eastbound | text; Sweet lily of the hidden valley

[Eleven turns, expecting to need to apologize for running into someone, but breaks into a relieved smile to see Archeval instead. He peers curiously at the back of the pages he's looking at, but the foreign text glosses together, undecipherable]

Can you read that?

[ raising an amused brow ] Not really. And before you go on, no, it doesn't help that much either, but one must start somewhere and this planet hasn't invented language-teaching holos yet. [ he closes the book he's currently looking at to tuck it away for now -- a Sa-Hareth citizen walking by who knows their letters would see he's nicked something about "The Economics of Fishery Trade in the North", but of course he has no idea -- and idly brushes off his hands. ]

Shall we? Perhaps we can walk and talk. This cold is far too miserable for standing around.

[He nods, content to walk idly unless Archeval prefers to lead them in a given direction. His only interest lays in avoiding the undead where possible.]

It's impressive that you're trying to learn. I think I'd get a headache just from looking at that paper for too long.

[ shrugging as he drawls out dryly again ] My day job involves more reading than you would think.

[ He's not going anywhere in particular right at the moment, just taking a side street that doesn't seem to have undead patrols immediately nearby. It's not the most reliable, but he's started to get a sense of where the threats are at in the city by skimming the Force around him to see where he feels large concentrations of fear and disgust. ]

[Now that is surprising, but most of the experience he has with local military has been running from them. How they work outside of drafting soldiers is beyond him. But neither is he terribly interested in asking for details when there's a more interesting topic of conversation at hand.

Eleven reaches beneath his cloak, then offers out a knife set in a leather sheathe. It's a needle point knife with a short, serrated segment on one broad edge of the blade. In decent light, a runic inscription can be seen.]

I hope that will do.

[But even as he says it, there's a certain gleeful satisfaction hidden in his eyes]

Hm. Nice holster. [ accepting it to draw the little knife itself, both brows raising slowly ] Nice blade.

[ He tests the balance a bit, gives it a short toss -- he's not an experienced knife fighter, but one picks up a few things out of necessity at times -- and tests a thumb against the edge. Just a trickle of blood. It's no vibroknife, but he's no less impressed for that fact. ]

Not that I thought you incompetent, but I see you know what you're doing after all.

[ popping the thumb against his tongue for a moment so as not to drip, when it comes back away the cut is gone, with not really enough power invoked for anyone to notice. He seems to use his abilities pretty casually -- absently, even, as he turns the knife this way and that in the cold cloudy light, squinting at the inscription. ]

And what is this writing, then?

[Pride and nerves swell in turn, pleased that Archeval seems satisfied as he tests it. Admittedly, Eleven had put more attentive care into the small knife than he'd had Five's request. But given how little he knew of the latter, it was a touch more difficult to put feeling into the sword beyond assuring quality form and function.

Archeval had caught onto the inscription quickly, and his nerves win out. He curls his hands into his baldric to keep from fidgeting]

It's the language of my world. [He hesitates in elaborating further, but he'd rather Acheval wasn't suspicious of him. But now too, he's worried he might have been too presumptuous] I hope you don't mind too much, but it reads 'hidden light'.

[ A blink. Then a dubious frown. Arche doesn't look upset or anything, but he does raise his brows high at that with a flat deadpan stare. ]

Oh, so you think you're funny, I see. [ poking the point of the knife in Eleven's direction with an indignant sniff for a moment before he stops to examine the runes a little more, running a fingernail through the grooves. ]

Well I suppose at this rate I may as well call it a habit, carrying weapons around on me that are all absolute jokes. [ shaking his head with a long-suffering sigh as he starts to slide the knife back into its sheath, feet still carrying them down some random side street ] This one can be, hmm... 'Lumis'. [ dryly ] I thank you for your contribution toward stabbing my enemies, if not for your sense of humor.

[He grins, ears warming with a touch of embarrassment. He had thought it rather funny himself. Still does, even.

Lumis. It's a good name. Apt even, considering its source. He feels something close to honored, even if he's not sure Archeval fully recollects a title he's only ever mentioned once by name]

You're welcome. I hope it serves you well when you have need of it.

[ yes, between the name and everything else, it's almost like having a little piece of Eleven to carry around with him. Though he would drop dead before ever saying something so sappily sentimental out loud. ]

...I'm sure it will. Never hurts to have a last resort or three on hand. Hm--

[ that last little noise comes as he glances up a little abruptly, eyes scanning back and forth across the frost-rimed buildings. He's just now noticing that this little street is emptier of people than he would like, not just corpses, and... he can feel something up ahead. Fear is easy to sniff out. Too much of it in one place -- never a good sign. ]

........perhaps we should get out of this awful wind. I have a feeling the weather's about to turn against us.

[Eleven shivers, watching Archeval as he appears to hone in on something he can't sense himself]

..Do you think we have time enough to head back? Or, we passed by a storage building we should be able to shelter in until it calms.

...It might be a little more metaphorical than that. Not sure. I think you should be somewhere you can avoid scrutiny, just in case. [ 'you', not 'we'. He might still be able to borrow some space at the House of Dew, but no guarantee of that right at the moment. ]

There's something up ahead that a great number of locals are very afraid of.

[He flicks a disbelieving look at his companion]

Where I should- there's posters for you, too. Even you can't mind-trick the undead, right? We should both go back.

[ shrugging with a wry glance, though he is already finding another side street to duck down that will hopefully take them back in the direction Eleven came from ]

I can take care of myself. A Sith goes where he pleases, so I haven't let it keep me from stopping by, but my face is not entirely welcome at the House right at the moment.

[ not even slightly welcome, actually, he just has a talent for pushing the issue. ]

[Eleven follows after him, frowning concern]

What- why...

[He trails off, recalling a recently unpleasant conversation. Even now, a smoulder of anger lingers at the thought of it] ..The Bloo- er, merchant?

[ you haven't seen Archeval smile very often, Eleven. This still isn't really a smile. More of a baring of teeth. ]

He doesn't like me very much.

[Along a similar vein, Eleven rarely looks or sounds angry, but the mention of him is enough to grind his teeth]

As well he shouldn't. I've never met a more despicable human being that wasn't enthralled by darkness. But, Goddess, will you be alright?

Edited 2021-04-20 21:24 (UTC)

[ He's glancing Eleven up and down a little again; he looks slightly amused by the question. Or maybe just by witnessing El all ruffled, though it seems obvious Arche doesn't disagree with the sentiment. ]

You think I need that old man? Surviving is my specialty. [ shrug ] There are plenty of hidey-holes here. Usually when I'm surrounded by people trying to kill me I can afford to be a little louder about fending them off, but it's not my first time around the block. I can keep my head down when I must.

[ kind of, anyway. If he really were to get attacked in earnest and ran out of other tricks, the sudden eruption of laser sword buzzing and localized lightning storms in one small corner of the city would be a bit of a giveaway. But no use dwelling on the maybes. ]

The rest didn't need to give into him so easily. Lured into compliance just from their fear of the unknown--... [ his lip curls with a look of deep revulsion, as he stares ahead for a little while, not meeting Eleven's eyes in this moment. Seems like he must have been listening in on the other conversations. ]

At least you had a word of protest to offer.

[His own gaze lowers, fists clenching for a moment before he makes a point of loosing them. One does not grasp a sword with a closed fist.]

For all the good it did. Even Chen Wang saw fit to lecture me.

[He breathes an aggrieved sigh and runs a quick hand through his hair in an effort to calm himself]

But I want to help everyone more than I want his remorse.

[ as they head back into less ominously quiet, more populated areas of Sa-Hareth, Arche directs a dark stare out into the tense, bundled-up crowds. ]

No reason we can't have both. Mm, though I don't know about 'remorse', I suppose. I might be able to manage 'ready to beg' in a pinch.

[ big talk, he doesn't even know where the Merchant is, or anyone who would reliably tell him. But it's not like he's let that sort of thing stop him before. ]

Still, he's useful for now. No reason to uproot the apparatus if it works to our advantage. Unless I hear the word 'merchandise' uttered again. [ his lip curls again, eyes flashing with anger. The man said he knew who he was dealing with. It can't have been a coincidence. ]

[Eleven isn't sure how he feels about those darker promises, but he is certain that he wants to see or hear the man forced to confront his own humanity and develop some semblance of compassion for others. Such things are likely to require duress.

Merchandise. Indignity flares, remembering the revulsion of hearing that phrase applied to them- as though they weren't people and neither were the ones that had come before them. Proof of a deep, moral fracture he couldn't abide. Then to pretend he cares about saving people-

Not a productive line of thought. He'd spent more than enough time the day before upset and furious in turns over the man's candor. Still]

He had some gall to take offense when spoken against.

Edited 2021-04-20 22:44 (UTC)

Beings like that only understand one language -- power. The same shows of force, the same subjugation they visit on others are the only thing that gets through to such parasites. They clutch onto their ill-gotten gains as though wealth makes their very existence more worthy. [ One hand clenches at Archeval's side, his steps growing brisker even as his voice deepens into an angry, rumbling snarl. ]

As though another credit or two could possibly save them when death walks through their door.

[ It doesn't seem there are any spells being cast or powers being used, but it's not hard for even Eleven's diminished awareness to sense the darkness welling up next to him right now. ]

[Eleven shudders with it, and recognizing its source, reaches for Archeval's shoulder in an attempt to soothe before that power lashes out. He works to meet his eyes.]

Everyone knows it won't.

[He's beginning to think there's a Thing about Arche and ill-begotten nobility. Possibly involving slaves.]

He'll get what he's due someday.

Oh yes. He will.

[ Eleven's words are probably meant as a soothing platitude, but the dark mutter from Archeval in response sounds more like a promise. Before El can quite actually touch him, there's a twitch of his shoulders as he reaches out to snatch up the other's wrist, lips thinning into a hard line-- ]

Don't.

[ But the intent is communicated and -- is sensible enough, really. He lets go to nudge El's hand backwards, a little more gentle than a moment ago, and uncoils his mental grip from the power inside with a long, tense sigh.

It's just a reflex more than anything, rather than any desire to cause a scene...but this is still no safe place for such talk, and it's not really a good idea to let himself get in the habit of losing self-control here anyway. That way lies a pit that most Sith never crawl back out of. ]

...we should get you back. Really will start spitting snow on us or something at this rate.

[ Eleven is probably onto something. ]

[Eleven lets his hand drop and hums mild agreement. For all the gesture hadn't been well-received, at least the end result had quelled that surge of dark power. Perhaps it had been a foolish move on his own to reach out to it, but the touch of it doesn't linger.

And he knows now for a certainty that Bloodbonnet holds a grim fate should ever he come faced with Archeval's wrath. He's quiet as they walk, less certain of his own resolve to interfere or attempt to dissuade him. Death might be extreme end and a weak justice at that, but he shakes himself free of the thoughts as they approach the House of Dew. It's far from an immediate concern]

..Do you need anything from inside? I don't mind bringing supplies out to you if you need them. Or well, if they would make life easier for you.

text; Sweet lily of the hidden valley

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)