[Flashback] On the Road (Wrenmae)

[Yanessavhanet]

Season of Fall, Day 43, 510 AV

The group of wagons moving through barren lands of The Unforgiving was small, just three wagons, but they seemed well enough off. The wagons were in good repair, and there were half a dozen armed and armored men walking with it as guards. For the most part they were silent, focused on their jobs, but one of the pair in the back was having a quiet conversation with a woman riding on the last wagon. Judging by the fact that the man's eyes were rarely on the woman's face, even with most her body covered by a fur lined cloak, it was pretty obvious where the guard's thoughts were.

Vhanet gave a little giggle at the guard's latest joke, rewarding him with a glance of her bare leg as she kicked it out from underneath her cloak and skirt, "To think that within your powerful body there can be a great and funny intellect! There can be no other like you Brunwick."

Brunwick grinned and puffed out his chest at the compliment, his eyes following the curve of Vhanet's leg even after it had vanished beneath her clothing again, "Why do ya wear so much clothes Vhanet? Ya'd look so much better with somethin' lighter and... sexier."

Vhanet had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the man, even if he wasn't looking at her face, and instead settled for a small laugh, "The air here can bite like I never felt in my home. Even with all I wear I can hardly keep from trembling at the cold."

"I could keep ya warm," Brunwick grinned widely as he moved closer to Vhanet and stretched out his hands eagerly.

"But then the merchant would be angry and leave me behind," Vhanet cloak slip open to reveal a slight view of the skin of her neck and hint of the curve of her chest, "You don't want that, do you Brunwick."

"Uh... No, no I don't," Brunwick said with a shake of his head as he openly stared.

[Wrenmae]

"Oh may the road of Kalea rise UP to meet ya,
May it spare all the dangers of an Unforgiving pass
And if you look to the mountains that stand all around you
You'll find that they watch, as you travel on by."

Astride Weaver, the gelding oddly quiet today, Wrenmae traveled along a popular trade route through the Unforgiving. It was hard to find, more guesswork favoring the wider passes or the age old wagon wheel tracks in the ground. Traveling through the Unforgiving was a difficult, a constant battle with the living and the dead, with survival and any number of possible wildlife demises.

But after so long, one begins to forget the sound of humanity, voices of importance that buoyed the mind and fed the spirit. What he was, what he spread...made it impossible to stay in one place too long. People died, friends were tarnished with pale faces and hacking coughs.

Blight-bearer, plague-spewer, poison-child...Vayt did little to his chosen save curse them with an inability to hold relationships, stay in one place long, or generally enjoy life to its fullest.

So it was with great indecision that he finally came here, along a common route looking for companionship.

Ahead of him, the first horse nose broke around a bend in the canyon, like the prow of some small ship. With them came wagons, only three, but still more than the mountains had offered before.

Giving a short wave, Wrenmae turned his horse toward the group and trotted over, both hands visible.

"Hello there!" he called out to them, hands out and empty "Fair day for travel!" Although a bit unkempt, shadows clustering his chin and darkening his skin and hair. Nevertheless, he smiled openly, and had the unmistakably air of charm and health about him, despite his singular presence in the Unforgiving.

[Yanessavhanet]

The caravan came to a halt at Wrenmae's greeting, and the two guards around the front wagon paused and looked around for signs of an attack, weapons at the ready. After a moment the merchant waved from his seat at the head wagon and called back, "As fair as you can find in the Unforgiving. What brings you out on the road alone?"

Back on the third wagon Vhanet turned her attention away from the drooling of Brunwick and towards the young man on the horse. He was quite handsome, even more so for the fact that he was apparently someone to travel the wilds by himself. In fact, he was almost the exact opposite of Brunwick and the other guards.

That fact intrigued Vhanet, and she kept her eyes on the young man even as Brunwick cleared his throat, "Uh... Vhanet? Ya know that guy?"

"No Brunwick," Vhanet gave a small shake of her head while still keeping her eyes on the man on the horse, "But I am wondering about him. Do you think him harmful?"

Brunwick gave a laugh and a shake of his head, "Nah, a guy that scrawny can't be any danger. Don't worry pretty, I'll keep ya safe," Vhanet finally pulled her gaze away as Brunwick slid up close to her and wrapped a "protective" arm around her shoulders.

"I know you will," Vhanet replied to the guard with a smile, though her mind remained on the handsome and mysterious man up ahead of the caravan.

[Wrenmae]

A breeze bore the message between them, cold and cruel it tore across the storyteller's brow and across the flank of Weaver, eliciting a weary sneeze from the animal. He was sick again, as usual in Wrenmae's presence, and his miserable step was only maintained by the promise of comfort at some far junction in time. Wrenmae pitied his companions, always ill and barely over their individual troubles...but without them he would be truly alone, adrift in all but name.

The idea was frightening, one he had not visited since leaving his family in the Unforgiving. Loneliness, that most potent of emotion, was a plague more potent than any virulent disease.

As he approached the merchant and the small wagon train, his eyes traveled to the beautiful female riding brazenly beside a guard. Of them all, she looked the most out of place. It wasn't how she looked, although prettier than any other in the wagon, but how she held herself. At least to Wrenmae, she seemed more a traveler along for the ride than any definitive part of the wagon train moving through.

"A bit lost actually," he answered the merchant with a smile, stopping his horse a safe distance from the man "On my way back to Alvadas.". Pressing into his natural aura, Wrenmae coaxed ease into his mind, whispering the words You can Trust me, over and over as a silent mantra in the merchant's conditioning. It was eerie how quickly he jumped to hypnotism these days, almost trusting fate to find a reason to ostracize him lest he not control the situation.

The merchant, affected by the manipulation or not, seemed to take the story as it was. Wrenmae was not a threatening looking individual, instead exuded a sort of infectious charm.

"May I ask for passage back to Alvadas with your wagons? I am short on coin, but I can weave tales to entertain if need be...and I've my own food." Weighing the option, the caravan merchant finally gave a short nod and a startlingly bright grin.

Nodding his head, Wrenmae commanded Weaver to stand near the edge of the road, allowing the wagon train to pass him before pulling abreast of the group. The guards eyed him with a sort of lazy suspicion, more concerned about he condition of his horse than the rider. To the girl, Wrenmae winked and smiled, pulling near her, "And what brings a beauty like yourself out traveling in the Unforgiving? Headed to Alvadas? Or," he trailed off looking to the forbidding peaks in the distance, "Do you seek one of Kalea's other civilized gems?"

[Yanessavhanet]

Vhanet's attention drifted off to the young man as he talked with the merchant, despite the fact that Brunwick's hand started to wander a little, and she was surprised as she listened to how smoothly the man managed to barter passage. She had only managed to secure her passage thanks to her hold on Brunwick. Maybe the merchant had a soft spot for stories, but Vhanet wondered if maybe there was something else at work, and that brought her curiosity in the stranger even higher.

Noticing the young man waiting on the side of the road for the caravan to pass Vhanet turned and whispered to Brunwick, "Brunwick, the merchant!" which got the dimwitted guard to remove his hand and jump away.

Not long after the young man pulled his horse up near Vhanet, drawing a bit of a glare from Brunwick, and she returned a pleasant smile to him, giving a lightly embarrassed laugh at his compliment, "You are too kind... I am traveling to where the road will take me, but if a man like you journey to Alvadass," it was hard to clip off the s sound so it would sound relatively normal, but Vhanet had little choice, "Maybe it would be a worthwhile city to travel to."

Noticing Brunwick give a small glare to the man gave Vhanet an idea, and she offered her hand to the man in greeting, "You may call me Vhanet, and you are?"

Perhaps if she saw the man work his persuasion skills up close she might be able to understand it better.

[Wrenmae]

Weaver sneezed, a note to break the end of Vhanet's sentence and send Brunwick's horse reeling away, looking affronted. Wrenmae pulled the reigns sharply, keeping the geldling in line...but not much happier. Ket peeked from the saddle bag, the kitten still getting over her awkward phase and sneezing, also sick with Vayt's plague. Wrenmae tried not to hear them, tried not to understand that his time with them was going to be abnormally short. When he found someone worth trusting, he would leave them with one of his animals...that, at least, would put his mind at ease for their fates.

It was becoming painfully obvious that his ability to be with others was a transient thing at best. As always the smell of cloyingly strong cigar smoke wafted just beyond Wrenmae's nostrils, a constant reminder that there was no one immune...friend or foe, from his curse.

But years of living with it had dulled the pain of understanding, and though he warred a battle within himself for the moral fiber of his being, he could put such thoughts behind him long enough to smile and socialize when presented an opportunity.

"Vhanet," he let the syllables simmer on his tongue. She was a pretty one, foreign perhaps, but if he noticed the slight extended hiss in her tone, he made no note of it. His eyes met hers, their horses stepping in tandem. "Beautiful name really, mine is hardly as flattering. Wrenmae Sek of Alvadas, out for a walk about the mountains...but I should have prepared better to travel alone."

Her pet, Brunwick, pushed up against Weaver and sent Wrenmae nearly tumbling from the saddle.

"Sorry," he muttered unconvincingly, but to that Wrenmae only smiled. To Brunwick he was less subtle, punching through his personal aura and pushing an unease into the guard. This slight boy, scarcely more than a child, there was something decidedly off about him...something dangerous, or at least that's what Wrenmae whispered in his mind.

Blood pierced one iris, blurring his vision and the boy looked away, horrified. In that one moment of retaliation he had ruined his chances of a peaceful ride. Brunwick stared at him suspiciously, eyes narrowed and hand near to his blade. Keeping his head down and wiping blood from his eye, he blinked vision back and smiled sheepishly, almost apologetically.

"Where do you hail from? I cannot be sure, and this may be rude, but you do seem a stranger in these mountains."

[Yanessavhanet]

"I think you have a fine name, Wrenmae," Vhanet said with a pleasant smile in return to Wrenmae's comment on her name, "And traveling alone can't be better than traveling with company. If you had prepared better, then we would probably not be talking now."

Practice kept Vhanet's desire to smile in check as Brunwick pushed up against Wrenmae's horse as expected. Men like Brunwick were very easy to predict and manipulate. Wrenmae's response was a little more unexpected, the boy simply smiling and looking at Brunwick.

Carefully Vhanet watched, hoping for a display of how Wrenmae had manipulated the merchant, and after a moment she was rewarded with the sight of... something in Wrenmae's eye. It was hard to tell as the human quickly looked away, and when he looked back it was gone. Brunwick seemed to have noticed it as well, and he seemed very suspicious now, but also uneasy and wary of Wrenmae.

Could it be a magic that manipulated the mind? Perhaps the illusions she had heard of that existed in Alvadas? Even more intrigued now she smiled warmly to Wrenmae at his question, "You are correct, I am not from nearby. I come from a much warmer and arid city called Ahnatep. Have you heard of it?"

As she spoke she leaned a bit more in Wrenmae's direction, the opening in her cloak shifting to give him a better view of the slightly lowered neckline of her blouse. Brunwick had only been her ticket to ride on the wagon, but this Wrenmae was much more interesting.

[Wrenmae]

"I have not," came the interested answer, Wrenmae still dabbing the blood from his eye swiftly, "I've never seen a desert, only heard tell of it...is it true there are dunes as large as these mountains, made entirely of hot sand?" In truth, at this point diverting the topic from what had happened between the body guard and the storyteller could not be more forward in the human's mind. Hypnotism, like any addictive substance, only increased potency the more he used it. The idea and desire to continue pushing, to hold minds in his palm like beating hearts, control them, master them...it was almost too much. Marked by Vayt he was like so many plague bearing outcasts, only bringing sorrow to those he grew close to, even those he didn't.

They were all going to be sick at some point, likely, but for now the storyteller just wanted to enjoy feeling powerful, feeling wanted.

His eyes edged toward the shadow clinging to the edge of her breasts, a small peak into a world of gentle valleys and smooth flesh. It took a moment for him to pull his eyes away, blinking suddenly and smiling.

There was mirth in his eyes, now, moreso than there had been before. She was flirting with him, her every movement sensuous and self aware. She knew how to play men, her eyes and her body told that story, a silent testament to how she controlled men even without magic.

Swallowing, willing away the blush that rose to his cheeks, he looked out to the head of the wagon, watching it dip and move with every bump of the trail.

"Preparation is difficult in the Unforgiving," he said at last, patting the side of Weaver's neck. The horse sneezed in response, irritable. "Often I find that the only way to be prepared is to travel without expectation, the Unforgiving seems impish enough to defy those plans in earnest."

[Yanessavhanet]

"There may be," Vhanet answered Wrenmae's question with a hint of wondering in her own voice, "They are not near Ahnatep, but would be deep in the Burning Land. The burning Land can be incredibly deadly, even for one prepared for the heat and lack of anything to live off of. It might be even more unforgiving than the Unforgiving," she motioned to the craggy land about them, "But I could certainly never travel alone here like you do, and definitely not the Burning Land."

Her smile grew a little more sincere as she noticed where Wrenmae's eyes traveled, and the blush that came to his cheeks for a moment. The game was certainly going well for her, but it was only a step in the direction she wanted to go. She would need more to get what she desired.

Scooting over a little on the wagon she rode on Vhanet patted the spot next to her, "Why not let your weary mount recover and relax next to me for now? I would like very much to hear of the city you come from."

She saw the glare Brunwick cast at her words and actions, but even if the man grew mad it would work out for her. Either he would antagonize Wrenmae, or possibly attack Wrenmae and provide a fun show. Either way she would be happy, and her journey would continue.

[Wrenmae]

Eying the woman curiously, Wrenmae evaluated his options. She was leading him to her, baiting him much like a spider baited prey. Eerily he was reminded of his encounter with a Symnestra, the pallor of her skin, the hungry way she moved her body. Brunwick scowled, suspicious and threatened as dominant male of the party. To sit beside her was to completely destroy any chance of kinship between the two. While it wasn't all that important to Wrenmae what the big man thought, he certainly wasn't in the habit of making enemies.

Something darker urged him onward, drunk on the power of being wanted, even without using his powers. A bit more reserved than that, if only a bit, Wrenmae smiled politely and patted Weaver roughly on his neck.

"Of course, I never pass up a chance to tell a story."

Slipping from the back of his mount, he bade it continue with the caravan, giving the creature some time to make its meandering way within the confines of its current entourage. Climbing on top of the wagon seat, Wrenmae flattened himself against the wood and relaxed.

"Alvadas is a curious place," he began, understating the obvious. "At first glance one might assume a child laid the design for the streets, twisting and winding, far more than any other city I've heard tell of. There is beauty in it, but for travelers it can be confusing. Likewise the Garden of No Return presents an optical challenge to even residents. Above all, Alvadas belongs to Ionu...and the god keeps it in confusion."

He looked over to her, eyes once again catching the swath of flesh on display. It was disconcerting how much he wanted to be lost in her beauty, painfully aware of how lonely life had been these past few months. Self control, however, was a statute of behavior...if he lost himself to her charms, what was to stop him from resisting the Sweet Whispers?

"Tell me of Ahnatep," he said at last, "Certainly there is more to your home than warmth and sand?"