a town now, if we follow the path through these woods."

 

[StarryKnights]

Patches cocked her head to the side, watching as the naimar rummaged through the unconscious man’s things. It seemed like an unsightly thing to do but she had zero room to talk when it came to such things. Her gaze shifted to the cocoon she’d created and then quickly back to the naimar.

“I am…unsure”, she looked back to the cocoon, a shiver running through her. “Though I believe most call me a monster. I cannot say I blame them”, she let out a small sigh. “…The only thing I know for certain is I must be undead…else wise”, she looked to the broken arrow on the ground and shook her head.

"I lack concrete memories. All I know is...I am called Patchwork".

She regarded the naimar with a curious, but guarded gaze. In her short experience people hadn’t been the kindest to her, and there was no real way of knowing what this man’s plans were for her. He could be someone truly twisted, but she had no doubt he thought the same of her.

Regardless, she was in his debt and had no idea how to get out of this forest.

She fell in step behind him on the path.

“Why is it you are helping me…are you not…afraid?”, she asked softly, her eyes down on the path less she trip and fall. Most people she'd come across were either too terrified to approach her, or were looking to claim this bounty placed by the Temple of the Fallen.
She couldn't escape how familiar that term sounded, in spite of the fact she had no concrete memories of meeting anyone associated with the sect.

 

[PhoenixMire]

So she was undead. He'd figured as much by now. Was it even possible to harm or contain the girl? Was she essentially invincible? What if she spontaneously decided to turn on him and attack him? As long as he kept being nice to her, he hoped he wouldn't have to worry about that. He offered her a small smile and rested a hand on his hip. "Patchwork? All right then, Patch. Let's get out of here." He led the way back to the path with the strange child in tow.

He was walking in front of her when she asked why he was helping her, so she wouldn't be able to see the frown that crossed his lips. Was it really right to sell her off? She seemed at least slightly nice, and she claimed she hadn't meant to kill that man, but Frey was wise enough to know that people often pretended to be something they weren't. For all he knew, she might not be a child at all. Undead creatures were varied and strange things; some of them appeared young despite being very old. Patchwork might be the same way.

But instead of letting her know of all the skeptical thoughts going through his head, he turned to her with a smile. "Why would I be afraid of you?"

Frey followed the dirt trail through the darkened trees. After a while, his surroundings grew slightly brighter as the trees thinned and allowed more moonlight to illuminate the world beneath. The edge of the woods was barely in sight. It only took a few more minutes of walking to emerge from the forest.

The dirt path continued, winding between a few small, gentle hills. Far in the distance, craggy cliffs rose up to touch the night sky - but save for them, the landscape was hilly and uneven for as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a little village with shabby, short buildings. Hopefully there would be an inn there that was worth his coin. With how small and unimpressive the place looked, he doubted it - but he supposed he couldn't be picky in a time like this. Sleep was the most important thing to him right now.

But could he even sleep with Patchwork there beside him?

What in the world could he do with the kid while he slept? He didn't trust her as far as he could throw her. ...Okay, maybe that was a poor analogy, since he'd probably be able to launch her quite the distance if he really wanted to, but still. He didn't want to be caught off guard with this dangerous child near him. Who knew what she might decide to do to him while he slept? It would be best if he could somehow sell her off as soon as possible, but it struck him that he didn't even know where to look for the people who wanted to buy her. What had those men said again? Something about the Fallen. Temple of the Fallen? How could he ask around for them with the girl towing along behind him wherever he went?

Frey bit his lip. He'd figure it out later. For now, he wanted to lay on a comfortable bed, even if he did stay up through the night just to keep an eye on Patchwork. "Let's look for an inn," he said to the child. "I'm sure you want a good night's sleep after all this, don't you?"

Without waiting for an answer, he continued along the path until it led him into the small village. Not a soul was up and about at this hour. The dirt streets winding between buildings were entirely empty. Frey kept an eye out for any sign that would mark one of the buildings as an inn.

image credit​

 

[StarryKnights]

She blinked.

“Because I am an undead construct who possesses powers that I do not remember or understand”, she thought of the cocoon. “…I truly didn’t mean to kill that man…”.

But in doing so, she’d healed herself somehow, the notion of gaining power from the dead frightened the girl. What sort of undead monster fed off of the other dead? Somebody had to know, if not this naimar than perhaps a powerful mage of sorts.
A necromancer could almost assuredly tell her what she was, though she wondered if approaching a master of the dead would be the best of ideas in this situation. The last thing she wanted was for a crazed mage to get ahold of her strange and terrifying powers.

This naimar claimed not to be afraid of her, he even smiled as he said it, but Patches wasn’t totally convinced. She didn’t want to be by herself though…so sticking with the man was her best option. The pair walked for a way soon enough the edge of the woods was in sight.
Patches did her best to keep up with the naimar, but given he was twice his size he could move much faster, she often had to jog to catch up as they made their way through the small rolling hills. In the distance she could make out craggy peaks and a small town.

She assumed that was their destination, at this time of night the town was deathly quiet. She wondered if they would be able to find an inn.
She wondered if the naimar would be creeped out when he discovered that Patches didn’t sleep. She didn’t feel exhaustion the way most creatures did, though she felt more drained tonight than she could remember feeling before.

Perhaps it was because of the powers she’d used, that seemed to be the most logical conclusion.
“I do not sleep…normally. Tonight I do feel somewhat…drained”, she looked up at the man, dark circles were now apparent under her eyes.
“I think that building in an inn”, she pointed to a large building with a light still on.
“Perhaps they will have a room”.

 

[PhoenixMire]

"Exactly, you didn't mean to kill him. You're just a kid; I'm not afraid of you," Frey assured her. Truth be told, he was a little bit afraid - but maybe "wary" was a better word for it. He didn't trust her and he wasn't about to let her out of his sight or do anything that might anger her.

He walked through the dirt streets of the darkened town, eyes flicking between buildings as he tried to find an inn, all to no avail. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. Seemed like he might not get any rest tonight.

Then Patchwork told him that she didn't sleep anyway, and Frey cast her a look over his shoulder, cocking his brow. "Really? How do you regain your energy after you've expended it, then?" he asked her. If she didn't sleep at all, that was bad news for him. It meant he couldn't have any time to himself. He'd have to stay awake at all times and monitor her in case she tried to do anything sketchy.

This was looking worse by the minute. What had he gotten himself into? Maybe it was better to abandon the girl and forget those "Temple of the Fallen" people or whoever they were. Still... the idea of a handsome reward was too appealing. He just hoped they'd be paying him a lot for his trouble.

"Oh, wait, here it is!" Frey's lips quirked into a smile when he saw the words Hilldell Inn scrawled on a wooden sign hanging over the door of an unassuming building. He realized it might not be a good idea for anyone to see Patchwork; they might know who she was and try to steal his quarry. And even if they didn't know who she was, he didn't think anyone would appreciate him taking an undead child into an inn. With a thoughtful frown, Frey opened his satchel and fished through it, producing a very tightly-bundled black cloak. He unfurled it. The garment had been made to fit his tall form, so it would be comically oversized on the little girl, but it was better than nothing. "Put this on," he told her. "And make sure to keep the hood up. We don't want anyone seeing your face."

 

[StarryKnights]

Patches felt a healthy amount of fear was almost necessary in this sort of situation, how many people stumbled across an undead child in the woods and watched as she killed a man? Accident or not it was a mildly terrifying concept. At least Patches felt it ought to be, but the notion this man wasn’t afraid of her made her feel odd.

It was a feeling of warmth, and reassurance. Perhaps she’d found, dare she even think it, a friend? Maybe he could help her to find out who she was and where she came from.

“I’ve never expended so much energy before…”, she looked down to the ground, a thoughtful frown on her face. “I am unsure how I’m meant to replenish it, although”.

She hesitated in telling the man she’d felt invigorated after the death of the archer, it could alter his perception of her.

Honesty is the best policy, she decided after a moment. She couldn’t remember why, but this policy seemed right to her, as if it was something she was taught.

“In the interest of full disclosure, I believe that man’s death might’ve…reinvigorated me somewhat. At the very least the arrow hole in my forehead closed”, she pointed to the small scar, the only trace of the injury left.

“…But given I do not wish to harm more people…perhaps I will try sleeping. I’ve never had a bed or anything like that to try it in”.

She looked to the inn, the Hilldell Inn, hopefully there would be a spare room.

Her head tilted to the left as he offered the cloak, taking it she pulled the garment over her head. It swallowed her, she looked like a tiny walking pile of cloth, the ends dragged through the dirt with every small step she took.

The hood was also far too large and hung low over her eyes, which was good for covering her face but bad for seeing. Flailing she reached out and grabbed the closest thing, which happened to be the naimar’s hand.

She peeked up at him, her faded red eyes shone with a curious light.

“Good idea, I do not wish to frighten people. What…what am I to call you naimar? It seems improper to refer to you as your species”.

 

[PhoenixMire]

He looked back over his shoulder to the child as she spoke, and when she said that killing the man had reinvigorated her, Frey had to work hard not to shudder. What a terrifying being! He somehow managed to keep his disgust off his expression, instead shrugging and saying, "Glad you're all healed up. It means I don't have to take you to a healer."

When she donned his cloak and its ends began dragging in the dirt, Frey clenched his jaw. "Look... uh..." He reached down, grabbing the fabric and bunching its sides up into wads just to keep it off the ground. "Maybe hold that for me so it doesn't get too dirty?" It was a nice cloak. It had kept rain and sun off his head for a long time. The last thing he wanted was to see it ruined...

"Anyway, yes, let's find a room at this inn and get to sleep. I'm exhausted." He yawned as if to punctuate his words, but before he could open the inn's door, Patchwork asked his name. He realized he'd forgotten to tell her. "Freniar," he replied, "but you can call me Frey." With that, he reached out to open the door.

The inn's first floor was dimly lit with a few scattered torches, their light revealing some wooden tables and chairs spread throughout the smallish room. Frey was surprised the lights hadn't been put out yet. He turned his head and was even more surprised to see a young woman sitting behind the counter, her nose almost buried in a book, but she slowly lifted her head as the visitors stepped inside.

Frey put on a winning smile. "You're still open? What luck! I've been searching for a room for a long time now..."

The girl looked irritated, but set down her book with a sigh, standing from her chair behind the counter. "A room will cost you twenty coppers for the night."

Twenty coppers? It was a reasonable price to stay at an inn - at least, a larger and better-looking one. A shabby one like this wasn't really worth that price. But Frey wasn't in the mood to barter. With a sigh, he stepped forward, fishing through his satchel and counting out twenty copper coins to hand over to the young woman. She counted them herself and tucked them away in a drawer, producing a room key and handing it to him. "Second door on the right," she said curtly, sitting back down and opening her book again.

"Charming," Frey muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes and venturing over to the stairs. They were narrow and creaked with every step he took. He hoped the bed wouldn't be as rickety as the rest of the building.

 

[StarryKnights]

Freniar, but prefers Frey.
Patches filed this information away and bunched up the ends of the cloak with her free hand so it wouldn’t drag on the ground. The garment was quite warm, she could see why he wished to keep it somewhat tidy.

She followed the naimar into the inn, where they were received by a rather annoyed looking young woman. The place creaked and groaned with every step they took, Patches wondered if it was structurally sound. Frey must not have minded the shabby conditions because he paid for the room and trudged down the hall.

She made a mental note to try and reimburse him for the twenty coppers, this place certainly wasn’t worth that price.
Once inside the room Patches slide the hood off her head to better see her surroundings.
The room had a draft, as there was a cold breeze swirling through the air. The bed was an aged mattress sitting on a rickety wooden frame, there was also a shoddy desk in the far corner.

She took a few hesitant steps forward and peeked past a cracked door, which lead to what she assumed was the bathroom. There was a large metal tub here, big enough for an adult human, and covered in a black grime Patches wasn’t keen on getting close to.
There was also a smaller metal bucket, likely meant to be the bathroom. She was glad she didn’t have such functions.

“…This place is gross”, she spoke with a frown as she glanced to Frey. She slid the cloak off herself and offered it back to the man. She figured since they were inside there was no reason to hide, plus he might like the extra warmth.
Patches wasn’t bother by cold, though in extreme cases it made her joints feel stiff.

 

[PhoenixMire]

Of course the bed had to be rickety. That was just his luck. He regretted not bothering to try for a lower price. A cold breeze swirled through the room, and though it didn't bother him too much (he was accustomed to the cold since he'd grown up in the North), he really didn't want to deal with it through the night. He made his way over to the window and tried to close it, only succeeding slightly. It seemed that the cold draft was coming from more than just the window. It was likely that the walls themselves were too thin to keep out much cold.

"What a pleasant place," he grumbled. "Glad I paid my hard-earned money for this." Even the undead child herself agreed with him that it was gross, and he looked to her with an irritated scoff of agreement.

"Oh well. I'm still going to try my best to get some sleep. Trust me, you don't want to deal with me early in the morning when I haven't had enough rest." He collapsed on the bed with a huff, hating how it creaked and groaned beneath him, and his feet barely poked off the edge. He was too tall for the stupid bed. Absolutely wonderful.

He tried to ignore how uncomfortable the whole place was and pulled the blanket over his shoulders. He still didn't trust Patchwork enough to actually sleep near her... so he wasn't sure how he'd manage to get enough rest to continue their journey in the morning. Still, it didn't hurt to lay down and at least pretend to sleep.

 

[StarryKnights]

With Frey going to sleep, Patches was unsure as to what she should do. The naimar was laying on the bed, so Patches walked over to the wall and too a seat. The entire building seemed to groan as the wind whistled outside, she didn’t see how any one who needed sleep could do so here.

She felt an odd pang as she thought of the fact Frey as stuck sleeping here because of her, even though she wasn’t certain this was true.
Even if he hadn’t found her, he would’ve been stuck out in the woods without shelter. It was foolish to feel any sort of guilt over their current predicament.

But even so, the nagging feeling wouldn’t go away. She looked to the window, watching as it rattled in the night.
She almost wished she could sleep, because then at least she’d have something to do during the night. Sighing she looked down to her hands and arms, tracing the black stitches running down her limbs. There was something off about them now, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

She felt…more connected to the marks, as though she could extend them somehow. She wondered if this was the result of the strange powers she’d exhibited before…
So many questions to ponder…and all night to do so.

​

 

[PhoenixMire]

Birds chirped outside. Morning light seeped in through the rickety window. Frey blearily opened his eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the morning and realize where he was.

As soon as he remembered, he sat bolt upright in bed. He’d somehow fallen asleep, even though he was supposed to stay awake and watch Patchwork to make sure she didn’t hurt him when he wasn’t watching. Yet somehow he’d drifted off... and woken up unharmed.

He looked down at himself just to double check that he was unhurt - which he was. The child hadn’t done anything to him. Either that meant he’d gained her trust, or she’d had no intent to hurt him in the first place. He frowned a little at that.

Well, since he’d had a good night’s sleep, he supposed it was time to get up and set off. Frey’s eyes scanned the ramshackle room for Patchwork.

 

[StarryKnights]

Patches spent most of the night observing her surroundings. Ever creak, groan or whistle that the house made, the coughs sneezes and loud banging sounds coming from the other rooms and the occasional raised voice. Nothing escaped her notice. She watched the window, noting how it rattled when the wind blew.

An occasional bird flew past the glass, causing Patches’ eyes to widen in surprise. Mostly she stared down at her own stitches, tracing the raised threads and trying to figure out why they felt so different now.

When the morning came, she was no closer to any kind of answer, her attention shifted to Frey as he jolted upright in bed. He seemed to double check himself, as if he was expecting to find something wrong.

She frowned, her head jerked to the side. “Did you have a bad dream?”.

She rose slowly, her tiny body cracked as she moved. Sitting still for so long made her limbs feel stiff, she rotated her arms a few times to loosen them up a bit.

“Where are we going now?”, she looked to the naimar curiously. How far did this man intend to accompany her, and what would he do if more people came after her? Would he place himself in harm’s way to protect her?

Did she need such protection now, with these strange powers active? There were no webs or stray threads now, but Patches could feel that destructive energy sleeping just beneath the surface.

 

[PhoenixMire]

She was sitting in the same place she had been last night. Frey ran a hand through his messy hair and groggily replied, "Uh... yeah. Bad dream." It was a lie - his sleep had been dreamless, and surprisingly nice, considering the uncomfortable bed beneath him. But he didn't want to tell Patchwork that the reason he'd jolted upright was because he'd been wary of her.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, making his way toward the restroom, but the state of the bathtub and the bucket nearby it made him grimace in disgust. "No thanks," he grumbled to himself, exiting the room.

The child asked where they were headed next. Frey looked to her and rolled his shoulders to loosen them up, blinking slowly as he tried to think of what his plans were and where they should head to. Did he really want to sell this girl to the Temple of the Fallen - whatever that was? He supposed he did, as long as he got a handsome reward for it. He always felt a little low on money. But how was he supposed to find them without drawing the little girl's suspicions? He didn't want her to know that he was planing to sell her to them.

"Hmm." He rested a hand on his hip and met her eyes. She looked so much different in the light of day; he could make out plenty more details about her odd, undead appearance. "I go wherever I'm needed," he said vaguely. It was true - he loved to travel all over the place, and took up odd jobs wherever someone needed something from him, even if those jobs were a little sketchy and not entirely lawful. Especially if those jobs made him some good money. "Where are you headed? I'll accompany you there."