Closed Soaked Sandbagging

[Alric Lysane]

As Bronwen began to stir he kept his eyes upon the fire, puffing away and waiting for her to actually come into consciousness. He knew first-hand what it was like waking from a long drinking spell and a series of fights in the cage at Tall Johnny’s. He had tried not to hurt her too badly, but he doubted she’d have come out of it with much less than a severe headache at the least. When she did more than murmur and shuffle around on the cot and, instead, said his name and groaned in a more meaningful manner, he put his pipe down and shifted his gaze to her as she woke. “There we go, the signs of after party suffering” he muttered to himself, snorting as his fingers gripped the staff more firmly and carefully put it as far away from her as possible, letting it prop up against the wall. He didn’t have much chance to interact with her as she all but surged out of the bed once awake and proceeded to vomit into the barrel…that he liked to use for water. He resigned himself to having to buy a new one and burn the one she was currently using between exclamations and self-criticisms. He thought that he disliked himself but her disappointment and seeming hatred for herself, by the tone of her voice at least, felt more desperate and deeper than his own problems. There was a deep desperation in her voice, and he was shocked when she ended up on her knees before him. That wasn’t something that he wanted, not that she left him much chance to intervene and put a stop to it. What had seemed like a reasonably strong, if somewhat misguided woman, was suddenly seeming a broken and tearful woman, begging to leave his presence and probably wallow in her misery. This was why he hated the idea of Nymkarta, empires and authority – he could imagine them enjoying this experience of others kneeling and pleading. He hated it and just wished she would stop. “Easy…easy…look Bronwen…just look I….please…would you just stop talking” he managed to get out with only a slight edge of frustration, her words finally dying down as she held her wrists up to him. He pulled his dagger from his boot with his right hand and tapped the rope around her wrist with it gently, looking at her directly and putting his finger to her lips in a shushing motion. He sighed, tilting his head sideways as he tried to think of the best way to phrase things. She was clearly distraught and he didn’t want her to bolt out of the door without thinking, surging into the city just to face a repeat of what her emotions had already gained her. “You know I hear the request for untying a lot at Ruby’s and they told me never to do so, but that aside, if you don’t stop apologizing then I swear to you I will kill myself,” he said, looking her directly in the eye, “I will set you free. I only tied you up because you almost killed me earlier. Twice actually. That’s the only thing to apologise for, and you already apologised for the first time. I accept one for the second…so stop it” “You can turn tail and run out of the door if you like, when I cut you free, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. It would seem opposite to your stubbornness considering they had to stuff that shyke into you forcibly rather than taking it willingly…a fact that you shouldn’t hate yourself for” he said, leaning forward and neatly slicing through the rope and slipping the dagger back into his boot. “Now, I had to take you down or you’d have killed me. Garret got away but he lost two of his ‘friends’ and if he comes for me, he’ll lose the rest of them. Now, seeing as you clocked me a couple times too, I think that makes us even. Still, if you want to talk to me about what the petch is going on then I’m all ears. Either way I didn't save your arse just for you to go and get it screwed by a dealer again, so you're better off staying here until you're capable of properly moving at the very least. You want to do that in sullen silence, so be it” “Your choice Bronwen, but I doubt you’ll find someone more willing to listen on this day, in the time I have left available,” he said, leaning back into his chair and looking at her, “and get off your knees, it doesn’t become you and I don’t like it”

[Bronwen]

At Alric's demand, Bronwen's mouth snapped shut with a near audible click, successfully severing anything further the guard would have said. Storm blue eyes carefully surveyed the man's face, eyes closing briefly as his calloused finger pressed against her mouth. The simple touch sent another shudder through her; it felt good, even if slightly condescending.

Bron could clearly see that Alric's patience with her was at an end, and she gave the man a slow, sheepish nod, signifying the end of her incessant apologies. It was, however, a very difficult feat not to apologize again for almost killing him and an even more challenge not to apologize for apologizing.

Once the ropes fell free of her wrists, Bron's arms sagged to her side, and she dropped her face. No solace came upon hearing that she had been forced to take the dust and hadn't ingested it herself. Regardless of how Bron had taken the drug, it still had entered her body, and Bronwen knew what that meant. The journey to rid herself of the habit over the last fortnight had ended, and she found herself facing a new, possibly even more arduous journey.

Even now, she could feel the hunger for the drug. Over the next bells and even days, the cravings would grow more potent, more desperate, more clawing. Bron would either give up, give in, or keep fighting, and she didn't feel much like a fighter at present.

Alric spoke again, and the man's admonishing tone brought Bronwen from her morose thoughts, eyes widening with the dawning realization that she was, indeed, on her knees in front of Alric. The shame was sharp and sudden, and Bron dropped her eyes and looked away.

How very pathetic she must seem to this man.

"I'm..." she began, very nearly apologizing again, but caught herself. "I hadn't realized."

Bron slid sideways to her rear end, drew her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her legs. Lowering her face, she pressed her forehead to her bent knees and stayed that way for a long while. She must have fallen asleep because Bron found herself stretched out on the floor when she opened her eyes. Pathetic indeed.

Crawling to the bed was more difficult than Bron thought it should have been. Her head still ached something fierce, and she could tell by her own exaggerated and slow movements, the drug had not fully lessened its hold. Garrett and the fools he calls friends must have dosed her with nearly the entire contents of the bag. She moaned, long and low, as she pulled her aching body up and situated herself back on the cot. Rolling to her side, she spotted Alric, perched in the same chair, watching her, and Bron watched him right back.

Alric was, indeed, a very handsome man, with cobalt blue eyes that weren't completely veiled by loose curls swinging down from a tie that held the majority of his brown locks. Those eyes bore into her, and it was Bron who looked away first, closing her eyes against the man's intensity.

"It was Garrett who started me on dust." she said into the silent room "I had gone to Pig's Foot for a drink, and there was a man there, and he bought me a drink." Bron laughed sadly "I thought he liked me, he had said as much, and so over the next fortnight, I met him for drinks. Turns out, he worked for Garrett and he had been putting dust in my drinks the entire time. By the time I had figured it out, I was sick from withdrawals, and he assured me he knew the cure. It was the beginning of the end for me."

Pushing herself up, Bron swung her legs over the edge of the cot, gaze lifting to Alric's. "I know you said no more apologies, but, Alric, I am so sorry for bringing this down on you." she shook her head, sighing as she dropped her eyes. "I can't imagine what you must think of me, but I assure you it can't be any less than what I think of myself right now." Bron stood slowly, and when she remained on her feet without tipping over, she reached for her staff. "I think I best be going. I'm sure you've had enough of me for one day."

With that, Bron turned and headed for the door.

[Alric Lysane]

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, after all she was the first person to visit his shack in years. Added to that the fact that he had little experience of directly dealing with those who were drugged, or so visibly distraught, meant that he was genuinely surprised by her sudden compliance and almost sheepish change of body language. He had expected some sort of fight, the citizens of Sunberth hardened over their years to be stubborn and recalcitrant – traits he recognized in himself also. Instead he watched, thankful that she got off of her knees, but with raised eyebrows as she curled into a ball instead, as if protecting herself from everything else, himself included. Did I seem that threatening that she feels the need to do so? he thought to himself, keeping an eye upon her as she stayed silent and her head started to loll. He realised just before she started to slump sideways that she was asleep and shifted forwards to catch her before she smacked her head into the floor, adding to the punishment that had already been inflicted. Lowering her gently to the floor he made sure she looked comfortable, head resting upon her arm, before returning to his chair. He sighed and made up another pipe, this one less for the nerves and more for the musing. “I had only meant to try to shock some sense into her, I hadn’t meant to make her feel…well, I suppose this is a learning experience for both of us” he muttered to himself as he began to puff away, looking at Bronwen now instead of the fire. She seemed more at peace now that she was asleep, the uniquely strange colouring of her eyes neither filled with sorrow, or fractiousness, and instead closed, her features eased of their turmoil. As the smoke curled around his face for the second time, he could see why this dealer would be after her as a prize. He suspected it was less about the miza and more about the woman…and what he could get from her. High cheekbones to emphasise the eyes, somewhat curled hair that framed a face that possessed its own beauty when released from its burdens. Had she been convinced to slip into something more associated with the feminine Alric could see her having little difficulty in getting free drinks, and far too much lecherous company. “And he stuffed you full of the stuff, followed you and forced you…just so he could likely have a go at getting himself some…fun” he muttered to himself darkly, the very idea revolted him. Sunberthian he might be by default but there were lines that shouldn’t be crossed in his book. As she stirred, he watched her groan and moan her way to the cot bed and knew that, at the rate she seemed to be recovering, she would like as not be recovering her strength most of the evening. He doubted she’d be in a fully fit state to defend herself again, more coherently perhaps, until both the drugs and the headaches had left her. He wasn’t sure how long the former might take, but the second usually went with a good night’s sleep and the acceptance of the bruises the following day. He wouldn’t be able to stick around, but as she watched him intently and then she broke gaze, he knew he could offer her some sanctuary at least. When her story came, he listened, not wanting to interrupt her but also knowing, as it unfolded, that this hatred she seemed to have for herself – or low opinion at least – didn’t seem justified. He had imagined that something tragic had happened to her, had broken her, and so she had turned to the drug to numb things. That was understandable and a routine story in Sunberth, but what she described was a calculated plot, one which ensnared her and yet she seemed to blame herself for it. That made no sense to him, but he was tactful enough to not interrupt her with it. When she rose to head to the door he was surprised though. Did she really want to be that far away from him? He wasn’t sure that he had done anything to merit that, but then again, he wasn’t an expert on reading drug addicts. “I think that you are being too hard on yourself,” he said as her back turned to him, “you’re blaming yourself for something that isn’t your fault. You aren’t the first to fall for that particular con…though I admit the twist with adding in the drug is…twisted. But no, I have fallen for confidence tricks more than I’d like to admit, despite the fact I like to think I’m pretty savvy at spotting them” “I won’t stop you leaving, but you can stay here if you wish. There will be a free bed for you to sleep in for a night at least. You seem to think that I hate you…Bronwen I barely know you. But if I hated you, then why would I carry you here, to my home, instead of leaving you in the rain and mud? Do you think that little of yourself that I must have brought you here just to torment you further?” “Look, I’m the last person to tell someone else how to deal with their problems. I spent the first part of the season trying to get myself battered in Tall Johnny’s Cage after all. But I do know, from personal experience, that when someone offers to help, it might be best to at least try to accept it. You never know, it might open doors” “Leave if you must, but you can come back if you decide to accept. If you do go then perhaps, one day, you can tell me why you think that getting robbed of your free will by another makes you the bad woman”

[Bronwen]

"It is my fault!

Bronwen rounded on Alric, her face a furry of contrition and sorrow.

"When I found out what Garrett had done, I had a choice, at that very chime, Alric." Bron's hands tightened around the quarterstaff, head shaking with self-reproach. "Even Garrett's man told me as much. I could continue to hurt, continue to be sick, or I could take what he offered, and I took it! Scoffing, she turned her face away, attempting, but failing, to hide the tears that had flooded her eyes from Alric. "And, I continued to take it for, what, nearly two winter's?" a bitter smile spread across her lips "That's fault, Alric, not to mention weakness. I don't deserve your help or anyone else's if all I do is constantly fail at helping myself."

Turning on her heel, she flung open the door, leaving it to bang off the inside wall, and stomped out.

Bronwen managed to walk for several chimes before her body rebelled, nausea swelling suddenly in her belly, and she fell to her knees, gagging and coughing.

"Petch!" she swore, scrubbing a trembling fist across her mouth before slamming it down atop her thigh and throwing back her head, screaming her anger into the darkening sky, "Petch it all!"

Bron stayed that way, on her knees, face to the sky, for several long ticks, knowing she wouldn't make it to Brega's alone. Tears fell as guilt and shame flooded her. After a time, she used her staff to climb back to her feet, turned hesitantly before heading back in the direction she had come. Back to Alric's.

Stomping back across what little porch the man had, she ducked through the still open doorway, meeting Alric's cobalt blue gaze with her own, her body swaying dangerously.

"I don't think I can make it back to Brega's," she admitted, defeat thick in her voice. "If you don't mind, I'd like to accept your offer, and stay awhile."

Stumbling backward, Bron's back hit a wall, and she slid down until her bottom met the cold floor, head hanging. Once the dizziness abated, she raised her eyes, gaze searching out Alric, head tipping curiously.

"Do they allow quarterstaffs in this Johnny man's cage?" she asked dully.

[Alric Lysane]

Alric had to try very hard indeed to resist the urge to grab Bronwen, stop her leaving, and then dump her back into the bed. Still, the mixture of anger and sorrow was something that flickered and lit up her eyes – normally a greyish-blue they seemed to grow bluer, and harder and deeper. He had heard it said that the eyes were the window to the soul. If that were the case Bronwen seemed to have done a good job at breaking herself up and wounding herself, deep down where it was difficult to heal afterwards. It resonated with him in a very uncomfortable way, throwing up a mirror that he looked into, but it made his skin crawl a little. He also knew that nothing he said, therefore, would stop her in that moment. She felt the way she felt, even if there were little logic to it. If she were not shouting her own at him, he might have burst out laughing at the irony of it all, that her own pain made him see how ridiculous he could be to himself also. He would evaluate that again another time, but for now he said nothing. By the way she walked she’d not make it fifty paces before collapsing. Her stubbornness might make her get there but she’d get no further. She’ll have two options, stay in the rain or return here. Here is safe, even if she doesn’t like me that much he said to himself as the door slammed shut. If it took too long, he’d go after her, like as not to pick her up again, but thankfully it wasn’t long before she returned. He met her eyes and carefully did not mention the scream of defiance he had heard a little time before her return. If anything, that showed she had strength enough to work her way through things, but he suspected that if he mentioned that she might even find a way of twisting that into another self-inflicted barb. So, he remained silent until she decided to speak of her own accord, puffing away at the last of his pipe. When she spoke, he tapped his pipe out, stamped on the ashes and placed it back into its pouch. “I already said you could stay, sleep here, you don’t need to keep asking as if I’ll change my mind after thinking you too terrible. When I make my mind up, it is made, for better or worse” he said with a wry smile, knowing all too well the nightmares that had caused him. He raised his eyebrow at her Tall Johnny’s question, wondering whether she really thought she should be fighting in a cage in her state. It showed a streak of humour that made him smile slightly. “Probably. They do animal fights every so often,” he said, meeting her eyes once more before getting up and offering his hand to get her to the bed, retreating once more after to his chair after, “but mostly it’s fist fights. I know how to fight without a weapon, so I earn a bit of coin that way sometimes, learn a bit more along the way” “At the risk of you using your staff upon me,” he said after a while of simply watching her, taking her in and weighing up whether she was about to scream at him again, “I think you are wrong. I used to think that way too, that strength was something you had and it was supposed to be unassailable…like some massive wall that held firm despite whatever was thrown at it” he continued, his gaze meeting hers directly, though she’d be able to tell that in some way he was thinking internally about things he had spent much time puzzling upon. “But then, with time and suffering, revelations and realisations…it seems to me that to stand up to something blindly, without knowing what it costs and the suffering it causes…that isn’t courage. We think it is strength only until we have suffered ourselves. No one, whatever their race or birth right, is immune to making poor choices, of being manipulated or tricked. No…now I think strength is the decision to stand up despite what you know the consequences might bring. You may think that how this all started was your fault…but today…today I saw a woman who knew that they might suffer anyway but still said no. That, I think, is true strength. Strength is supposed to be hard, otherwise what is the point in being strong?” He left it at that, he had said only a portion of what could be said but he suspected she’d not want to hear what he had already said, much less the rest of it. If she wanted weakness, she could only have asked him about his own life, looking back upon it with new eyes knowing he had preyed upon others – however deserving perhaps – just to keep himself with a full belly. What knock on effect that might have had upon the less fortunate, or able, he would never know but he suspected he’d not like to hear it. Atop that, with the whole fact his bloodline had ended the world…well Bronwen was hard upon herself. “Regardless, I am quite happy to try to help should you wish. If not, well then that would be another choice you make. I leave it up to you whether you think that would be a poor one or not,” he flashed her a short smile, “but at the very least it would seem that if you can learn to best me with weapons then at the least you’ll be better able to beat off Garret and his ‘friends’” he finished, the offer implied for her to accept in the future, or not.

[Bronwen]

Bron listened as Alric spoke, letting her head fall down to rest on her bent knees. She tried to put perspective to the man's words, tried to imagine herself as strong as Alric seemed to think she was.

However, one thing was for sure; the man was speaking from personal experience, and Bron could feel her perspective shift as she tried to imagine what sort of life Alric had lived. What weaknesses had he overcome? Maybe one day, he would be inclined to tell her of them.

When Alric's footsteps sounded close, Bron lifted her head, staring at the man's proffered hand a tick as she didn't know what it was. Slowly, she lifted her own and took his, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. She staggard slightly but managed to walk on her own to the bed.

Alric's offer to help pulled Bron's attention from contemplating the small bed, and, straightening, she turned to regard him, slightly stunned at his offer. No one had ever offered to help her, and the man hardly knew her. It was a struggle to keep the sudden sting of tears in her eyes from spilling free as she studied the man's face and the sincerity she found looking back at her. Bron had to look away, blinking rapidly, before she could form words.

"Thank you, Alric." Closing the distance between them, Bron threw her arms around the man's neck, hugging him tightly whether he wanted it or not, and judging by the sudden tightness in the man's muscles, it wasn't exactly expected. Drawing back, Bron placed a soft kiss on his cheek, smiling through her tears. "I would be honored to learn from you."

Dropping her arms, Bronwen stepped back, suddenly feeling awkward, before turning back to the bed and lowering herself down. Lifting her eyes, Bron gave Alric a hesitant smile.

"Just please don't hate me if I fail you."

[Alric Lysane]

He was suddenly taken aback by the outpouring from her, at first thinking she was going to launch herself at him once more in anger. His muscles tensed and through his mind flashed a defensive move or two, but as no fists came flying his mind witched from alarmed to confused, his body relaxing somewhat, and then into puzzlement at the hugging that seemed to be going on. Yes, it definitely seemed to be hugging. He wondered, as he patted her back and held her, a little awkwardly as she had him off balance and they had only just met, whether she was naturally this back and forth with her emotions, or whether it was the drug that did this to her. Perhaps she had been abused and pursued so long by these…dealers…that she doesn’t know what it feels like to have someone who won’t do that…maybe? Sunberth does eat people alive…I’ve not exactly had the nicest time in my life, though lately things have been better…after a fashion he mused, feeling her lips leave a kiss behind as she pulled away. He cleared his throat, and tried not to blush too much, as he wasn’t really used to such things. He had never really been one for such expressions until recently and he already got enough barbs from those at Ruby’s that he was starting to think that, whatever his origins ended up getting him in the end, they had given him some deeply ingrained character quirks that Sunberth found amusing. Upon reflection, as Bron still remained close, it was true that he was the odd one out when it came to helping people – perhaps it was just that surprising to other Sunberthians. Many, he knew, shared his ideas of slavery and rapists, though they did nothing about it so long as they weren’t personally affected. Am I truly, these days, so different from other Sunberthians? Have I changed more than I thought? he mused, smiling at her slightly bashfully. “No…that’s not how you should think. You should try not to let yourself down,” he brushed the tears away, “you’re the only one who owes yourself anything. You don’t owe me anything. And you shouldn’t blame yourself for the actions of others. All that matters, is where you go from here. You are allowed to mess thing up along the way, so long as you get where you want to be in the end” “I don’t have all the answers. I mean I only got decent clothes for the first time in ages this season. So I’ll help you get stronger, if you like. But the answers,” he tapped her chest, “they come from you. That’s the way it works. Now, get your arse to bed, you need to rest” “I have to go, I have business elsewhere. You’ll be safe here. Can put your staff and the…well it was a water barrel but now whatever it is you can out it in front of the door. Wedge the chair under the handle…and so on. It’s what I do but I’ve never had problems,” he said, packing up his pipe and grabbing his backpack filled with what he had planned to take to the Outpost, he paused at the door, looking back at her, “I don’t know what it is you need to feel better about yourself. It’s not my place to say. But…I do know that tomorrow is a new day, and every new day can bring many surprises. My life has changed much in a season or so. I’d think someone who can knock me to my arse in the mud could do much the same…if they wanted to” “You’re welcome here whenever you like, it’d be nice to know someone in Sunberth that didn’t try to treat me like Sunberth does. I’ll be back tomorrow at some point, if you’re here still then I’ll see you then” he nodded, leaving into the rain once more for a different kind of date with destiny.

[Alric Lysane]

Your Grades Alric Lysane Skills Acrobatics - 3 Body Building – 4 Endurance – 4 Intimidation – 3 Leadership - 2 Observation – 5 Persuasion – 3 Philosophy - 2 Rhetoric - 4 Socialization – 5 Stealth – 1 Weapon: Broadsword – 1 Weapon: Dagger – 1 Weapon: Unarmed - 2 Lores Alric: Dislikes Drug Dealers Bronwen: Dust Addict Bronwen: Hates Herself Bronwen: Offer Of Help Bronwen: Pretty Guard Dust: Ruins Lives Garrett: Dust Dealer Knot: Double Column Sunberth: Minimal Uniting For Self Interest Sunberth: Reading The City’s Mood Unarmed: Getting Inside A Staff’s Guard Bronwen Skills Acrobatics – 2 Body Building – 3 Endurance – 4 Interrogation – 1 Intimidation - 2 Observation – 5 Persuasion – 3 Rhetoric – 4 Seduction - 1 Socialization – 5 Storytelling - 1 Weapon: Quarterstaff - 3 Weapon: Shortbow – 1 Weapon: Unarmed - 1 Lores Alric: Handsome Helper Alric: Offered To Help Dust: I Don't Want It Anymore Dust: Laments Of Siren’s Song Dust: The Beginnings Of Resistance Garrett: Dust Dealer Garrett: Scrawny, Red-Headed, Pockmarked Son Of A Whore Hard Labour: Decreases Dust Itch Strength: Was I Wrong About It?