Excavations of the Heart and Mind

[Ataraxis]

Closed to Logan and Duffy. Related Bazaar threads are Needle of Your Eye (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=20061) and With a Little Help From My Friends (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=19792).

The break of dawn had come with silent sunshine, its soft rays sneaking through windows ajar and past ghostly billows of lace and floral curtains. Faint breezes brought in breaths of freshness along a soothing fragrance from the lilacs and grape hyacinths growing beneath the windowsills, still tipped with the smell of lingering dewdrops from last night’s midsummer rain. Even warmer an aroma was the alluring scent of apple slices soaked in cinnamon sauce, cooking under a perfect golden crust; it spread throughout the small residence like an intoxicating mist, so wondrous that it plunged this household’s only guest in even deeper a daydream than she already was.

Lillian was resting her travel-worn body within a wooden bathtub, sprinkled with traditional essences and a few handfuls of more luxurious dried petals. The water was nowhere near scalding, but its warmth could penetrate deep into her skin, giving the ablution a cleansing quality far beyond the mere removal of daily dirt and filth. Tension purged like toxins, worries exfoliated like dry skin, each and every of her fears and doubts evaporating into that steam of rose-scented bliss that shrouded her vision.

Even as she felt herself slip deeper into the purging waters, the thoughts of drowning had become no more alarming than the prospect of going gently into the good night, freed from these mortal coils and the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune… but as her mind finally processed the gross euphemism of her potential death, she snapped back to attention, righting herself at once – it never was a good sign when her procedural mind began quoting poetic works of origins unknown.

Still, the girl had dawdled as long as she could in that refuge from toil and hardship; though it was but one of many routinely steps to the people of the city, it was a luxury the girl could rarely afford, most of her time being spent in dank caves or hazardous woods as she traveled the countries with only a knapsack and her lonely self. Though she always tended to basic hygiene on her days in the wild, soaking herself with a bucketful of rainwater was worlds apart from a real bath, and it was not everyday she came across ponds or lakes for her to swim in. Even during her childhood in the Outlander’s Quarters of Fallien could she only afford to fill a few pails with stale water from the communal well, which she had to schlep back to the dirt hovel that was her home. Her mother would spare her a few cleansing splashes, barely washing off the dirt and sand that her daughter seemed to attract like a magnet, and then use the rest to cook the evening repast.

It was a bell after daybreak when she finally came down from the stairs, playfully running her lily-white fingers across the old, ivied banister. The enthralling waft of an apple pie baked to perfection greeted her nose as Alexis Manna, the wizened mistress of this household and, incidentally, also the owner and seamstress of a nearby haberdashery, came to meet her with a fork and a hissing-hot slice of pie on a tulip dish. With proud emerald eyes and a smile that had only warmed with the years, Alexis handed it to the girl. “Best served hot from the oven, but you might want to blow on it a bit. It would be a shame if burned taste buds deprived you of its wonders.”

“Alexis, no matter how many times I say it… I can’t thank you enough.” Lillian’s eyes glimmered, and the old seamstress could see that tears were soon to well in those eyes of arctic blue. To hide her shame at how easily they could be triggered, the teenager looked down and dug in, fork tines breaking through the golden layers and into that core of mushy apple goodness. A few blows and a long bite later, she was literally moved to tears. “It’s,” she began, sniffling for a moment. “It’s delicious.”

“Why thank you. And careful not to get any of it on that dress, darling,” Alexis reminded her with a wave of her index. She eyed the beautiful satin gown of cobalt and aquamarine she had tailored, truly believing that she had made it for this very girl that now stood before her, for this very girl who had been a complete stranger to her the day before. She had come into her store, asking for needles forged from the rare and precious Prevalida, but she had left with this dress, new shoes, a gold pendant and an invitation to sleep in her guest room. Seeing her had been like meeting the daughter she never had, and she could not help but shower her with gifts like a doting mother. “Oh, but how you look radiant… I am beginning to regret my offer of having you accompany my friends on their ore hunt today.”

At that, the girl’s cheeks flushed redder than freshly harvested beats. “I must go. You have been so kind to me… a lifetime of favors could not repay what I owe you. A little jaunt to neighboring mines is nothing compared to that. Have no worries, we will return with a cartful of Prevalida.”

And then came a most punctual knocking at the door. Strong knuckles rasped against the wood, but the rhythmic beat and light tempo revealed the visitor to be a rather light-hearted personage. “Ah, that must be Jacob’s business partner. I hear he offered to come pick you up and personally escort you to the others.” Ignoring the girl’s flustered confusion at this revelation, Alexis gave the girl an earthenware wrapped in a flannel cloth, and she could feel its warmth through the fabric. “For the trip. Jacob told me his son just loved the pies I make, but I made enough for you all. Now go on, can’t let your escort wither by the door, can you?”

At that, Lillian hurriedly tiptoed to the entrance way, eyes still wide with shock and arms laden with the rather large bag of baked goods. After a bit of a struggle against the brass knob, she managed to open the door, letting in the bright rays of sunlight and the shadow of a man whose shoulders she could not even reach.

“Hello?” the girl asked tentatively, feeling hopelessly dwarfed by her guardian escort. Unsure of what to do next, she timidly presented him with the wrapped goods in her arms.

“Do you, uhm... like pie?”

[Duffy]

Machinations that built a great plan were simply beyond young Duffy Bracken, who instead preferred to simply go with the flow and let the good honest wind take him where it pleased. It’s whim this time, was to bond in the company of Old Man Jacob’s son and to dwindle on the docks of a river he could not pronounce.

Still, he chimed, allowing the sunny concubine that was the midday hour addle his brain with lethargy and distant hope. There’s always tomorrow. Tomorrow tended to come with a bigger bill and a sickening rolling storm in the stomach but the anticipation of waiting for it to come was a ride any young adventurer looked forward to. After all, he’d gone into his favourite establishment, or at least legal establishment in good faith, expecting to make an honest purchase and be done with it. Now here he was, whisked away to some unknown shore in search of another man’s glory.

But, the blade he seeked to forge was of such importance to the Tantalum, to Duffy’s self discovery, he had agreed to meet another and her accomplice to search for the prevalida. A brief discussion had taken place regarding miners and some other details the thief had been too pre-occupied to really pay attention to. It was a fact he’d come to regret later, that he could be sure of.

“So,” he began, turning to Jacob's son with a poppycock cavalier attitude and wobbling arms accompanying his cheeky little amble, “how come I don’t see you in the shop more often – your father looks like ‘es abart to keel over!” He watched the curious man, who sat on a crate next to him twiddling his thumbs with interest.

They’d been sat on the dockside in the salty twang awaiting the arrival of the others for fifteen minutes and the curiously blue individual had said very little indeed. The irony of using an icebreaker was missed on his young mind, but Duffy would’ve appreciated it if he’d bothered to read outside his dramaturgical field.

And that, as the narrator might’ve said, if he wasn’t having an interlude, was that.

[Logan]

Jacob's son was taken aback. Had this man whom his father taken a liking to really just uttered such vile nonsense? It took a moment for him to come to grips with what Duffy had meant by his conjecture, but even then he was still a wee bit offended by such a ridiculous thought.

"My Father is as sturdy as he's ever been. For as long as I can remember, Jacob has been of the simpler lines. His mind likes simple things. His eyes enjoy simple beauty. His lips speak of simplicity. However -- ," Jameson raised a finger in supposition of a pause in his orratory.

A hardened glance in Duffy's direction came next, followed by more pause which concluded with the opening of his lips for more speech.

"He is not 'abart ta keel over.' Far, far from it. He may be aged in experience, but he is still as solid as an ox as he was no less than forty years. And I would humbly request you might depart from any such nonsense in kind in the coming time. After all, we have much to do."

Jameson slipped his hand into a pocket of his blue vest, pulling out what would appear to be a metal chain accompanied by a medallion of some kind. He flipped open the medallion and revealed a small sundial. Measuring it for a moment he nodded to nobody, just himself.

"By my calculations, our partners in this excursion of acquisition are no less than one third an hour beyond our arranged meeting. This is disconcerting, but I suppose they will be along shortly. Logan has never been one to tardy himself much beyond an hour at most."

Jameson shook his head and closed the medallion, returning it swiftly to his pocket. He turned his head and looked back at Duffy. He looked the man over once, and a second time. Finally, his eyes locked onto Duffy's and he nodded.

"And no, sir, I prefer to allot my time to the matters of the stitch. If one were to properly subject this shell to a term of occupation they would take to considering such as 'tailor' to be a proper term. But as you might have hypothesized, due to the nature of the placement of our shop it is occasionally of necessity for me to venture elsewhere to obtain the goods necessary for our trades. This is one such venture."


==========================================


Logan had kept tabs on Lillian for what seemed like weeks, maybe even months. Granted, she'd have no clue anything had taken place. His means were hidden, almost silent in nature. His reach was in his network which had arms stretched across all regions of Althanas. It never seemed to fail him.

This particular girl was no exception. She was sly, quick, and very resilient. He'd read updated reports from time to time that spoke to her skills as being entirely unique and indeed respectful. He also noted she seemed to be most literate and intelligent, and that brought a smile to his face.

There was nothing in Althanas he respected more than intelligence, and nothing he was drawn to more than a woman of intelligence. It seemed among this realm those were quite hard to come by, and even harder if one were looking for one of those with both intelligence and kindness. Logan knew beyond a doubt Lillian might very well have been the only woman -- female, girl, whatever -- within the bounds of Althanas whom fit the bill.

His reports, his searching, his tailing, had all brought him to the moment before that very door. Inside he heard the voices of the two women within. One was Alexis, a dear friend of his who happened to be a master seamstress in her own right. She also happened to be an important member of the Family. The other was Lillian. He rapped at the door after a moment of eavesdropping.

As he waited in silence he considered what she might look like. He'd only read about her. She had kind of become like a fairy tale in a way. Something you hear about from the time you're a young child, and believe in in your youthful imagination. The caveat to this was he was no child. Neither was she.

The door opened and for a moment his eyes adjusted to the dim light within before he finally caught sight of her. The reports hadn't mentioned she was so youthful. They hadn't mentioned her frailty. They hadn't mentioned her in quite the same light in which he saw her. The young princess in need of rescuing, the thought caused him to simply remain silent, even as she spoke.

Had she really just asked if he liked pie? He shook his head. No, he must've misheard her. The silence lingered as he looked down into her eyes. He was searching and coming up empty. He never came up empty. This was Logan McCloud, the leader of Vice, and the esteemed mentalist, psionist, telepath, etcetera and so forth. Was he actually left speechless by a young girl? More importantly, had she really just beaten him at his own game?

He shook his head again before realizing it was probably an unintentional answer to her question. Clearing his throat he grabbed at the 'package'. No, not the young girl, the baked goods. The pie. He silently chided himself for how the whole introduction was going, and he'd still not said a word.

Yes! He hadn't said anything, yet. With a simple smile he lowered his head in a sign of mutual respect. "Sorry about that, Miss Lillian? It is Lillian isn't it?"

Inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief. The frail little girl might very well be the end of the great Logan McCloud. She had already taken his pawn.

[Ataraxis]

Lillian’s heart sank when he respectfully declined the baked goods with a shake of his head; even though the pie had been a confection of Alexis’ hand, the girl still felt saddened that she had not been persuasive enough to vaunt its many merits. Just as she was about to unfurl any of a series of cheap marketing ploys she had memorized verbatim, however, he reviewed his answer and relieved her of the wrapped parcel. It was only after three blinks of her confusion that she gasped and remembered to bring her hands down, which had been holding onto what might as well have been a large bowlful of air.

“Uhm, yes,” was her only reply to his greetings. Not quite grasping the nature of the query yet, she went on. “That’s my name.” She could feel a start in her brain, like the jerking of gears set back into motion, and she hurriedly added a quick and coy ‘nice to meet you’ at the end. Remembering herself and a handful of her manners, she tiptoed back to clear the way, inviting him inside: Alexis had spoken highly of him as a friend, after all, and she doubted that leaving him to dry in the harsh sun outside would be very polite.

“Then it is a pleasure to meet you, Lillian,” he said with a rather dashing smile, though what she found most curious was the look in his eyes. It almost felt as if he’d refrained from adding ‘and a pleasure to know my source was right’. This, she found rather odd, and she tossed the notion aside: it sounded too much of a wild guess to be remotely true. Too… far fetched, she thought.

As he stepped into the low threshold, lowering his head just a tad to avoid scraping the top off against the coarse wood, she registered in one sweeping glance everything there was to be seen about the man. He wore over a simple white shirt a black trench coat – which was as nondescript as all black trench coats were wont to be – and similarly dark denim trousers. Around his neck was a gold chain, though not one of remarkable grade or make as more commonly seen adorning the bodies of overly wealthy nobles. The commonality of his appearance, however, ended there.

His hair was of the strangest silvery white hue, well groomed and kept in a tidy pony tail, while his eyes were much like her own: glacier blue and ever piercing, though she would never admit that of herself. He was remarkably tall, among the tallest she had ever met but not as frighteningly burly, though there was a definite tone to his musculature. There was also a strange mark upon his forehead, more elaborate than a scar, but she could not quite make anything out of it; perhaps it was shaped like a spider? The crest was hard to focus on, and so she decided to put it aside, for now. Lastly, peeking from the folds of his coat were stylish sheaths, cinched at either side of his belt, and the sleek but decorated handles of the swords they contained hinted at the quality and worth of the blades themselves. They were hardly the kind that most commoners – or even those overly wealthy nobles – could get their hands on.

“The name is Logan,” he said as the door closed behind him, trawling her from the depths of her musings. For a moment, his eyes were scanning the house, a fondness in them that revealed this was not his first time seeing the old ivied banister leading up, or the wide, square arch on the left that led to a quaint but well furnished living room. He smiled inwardly, breathing in the familiarity before speaking again. “I've requested to accompany you to the docks to meet up with Jameson and Duffy, his aide, but I'll be joining along for the ride to the mines as well.”

Having now recovered from her initial shock, Lillian was using what resources she had to pierce the mystery of this Logan. Alexis had said he had asked to pick her up personally… but when had they communicated? Had he any prior knowledge of her, or did Alexis tell her friend Jacob, who told his son, who told Logan, who then relayed his interest the other way back? There was also that initial bewilderment in his eyes, right before the relief he expressed when she had confirmed her name, that she could not put a finger on. Too many things did not quite add up, and her life of paranoia had begun to take over so quickly she almost could not pull on its reins.

“Logan, how nice to see you again,” Alexis said as she stepped away from a corner of the room, where she had waited in silence next to an equally placid ficus for the two to get acquainted. Her arms opened wide and he stepped in to embrace her most amiably, though that had not kept him from hiding the quizzical hook in his brow. “Yes, really: as much as it surprises both you and me.”

“It’s a pity that I can’t stay much longer, Alexis,” the man said as they released one another from a grasp that had proven the mutual honesty of their words. “Jameson is a bit of a stickler for punctuality, and it seems we are mere minutes away from missing the mark.”

“Who–” Lillian interjected without thinking, and her eyes fell to the ground as she realized how rude she had been to interrupt the reunion of old friends. “I-I’m sorry… I was only wondering who this Jameson was.”

“Oh, Alexis didn’t tell you? He’s Jacob’s son.”

The girl blinked. “But…”

“I know, it’s ironic!” He laughed at that, knowing what she had been thinking almost before she did. “But imagine how much more awkward it would be if his first name actually had been Jacobson. Or if that had been their last name, for that matter!”

Lillian chuckled, but she found it was quickly escalating to full blown laughter. Somehow, he had dispelled any doubt and suspicion that had been lingering over him, if only for that moment. “Yes: you make a very valid point,” she continued, a hand over her mouth as she tried to stifle the most unladylike noise she had ever made.

[Logan]

The snort was a bit of a surprise, and it ended up sending all three present into a rolling laughter. It began small, but crescendoed quickly. It died just as quick, and left the three in the midst of a harrowing silence. Until Alexis spoke up.

"Lillian, would you fetch your things from your room, dear? Logan and I have much catching up to do."

As politely as she could muster, Lillian nodded. She turned off in the direction of the room she'd stowed her belongings in. Something in her wanted to find a mirror to see if he was watching her, maybe even ogling her, but she found none at a proper angle for spying.

Alexis opened her mouth to speak, but he rose a finger in the air. Once he heard the door shut from the direction Lillian had gone, he lowered his finger and nodded.

"Logan, there are some things about her probably not in those reports of yours. Things I somehow stumbled into by happenstance."

He raised a brow to her quizzically. His reports were always solid, and typically covered all aspects of a person. It was not unusual for him to have information on the way a person spoke or moved about. From time to time he'd come across a report mentioning some deep secret part of a person's history nobody else had known. As he recalled, the reports on Lillian were all reasonable and fairly detailed. None, however, spoke of any problems.

"Such as?"

"She seems to have issues with closeness, and letting people in."

"I see."

"It caught me by surprise, too, Logan. You know how due to my special case I can't bear children?" He nodded in response, electing to keep silent for the moment.

"Well, I kind of opened the door for Lillian to become a surrogate daughter for me and she mentioned bad things happen to those who get close too her."

Logan's eyes lit up in curiosity. "I suppose this would explain a few things, and given what I know from the reports...well, let's just say it makes sense she feels that way."

It was then Alexis' turn to nod. She studied the expression upon his face for a moment. "Well, I just think you should be careful, Logan. I know you. The last thing you want is to give this little treasure a reason to believe such nonsense."

He smiled as he looked off in the direction she had left. "You do indeed know me, Alexis. I'll do my best to help dispel any such notions, but scars this deep tend to leave a person with emotional walls for protection."

Alexis knew all too well what he was referring to. She once had similar scars that ran so deep she barely recognized the woman she had become then. It was this man before her who helped her deal with and heal from the wounds of her past. The painful, excrutiating torment of her past had haunted her until he dug deep inside and let her feel whole. She had gained hope from his gentleness and love. Alexis believed Logan to be beyond special.

"You will help heal as you did with me, Logan," she said as her frail hand rested upon his. He wiped a tear from his eye, and she from hers. Then, they embraced once more. A hug that held significance of years past for the both of them. He felt the woman melt into his arms as she did as she had done so many times before. She wept. This time it was not for herself.

[Ataraxis]

Lillian closed the door behind her, propping her back against the polished wood and sighing as she let herself slip ever so slightly. The girl had fought the mischievous urge to slam it closed while on the other side, fooling the two downstairs into thinking their conversation was out of earshot to her prying ears. She had wanted to eavesdrop and hear just how close the two were as friends, or at least to know of their honest thoughts if they had decided to talk behind her back. Yet, she had restrained herself. Her own sense of propriety and personal space was something she could not go against, and she had too much empathy to interrupt their privacy.

Instead, she decided to sit on the eiderdown bed that stretched beneath an open window, where Alexis had nurtured buds of peonies into great, plump blossoms of pink, purple and red. Her things had already been packed: she had only brought in her knapsack, already furnished with all the necessities of travel, and save for the white summer dress Alexis had mended and a pair of low-heeled slingbacks the woman had given her, the bag did not contain anything new. Still, rather than picking it up and heading back out, Lillian chose to wait and give the two what must have been long overdue minutes of reminiscence.

In this time, her mind wandered back to the mystery that was Logan, and soon after her paranoia struck back with a vengeance. Was it possible… that he had studied her? During her travels, she had felt a few eyes laid on her by motives other than simple curiosity, eyes that seemed to analyze and dissect and… judge. Why this much interest in her, she did not know, but she did realize that they had become more numerous ever since one of her stints in the Library of Ettermire.

Her ‘fame’, arguably, had begun there, as she had saved the library and its occupants from an ordeal most had perceived as a threat to the nation’s security. It had been invaded, so to speak, by creatures of shadow that had been accidentally summoned by a reference librarian, but all they had truly wanted was a way to return home. She had provided them with that, but the kind deed had been blown out of proportions by bystanders and, soon enough, by the municipal newspapers.

The girl had felt even more attention upon her as various feats somehow became attached to her name. Her audience with the nobles of Salvar alongside the entrepreneur Rajani Aishwara, and how they had managed to inject millions into the economy of the northern country, had been one such feat. Another few of note were her assistance and crucial participation in the slaying of one of Xem’Zund’s Generals, during the invasion of Raiaera, and her subsequent burning of the corrupted woods within Timbrethinil, with one stone striking at both the necromantic infection and the undead army that had retreated to its heart after losing the battle of Nenaebreth.

She had hoped her name would fall to the wayside, when put next to much more illustrious ones such as Skie dan Sabriel, Godhand Striker, Findelfin ap Fingolfin, Orophin Súrion and so many more… but with enough repetition, it seemed that her name had gained a certain unwanted notoriety as well. If she looked at it this way, it did much more to explain all this secrecy surrounding Logan, and it would explain his personal interest in her much better than simple chivalry.

Yet a wise man once said that in the explanation of a phenomenon, one should make as few assumptions as possible – he had a razor named after him or some such, she remembered – and so she told herself she was being delusional again. Perhaps Logan reall was only a gentleman who was loathe to have a young girl wander the streets by her lonesome self, and thought it wise to provide guardianship and thus assure her safe reach of her destination. No more, no less.

“Ah, enough of this!” Lillian told herself, waving her hands in front of her head as she bodily mirrored the mental dismissal of the asinine theories and cockamamie scenarios she had been entertaining. “If there’s anything amiss, I’ll know soon enough.”

With that, she checked her internal clock, and estimated approximately three minutes and forty-eight seconds had passed – long enough to give them time to themselves, but not so long as to make them wonder if she were packing the luggage of herself and some twenty-odd others. If they were still speaking, then she would simply wait until a break in the conversation to make her way down.

With only the faintest of wails, she opened the door and tiptoed out. Her bag was slung on her back and she had affixed her glass dirk to the small of her back, hanging from a portion of the rope belt she always wore. Eliciting not so much as a creak with her steps, she made her way to the second-story railing, her head peaking above just in time to see the two caught in a tearful embrace.

There, in silence, she waited with a broken heart. Though she knew not why, it pained her to see Alexis in the throes of sorrow, and she wondered if that had been due to her refusal… The woman had asked her if she could see in the girl a daughter, and if Lillian could see in her something of a mother, but she had feared. Not the situation, but… she had lost her mother young, and was mourning her even to this day. It felt a crime to even consider replacing her memory in any way, shape or form. Moreover, she feared for the woman’s life.

As had so many of those she had come to consider as her family, she feared she would bring her death. It followed her as an unseen snake, slithering soundlessly in the tall grass until it came close enough to poison the foolhardy few that wished the girl close to their hearts. Friendship was all she could offer… nothing more, and never long.

When the tears had abated, Lillian chose to make her return. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” the teenager said meekly, hiding her own pain at the lie. It was as if she had forsaken the poor woman, rejected her kindness by avoiding the issue, and she hated herself for it. “I’m ready.”

[Logan]

Logan held onto Alexis for a little bit before letting her go. Their tears were gone, replaced by smiles and slight chuckles. Lillian appeared, breaking the silence with a gentleness he hadn't expected from her. Even still, something about her manner caught him off-kilter and made him do a double take. The last two words were far less gentle and almost demanding as if she was trying to convince herself of something.

All he could do was shrug toward Alexis as Lillian made her way toward the door. All three said their goodbyes quickly. Few words actually exchanged in the process. During the goodbyes, Alexis had moved to kiss Lillian on the forehead once more. She had willingly accepted the kiss, and Logan took notice. He didn't intend to mention it until much, much later, however.

Alexis also placed a kiss upon his forehead, and then he slipped her into his embrace once more. Lillian wouldn't have noticed it, but she whispered something into his ear.

"Please keep her safe. She needs you."

The words to him were ironic. This visit and the adjacent trip to the docks in private was meant to give time for him to bring up his real reason for wanting her and her abilities. He had been on a long search yielding little results.

An artifact long since lost to the sands of time had been his focus. He happened upon the name of the artifact purely by coincidence during a report from a friend of his in Radasanth. The name struck a chord and stuck with him. As he began to research it, the truth of the power behind it began to come into picture.

'Emmerich,' he repeated in his mind once more as he helped Lillian into the covered carriage waiting just outside the house.

The leader of Vice knew better than to travel without Family members on-board, and this was no exception. The driver of the carriage was one of his elite guard, and someone who'd covered his ass on more than one occasion. After waving goodbye to the sobbing Alexis, he entered the carriage and sat opposite Lillian.

"I hope you will not take offense to me saying so, Lillian, but I sense there's more to you than just the youthful girl carrying a bowl of pies."

Shifting in his seat he removed his shortswords and placed them in the seat next to her. It was a show of trust Logan would've never done with anyone. Except Lillian.

"Alexis may not have known you very long, but I have. Well, in theory I suppose."

She gave him a look of annoyance. What did he know about her and how? Maybe her suspicions were right after all. The paranoia began to sweep fully over her once more, but he put an end to it swiftly.

"Let me explain, Lillian. My name is Logan McCloud, and I am the leader, boss, head, whatever you want to call me, of an organization code-named The Family. None of this pertains to you, of course. However, what does pertain to you is an artifact known as Emmerlich. I want to find it, and I think the only way I'm going to do so is with your help. There is nobody I have knowledge of with the particular set of skills you possess, and moreso...there is nobody I would trust with the knowledge of it's existence."

He looked down at his shortswords feeling halfway naked without them. They had become part of who he was. The Prevalida blades were as much his trademark as his telepathic powers. Most knew Logan was a telepath, and as many knew he was an extremely skilled swordsman. His gaze returned to Lillian. She had taken to looking out the window, perhaps attempting to ignore him or gather her thoughts.

"That was my original purpose anyways. Now, after meeting you, Lillian, I simply want to be your friend. I would appreciate your help in researching the artifact, and can even offer my services to get you into the library where I know the book containing it's whereabouts and contents rests. However, it is your decision. You need friends, Lillian, as much as I need my Family. There's more you need I'm certain, but friends are what will help you address your biggest fears."

He made a shift in his seat and moved his shortswords next to him and then took the seat next to her. She had turned to look at him as he had spoken of friendship and what his true purpose for her was. It was something she clearly hadn't expected.

"One thing I want you to know most about me, Lillian, is that I can read minds. I have chosen not to read yours. It is yours to keep private and I respect that. But you should be aware that I can do it. Not for reason to fear me, or be concerned about me, but maybe that you will trust me a little more."

He took a deep breath in.

"There's a lot more you should know about myself, and a whole lot more you should know about Alexis. If you wish for me to continue, I will."

[Ataraxis]

Barely moments after she had she stepped into the carriage and heard the coacher’s cry of ‘giddy-up’, Logan had decided to come clean. He had dropped the bold answers to each and every of her suspicion, and even to a few she had not even considered in her paranoia. He had been watching her, and though it was the kind of observation a few notches less sinister than stalking, it was still quite a few more in terms of criminality. What exactly he knew about her was up to debate, but from his opening statement, he was at the very least aware of her… idiosyncratic abilities. The moment she realized this, however, was the moment she cast away the innocence of her presence. It had not been a conscious choice, nor was her usual meekness a façade of any sorts. When under threat or duress, she had no choice but to harden, and this, now… this was a threat.

She adjusted herself upon the leather seat, legs crossed and arms as well. Her eyes sought the passing vista of tightly-packed brick buildings and open parks, but she held no true interest in the things she saw through the carriage window. She was deep in musing, taking in all he had said, and honing to a point the words she would use in response.

“You’ll excuse me if your being so honest and forthcoming doesn’t make me ecstatic,” she said at last as her eyes returned to his, having lost their disarmed kindness. “Or if your suggestion of friendship makes me more suspicious than anything else. While you may have… watched me, and forgive me if I sound slightly revolted… while you may have come to know me, I do not know you.”

Somewhere inside, she felt she might have come off too harshly, but she knew this was the meek side of her that always sought approval. Lillian had no intention to gain his, however. Moreover, she apparently already had, and this man was now trying to convince her that she could give him hers. The illusion of disarmament he created by putting his swords away, she had used before as well: to trick enemies into thinking her helpless, but she knew all too well that blades were not the only things in this world that could kill. She was living proof of that, though she loathed to admit it.

“What I do know is that you’ve only given me all the reasons I need to refuse anything you might have to ask or offer: code-named organizations are currently at the bottom of my list in terms of trustworthiness, and the notion that you had planned to use me as a mere asset until you had an unexplained change of heart does not make mine sing.” At this point, she felt as if only openly mocking the man, and chose to mince her words from now on. She had made her stance clear enough.

“I am… sorry for whatever offense you may have taken from my words, but that is my honesty to you. I may love books, but a vague mention of them is not enough to lure me into something I have no knowledge of and that could very well kill the life I’ve worked so hard to preserve.” She unwound her arms, letting her hands drop to the leather at her sides. Her eyes were squinted, brows crimped as she sought to recover her composure. “And the friends I have never asked to be: friends happen once a foundation of trust has been established, and I am sorry… but that is a line not easily crossed by honesty alone.”

There was a finality to that, and she hoped he had heard it. If not with his ears, then with his mind: she cared not for what he would read now, as she had never so openly spoken her mind before. “ I admit I could not be here without these friends of mine, but with you, I currently fear I may not be anywhere ever again. While I have no intention of asking you to dispel these fears, I would at least hope my refusal to help you in your… endeavours… does not affect your willingness to complete our current task. Jacob needs his ore, after all… and I would not have Alexis brought to tears again.”

The anger that had flared upon these final words, she had tried to restrain. She still did not know why those tears had come to be, if it truly had been her fault… but if she could prevent them from ever happening again, even for something as trivial as the acquisition of some rare metal for a good friend, then she would do it.

“But I won’t tell you whether or not to speak, if you fancy it. That isn’t my choice to make… but better chatty than silent when it comes to long, awkward coach drives.”

[Logan]

He nodded. Truthfully, he had expected her response much as it was. He'd told Alexis practically as much. There wasn't much choice, though. Lying to her from the beginning would only end up scarring her more, and now his intent was not to get her to help him. No, it was the other way around now. Alexis had opened his heart to this girl he personally barely knew.

Even in that little knowledge he had gained in the few minutes prior her scorn was more than enough to kindle his fire to help her. It was curious. Her being defensive and guarded actually pressed him more. Much, much more.

He listened to what she said. Every last word. He assumed she had thought the words somewhat harsh, even overly so, but really they only continued to fuel his heartfelt desire to be there for her. Not really knowing what drew him to her before beyond her intelligence, he began to find it now. In some small manner, it scared him.

Logan McCloud was finally fearing something. She had indeed disarmed him, but for reasons she had no knowledge of. Even worse, she didn't necessarily intend to. He felt like she just wanted to full truth with no lies. He felt like she needed to hear that Alexis was weeping over her, and only her. But he knew she wasn't ready to hear those words yet.

"No, I do not know you. I was mistaken. I know of you, but do not know you. And no, you were never 'stalked'. When you'd enter an establishment, usually a pub, maybe a library, or somewhere else, friends of mine would take notice and jot down notes. They are more like reporters of a story. After all, what you've done isn't something that goes unnoticed."

She had once again turned to look out the window, choosing to avoid his face and expressions for one reason or another. He recognized it and looked at her hair pretending it was her face as he spoke.

"I'm guessing I've probably crossed you, but I tell you as truthfully as I can that all I have told you is real and true. I don't expect you to trust me. With who I am, very few do anymore, except the Family."

He took off his trenchcoat and set it on the seat next to him. There was no pointed attempt at hiding the fact, but at the same time he calmed her fears as much as he could.

"I want you to know that while I had the intention of using your skills in research, I would've never done so without your approval or permission. I suppose in hindsight I should've not kept tabs on you and just entrusted it to Fate. Listen, I've made mistakes I'm not proud of. Many more than I could ever atone for."

He closed his eyes as he thought back across a few faded, but still painful memories. One of those memories was Alexis' transformation from young girl and fiancee of his friend to aged and worn widow. It had happened all in one fell swoop. His eyes teared slightly, and he blinked to keep them at bay.

"But what you care about, what I care about, is Alexis. She is a dear friend of mine and has been for a couple years now. What you don't know of Alexis is a magical curse which has left her aged and worn by years not her own. In fact, she is my age. Twenty-seven."

He paused as he let the thought sink in and then continued.

"She was a beautiful young woman two years ago, and was engaged to Ryan Kale. Ryan was my closest friend from very early in my years here in Althanas. Oh, bless that man. He and I had quite the adventures. That was before he met Alexis. She had done a number on him, and talked him into settling down and abandoning that which might have been his death."

Logan shook his head. He didn't care if she could see it. He was too wrapped up in the story of his past, her past.

"They became engaged, and he had purchased a shop in the Bazaar for them to share. Our adventures had brought us enough fortune to last a lifetime, and he poured all he had into Alexis and that shop. Hell, even the house she stays in now was at one time owned by Kale. His life savings were more than enough to sustain them with the sales they began to enjoy shortly after she opened. But that would eventually change."

Shifting in the seat he cleared his throat and then continued on more.

"What Kale had never known about Alexis is that she had no surviving family. Every member of her family had been slaughtered by an army that pillaged their town near Radasanth. It wasn't even a damned war!"

He felt his temper rise and he took a deep breath. Recomposing himself once again he continued further.

"She managed to hide in the village stables, behind some bales of hay. You might think that's all there is to the story, but you'd be wrong. She witnessed the rape of every last one of her friends, male and female, young child through teenager. Those bastards had no heart. They had to have been mindless slaves to some power they had no knowledge of!"

He shifted yet again as he realized he was now looking out the windows at the passing pastures and farms, and past Lillian. He still continued.

"Once they finished with the victim, they killed them. The bodies piled up, and they did it all in the stables. The soldiers razed the village, and had set fire to the stables. Alexis ended up badly burned, scars upon her face and back. But those scars were nothing compared to the emotional scars. She survived, and found no solace in friendship or family until some time later. She had to ignore the pain in order to move past it.

She would constantly be asked about her physical scars, and she did everything she could to ignore them. They were a constant reminder of her pain, and how can you ignore something you are constantly reminded of? She had heard there was a woman who lived in the mountains of Salvar that had the power to make the ugly beautiful, and vice-versa. Alexis sought her out.

Upon finding her, a deal was made which granted Alexis the beauty she had only dreamed about. With the return of her youthful beauty, her emotional scars vanished, too. Eventually, she met Kale, and they were wed. It was the first night they were together that the demons and nightmares of her past returned. And it was a flood.

Kale enlisted my help, knowing my abilities and talents. The first time Alexis and I met, I felt pain the likes of which I had never known. And I tell you, Lillian, I've known pain. Death a hundred times over. Some by blade. Some by drowning. Some by blunt blows to the head. All with their own forms of pain. None, and I mean not a damned one, could equal the pain I felt from her.

She and I began to work through her memories. Piecing together what she had long since forgotten. As we did, she began to age, and nothing like ordinary aging. Each replaying of a memory was like adding another year or two to her age. The wear and tear on her soul became visible in her outward appearance.

During the week she and I worked together with her memories, Kale had set out to slay the woman who'd cursed his wife. Rightfully so if you ask me. He turned up missing without a trace, never to return. We both fear he was slain by the evil witch herself.

But what you saw of Alexis when you first met her was what remained after just one week of going through her memories, and unlocking her past. She dealt with the pain, and the scars. While she hates the age that she has been left with, she loves that she now has a freedom from her past.

The nightmares are gone, and have been for a couple of years now. The demons that haunted her during the day have vanished. She has truly been set free, and the difference I see in her is astounding.

I say all this to simply say that appearances and words can easily deceive. This you know. What you may or may not know is so can the heart and the mind."

He lifted both hands to his eyes and wiped the tears from his sockets.

"She loves you for reasons I do not fully comprehend, Lillian, and that tells me you are worth loving. Nobody knows pain or love like she does. Nobody."

With that Logan sat back against the seat and closed his eyes.

[Ataraxis]

Even Lillian had limits to how much her mind could process at any one time, and what Logan had told her of Alexis’ past had overwhelmed her far beyond these boundaries. She sat in silence, seeming scrunched and uneasy as her eyes wandered low to the dusty carriage floor, quavering from a mixture of emotions she could barely disentangle. The girl had never expected such nightmarish ordeals to have befallen the wizened seamstress, and that had far outweighed her surprise that the woman was only her elder by a bit over a decade.

Logan’s eyes were now sealed, and she knew the painful tale had spent him. He seemed deep in brooding, controlling as much as he could the dam of his emotions in this burdensome silence. Lillian could not help but feel he had weaved this heartbreaking story in a cautionary tale of sorts, had reduced it to harrowing events in order to break her defences. Yet she believed him, and she could not stay as carven stone. Her one wish was to turn the carriage around and return to the woman so that she may apologize for her inconsiderateness, for pushing her away. Alas, she knew this was not an option.

“Mister McCloud…” she began at least, her contrite voice cutting through the solid veil of silence that had fallen over them. “Why… why would she see me as… as a daughter? I am no longer young enough to be mistaken for a mewling child, and a woman of twenty-seven would still be too youthful to care for someone that has already outgrown her childhood…”

His eyes slid open in slow deliberation, glacial eyes still swollen from the welling of unshed tears. “Though her heart remains young, her body is in fact that of an elderly woman. It’s no illusion, and as such… she is barren. That, however, doesn’t rob her of her motherly love, though I must say you are the only one I’ve seen her care for in this manner. I think you remind her of herself… and in more ways than one.”

Once more, his eyes sought to rest, and this time they remained sealed. Lillian’s mind was bereft of words, and she could only sit in the discomfiting silence as the coach whirred and click on a rutted pathway. They were out of Radasanth now, and she thought they would reach the mines within the hour – that notion was currently her only measure of relief, as these circumstances were slowly eating her from within.


When an hour passed in heavy silence, and the coacher showed no sign of slowing his horses down, the girl suddenly found herself rather anxious. “At this speed, we should have reached the mines outside of the city twelve minutes ago.”

Logan only mumbled, eyelids heavy and his mind caught between reality and a haze of dreams. “Where are we going, exactly?”

“Niema docks,” he said lethargically, sweeping a hand over his face. “Then we travel on boat to Kachuk.”

“But!” She restrained herself, but her heart was suddenly pumping loud and hard. “But… Alexis told me it would only take a few days to acquire the ore.”

“More like four to get there, and another four to get back, really.” When she sat in transfixed muteness, his mind wandered off again, and once more he succumbed to the call of light slumber. With his eyes closed all the while, he had not seen the girl’s gape of disbelief.

==========================================

It was another hour and a half before they reached the mouth of the Niema River, whose waters flowed out directly into the ocean. There was a small port there, large enough to accommodate a dozen or so vessels of moderate size, mostly sloops and a pair of clipper ships. The sun had continued its course, approaching the zenith as its rays began beating over their heads like warming hammers. A few handfuls of sailors and departing tourists went about the docks to and fro, carrying crates and packs heavy with souvenirs, rolling barrels of wine from the localities of Radasanthia and Underwood alike.

As she stepped from the carriage onto a patch of dust and grass that preceded the docks’ wide range of bricked paths, she noticed two idle men waiting in the distance, seated on low bollards with their arms crossed. They both looked her way, but it was only when Logan followed suit that their eyes widened with a contradiction of relief and annoyance. One of them waved a hand at the arriving pair, but it was no welcome: it was a hurried beckoning that exuded impatience. With a close enough look, however, she saw the irritation was playful at most, bearing no more weight than the admonishing of a good friend who knew all of Logan’s flaws.

They answered the call, both hurrying along until they were within earshot. “You are late,” the waving man had called out with a tinge of amusement. “Yet only by a half hour: not the worst in your track record.”

“That’s pleasant to hear,” Logan answered back with a corner smile. “Good to see you, Jameson.”
He turned to the man Lillian recalled was named Duffy, clothed in common brown trousers and a sleeveless shirt. She had never seen quite so many bands or pouches in a man’s belt, but she could guess he had his uses for them. “And nice to meet you, Duffy.”

With a halfway turn, he swept an arm back in a deliberate flourish as he presented the girl. “This is Lillian, the aide Alexis sent. She will be our associate in this endeavour. And Lillian: these gentlemen are Jameson and Duffy – Jacob’s son and Jameson’s help, respectively.”

Suddenly anxious and self-conscious, she flattened the crimps of her new blue dress before stepping forward, presenting her hand to Jameson first, and Duffy second. “A pleasure to meet you both, and thank you for letting me tag along. I’ll do what I can to help!”

[Duffy]

Duffy’s silence over the previous five minutes had been born of insecurity and embarssment. He had meant to cause no offence by his remark, but boom and blast he’d gone and put his tightly booted foot in it once more. It was an awkward occaision, but one quickly replaced with the arrival of two other indivuduals, one he recognised most clearly, and another he did not. Quick introductions forced him from his crate to take the woman’s hand and shake it politely, “Teh pleasure is all mine m’lady – mutual obligatory comment about ‘elpin’ out to be added ‘ere, although I ain’t too sure still ‘bout what’s goin’ on and such, but still.” He trailed off to look around helplessly, taking note of the haught clothing and well to do stances everyone but he upheld in their introductions.

Always the rat in the dirty river ain’t you? He glanced down from the dock at the murky water. He let the group continue their conversations whilst he rummaged in his pack to ensure the contents were secure, and that the nozzle of the Tinder Gear was set off; he didn't want to accidently burn anyone, not without at least getting to know them a little better. He tucked the daggers resting on the crate to one side into his boots, and strapped the Katarhna beneath his cloak. He was set.

Something dawned on him, the Narrator passed comment. "At last, the niave child remembered the recumberant truth."

Logan Mcloud! That was his name, and it rang clearly in the thief’s mind as he recalled Ruby’s recount of her exploits with the movement named Vice. He’d never met him, of course, but the description given could not leave him mistaken; he was a living statue and testament to his best friend’s somewhat secrative exploits as of late. “I might be askin’ high of fate ‘ere, but ain’t you Logan?”

The sun and scorching awkwardness of the strange and unfamiliar location made the question all the more ominous. He didn’t think Ruby would have introduced the existence of his parculiar talents to a stranger, but you could not be too sure with a woman who was so loose about a bottle she needed help standing at the mere whiff of a good merlot. “I believe you got some business acquiantences with my lot, and in particulars, Ruby La Roux n’ Lilith – is that right?”

He glanced to the woman and nodded as if to suggest he was apologetic for distracting the man’s attention, but with such delicate information carefully swinging in the breeze, he had to ensure they did not get off on the wrong foot, and that he came to realise soon as possible, how much this ‘Mcloud’ knew of him, the Tantalum, and his reasons for being here – at the back of his mind, The Aria sung a little song that climaxed with an epic cantor of ‘Lo the Western Weald, Praise the Sceptered Sword, Dry The Tears Of Angels Son, For the Blade Shall Be Reforged.’