The Tarnished Path Retraced

[Nixie]

Timestamp: 34th of Spring, year 512 AV, After Sunset.

Not even a full day had passed since being reunited with the horse Nixie had lost nearly thirty days prior. And even then, only through the happenstance of running into a rather peculiar person by the name of Seven. But because of her accusation, and a misunderstanding, she did not have his company for long. Disappearing into the crowds only a little while after introductions were made. And while the terms on which he left were not savory, she wished she could find him. There was something she felt like she needed to ask, but as hours passed, that hope turned to skepticism.

A round, pale, moon hung low in the sky now, slowly climbing to its perch above. While the illusions that filled the streets seemed to cast shadows against its light. Formless people with empty faces rushed by in blurs, as if they too were mere illusions. Their voices all muddled together when they met her ears. Did she look like an illusions to them as well? The answer didn't really matter, she only wondered if others saw the illusions as she did.

Only moments prior had Nixie brought Dani to the Aveks Stables; out of fear that she would loose him again before the night came to an end. If somebody like herself could be overwhelmed by the cities tricks, she could only imagine how a weak minded animal handled such things. With him safe in the stables, she could take to the streets again with some peace of mind. This time she went out in search of food, letting the streets take her where they pleased. Hoping they would lead her where she needed to be. But while it was nourishment she sought this time, her mind still returned to the image of a man of pale hair, and fair complexion. He was what she had spent most of that afternoon searching for, and had only just stopped that hunt. Her legs were weary, and her stomach empty. Its hollow groans begging her full attention.

As usual, she walked with a pipe held tightly between sealed lips. Her smoky eyes hidden behind a curtain of dark hair as her head hung low in an effort to keep from looking at the illusions that swarmed. Off to the side she recognized a few words of merriment as a pair left a quiet tavern. Her gaze did not travel far beyond the cobble that lay at her feet though. It was foolish, keeping it fixed on the ground, unaware of he surrounding. Perhaps if she were more attentive, she would have seen the tavern, and smelt the spice of a warm meal. And she would have seen the familiar figure of Seven, who she had been searching so intently for. Collision seemed imminent.

[Seven Xu]

With his burden delivered, his step was lighter, his lips were more prone to curl with petty amusement, and he was free to eat an apple to its core. The fruit’s thin remainder made no sound as it was jilted to well-beaten flagstone and lost to the shuffle of countless feet; it was forgotten as quickly as it had been snatched from a fruit cart two blocks ago, traded for a word of thanks and palm-warmed copper rims.

What a fruit monger was doing past sunset on a narrow street was not a concern; nothing was, in Alvadas. Order had its place, but it was not between the walls of the Trickster’s abode—if it existed, Seven had not seen it—the city proper was a shuffling mess of blindness and apathy. The Alvads called it worship. Coincidence also had its place well beyond town limits, a lesson Seven had learned long ago. Distracted crimson refused to settle on one face. The street had gone from near-deserted to suffocating within the chime, and the brittle waif of a man wanted for a quiet room, no, his bath, with piping hot water to his neck that smelled of orchids and the dull glow of orange candlelight.

He could almost taste it through the acerbic leavings of an old apple.

The fantasy of a tavern half a city away had distracted him from the shambling crowd and the unremarkable figure that emerged from the gloam to strike him without hesitation. Their shoulders collided. Seven’s arm flew from his pocket. He stumbled back a step, nearly losing his footing between rutted cobblestones. “Ah!” His other hand emerged to grapple for balance. By the time he was upright again, his sullen glare found a familiar face.

“Cadman.” Seven’s face twisted, incredulous; he was not sure whether to blame the girl or Ionu for their reunion. His chin dipped. “You dropped your pipe.”

[Nixie]

Nixie's world shook with the sudden impact of another, the force throwing her shoulder and twisting her back.
"Whoa!" In the surprise, she struggled to counter the jolt, taking a few staggered steps back before finding her balance again. And while she had managed to save herself from an embarrassing fall, her outcry had freed the pipe from between her lips and sent it falling to the unforgiving cobble with a clatter where its burning contents spilled out. All at once her eyes went from wide with shock, to annoyance, hidden behind a smoldering glare as she searched for the offender. It wasn't difficult to spot him ether; his own exclamation and the way he gawked at her, giving him away.

Nixie was about to snap at the man but was struck silent, her mouth agape, when she heard her name fall from the strangers lips. Frozen in place, she held her breath. Befuddled, she took a moment to let the details of a familiar face sink in. It was Seven. And then he spoke, reminding her why she had been angry in the first place. Holding venomous words at bay, she closed her mouth and bit her tongue; not wanting to chase him off a second time. Instead, releasing her pent up annoyance in a frustrated breath as smoky eyes fell to the ground in search of the pipe. Spotting it quickly, she hurried to retrieve it. Then stuffed it, as well as her hands, inside warm pockets. In the growing darkness, she had failed to see the thin crack that had spread down the length of its steam.

Glancing at Seven, she was conflicted. Feelings of nervousness, anticipation, annoyance, and even excitement filled her and left her silent as she considered what she might say.
"Seven... I've been looking for you." By now the crowds were growing thick, compared to only a few moments ago, and Nixie feared she might lose Seven in them again. Restraining herself, she wouldn't force him to stay. "Will you try to leave again?" No, she wasn't the forceful type, but a growing anxiety was tempting her.

[Seven Xu]

“Leave?”

Seven took a moment to part his gaze from his accuser. “Leave what? Leave Alvadas, or just your presence?” He scoured the horizon for some form of distraction, but found only clusters of peculiarly aligned stars set on blue-black velvet. To abscond without explanation would only serve to frustrate; a narrow set of shoulders slumped, a fine-featured face dropped, and a pair of unnatural eyes gaped from between pale lashes, level with the girl opposite. You win, Alvadas. You always do.

“I’m not going to leave.”

The encumbrance that was Dani the horse must have been stabled. That, or lost again. Seven sucked his bottom lip beneath a line of teeth and fangs as his eyes darted from Cadman’s face, unable to hold her stare for more than a heartbeat. It was then he noticed the crowd: it was gone. The narrow street the pair had found themselves on had shifted beneath their feet. The buildings opposite had turned to tall impassable hedges with countless damp leaves that shuddered with the light wind and glistened beneath the moon. The air was wet and cold.

The tavern remained. Its windows were limned in the dull yellow-orange of lamplight; a sign hung over their heads, emblazoned with some tangle of words on a brightly painted crest; a man’s muffled laughter roared over the hum of merriment beyond its thick wooden door. A pair of women passed between them, all bosoms and lace and giggles; it was hard to tell if the halfblood even took note.

Seven’s hands plunged the depths of his trouser pockets, and the beginnings of a smile flattened into something hard and defensive. “Why were you looking for me? I apologized to you.”

[Nixie]

Watching Seven in a sidelong glance, she speculated where his gaze wandered; curious what it was he found so interesting, or what he searched for. An escape perhaps? But her thoughts fell quiet when he spoke an answer. And with it, the breath she held in anticipation of what it would be was released, bringing about some bravery in her. Enough to convince her to keep her own smokey gaze from wandering at least. Though in studying his features, it seemed the answer he had given only encouraged his own anxiousness.

Suddenly her attention was drawn back upon herself when a sensation washed over her. An empty stomach churned when the city shifted around her. Or perhaps it was the illusions that had provoked such a feeling, another manifestation of the tricks. Just like the voices and footsteps that had faded to almost mute, replaced with the sound of dancing leaves and whispering wind. It gave rise to an uncertainty in Nixie and compelled her near Seven. Nervous eyes darted about to take in the new surroundings as she tried to make sense of it. Paying no mind to the floozies that passed between the two. The sound of a mans bellowing laughter grabbing her attention and turning her gaze. It seemed the tavern had followed at least, a somewhat pleasant surprise.

When he asked a question, Nixie needed to force her attention to it, her own answer coming in broken words formed on lips held agape.
"Yes, I know you apologized." A pause. Her mind concerned with the prospect of the streets themselves splitting the pair. She searched through squinted eyes for a place that might prove itself more secure. "But then you left with such haste." Another pause. Her gaze turning to the tavern again as an idea came to mind. Perhaps if the two weren't in the streets she could keep them from whisking him, or herself, away. Sparing a quick glance back at Seven, she took several long strides past him. "I wanted to ask you something, but you kept that courtesy from me." Snagging the hem of his shirt between nimble fingers in passing, she hoped to lead him off the streets. Though her hold was loose, allowing the fabric an easy escape if the owner wished not to comply. "So I sought you out." Her feet carried her up off the streets and onto the front steps of the tavern. Closer to the nights activities and merrymaking, and closer to a warm meal. At least here she felt she could breath a bit easier.

[Seven Xu]

Surprise caught in Seven’s throat as a bold hand reached for his shirttail. He nearly stumbled in tracing her steps, but managed to save what abject grace he still held with his good foot. Only after they passed beneath a yawning entryway did Seven reach down to brush away those calloused fingers with feather-light suggestion.

Despite the warm glow from the street, the tavern’s interior was an abysmal black hole. It was if they had stepped right through the tavern proper and ended up elsewhere. Or it was a trick, an illusion. Shadows on the wall. Seven’s nostrils flared in his exasperation. He inhaled hot coals. His eyes darted about their near-pitch surroundings until he found the nebulous outline of a pot-bellied stove and its orange slit-eyes, staring back at them with the promise of a dying fire.

Pupils willfully expanded, eclipsing already thinned crimson rings; the halfblood drank in the darkness, the crushing silence, and upon realizing it was in fact a tavern—maybe even the same tavern that enticed them with its gaiety a chime ago—he growled a painfully observant, “It’s empty.”

A thin smile spilled over his face, pale-made-paler in the gloaming. His dry tongue was loath to part from the roof of his mouth. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” he paused to hook a chair with his toe, letting its thin wooden legs scrape callously against the tiled floor, but did not sit. “What is it that you wanted to ask me, anyway?”

[Nixie]

Standing inside, the warm glow that had drawn her to the tavern was snuffed out in a sniggering darkness. More tricks, she thought to herself as a hand rose up and behind to scratch at her head, a tired breath escaping soft lips. For a moment she thought about how bothersome the city was. It felt as if there were really only two places in which she could find some sense of normalcy. One being the Sanity Center, and the other a tavern she had come upon accidentally a few days past. At least in that tavern, the extent of its illusions seemed to stop at a few random tiles that sprinkled the ceiling. Why couldn't this one be like that one?

Testing the darkness, Nixie held a hand out before her eyes, bringing it closer until she could make out its silhouette. For now it seemed she could see no further than a few inches past her nose. Her gaze shifting blindly when she heard Seven speak, her stomach replying first with a low grumble.
"Guess that means I'll have to make something myself..." If only I could see... A last minute thought as she took in a deep breath, slowly releasing it. Hunger making her too impatient to wait for her eyes to adjust, she took a few slow steps forward, shuffling over the wooden planks. Extending her arms a bit as she made slow progress towards Sevens voice, groping at the darkness.

Catching the sound of wood moving over wood, Nixie used it to help guide her. And then his voice once more, posing a question this time. And she was about to answer too, but her words were cut short when a blind foot hooked a chairs leg. An eruption of noise following as she pushed past other chairs and even a few tables. It sent her stumbling violently and accidentally into Seven, a yelp of surprise escaping on impact. Thankfully she was quick to collect herself though, even managing to mumble an apology. "Sorry..." That's when her eyes caught sight of the dying glow of embers, so bright against the murk. Holding to a chairs back where she had steadied herself, she finally answered. "Earlier... at the docks. You mentioned Syliras." A pause, and silence. "Did you ever go there?" Her voice peaked with curiosity and held an undertone of excitement, yet it remained quiet, little louder then a whisper.

[Seven Xu]

Instinct forced him forward, arms out to catch the girl. It was the same instinct that drove the simplest of men; Seven was hardly a simple man, and immediately balked as soon as her face hit his chest. Fortunately for him, she did not pursue the blunder farther than a murmured apology.

“Yes,” he breathed, fingers slackening at his sides as they fumbled for his trousers’ pockets. A thumb caught, and four fingers dove between folds of body-warm linen to fondle the outline of a forgotten copper-rim. He could feel the faint outline of a tree pressed in its shining backside—a symbol repeated a thousand times over on the banners and parapets of Stormhold Citadel.

Dusky eyes wanted for further explanation. Seven sighed.

“I went looking for someone, last spring.” A lie, but one he himself had believed for a long time. “I found someone else instead.” He waved a hand. “We didn’t stay long. Syliras is crowded. It smells like salt and shit.”

Seven found another chair, closer to the pot-bellied stove. It was warm, there; the halfblood sloughed off his jacket and stared into the dim orange glow the slits in the iron door provided. There was a long pause. “My apologies,” he then turned to look at Cadman, offering up a sincere smile. Those unnatural eyes had gorged themselves on fire—his pupils were pin-points in depthless pools of red. “You’re from there, aren’t you?”

[Nixie]

When he answered in the way she hoped he would, the hint of pink that remained from her embarrassing tumble subsided. But his answer was so short and conclusive, the silence that followed urging her to look upon him; curious if he would elaborate. And when he did, she let her gaze fall back to the smoldering embers, she wouldn't pester for details. Content to know that he had indeed visited Syliras at one point, any thing else was his to keep secret unless he wished to volunteer that information. He had already carried on for longer than she had expected, though she wouldn't have minded listening a bit more. His words, and the way he described Syliras, tugged at the corners of her lips, coaxing them into a subtle smile that would have been hidden to most in the darkness and assuming the same of Seven's sight. She had no comment nor answer to give just yet though; it seemed drawn out silence was a common happening between the two. Though this time not out of a reluctancy to reply on her part, instead her mind had simply begun to wander a bit, as it often did when Syliras was brought up in conversation.

In the time that had passed since their entering, her eyes had begun to adjust to its darkness to a notable degree. In her mind it was interesting how the burning coals appeared so bright at first, and then slowly lost their dazzle to prolonged time spent in the darkness and adapting to it. Reminiscent of a great many things she wouldn't speak aloud about, not to a stranger. Though the setting might have been appropriate. Before her mind could linger on the thought any further, the crackle of cinders from within the stove returned her to the tavern and reminded her of the question that hung in the air. Perhaps it was more of an accusation.

Before a word left her mouth, a slight smirk found its way over her features.
"Why apologize? Do you think your opinion of Syliras would offend me in some way?" An almost inaudible chuckle and an indirect answer to his question if he could catch it. "If I thought it was such a great place, don't you suppose I might still be there?" A short pause. "Your colorful description of it is actually pretty accurate." Under the cover of shadows, it seemed Nixie found herself in a better, and more talkative, mood. Maybe it was the feeling of being hidden from sight that let her smile come easier. Whatever it was, all she knew right now was that she wasn't getting any less hungry. Her stomach sounding yet again. But how could somebody cook without a good fire?

Able to make out most of the silhouettes in immediate vicinity now, her grip loosed from the chair she had been leaning on. Walking past it, she moved towards the stove and Seven who sat near it with greater success then her first attempt. Her gaze flicking to him momentarily before returning to the stove. Descending, she knelt before the hot iron, looking through squinted eyes in search for some way to open its door. An odd shape making itself known with some focus. With a foolish confidence and hasty speed, she reached for it, unsuspecting fingers brushing against sweltering iron who sent a bolt of pain up her arm. Manifesting audibly in a hissing sound through clenched teeth as she jerked her hand away and forced stinging fingers past soft lips, brows furrowing slightly in the stubborn burn.

Aggravated with the stove now, she wrapped her unscathed hand in the cloth of her shirt and thrust it out to grab at the handle. Pulling back swiftly and with the weight of her body behind it, the door flung open violently, sounding with a clang as it swung on its hinges to hit against itself. The sudden burst of oxygen-rich air filling the stove sent a few stray sparks floating out into the room. When the door had so easily given to her strength, its release sent her back onto her bottom with a thump. "Damn it!" Arms forced back to catch herself, one hand still wet with saliva.

[Seven Xu]

Seven stared down at her with a twisted look of concerned amusement. “I suppose you might.”

Straightening, the halfblood rolled back his sleeves and dropped to a knee not far from where the dumbstruck Cadman still sat on her hind quarters. When he shifted to find balance, his boot knocked her thigh, and he consciously moved away with a stiff breath of an apology.

Bone white fingers flexed. A dry mouth hung open, its tongue buried deep in one cheek. He looked to be summoning the will to do as the girl had done moments earlier. In reality, he was, but not without a safeguard. Heat. Strands of djed were arrested from beneath his pale skin, coalescing in a dim flicker of violet that an untrained eye would not—could not—spot.

“You need to be more careful,” he observed, bending to grab hold of a quartered log. Healthy apprehension was a lesson he found himself teaching often. The log rattled against the back of the iron stove, sending another flurry of orange-yellow sparks into the air. Most of them died quickly, fading away before they could reach the ceiling. One was eagerly brushed from his shoulder. The barrier around his hand worked well enough to close the stove again, but instinct still hurried his fingers along, not wanting to linger where flesh did not belong.

He brushed his hand on his pant leg, as if to cool a burn that never reached him. On the contrary—his flesh was cold, his fingertips numb. The shield had already begun to fray, promising to return warmth sooner than later.

“So,” a dreadful word when nothing followed it, so full of unspoken expectation. In the foreground of a stove’s orange glow, Seven was little more than a silhouette, garnished by a halo of pale hair and murky features. “I explained myself. Why did you leave Syliras?”