Solo Forgive the Children We Once Were

[Ianthe]

Forgive the Children We Once Were Timestamp: 24th Day of Spring, 516 AV Location: Dyres District Ianthe navigated the stone corridors in Dyres District with the ease of someone who had never grown up in a citadel. After the first five chimes, all of the doors and hallways began to blend together and she lost track of whether she had turned left or right in the myriad of twists and turns. In her confusion, she had also forgotten her client’s apartment number and was stuck repeating his name on loop – as if that would help her arrive more quickly. Ser Huon Ainsworth, Ser Huon Ainsworth, Ser Huon Ainsworth… Ser Huon was an unranked Knight living on the third level of Dyres District. He had reached out to Ianthe through a scrawled note requesting her meditation guidance, and they had arranged to meet just after his evening patrol of the Harbour. Midnight was, admittedly, not an ideal time to teach, but Ianthe was still building her reputation in Syliras and “beggars could not be choosers”… or so the Sylirans kept saying. (Though, to be perfectly honest, she didn’t entirely understand the phrase and assumed it was another one of those odd human expressions.) Flames flickered from torches as the konti continued her search. The edges of her pink dress trailed along the stone as she passed apartment after apartment. Her heart began to beat faster when, up ahead, a shadow grew and shrank just beyond an upcoming turn. There was something about the dark; it had the ability to both spook and comfort – though in Ianthe’s experience, it was more often the former than the latter. To her immense relief and mild embarrassment, a human woman turned the corner. She looked to be in her late teens or early twenties, and carried a look of such bone-tired exhaustion on her face and in her limbs that Ianthe very nearly held back from asking her for directions. The two women were shoulder-to-shoulder when Ianthe changed her mind. “Wait!” she said, wincing when the woman jumped like a fox caught in a chicken coop. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Ianthe trailed off, unsure of the Common phrasing. “I’m sorry. Do you know where Ser Huon Ainsworth lives?” “Apartment 354,” the woman replied after a moment’s thought, and nodded her head in the opposite direction that Ianthe was headed. “You just missed it. Take a left and a quick right, and you’ll find it. Come, I’m heading that way. I’ll take you there.” “Thank you,” Ianthe said, nearly missing the brief look of judgment that passed over the woman’s face. “I teach meditation,” she continued hastily, hoping to clear up any rumour or misunderstanding before it spread. The other woman shrugged her shoulders in response. The Syliran and the Muran fell into step and walked in slow silence towards Ser Huon’s. Every few ticks, Ianthe eyed her guide in an effort to ferret out whether or not she had been believed. She had never been mistaken for a harlot before, but found she was less concerned with the label than she was about how such a title might impact her ability to do business. This will be the first and the last time I ever do such a late night lesson, Ianthe decided. The last time within Syliran walls, at least. True to her word, the woman delivered Ianthe to Ser Huon’s door within several chimes. The two exchanged niceties, and Ianthe said her thanks – biting her tongue when the woman shot her another wary look. When she was alone once more, Ianthe rapped sharply on the door. “Ser Huon?” A long pause. She had raised her fist to knock once more when the door creaked open and she was greeted by a dark, tear-stained face. “… Ser Huon?”