Rude Awakening

[Andrael]

Introductory bit, definitely open though it may have an additional purpose. Give me a poke!

Andrael's first impression was one of weight... horrible weight, burdening her from every side. The ground pressed into her back, sucking her down, binding her with chains of gravity. Dirt and pebbles pressed into her wings, both of which splayed out uncomfortably underneath her, sandwiched between the unyielding earth and her armored form. Each breath was a labor, for the air was so heavy with moisture and sea-level substance that she may as well have been drinking it. So different from the dry, light breezes of home...

Her whole body ached, from the light throbbing in her temples to the dull pain radiating from her booted feet. Muscles she didn't know she had made their presence known. It was as though a titan had drop-kicked her from one of the distant mountains. Perhaps not that bad an analogy, she reflected, chuckling to herself. Planar travel was never easy, and such a jump from the fortress-monastery to this place...

...well, Andrael's lips curved into a small smile. She'd been lucky, or perhaps blessed, to have ended the trip in such good shape.

Despite the heaviness of the air, there was a pleasant breeze blowing from the east, ruffling in her feathers and toying with a lock of hair that lay over her left eye. Andrael's smile broadened, and she stared up into the noonday sun, letting its brilliance wash over and mend her mind. Already, the half-remembered flickers of elemental chaos and darkness were fading, melting under the reassuring light. Her lips formed a litany of thanks, a few simple phrases in Cant, directed up into the skies at whatever force for good had guided her safely here.

Andrael let her consciousness drift with the breeze. She found herself content to lie in place, recover, adapt to this new world where she would serve the Order. Oh, how warm and comforting the sun was... and in the distance, there came the periodic swish of waves breaking on rocks. She'd only heard it twice in her life, but it seemed familiar to something deep inside of her. Soothing. Calling her to sleep, to nap the afternoon away, and--

Taint!

She jolted upright. Agony rippled through her stomach, though the rush of danger-spirit into her blood deadened the pain from her cramps. Both of her eyes flickered around. Her hand reached up to clutch the hilt of her greatsword, but she did not draw.

There was no immediate threat. There was just the rolling of grassland, broken by nearby fields of wheat and barley. A few squat farmhouses dotted a dirt path that she could make out in the distance, one that threaded over the shallow hills towards the walled seaport her briefing had tagged as the city of Scara Brae. The only movement that drew her eye was the swishing of grass in the wake of an especially fat groundhog, on a hill nearby.

"My imagination ... playing cruel tricks," Andrael muttered. Ugh. She sounded as though she'd been eating gravel -- hoarse. Had she really been screaming during the planar trip...? No. No sense in dwelling on that, or on anything that would heighten her apparent paranoia. Calm. Deep breaths. Relax. Focus.

A few moments and a whispered incantation later, and the worry had diminished, leaving calm in its place. The hillock where she'd landed, though, no longer seemed quite such an attractive place for a nap. It would be good to get some city walls between herself and trouble... and, perhaps, a good solid nap between her and the trip across realities.

Standing up was easier than she'd expected; her legs felt sore, and her feet a bit tender as she finished pushing herself up, but nothing worse than the soreness from a long day's walk. She glanced down at herself, taking a final inventory of her limbs and equipment as her wings fluffed out behind her. No obvious wounds, no tearing or even soiling of the cloth over her mail, and the comfortable weight of Divisive remained right where it should be.

Andrael turned and began to stride down the hillock towards the dirt road, on the swiftest route that wouldn't take her through a farmer's crop. Breathing came easier now, and the warmth of the sun eased some of her tension as it warmed the brown wool that pressed into her bared back. Still, she couldn't help but feel a lingering shadow over her; there was something out of place, and she couldn't tell what.

[Andrael]

The farmstead looked very similar to what Andrael had pictured in her head when she had read of such things. A low whitewashed house with a slate roof crouched next to a larger wooden structure that she guessed to be a stable or barn. On the other side of the house, neat rows of greenery marked a vegetable garden; it was miniscule in comparison to the spread of grains in the fields back behind the house. There were no fences around the fields or the farmhouse, leading Andrael to believe that this farmer didn’t deal much in livestock… and for that matter, that none of his nearby neighbors did either. Perhaps just a beast or two to draw the plows, or help thresh the grain.

The wind shifted to blow from the farmhouse and barn, and her nose twitched.

The smell was not something she had expected. Andrael couldn’t precisely describe what the breeze blowing from the farm smelled like. It wasn’t anything she had smelled before, though it did contain identifiable traces of animal dung and thatch. She spared a moment to ponder the question as she continued down the road. In the celestial realms, after all, very little had smelled of anything. With the exception of flowers and ceremonial unguents that had been created to mimic pleasant scents, her celestial kin had done away with, sanitized, or purified most of the operations in the fortress-monastery that would have generated unseemly odors.

This led Andrael to wonder how Scara Brae would smell, and somehow she doubted that it would be nearly so subtle.

Ah, joy.

The road passed less than a stone’s throw from the open door, and as her footsteps took her closer, Andrael slowed to peer into the opening. She caught a shape moving inside… sensed nothing wrong here, nothing overt enough to rouse her antipathy.

“Can I help you, miss?”

The placid question, delivered from somewhere behind her, sent her spinning around, her hand moving towards her shoulder -- and then she realized what she’d nearly done and dropped it to her side, hasty to show she meant no harm. A light blush rose to her cheeks.

Damn it, Andrael… not a good impression to be making. Easy does it. He could probably be a friend, if you don’t bloody well draw on him…

Her first impression was of a weathered face, and dark brown eyes that met her own without pretense. The man’s hair was short; it had doubtless once been as brown as his eyes, but streaks of grey ran through it and the color had faded with exposure to the sunlight.

“…Ah, right. My apologies, sir.” Andrael swallowed, hiding her wince. Still hoarse. “I was just -- on my way into Scara Brae from points abroad. It’s been a long trip.”

The man gave a slow nod. His hands slipped into the pockets of his weathered tunic, but his eyes didn’t shift from her face. Briefly, Andrael wondered if she’d been too verbose. Perhaps he hadn’t understood?

“If that’s the case, you’ve seen a lotta farms. Enough by now that I’d think you were used to ‘em. But you stop here to gawk at ours? Hm.” A tiny, knowing smirk crinkled the corners of his mouth for a moment. “Sure we can’t help you with something?”

Ouch. He had her there. Hadn’t understood, indeed…

“Ah, well.” She coughed into her gloved fist, and it wasn’t feigned; her throat was giving her a hard time about talking and swallowing. “…mgh. Actually, yes. I was… mph, wondering if I could rest my feet a bit? Get something to drink? I can pay you for the trouble--”

Andrael blinked as he tilted back his head. Peals of laughter filled the tiny valley carved by the road. She didn’t think she’d made a joke, but who could tell?

After a few moments, the farmer’s laughter quieted, and he shook his head. “Ah, me. You’re serious, though, aren’t you? Pay me, just for being hospitable to a stranger in need? Especially a gods-touched stranger? I’ve seen wings ‘n eyes like that before, miss. I know what you are.”

“But not who.” Andrael felt a grin come to her lips, and some of the tension eased out of her shoulders. Surely, whatever had caused her disquiet could not find refuge here, among such honest folk. “That’s my fault, I fear… agh. Gods. Too long a day… for politeness. I’m Andrael Meridius, sir, but you can call me Rae.”

She offered her hand, and he clasped it firmly in return, seemingly at ease. His grip was firm, but not overpowering; his eyes still hadn’t left hers, except for the bout of laughter. “Taren Janikson, and a pleasure to meet you, miss Rae. As it happens, y’ wouldn’t have caught me lounging out here, but it’s almost time for noonmeal. Stay ‘n eat something, rest a bit.”

A small groan escaped Andrael’s throat. She rubbed her right shoulder, pressing the mail into the padding which was by now damp with sweat. Gods, but she was sore… the travel hadn’t loosened her up, and if anything had exaggerated the ache. Right now, an hour off her feet and some food in her stomach sounded positively divine.

“It would be my honor, mister Janikson. Please, lead the way…”

--

Before lunch was served, Andrael had a chance to meet “the missus,” Wren Janikson, who resembled her first name about as much as a hunting lion resembled a housecat. Andrael judged that it wasn’t just Taren who could bend the fearsome horn longbow that hung unstrung over the fireplace. Her thoughts briefly returned to the groundhog she’d seen upon her arrival. She’d hate to be the rodent that tried to pilfer greens out of the Janikson garden…

Not many of the vegetables were in season yet, so lunch consisted of a potato stew seasoned with meat that Andrael didn’t ask after, as well as several loaves of the best bread that the half-celestial had eaten in her entire life -- fresh, and hot, and possessing that extra something that was usually lacking from monastery food. As it was, she devoured two bowls of stew and an entire loaf, using the last of the bread tail to wipe the bowl clean.

Andrael sat back in her chair, eyes half-closed. Her stomach gave a contented gurgle over the muffled clink of chain shifting under the cloth. “Mhmm… my thanks, both of you… it’s been a long time since I’ve eaten so well.”

“From the looks of it, been a while since you ate at all.” Wren grinned across the table.

“Hah, well.” Andrael chuckled. “You know how travel can sometimes be on a full stomach. Though… that does lead me to wonder something.”

“Mmm?”

“How did you have enough food? I … heh, well, ate about as much as both of you put together, but there is still a little more left besides. And you even had a third place set out at the table. I wasn’t depriving your children, was I?”

“No, no, not at all!” Taren laughed again, and it boomed from the insides of the stone walls. “See, our son Jack’s a watchman. He runs patrols outside of the city sometimes, and he’ll sometimes nip by for food when he has the chance. Also to check in on us, old doddering things that we are.”

The couple shared a grin at that.

“Heh. I see,” Andrael said. “You’re sure that he won’t show up in a bit, then?”

At this question, both of them seemed to sober. Andrael’s eyes turned towards Wren, and caught a hint of worry in the set of the other woman’s shoulders.

“…What’s wrong?”

Wren took a deep breath. “Well, probably nothing. It’s just that… Jack hasn’t been out here in nearly two weeks now. It’s not like him. Even if he had a shift change, he’ll usually come visit every three or four days if he can’t do it on the city payroll.”

“Mmm. We would’ve heard by now if… something had happened, bad, with his job,” Taren added.

“Now he’s probably just seeing some new girl that really struck his fancy. And about time, too, he’s not getting any younger.” The older woman managed a grin, but even Andrael could tell that it was forced. “But it does make a mother fret.”

She suddenly felt distinctly uncomfortable, as though the flat wooden bottom of the chair was a bad fit for her by purpose. As though there was a set of eyes outside the window, watching the stranger usurping a rightful place at the table… and looking between the two aging farmers, proud of and worried for what was presumably their only son, she could not remain unmoved. Andrael drew in a deep breath, and raised her hand to brush a few rebellious locks of hair out of her eyes, mostly to give her a moment to collect her words.

“You just fed and sheltered me… the least I can do for you is check up at the Watch to make sure everything is okay. I mean, if that would be acceptable…?”

“Would you?” Taren’s face cracked into a smile. “Lady Rae, you’d be Thane-sent. We worry, but can’t both leave the farm for a day or more to see… and can’t travel alone. Not with the Scourge being the way it is.”

Although she missed the reference, Andrael decided not to pursue it, and nodded. “Of course. It’s really no trouble, since I’m headed that way to begin with. And I can get word back to you easily, too.”

“Bless you, miss.” Wren was positively beaming. “Is there anything we can do before you’re off?”

“Well…” Andrael leaned more fully back in the chair. “I must admit, I’m new to the region and the city. Maybe you could tell me what you know of what’s going on… I hear these are troubled times all over…”

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been waiting for over a year. If you would like to complete it, or work on it further, you can PM myself or another staff member and ask for it to be moved. However, till that time, it will be resting in the Scara Brae Archive forum.

Thanks,
~Task