The scars, like dust (Alexander)

[Dove Brown]

41 Spring 516

The crops in the fields were sprouting well, which meant the pests were out in force. So was Dove, stalking the fields with her sling. She checked the headlands around the edges and found rabbit prints in a muddy patch. There were also round rabbit droppings nearby, and she grinned to herself. With any luck, she would be having rabbit for dinner. Her feet brushed through grass, daisies and celendines as she tried to move quietly. Ahead of her, she sensed as much as saw movement and slipped a bullet into her readied sling. When the rabbit bolted across in front of her and into one of the main roads to Mithryn, she wound up and let fly in one fast swoop. The bullet hit the rabbit's leg and it screamed like a hurt child and fell, unable to run.

Dove gritted her teeth against that endless drawn out scream and ran over to the injured rabbit. Dropping to her knees, she clapped one hand down across the rabbit's front shoulders. With her other hand, she grabbed it by the ears and yanked sharply up and back. Its neck broke with a crack and its screaming stopped abruptly. So had the other wildlife sounds. Dove growled under her breath, muttered a terse prayer of thanks for the rabbit's life, picked up the bullet, and put it away. There would be no more hunting after a death scream for a while. All the other creatures would have bolted or frozen to avoid the 'predator'. She scooped up the rabbit, climbed to her feet and - something - blew hot air against the back of her neck. She froze for a moment like the wildlife, and then made herself turn and look. It was just a horse, and it blew at her again, reminding her that she was standing in the middle of the road, and blocking it.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Alex’s horse trudged slowly down the road from the main city to the Mythrin outpost. Atop it Alex sat his head hung low letting the horse lead him slowly, he directed it when the need befell him but otherwise it was a simple trudge. The horse like his armour and everything he needed travel wise was on loan from the knights. He would drop it off at the outpost stables when he arrived. Still his mind roiled and rolled with thoughts. He dwelled on his failures. His mistakes. The discussion about following a path the gods had laied out for him with Draven was seeming so far away.

His eyes closed atop the horse as he gripped the reigns tighter his knuckles white beneath the steel. In his mind he watched the life slowly leave the eyes again. And again. He kept reliving the moment he’d broken his word to. To himself. To the gods. He slumped in his saddle His right hand leaving the reigns to brush the light beard adorning his jaw. When all of a sudden his horse decided to stop. He jerked forwards expecting the horse to keep moving and his eyes snapped open and he spoke with a confused tone. “What the.” He paused and saw the form in front of him. “I know you!” The first words out of his mouth. As he felt a smile creep on his face.

“I remember you from the events back on the fifty-second. You’re the one who chided me for doing too much and wearing myself out too fast.” He spoke not with the tone of authority but with a tone of recognition. He swung his leg off of the horse and landed next to it. As he hopped off of the horse he caught sight of the rabbit in her hands. A curious expression crossed his features. “I recall you saying you were a farmer not a hunter? Why the rabbit?” He asked not needing to know but wanting too.

“Nice to see you again Dove.” Alex spoke with the same air about him however there was a much darker more defeated feeling circling around him like a tempest. Nothing visible just a feeling that he was swirling his emotions within a cauldron. His pleasant appearance and manner did nothing to mask the ever building feeling of dread and failure that seemed to flow off of him like a waterfall crashing against the rocks.

[Dove Brown]

The rider's voice snapped Dove's gaze up to him, and her weathered face reddened, making the scar across her jaw stand out more than usual. He knew her? His next words confirmed it. "Oh, it's you. The-" For a moment, the word 'idiot' hovered in her mouth. She swallowed it down and substituted, "-squire. Alex, wasn't it?" She studied his face as he dismounted and asked about the rabbit. There was something about him that didn't match the pleasant tone of his voice, or the smile he was wearing. She couldn't pin it down though, and that made her even warier than she usually was around knights.

"I am a farmer. The rabbit is pest control. They like to eat the crops when they start to grow, and then there isn't as much for us at harvest. Kids go hungry the next year if the rabbits run rampant in this one. This way they feed me instead of me feeding them." She turned and started towards the Outpost again, one eye on the squire and his horse. "You'll see the cottages are mostly rebuilt and back in use again. You can tell which ones fell - they haven't weathered enough to blend in yet, so they stand out like scars." She shrugged. "We know it happened, we can see the damage, but we have to get on with life. No point crying forever about what can't be changed. It doesn't plough the fields, or milk the cows - or catch the rabbits."

She glanced at Alex, but it was young Rosa's face that came to her mind, when the girl had finally accepted that her father had died in the collapsing cottage and wouldn't hit her anymore. "Sometimes good comes out of disasters. You can't tell when it's happening. Should probably thank you for the help that night."

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

The walk back or rather the ride towards the outpost was something quiet, the only one who talked for a good moment breaking the silence was dove. After her initial response about killing rabbits being pest control around the Mythrin. It made sense to Alex who in the interim had slightly sunk back into sullen silence and thought. The last time he’d been here he found himself trapped in a frozen nightmare, now it seemed but a distant one rather than only a season ago.

Unless someone was here before the event and could actively see what had happened then they wouldn’t have much of an idea about what had happened. The new buildings near seamlessly blending in with the older ones. The demolished debris had been swept away from the outpost or reused in some of the construction or fire wood. Dove spoke with a seemingly blasaie attitude towards things. Pragmatic over the issues. Alex felt himself dwell on things though it as part of who he was what he’d believe in.

“Don’t.” He spoke with a distance to his voice. A calm hollowness. “I failed a lot of good people. And you’re right you can’t tell what’s happening but, it doesn’t stop the feeling like there wasn’t enough done. Enough acted on.” He Hopped off of the horse leading it towards the stables Hoping Dove would follow with him as it was just off course to the right and a short walk too. Alex spoke again as his feet touched the ground and he walked with the horse. “Still though it’s nice to see the outpost has recovered. And I didn’t do much to help…”

He wanted to smile to feel some pride but all he could focus on was the lives lost, or rather those he’d caused to be lost through his own inaction and inability to do what was needed of him.

[Dove Brown]

The look Dove gave him as he turned down toward the stables was full of a world-weary exasperation that looked odd on her young face. "Do you ever feel like you have done enough? Or is there always something more to beat yourself up about?" She leaned her shoulder against the wall and waited as he turned the horse into the stable. "Because you surely sound like you're hurting about something, and beating yourself isn't going to help in the slightest." She reached up to place a hand on his shoulder, since he was over a foot taller than she was and her voice came out quieter and flat, almost bitter. "I've been there. Still am in some ways. It does. not. help. Not likely that you'll believe me, I know. I'm just a farmer. Or if you listened to my father, he'd tell you I'm a worthless killer, who can't ever make up for his loss."

She pulled away and hurried towards her thankfully empty home. Footsteps behind her made her tense. Why had she ever opened up? And to a squire of all people. The only thing worse would be if he'd been a full knight. It wasn't as if opening up ever did any good. She'd given up trying to explain that she'd shouldered the blame for her father's grief since she was old enough for his often-repeated rants to sink in. That training, that desperation to earn a word of praise from him - it was part of her, it would always be part of her, but she had fought it to a standstill. It didn't rule her anymore. Maybe on the outside she was just pragmatic, cold, and heartless, but if she didn't look after herself, then sure as shyke, nobody else would. Squires had an entire order to look after things if they wanted to mope. She didn't. She had never had the luxury of being able to lean on others, and she didn't expect she ever would.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Alex walked slowly and spoke to the stable hands quietly before hearing Dove speak again. Her words digging at him again. He spoke back with a firm resolution one that marked him as different from the crowd. “It’s never enough. I told you before. The moment you start thinking you’ve done enough is the moment you can do no more.” Though the words which followed were some he didn’t expect, was it that easy to see on his face, the darkness that lingered around him like a fading halo around his soul.

Then a bitterness a dark lining that crossed from her voice. One he knew well. Trying to mirror her own experiences against his own. A killer like himself. She stormed away then and he followed after, a mark of rage within him. A mark of pain within him. As she stepped into her home he followed behind her. Kicking the door shut with his heel and standing opposite her. He spoke with a word of anger. A word of incomparability. “Right then. What do you mean you’re a killer? Because looking at you I doubt that’s even remotely possible.”

He leered at her his demeanour no longer accepting. If she wanted to even stand on the same footing she had to stop hiding behind a wall that hid everything. His jade green eyes locked on hers, not the jaded look of someone who’d was used to killing in his eyes but those of someone who knew what abandonment was like what blame was like what the fault was like. He knew fully well exactly how dark the world could be, if she wanted to even vaguely stand on the same footing as him she’d better start explaining herself. “So explain to me why you’re so hard done by. Why you think that having a good intent is a bad thing? Perhaps then I might understand why you’re so bitter. And I know one thing. Possibly better than you ever will. No one can ever live up to the expectations of their fathers. And they will ALWAYS take the blame from them. Every. Single. Time.”

His usually calm and soft voice grew more solid. Edged less like a soft breeze and more like a strong gale cutting through the smoke and shrouds. He wanted an explanation and he wanted it now.

[Dove Brown]

She stood at bay in her own home, head tilted back and obsidian eyes glaring into jade ones. "My mother," she said flatly, her voice as hard as her eyes, "died having me. My father claims I killed her. You wanted to know how I know about grief turning bitter? This is how." It wasn't like it was a secret, she told herself. It was just old. Only a scar that ached sometimes. "My father grieves. He's grieved for the whole of my petching, shyke-filled life, and he tells me every single time I see him about how it's my fault he drinks, my fault everything goes wrong, my fault for being alive when she's dead. My fault for daring to look like her. My fault for being born." She locked shaking hands behind her as the fury rose in her throat. You didn't lie to knights. They had ways to tell, and they didn't like it. Alex was only a squire, but if he wanted to know, he coud petching well deal with the entire uncomfortable truth he wanted.

"And yes, I'm sure good intentions count for something. They get people killed too! Because, oh, yes, I'm sure you knights had good intentions when you herded all of us farmers into Syliras' underground vaults and left us trapped there through storm and riot and death and illness. While I fought for my life against a rampaging mob, and the only people who ever loved me died...and you all did nothing." The words burst from her part in anger, part in pain. She knew that she was probably alive because of the knights' actions. The Storm would have carried her off. But the riots, the being trapped underground for so long in the stench - those were entirely due to the knighthood. She touched the scar on her jaw, took a breath to control herself, and went on, "I choose not to hold my father's grief. I won't let anyone dictate how I feel, and I won't let feelings hold me back from what I have to do. That includes your feelings, Ser Squire Idiot!"

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Her mother, died having her. That was her “killer moment” Her father didn’t have the strength to pick up the pieces and move on. Alex leered at her. The more she went on the more he realized what the issue was. She wasn’t the killer nor was it even her fault she’d just been told it long enough that I was her fault and it sank in. She continued, trying to pick apart what he’d said word for word, statement after statement. If she was looking for a chink in his armour she hadn’t found one yet.

However once he heard that part of her living against riots mobs and illness his mind snapped back to sunberth the place that quite literally reeked of all three things. And he did nothing. He did nothing? He wasn’t even in Syliras at that time. Only then did he see the faint outline of a scar along her jaw as her fingers reached up to run along it. Ser idiot squire. Alex exhaled slowly. He was angry. Filled with a rage burning strong. He closed the distance to her and contrary to what she may have expected him to do he didn’t shout. He didn’t scream he spoke in a voice that was pure calm. Evenness that was almost scary in and of itself.

“If you’re quite finished. I’d like to get three things straight.” He leered down into her obsidian eyes, a twinkle of lighting in his own jade green ones. “I wasn’t in Syliras during the storm of five-twelve. I was in Sunberth trying to save people there as well. I didn’t even know what was going on until pieced of buildings gave way and smashed people into a thin paste.” He stepped closer till there was two feet of space between them. "As for good intentions, the road of good intentions is always paved with the suffering of those who walk it. The want to do good, often means making a choice that isn’t what you want.” He leered down at her again. “You’re not a killer. You’ve never stared into the eyes of someone as you’ve watched the light slowly leave their eyes, felt the heat of their blood fill your hands. You’ve never heard the final words of someone in pain and panic.”

His stepped closer again only a foot between them. “And what happened to your mother was an accident. Not your fault. Your father if he blames you is a weaker man than any I’ve met.” He stared down into her eyes now a firm resolution in his own. “And as far as losing people I care about? I watched my mother die in front of my own eyes.” He pulled out the loop of gods around his neck before speaking to her again. “This is quite literally the ONLY thing I have left that was hers. I had to flee from my home. My friends, everything I’d ever known because of a reason I didn’t fully understand. And less than two seasons ago I found out my father died. The only family I had left.” He let the loop drop and stared at her. “I know what it’s like to lose everything. I know what it’s like to be a real killer. You know neither. You know one thing, and that’s how to take the blame when someone else can’t handle the truth. And I know that too.” He spoke with the softness gone from his voice, the hard edge there, but there was an understanding.

[Dove Brown]

Alex stepped closer and closer as she held her ground, looming over her with menacing words spilling from his mouth, and Dove felt the fury rise within her. Her mouth curled in a snarl to match his leer. "Knights always think they know everything," she muttered. She reached up, planted her hands on his armoured chest and shoved him away from her hard, with a strength earned from hauling stone and earth all day, from carrying heavy loads, from controlling horses and jolting ploughs."If you bothered to clean out your ears," Dove retorted, "I said that my father thinks I'm a killer. He does. I'll settle for being myself, scars and all. It's not like they're going to go away, so I have to live with them. And I've learned that much, which is more than you have! "

She dropped the rabbit onto the cold stone floor and leveled a finger at him. "All you know is how to feel sorry for yourself. You've never looked into eyes that trust you while you drive the killing blow into them, and listened to the scream that results. Perhaps I don't know if I killed anyone in the riots - but only because I didn't hang around to see if they lived or died. I was rather busy bleeding myself. Now I fight from a distance, with a sling. Just because I'm smaller than you, don't think I'm harmless - I can outlast you, remember? I've survived bandits and riots and wolves trying to tear out my throat. You can call yourself a killer all you want. But if it comes down to fighting for my life again, you can petching well bet I'll kill again to protect it." So he had a necklace left of his mother. She had a belt.

"At least you knew your mother. I don't even have memories of mine." She blinked back the stinging that might have been tears and turned abruptly away to fill the kettle and hang it over the fire. "I brought myself up, more or less, unless you think working me from dawn to dusk from the time I could walk counts as raising. I never had a childhood, or friends to lose. And you, if you're going to be in my house, you can damn well show some of those knightly manners you're supposed to have and sit down." She jabbed a thumb at the table surrounded by wooden chairs.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

“I am not a Knight!” The only words he spoke when she’d finished her rant. “If all you have is anger and bitterness towards them then why not leave the city?” He stared at her now, as she pushed him with he had to admit surprising strength. He planted his foot behind him and grounded himself. He felt an odd sensation like he was looking at someone who’d been through a similar string of events but unlike someone else he knew she was embittered by it.

He listened but he didn’t move, he didn’t take a single step not one. He felt the anger rising in him the want to vent the will to lash out but still he stifled it. He willed it back down trying to quiet the fire. And then his mother was mentioned. Ne could stifle it no longer. “And which is worse? Having no mem ories of someone you’ve never met? Or knowing that as hard as you try as much as you do you’ll never see the smile of someone you’ve loved ever again!?” He slammed his fist into the all, the plates rattling under the force. “You belive you’ve had a hard life well aren’t you a special snow flake?! Half the world hasn’t had a child hood. I wasn’t born here in this peaceful environment.” He felt his fingers curl and he could hold back no longer.

“No I was born in Ravok. Son of an assassin and a member of the Petching Ebonstryfe! I was brought up in a household that as much as I wanted to I couldn’t escape. I could run I couldn’t flee. My own family put me through things I can’t even describe. Why? So I could turn out like them.” He glared at her now his calm and even voice was now raised and filled with a fury. He was seriously angry and he couldn’t hold back. “You’ve worked a field. I had to practice how to fire a bow since I was old enough to pick it up. I’ve had no choice in what I’ve done for eighteen years!” He hissed the words out and then his tone evened out as he continued. “I joined the knights, as a penance. A way to wash away the sins of my family. It’s why I never feel I’ve done enough because I never can to right their wrongs. So tell me I’m feeling sorry for myself all you like. But know the full story before you judge someone else.”