Bringing Big Street to Little Country

[Storm Veritas]

(Closed to Karuka/Taische)

Radasanth was somehow even more beautiful than he remembered, and nothing could beat the buzz of the Saturday morning center square market. Shipments from across Althanas found their way to “Center”, the marketplace that lined the warm, sunny cobbled streets about the bustling, circular clearing which served as the hub of Center Market wheel. From this hub, eight streets stretched radially away, each lined with different carts, booths, and stands. People had the day to shop the local farmers’ wares, picking out the freshest, ripest citrus fruits and vegetables. Silks, woods, stones, and collectibles alike seemed to be clustered in similar areas, even though booth position was a highly political appointment. Smells of fresh bread, finely marinated meats, and freshly baked dough-rings also wafted like the siren’s song to allure passerby.

The song of Center was unmistakable. Individual voices pierced through the steady, bee-like drone of bustling business. Bells rang to advertise sales or big tips, paper wraps crinkled around particularly juicy cuts of fish or meat, and hundreds of other indecipherable noises rang, rolled, drummed or rattled.

He smiled, knowing the huge crowd afforded him a certain anonymity, and he had no need to disguise himself. The gray hairs and deeper crow’s feet would do that work for him; it was unlikely the citizens of Radasanth would recognize the tall, dapper Storm Veritas. His French-cuffed sleeves rolled back into sterling silver cufflinks, a shirt which fit meticulously about his thin, athletic frame. His hair, now lighter and shorter, was pulled back in a simple business-man’s coif, taut and clean. His face was shaven with expert precision, and his now-tanned skin wrinkled slightly around a bright smile that flashed dazzling white teeth. This look, this feel made him comfortable.

By his side, a striking yan to his yin, was little Taische. His new friend, the daughter to the enchanting love Karuka, he had instantly been smitten by her tandem innocence and pragmatism. She was sharp, but a true “ant in the rice bowl” amidst the affluent, worldly travelers of the center. Storm could tell she was uncomfortable, and had an inclination to console her.

Well, she’s going to have to thicken that street skin sometime. Better to rip the bandage straight away.

“Stay tight, little Taische. A cute little thing like yourself will sell for nearly a thousand crowns if a trader catches you in the satchel-cages. Keep quiet, stay close, and you’ll make it through.”

He didn’t look down, but felt the distance between him and the girl close. His joke had taken at least some root. She could field dress a rabbit in under sixty seconds, but he was fairly certain she couldn’t make change to for a dough-ring off a full crown.

As he strolled about the center, he approached a baker’s stand. Despite the throngs of people, he could sense the excitement of his traveling companion at the scent of such wondrous breads. He flipped two coins in exchange for a long cinnamon breadstick, feeling its warm, soft texture immediately through the paper which wrapped it. The aroma was incredible; Taische practically drooled.

“Let me test it for poison, first…” he began, chomping the cap end off the bread. The cinnamon and butter flavors coalesced and danced for a moment on his tongue. It wasn’t better than sex, but he knew where the saying could come from.

“Seems fi…ff…f…..ACK” He wretched and leaned forward, clutching at his throat as the young girl jumped forward to aid her ailing uncle. Her little hand immediately wrapt about his shoulders in immediate care. As she closed, he saw her eyes squinted with fear and concern as he rose again, covering his mouthful of joy to disguise his raucous laughter.

“Hah, sorry, couldn’t help myself sweetie.” Handing her the remaining ninety percent of the breaded treat, he felt an odd mix of appreciation and disdain echo back at his treat and trick, respectively.

(OOC – a little bunnying here late; let me know if you need an edit since I don’t know how naïve Taische would be in this setting)

[Taische]

Taische’s mother had needed to go tell her Uncle Seth that he was an idiot (again). So she’d taken Uncle Storm’s big horse Attila and told both her lover and her daughter to be good. Attila was a fast horse, so if Karuka wasn’t back by sunset, she’d turn up at Uncle Storm’s apartment shortly after dawn. Surely even Storm Veritas and Taische O’Sheean could behave themselves for one day.

Taische wasn’t so sure about that. Uncle Storm had never needed to watch her for longer than an hour, when she was busy setting up camp. She hadn’t had the time to push boundaries, and her mom hadn’t been much farther than yelling distance. Every adult was a little different. She’d run rings around her Uncle Patli back in Jalaan, except when she was about to get into actual trouble, and then the foot came down hard. Uncle Mal hadn’t really cared what she did, so long as she was presentable when her mother came and she wasn’t wrecking his stuff. Uncle Taviri had let her get away with a few things - staying up a little too late, or eating too much candy when they stopped in a little town. But he’d been really mad when she went and helped him with those vampires. Never mind they were really flammable.

What could she get away with on Uncle Storm’s watch? He didn’t have any kids, and he didn’t seem like the type who was used to having any around, even if he liked her okay. How did he know what was normal and what wasn’t? What would he let slide, what would he not allow, how much attention was he actually paying, what would make him mad? Most importantly, was he the sort who would hit a child if he got too mad?

“Vendors can’t put poison in their cinnamon sticks, Uncle Storm. Because then no one could come back to get more. But talking and walking and eating at the same time makes you more likely to choke. Wouldn’t that be a silly way to die after surviving that dragon?” The little girl nibbled at the cinnamon stick. It could have used more cinnamon to its sugar, but it was still really good.

The little girl stuck close to Storm while working on her cinnamon stick. She’d only been to Radasanth once before, briefly, and it wasn’t as busy then. She was in an unfamiliar place, small among the tight crowds of adults. The smells of people and stuff were almost overwhelming, the noise was maddening, her for-once-tamed hair pulled awkwardly on her head, and she was wearing shoes. She hated shoes. They pinched. Uncomfortable was a mild descriptor for how she felt just then. But as her mom said, “y’ don’t always get what y’ like,” and so she was out in the big city on its busiest day.

Her mind wandered back to the notion that she could sell for a thousand “crowns” if she was caught. Coins? The gold coins had crowns on them. Maybe those ones. “I wonder if Uncle Mal paid the big earth-mover man and the purple-haired woman to bring me to him. And then he found out who my mom is, and knew that she’d kick his butt if he didn’t give me back.”

Storm looked down at her, an unreadable expression on his face, so she thought she should explain more. “Mom left me with some friends of hers so that she could go take care of something important, but I wandered off because I was tired of being inside and they had some pretty woods. After a while, WHAM! I was in this sort of triangle box and it was really dark. After a long time, they opened the box to take me out, and I burned the man. So they either hit me on the head to make me sleep or they kept me in the box for the most part, and I don’t know how long that took.”

She still had no idea what that face meant. Did he think she was trying to tell a funny story, or was he horrified that she might not be? “Then one time I woke up in this little room with a lot of boring stuff, and one thing I touched took me to a land with dark elves and weird buildings, and the air smelled rotten. I didn’t like it. They caught me, and… I might have burned a couple of them really, really bad, so they put me in jail. I think that lasted about for forever, and then some human soldiers came to take me to their land.”

Her little hands gestured, trying to describe the formation. “And then we were walking to… I don’t know, actually, but I think Vincent said the train. And we went through an alley way, and we got attacked. Maybe the elves didn’t like the soldiers? Anyway, me, Vincent and Rayse escaped, and we ran as far and fast as we could all through the city. I don’t think Rayse was Rayse’s real name. His name badge said Loryn. I think that’s a girl’s name, though, so maybe it was a joke. We got stuck in a building we were trying to hide in, and then we started crawling out through the wall, but the elves came back and Vincent shut me and Rayse in the wall and then he got killed.”

Taische scuffed her boots on the cobblestones, frowning. “I liked Vincent. He was nice. But me and Rayse still had to run, because otherwise we’d get killed too. And while we were running, a fireball appeared, Uncle Mal stepped out, punched Rayse, and then took me back to Knife’s Edge. My mom came a few days later, and she was super mad. I thought she was gonna kill Uncle Mal, but she didn’t. So maybe he didn’t buy me, because mom can’t stand slavers and she would have killed him if he had.”

“So then mom brought me back to Corone, I got into trouble in...uh… You see that big funny pyramid over there?” She pointed to the Citadel. “And then mom took us to Dheathain, and then we met you. And now we’re here.” That was the story, complete and as accurate as she could make it.

[Storm Veritas]

Little Taische told her story to him, and following it was a bit of a trick. His initial focus was on manners – there was no ”thank you” to be found anywhere in the reception of her treat. Although these ladies were certainly making him softer, more generous, it was rare of him to give an authentic present to anyone; the snub caught him with a sneer. In Radasanth, people were often disingenuous liars, but they were at least polite with their phony theatrics.

You’re welcome, by the way, you little shit.

The doe-eyed little girl walked with him and continued to talk, the sort of prattling rhythm that was characteristic of children. There was a narrative she told, but it seemed completely incredible. She had apparently been kidnapped, transported, incarcerated, transported, and survived a battle or war. She was possibly put into a slave trade, found problems at the Citadel, and transported back to Dheathain. It was a turbulent and twisted tale for a lifetime, and she claimed it in her pre-pubescent phase.

“Quite a tale, my dear.” His hand lay gently on her shoulder to keep track of her as they walked through the crowds. He was unsure if he was more unnerved at the possibility of her lying to him so wildly, or of her actually enduring such a childhood. “This place is very different, you see. Here, the dangers can be quite real, but people are a little too comfortable.”

He smiled as he looked down at her. For all of her wiseass remarks, the cinnamon stick was nearly gone, and her fingers were coated with a thick paste of course sugar grains and glaze. Her mouth was also ringed in the stuff, and she seemed completely oblivious to the presence of the mess. Save her worn, ragged clothes, she looked like every other kid in the market this morning.

With those clothes… yeeesh. She looks like she’s half-freaking orc.

“Let’s help you feel a little more comfortable. When was the last time you had some new clothes? A dress?”

Taische had almost a look of confusion on her face when he guided her gently towards a clothing merchant. There were some here that sold cheap clothes – tunics, shirts, and pants which tied at the waist with draw-strings and poorly sewn buttons. Storm knew better, and approached an old tailor. The racks of clothing he had included cashmere, silks, and finely combed cotton; his terribly posture sang of many hours bent over a bench, sewing finely.

“Good morning, sir! It looks like you have some quality blends here. Is it safe to assume you have a shop here in town?” Storm remained motionless as he eyed the cart-captain for a response. These fabric merchants typically owned tailor-shops in town, but hoped to make smaller margins during low hours selling excess scraps to the self-made seamstresses about town. The deep set, soft gray eyes opened wide as he turned up to Storm; the little man had hit the lottery.

“Of course, my friend! We come here to a’vertise, mostly. We’ll be back open this afternoon, should I make an appointment for you or the lady?” His failure to grimace at the messy child told of experience. Crowns were crowns, after all.

“Both, actually. Let’s meet shortly after lunch. A nice set of traveling clothes or dress for our little friend here – she can pick. As for me, we’ll need some time. I’d like a heavy gauge bespoke suit – two button with slim lapels and a trim-fit shirt and tie.”

It was magic to the little man, who was used to hearing phrases like “cheap”, “off the rack”, and “first suit”. He quickly pulled out a small scroll of paper and thick carpenter’s pencil to settle the appointment when the tall wizard interrupted him.

“Put the name down as ‘Taische’, for our little guest. And we’ll need clothes that are easy to clean; as you may be able to tell she doesn’t do ‘clean’ spectacularly well.”

The little girl was confused, and Storm couldn’t tell if it was excitement or boredom that she hid behind a blank expression. Either way, she could absolutely NOT keep moving through the city looking like a vagrant.

[Taische]

Taische frowned a little through her uncle’s entire conversation with the tailor. First of all, he didn’t believe her story, when every bit of it had happened. He thought she was just trying to put on a bit of the blarney, probably because despite having seen her use fire, water, and even lightning magic, he still just saw a little girl.

Second of all, her play dress was fine. It was clean, it didn’t have any tears, and maybe it was a little faded and getting a little small, but there was nothing wrong with it. It wasn’t like they were expected to meet with any of the Radasanthian nobility, so there hadn’t been any need in the days before to get her something better to wear. She was wearing shoes, and they were even the shiny black shoes Uncle Mal had told his maid to buy in Knife’s edge instead of her slightly beat-up boots. She wasn’t wearing the heavy orange wool dress that had been perfect for the Salvaran spring because it would have been murder in the Coronian summer. What more did Uncle Storm want?

Third of all, she wasn’t messy. She’d had a bath that morning, her hair was brushed, and her mother had even woven it into a complicated Celtic braid. If he meant the sticky sugar-cinnamon-butter mess that covered her hands and part of her face… well, the treat had been big and kind of drippy. It was nothing a little bit of water couldn’t fix. Maybe he could have handled it more neatly, but he was also twice her size.

Part of her was tempted, in her annoyance, to reel off her full name with title from Jalaan for the appointment. Her mother’s lover had spewed forth a long list of clothing terms she hadn’t understood, but based on the tailor’s expression, it was current Coronian fashion. The way he carried himself and formed his words – that friendly disdain of nobility everywhere – made him look like a showoff. But if he was real nobility, he’d never have gone to some random tailor flashing wares in the square on Market Day. If she’d come back with ‘Lady Kalhu, Taische O’Sheean,’ that probably would have turned his head right around.

But her mother had said that while they might have been granted titles in Jalaan, they weren’t anybody particularly special anywhere else. So she held that information back. Uncle Storm could find out if he and her mother stayed together long enough to introduce him to the Duke’s Court.

I wonder why he put the appointment in my name. People like Storm Veritas usually had to be the most visible, the most important. That didn’t make any sense. But he might have something to hide. Many of her mother’s friends did.

The tailor turned to her abruptly, pencil held against the parchment. “T-A-S-H-K-A?”

“T-A-I-S-C-H-E,” she corrected, giving the spelling of her name. “It’s Dheath.”

“Of course. Funny language, Dheath. You don’t sound it.”

“I didn’t grow up there, sir. My mom did.” That was a bald-faced lie, but the truth wasn’t really believable. It was close enough to the truth anyway, if she really stretched the definition of ‘close enough.’

“That’s very interesting. Do you know if you want a new dress or a new traveling outfit?”

Taische clasped her hands behind her back, rocked back and forth on her heels and gave a shy, almost self-conscious smile. “Not yet. Can I think about it?”

“Of course, my dear. I look forward to seeing you both again this afternoon.”

Middle-aged man and young girl made their way past the tailor, and Taische clenched the now-empty bakery paper between her hands, using a small, sustained spark to burn it to ash, which she let fall from her fingers. A second later, a few ounces of water congealed around her sticky fingers, washing away the thick, sweet glaze first from there, then from around her mouth.

The water fell into a drainage ditch when she was done with it. She hadn’t even broken stride for her casual shows of magic; it wasn’t likely she had thought about it much.

Clean, she grinned up. “Where next, Uncle Storm?”

[Storm Veritas]

Charming as she may be, young Taische was probably going to kill him. Storm was aghast as he saw her use both fire and water based magics in Center Square; it caught the eye of a young woman whose eyes spread as if she had seen a ghost. To those not touched by supernatural abilities, magic was significantly worse; it was both very real and very dangerous.

Did you leave your “I’m a wildly dangerous person who might accidentally kill you” sign at home? Lord, you dumb shit…

Storm’s eyes closed in a shut-your-mouth-and-move-on sneer at the otherwise pleasant, shocked older woman. She immediately dropped eye contact and darted out of sight; he wasn’t sure how many details she was able to gather. He also wasn’t sure how many other commoners had seen them. Storm grabbed the little prodigy by the upper arm, his slender arms delivering a vice-like grip as he subtly pulled her with a just-below-violent force.

They immediately ducked between two very busy booths, where Storm squatted to speak to her eye to eye. He had heard this was more effective somewhere, and he needed effective. His normal filter was off as he spoke in a frenetic, hushed tone.

”Have you lost your f*cking mind!? Do you have any idea what people here will think of you if they see you creating fire in your hand? “

Her eyes were wide; he had certainly grabbed her attention. He didn’t dare turn to the audience, but the fact that she was looking at him told him that there weren’t many others who looked to interrupt this urgent whisper. He spoke again to her, still quiet and a voice hidden to the droning white noise of the market behind them.

“Your abilities… your gifts… I know that you know a lot of people that have them. What you may not realize is how rare they are. You are very, very special.

“Unfortunately, these people – they don’t see special. They don’t see gifted. They see dangerous; they see deadly. Imagine the attention you’d get if instead of fire, you quietly spun revolvers around and waved them at people. That’s all they see.”

He seethed; he could feel his frustration and anger in his face. He breathed out slowly, relaxing and looking down at his feet. For all of her gifts and talents, discretion was a long ways off. Now it was time for a new gift; she’d have to prove that she could be invisible. Completely releasing his grip on her bicep, he softly cupped the little scoundrel’s face.

“I’m sorry. It’s not your fault that you didn’t know what you were doing. We can get through this; I think I scared off the only person who noticed. Please promise me you’ll keep those magics aside until you get out of the big groups.”

Her face softened a bit; it appeared he had gotten through to her. Gently, he put his hand on her shoulder and turned around, still in his squat as he saw a hemisphere of cobblestone before him.

Oh, shit.

People were huddled in a circle about them, creating a shoulder-to-shoulder perimeter about ten feet away. When Storm turned and unintentionally removed his own obstruction of Taische, one of the mob pointed directly towards the beautiful little girl.

“There she is! The little fire girl! She’s right there!”

[Taische]

Just like her uncle had said, these people were terrified. Of a little girl and a little spark. That was absolutely ridiculous. Still, though, she’d seen her Uncle Storm fight, and if she didn’t come up with a really good lie, really fast, it was going to really get dangerous.

Instead of shrinking back, she stepped forward, grinning as big and bright as she could. “That’s right! Soon as I’m old enough t’ join th’ show, I’m going t’ be Tajja Shahan, Fire Princess Spectacular!”

She could sense Storm tense behind her, unsure if this was going to backfire horribly or if it was a crazy enough ruse to work.

“Nobody was s’possed t’ see,” she continued, putting her hands behind her back and wiggling a little. “But I’ve got t’ practice a lot if I want t’ be good enough nex’ year. Got t’ get my hands used t’ fire. My big brother, he’s Boy Metal, an’ he walks on nails e’vry day t’ make his feet tough so he can perform in front of th’ crowd an’ everybody claps an’ yells! I tell ‘im I’ll make ‘em clap an yell even louder, an’ he laughs at me.”

The crowd was looking at each other, muttering softly to themselves. Everyone loved a good magic show. If this kid was just practicing her tricks, if it was really nothing, then this was a whole lot of silliness. Taische read the uncertainty in them; now they could turn either way.

Just keep working it…

“Watch! Watch, watch. Okay, hang on.” She looked at her feet for what she needed – some pebbles. All she found were three little chunks of cobblestone, but they were partially covered in paving tar. That was useful.

Snatching them up, she pulled a little stray twig from her pocket, concealing one end in her fingers but letting the other stick out. These people were familiar with matches, they’d get the idea. She struck the hidden end against one of the rough rocks, where it sputtered into flame.

“Oww! Okay, okay, almos’ ready.” She rubbed her “match” over her props, and they slowly caught fire. None of the Coronian commoners would know that it was her making all the flame, and it wasn’t just a trick. It looked plausible, and really, what little girl had real magic powers?

Rocks covered in flickering orange started weaving an uncertain path through the air, tumbling clumsily with the child’s uncoordinated tosses, in time with a chorus of “Oh…oops, I got it!”

After a few tosses, one stone clattered to the ground, followed shortly by a second. “The Spectacular Tajja” caught the third, quickly turning it so she was holding the part that wasn’t burning. She cast a sheepish look to the two that she’d dropped, but held up the last one. “Huh-zaaa!”

There was a cough or two, and maybe one embarrassed clap. The crowd dispersed slowly; there was nothing special here. Just an apprentice street magician who had a long way to go. The rocks stopped burning when the last of the people were gone. Taische stood there for a few seconds, smile gone from her little brown face.

People will believe what’s believable. A little Dheath girl who’s bad at fake magic is much more real than a little girl who can cast real magic. She wanted to tell the tall, thin man beside her that. That everyone knew that only adults could have real magic, because kids so rarely did that it would be easier to find an apple that looked like an orange.

But for today, she was in Storm's care. For the time being, he was her mother's lover. He wasn't going anywhere, at least not today, and she didn't need him turning on her. She had to try to test his limits, but apparently she'd already done that. She'd seen the sort of fury directed at her before, the anger born of fear. Sometimes it had been her mother yelling at her, or sometimes one of her other uncles, but it always meant the same thing. What the hell are you doing, are you trying to die?

At least he cared.

She shuffled so she was facing him, grinning apologetically. "I'm sorry for scaring you, Uncle Storm. I'll try not to do it again. It's just about as easy for me to do some things as it is for you to swear, and I wasn't thinking about it."

[Storm Veritas]

Little Taische was an enigma. There was no contesting that she was gifted, for all her naivete surrounding how people could perceive her talents she was every bit as clever. The magic show broke the mob fairly quickly, as though she had gotten the attention of the mass intentionally with an equally unimpressive trick. It was brilliant. To forego her budding ego (which certainly must be healthy, given her power) was unusual and impressive at her young age. The few remaining skeptics who leered with a lingering eye were cast off by Storm’s icy glare; he sold the protective parent well enough to keep any others from questioning the showcase.

“I know it’s easy for you – that’s what will scare them. People are scared of these abilities, because it separates us from them.” He walked beside her with a hand about her shoulders, looking down at her sternly with genuine concern. She was Karuka’s girl, all right; her brazen nature was matched by her prodigal magic. Her apology was cursory at best; it was meant to appease him and nothing more.

She’s not yours. Like it or not, your opinion is worth next to nothing to her. She doesn’t really care what you have to say here.

He looked up, breathing deeply as the crowd bustled about them. It was still crowded, perhaps packed was a better adjective, and people came and went with a rampant focus. Anonymity was allowed to a degree here, as people were all too focused on their own agendas to pay much mind to the masses about them.

The tall, tanned wizard took his hand off the girl, walking beside her as he spoke softly.

“You’re going to be spectacular, little lady. I hope I can help you sharpen those skills and take care of yourself. Don’t get me wrong – you proved more than capable at survival back on Dheath.

“Here, it’s different. Your ‘skills’ are more than just those that scare people, but how you charm them. You’re a cute kid; you’re bright; when you figure out how to play to the masses here, a girl like you will never want again.”

They approached another cart, this one a bodega. It surprised Storm to see how empty the wine cart was, given the popularity of alcohol in Center. He eyed the merchant, a tall, raven-haired woman who looked a bit tired but carried an exotic beauty. She was thin, in her forties (at least), and had her eyed on the finely quaffed mage as he strode to the cart.

A slate was hung from the rear of the cart, with chalk markings advertising prices. The slate was smeared with cloth marks as prices had obviously changed several times.

“Good afternoon, lovely!” he began, dipping his head in a charming, reverential display. “Someone like yourself shouldn’t be out here without company; what can you get me to put a smile on my face?”

Her cheeks blushed brightly as he charmed her, he didn’t take his eyes off the merchant as she demurely motioned to her casks.

“We have a top-shelf garrafeira here; a deep, rich red. Here, a mid-range port, sweet and fresh on this warm day. Finally, a simple tinto vinho, which is white, fragrant, and light. For you, handsome, they are seven, five, and four crowns.”

He held a steady smile despite the costs; the high prices explained why the booth was empty. It was at least twice what he expected, but truth be told he didn’t understand the vintages. He looked toward little Taische as he prepared the lesson on negotiation.

Gods… oh no…

Taische was gone.

[Taische]

Wine was of absolutely no interest to Taische. Her mother wouldn’t let her drink it on the rare occasions she came across it. Her mother didn’t let her drink alcohol at all, unless it was very weak beer in a place where the water wasn’t safe and they didn’t have juice. She didn’t like the smell of it, anyway; it kind of smelled like rotting grapes and vinegar.

The little raven-haired girl had stopped paying attention at Storm’s first words to the vendor. He was fake-flirting with her, trying to make her feel special so she’d give him what he wanted, which was most likely a better price on her fancy wines. If anything, the fact that he was pretending to flirt with someone other than her mom to negotiate reaffirmed to her that he was either a pretender to the local nobility or a disgraced former member of the Radasanth elite. Well, that and he liked having women see him.

By the time the merchant started speaking, Taische’s blue eyes had turned back toward the square. The warm sun beat down on everyone, shining off the brilliant colors of awnings and wares. Jewelry and glass sparkled in the sunlight, dirty people trudged through the center of the road with their eyes focused on some destination, clean people filtered around the perimeter, looking at everything Market Day had to offer. Some shopped with purpose, filling their bags deliberately with specific items. Others meandered pointlessly, looking for something that might catch their fancy.

Children ducked and weaved through the crowds, some of them even younger than she was. Wait a second. How come they could run free and she couldn’t? That wasn’t fair. If they weren’t afraid of getting stolen and sold, then there probably wasn’t any danger to her. Maybe it was just her uncle’s way of trying to scare her into being good and keeping close. It WAS his first time watching her on his own and her mother HAD warned him that she had a tendency to wander off.

But he wasn’t paying attention, and he was buying alcohol in the morning.

That’s not going to work, Uncle Storm. If he thought he was going to be her dad, for a month or a year or however long he and her mom stick together, he was going to have to learn to keep an eye on her. But she couldn’t go too far just yet, or he’d learn too well. And her mom would get mad. That wasn’t good for anyone; her mom was scary when she was mad. So she had to keep pretty close and make it look like she’d just gotten a little distracted.

Quietly, she took a few steps away, walking around the cart’s corner and looking around. Dogs and cats also wandered through the crowds, she noticed, looking for food or perhaps searching for a long lost master. One of the strays walked toward her, head low and tail wagging slowly to show that she was friendly. She was a big dog, coming up to Taische’s chest at her tallest, and so skinny that her ribs showed beneath patchy white and brown fur that was meant to be fluffy.

The little girl reached out when the dog got close, holding the back of her hand for a sniff and receiving a big, slobbery lick. She giggled and started petting the gray-muzzled girl, giggling again when the dog licked her chin.

“Can I keep you? I’ll feed you and take you for walks. And give you a bath. We can call you Clara!” The dog grinned in the slow, friendly manner of her species, prompting a return grin from the girl. “Mom won’t mind. She likes dogs.”

[Storm Veritas]

Taische! Where the hell are you!?

Desperation was a fantastic trigger for Storm, flipping the switch within him from relaxed and jovial to manic and wild within the adventurer. He scanned the crowd rapidly, eyes bouncing back and forth across the otherwise encumbered, distracted, and disinterested. He didn’t bother catching more than a fleeting glance at anyone that had already grown taller than his elbow, merely looked past them as trees in the forest hiding his friend.

He moved quickly towards the center of the circle, peering about to find the little girl. There were so many goddamned people here; the task appeared a needle in a haystack. He spotted a number of kids, all too big, too small, or too fair to be his little annoying responsibility.

Son of a bitch! Where are you, Taische!? Where did you go!?

His blood was boiling as he knifed through the crowds, the sun beating a sweat forth from his brow. His gentile smile had soured into a sneer, his hands balling into pulsing fists, white spots popping at his knuckles as his forearms popped veins from their normally smooth flesh.

“Taische!”

He bee-lined to the girl, who was squatted by the toy cart. He drew a few confused looks as he closed on her, but paid no heed. A wave of relief was blending with his anger as desired to strangle the little muse. One man who stood in his way was unceremoniously bumped as Storm grabbed his little prodigy by the shoulder.

…or so he thought, as a bewildered youth spun to meet him, her doughy, dumb blue eyes wide with an almost primitive gaze.

“Huhhhhhhh!?”

It was clearly both the wrong girl, and one who was unsettlingly a few cards short of a deck. Storm released her shoulder, stepping back in a combination of misdirected anger and frustration. If this wasn’t Taische, where was she?

I’m going to kill that little shit…

Storm pivoted, animalistic now as he sought out his traveling companion. A large, gruff man forced his way into the wizard’s path, putting two beefy fists into his chest and pushing him back. He yelled something primal, some nonsensical desire for justice as Veritas had apparently betrayed the purity of his stupid little girl’s shoulder.

Unamused, Storm met the man’s ire with a steely cold stare. He was a powder keg, and the wick was burned to the barrel-top.

“F*ck off, fatso. Get out of my way.”

Large, strong mortals have a penchant for stupidity, as was the case here as the big man reared back to throw a hefty right hand at the experienced killer. Storm’s reflexes and speed were so advanced that this was embarrassing; he drove his body down to the left in a hard duck, and had to wait for the lumbering brute to throw his harmless punch towards him. His instinct to kill repressed by his need to find Taische kept his dagger in the leathers on his hip, but his hands were free to fly. He pumped a hard left hook into the back of the ribs of the twisting brute, then another towards the shoulder blade. Each punch was lightning; he felt bones yield helplessly to his velocity. The final tally would be four or five ribs; he held back from finishing the oaf with a blade to the carotid. Regardless, the man fell in a heap to the gasp and shriek of women watching.

The attack released tension, and brought him back to reality. He needed to move. Storm didn’t break stride, and was concerned to see the eyes of the center turn to him en masse as he felled his large attacker. Confusion was rampant and the noise was explosive as people stirred and ran to the quick “fight”, from which Veritas strode away as disinterested as possible.

Relief came as he at last saw the correct girl, as pretty Taische had turned her attention to the noise, her striking blue eyes popping out from behind the tanned skin. She, too, was squatted merely twenty feet from him, and had likely seen the whole fracas. By her side was a mottled mutt of a dog,

“Taische! Come with me. Don’t look back.”

He held his hand towards her as he raced forward, hoping to pull her out of Center Market and away from the growing mob.

[Taische]

Taische knew it was bad to not return to her uncle when he called her. She knew she was going to get into big trouble when her mother found out. But she couldn't, for the life of her, figure out what he was doing. He'd missed her a lot faster than she'd expected; usually her caregivers at least finished buying what they wanted before looking for her. But instead of looking nearby, like a normal person would, he tore away from the wine cart like he thought she was halfway back to Dheathain.

The stray dog nudged the little girl's hand for more scratches, and she obliged while tracking the tall, skinny pale man through the crowd. "He looks really mad, Clara." Storm had never hit her, but she knew that violence came easily to him. Part of her thought she should try to catch up to him before he could get any madder - nearly impossible, given the thickness of the crowd, his speed, and her small stature. More often than not, she couldn't even see him for the crush of the crowd. The other part thought that maybe she should just keep her head down until he was less panicked.

Fortunately, her problem resolved itself when Storm found someone else to hit. "Oooh. I think it's good we weren't right there for that, Clara. He beat that guy up bad."

The crowd behind the lightning mage recoiled, like a herd of gazelle after a crocodile's strike, murmuring worriedly while he retreated from the scene of the carnage. The dog barked when he approached them, but Taische patted her head. "Come on, Clara!" She was found anyway; if there was running that had to be done, she should probably go with the running that would get her in less trouble.

I hope he notices that I'm right by the wine wagon where he was. But that might not even help.

Running in shoes was hard; the stiff leather didn't bend right and her toes couldn't grip the ground, so her steps were clumsy. She still grabbed hold of her uncle's hand and did her best to keep up with his long stride while he led them out of the crowded market square and into a quieter part of town, well away from the man he'd attacked and so many people that he couldn't see her if she was more than two steps away.

She bent down when they finally stopped in a shady alley, gasping for breath and holding onto her right side. Her feet hurt from the painful shoes, her side felt like someone had stabbed her, her little heart pounded like it was about to explode, and her lungs wanted to burst from her ribs because she couldn't give them enough air. The dog she'd befriended laid down beside her, tongue lolling good-naturedly while she kept a wary eye on the man.

"I tried... to come... when... when you called me," Taische tried, shifting from side to side a little. "But then... you ran away. And I... couldn't see you."

[Storm Veritas]

Cooling down didn’t come easy. In a world where he could channel his fury into a power that made men bend to his will, showing restraint and understanding was a tall order. Storm could feel the eyes of everyone on him as he walked, and worse than his anger at the man who confronted him was the shame that arrived with his own stupidity. He could hear the voice in his ear that Taische could have offered, should she wish to push her luck.

You told HER not to showcase her magic. Cut to five minutes later and you showcase a speed that NONE of these people have. Couldn’t let it go? Couldn’t roll with it? You stupid ass.

When they stopped to speak in the alley, her apologetic tone shook him. She had an unmistakable urgency and penitence in her voice; it was clear that his anger had resonated with him. Simply, he had likely pushed the little girl much too hard. Squatting, he stared between his feet for a moment to breath deeply and gather himself. A droplet of sweat rolled down from his nose to the ground, splashing silently to the cobblestone in a silent reminder of the heat of the moment.

“I know, Taische, I know…” He looked at her bright blue eyes, seeking to reduce her anxiety and relax her. “You just scared the hell out of me. You don’t understand.”

Another deep breath, and he let himself crash to the ground, sprawling backwards to sit with his back pressed against the brick wall behind him. Pulling his knees tight to his chest, Storm forked his fingers through his hair, pulling it back and taut against his skull. He smiled in spite of himself, motioning for the girl to sit beside him. Despite her rough edges and logical uncertainty concerning the sanitation of the alley ground, she complied.

“I’ve never had to actually look out for anyone before. I’m sure you’ve figured by now that responsibility isn’t a particular strength of mine.” He smiled at her, and caught her giggling under her breath at his admission. Obviously, sitting in the very questionable stench of the alley, he wasn’t going to be interviewed for local babysitting jobs any time soon.

“Truth is, I’ve known your mom for as long as anyone that I can still care, and I care for her a great deal. She’s a good woman, and has done a good job with you. I know you’re not a normal kid; not fragile or helpless or weak. It doesn’t matter, kiddo, because I still want you to enjoy your time here. I pictured you leaving town with sweets, a pretty dress, and a big smile; that hasn’t exactly clicked with you.”

Another smile. He was possibly connecting with her, but in the very least entertaining her. Perhaps he couldn’t be a friend, but he could at least be something other than an enemy to her.

“It makes sense; I never claimed to know a damned thing about being a young girl, either. Come on, get up.” He stood, offering a hand to her as he felt his entire body cool and relax. There was a simple enough question he should have asked much earlier.

“You’ve seen the square. What exactly do you want to do out there? Your tour is over, kiddo, your turn to lead the way.”

[Taische]

Taische didn't take Storm's hand right away, peering at the bright, empty road the alley fed into. She hadn't quite caught her breath yet; her uncle was faster, fitter, and only had to take one step for every two of hers. Her insides were no longer threatening to become her outsides, but she was still puffing and sweating.

"I don't know," she answered, looking up at him. "I don't understand Radasanth, Uncle Storm. It was very different back home." Finally she grabbed onto his hand, little brown fingers contrasting rough white ones, and brushed herself off when she was back on her feet. "Back home, certain types of people can use magic, and little displays in public are fine. No one would have even glanced at home when I burned the paper and washed my hands and face. You get in big trouble if you threaten or attack someone who can't use magic with it, but if you're just using it, there's not a problem. Here, everyone gets scared and I have to show off how bad I am at juggling."

A frown crossed her face and she rocked back and forth on her heels. "And I knew how I was supposed to dress at what times. Play clothes if I was going to play, something nice if I was going to be at the Duke's palace. I knew how to act with everyone, and how everyone was supposed to act with me. I don't know that here. I don't know people here. Everything's changed, Uncle Storm, and it literally changed overnight. On the boat over with Uncle Mazatl, we were still using Jalaan rules. Then when we docked it was suddenly Corone rules. Since then, I haven't been in one place long enough to understand it, and it's hard." Her voice cracked, and she paused for a second. "I'm always doing the wrong thing. I don't like it, and I want to go home. I miss my house and I miss my friends and I miss the jungle where I knew all the plants."

She blinked rapidly, bravely fighting against two large drops of water in her eyes. "I can't go home, though, because mom needs to be here, and I'm too much trouble for anyone who isn't my mom to handle for very long. Kids my age don't get magic, and no one really knows what to do with me. I think my mom only asked you to watch me today because I know you and you were the closest one."

It was the most she'd opened up to any adult other than her mother since she'd left the land of her birth, and it had all just come pouring out. The dog stood up and nudged her big head beneath Taische's hand, giving the little girl something solid to hold onto.

"Can...can we keep Clara, Uncle Storm? She's very friendly, and I don't think she has a family."

[Storm Veritas]

Taische had a way with him, and she had to know it. Storm looked directly into her eyes as she spoke, listening to the authenticity in her voice with a combination of hesitancy and sympathy. Even if she was playing him, she had a point, a troubled road, and a lack of guidance. If Dheathain was an intimidating place for him at thirty-eight, how could this kid handle the bustle of Radasanth?

The dog, of course, was another matter altogether. Storm had tried to ignore the stray, but it was obvious that Taische had the keen compassion that a child should enjoy.

Shit. This isn’t going to be easy.

“Your mom didn’t trust me –just- because I was close. Your mom knows that I’ve been attacked here for having powers. I’ve been chased away for being different. It isn’t your fault that you’re different, honey, but you need to understand that you’ll scare people with that power. You’re stronger, more capable, and could be dangerous if you weren’t sweet. People are always scared of what they don’t know.”

He conveniently left out the details surrounding being chased out. He had a laundry list of open warrants on his head, although they were well aged and many likely beyond the statute of limitations in Corone. The lives he had taken likely lacked the level of details for people to reach any conviction, but he’d keep his name away from the front lines as a measure of safety.

“You’re not too much for me, kiddo. You’re a handful, and sometimes a pain in the ass, but you’re also a good kid. You’re clever, funny, and sweet. That sweetness shines through with you trying to take care of that dog.”

He leaned forward, extending a hand covered with fast-bruising knuckles that the dog cautiously sniffed and licked. The signs of malnourishment, mange, and likely fleas were very clear on the white/brown mottled mutt; “Clara” also had fast taken to Taische.

“The dog isn’t ours to take, honey. She lives out here, probably runs with a pack, and probably wouldn’t take too well to Tadooine. Let’s not forget, we can’t become a traveling zoo, kiddo.”

Her big, saucer-like eyes kept a thin glaze of welled tears. Even here, in the low-lit alleyway, she was absolutely brutal when it came to negotiating with. How had Karuka ever managed to say no to this little guilt-peddlar?

“So I’m sorry, but no, we can’t keep her. It doesn’t mean we can’t help her. She looks hungry, and dirty, and probably has some combination of mange and fleas. We can pay to get her some medicine and a bath; when it comes time to feed her, we’ll have to get food but set it away.

“If we get her food and let her eat with us, we’ll never be able to let her go back to her pack. That would be terrible, especially if she’s trying to get food for little puppies by coming with us.”

Storm, you’re a God-damned genius!

Playing the puppy card might have been a low blow, but it was also the only plausible way he could justify them not taking on the flea-bitten friend. Storm stood again, motioning forward to allow Taische to lead the way back into Center Market.

[Taische]

Taische put a hand on Clara’s neck to lead her back to the busy crowd. The old dog obviously didn’t have puppies; her teats weren’t heavy with milk and she hadn’t been eager to leave the little girl to get food or take care of her babies or find her pack. Of course, Uncle Storm didn’t know very much about animals, so he probably wouldn’t know how to tell. He just didn’t want a dog. They already had a horse, a phoenix, and sometimes a cat, so what was a dog, especially if she was taking care of it?

Her little mouth scrunched up while they were walking through the shaded alleys and back to market. Maybe if she tried again… No, he’d stick with the puppy line. And she had to be good at least until they were well into the tailor visit. After all, it was still morning, and between her magic display and her wandering off, her uncle had already had Enough. If she didn’t let him calm down completely, it could be really rough for her if he got mad again.

Maybe I shouldn’t get him mad on purpose. He and mom really like each other, so he’s not going anywhere for a while. He doesn’t know about kids, but he’s trying anyway, and he doesn’t really have to. But he gets mad really easy. She hadn’t even been trying to test him with the magic, and she’d only been trying to test him a little by going around the cart. What would happen if she REALLY tried to push him?

He’d get super mad, she mused as people started filtering past them in twos and threes. And then he might leave, and then mom would be sad. She didn’t want her mom to be sad. She should try to be good. Karuka had told her on the boat ride from Dheathain that building a new life in a new country was really, really hard, and they both had to try their best. They all had to try their best; by staying with them, Storm was starting a new life, too.

They came to the edge of the square again, where the crush of bodies seemed almost impassable. How were they even supposed to get back in to Center Market, much less through it and to all the places they needed to be?

She turned a little to look at Storm, who was still right behind her and Clara. “Where do we get doggy soap, Uncle Storm? I can’t see.”

[Storm Veritas]

Fully satisfied that she had purchased his rationale for not adopting the dog wholesale, Storm felt very proud of himself as they exited the little alley. The wall of humanity had formed again at the aperture; there must have been a sale or special announced at a nearby cart. In the hustle, people shuffled, screamed and moved quickly about, paying no attention to Storm, Taische, or each other. Again, the anonymity of the masses was pleasant, since aside from sore knuckles the tall wizard could have otherwise altogether forgotten his recent altercation. Taische may be feeling claustrophic, he worried, as she likely viewed a thick collection of navels and backs.

“There’s not going to be a dog-soap wagon, kiddo. We just need to find a good apothecary or spa-type; either will have what we’re looking for.”

And how, exactly, do we get there? Should you just throw the little squirt as far as you can and hope she lands at the right booth?

Storm stood back from the huddle a few strides, peering from the relative darkness about the square for a plan. There wasn’t much available immediately; no ladders up to get around, no open doors to squeeze through on a quick detour. The buzz of the mass was a low drone, the buildings surrounding Center Market forming a fine hive. He couldn’t find much, at least until he spotted the church tower directly across from them.

Bingo.

Storm didn’t know much about churches, temples, septs or cathedrals, but knew quite a bit about the big bell that hovered atop it. Most importantly, it was loud as shit and would get the attention of the big crowd. All he had to do was RING the bell now.

“Hang tight, kiddo. Stay close, we’ll need to move quickly.”

When a man is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. When a man can conjure lightning… it’s easy to find excuses to blast everything with electricity. Unfortunately for the adventurer, his recent lectures to little Taische served as fair precedent to prevent him from firing a huge bolt of lightning across the square, which would reasonably be immediately traced back to him, and send cold shivers down the spines of anyone who had been in Radasanth for over ten years.

More than one way to skin a cat. Okay… plan B… “B” still stands for Bingo. It’s also short for “Brilliant”, and I’m on a god-damned roll.

Emerging from the darkness, Storm spotted a few small nuts that had fallen from the great wagon wheel nearest them, and silently squatted to scoop them up. There were three there; the electromancer grabbed them and slithered back into the safety of the dark alley. Holding up his palm, he examined the near-worthless things. They were heavy, rusted, and almost completely stripped of their internal threading; it was no surprise that they didn’t hang tight.

He grabbed the first nut, looking down to wink quickly at Taische as he ducked into the darkest shadow. He lifted his open hand to eye level, as though the nut were an offering to the Gods. Focusing his electric fields, the nut began to hover an inch or so above his fleshy palm. Squinting, he exhaled with an explosive breath. As though from a musket, the nut sailed impossibly quickly high and silent over the crowd. He watched with satisfaction as the little bullet spun directly at the great bell. His smile broadened and he lightly pressed to the youngling’s shoulder.

This happiness quickly subsided as the wind grabbed the little metal nut in the air, twisting it harmlessly to the right, landing somewhere through an open window into the apartment of an entirely confused Radasanthian.

Son of a WHORE! The f*cking wind! Oh, you f*cking pig!

His glare told the story of all his fury for him, and he dared not look down at his little friend in fear that she would glance at the face of evil. He could fix this. The wind wasn’t swirling, so he could add some correction to his shot.

Deep breaths. Relax. Start it twenty feet left, let the wind take ‘er home, and open that door of humanity.

Calming himself, Storm gathered his body again and reassumed his posture. A hover, a squint, and off went the second metal piece, sailing straight at the heading he had envisioned. As though touched by the heavens, the little nut turned inward to his target. He had overcorrected ever so slightly, and it glanced off the bell with a harmless “ping”.

“Well, I hit it. Keep your eyes open for other little pieces of metal, kiddo. We may need some more yet.”

Just hit the godforsaken thing.

His third shot got an extra moment of focus and concentration. Storm eyed the bell, and set the line slightly off his last mark. He breathed, and fired the third nut with a quiet confidence. It sailed, smoothly, silently, and….

”PAAAAAAAANNNGGGGG!!!!!!

The bell not expected, the devout (and confused) amongst the crowd instantly turned and drifted towards the source. The great mass dissipated enough for the two to enter if they stayed tight, and Storm proudly smiled as he motioned to let the little lady through.

“Just like I planned! After you, my dear.”

[Taische]

Taische looked up at Storm, eyes slightly narrowed and lips held in a hard line. Hadn’t he just exploded at her like an hour ago for using magic near people? And now he had just done what? How was it okay when he used magic, and not when she did? She held the glower for a moment, just long enough for him to get the message, then turned and led Clara into the slightly-less crowded square.

I wonder... The word ‘spa’ didn’t mean anything to her in Tradespeak, but she was familiar with two of the city’s apothecaries. One ran alongside a candy shop that was on the way back to the apartment from the park. It sold little remedies to children who had bumped their heads or skinned their knees and wanted relief from the pain. The other was a bit out of the way, but it had all sorts of medicines and herbs.

Right hand still buried in the stray’s matted, stringy fur, Taische stood on her tiptoes and looked around. It didn’t really give her a better vantage point, but she felt taller. After a few seconds, she pointed to a wooden cart that had an awning with dark and light green stripes. “There’s an apothecary. They’re the ones mom goes to to make sure I don’t have a little brother any time soon. Come on, Clara.”

Without looking back to make sure Storm was following her, the child took off across the square, dodging and darting through the pack of people. Being small and quick, it would have been easy to lose her in the crowd, but she had a destination and was headed straight there. Besides, the mage was taller than most Radisanthians. If he didn’t get too far behind, he could probably see the black braid flowing around behind her.

When she and Clara reached the apothecary’s cart, Taische looked at the various herbs they had on display, then peered over the wagon’s smoothly-polished edge to the vendor. “Hello. I would like…uh…” What were the words? “A tropical anti-parasitic and some soap.”

The apothecary, a man with sharp cheekbones and wrinkled skin, looked the child over. He’d seen her before; there was no mistaking the redhead’s daughter. “Where’s your mother? Did you get away from her?”

Taische shook her head. “She’s visiting a friend and I’m with my uncle today.”

“Hmm.” The elderly man looked back, adding some more herbs to a smoldering brazier to keep the summer flies away. “Are you going to Dheathain or Istraloth?”

Taische’s eyebrows drew together and her mouth scrunched up. “Huh?”

He sighed, rubbing his bristly cheek. “What do you need the anti-parasitic for?”

“My dog has fleas. We’re going to give her a bath.”

“Topical, then. It goes on the skin. Not tropical, which is a warm, wet climate.” Experienced hands measured out a couple of different liquids into a vial, then cut a little bit of peppermint soap, just enough to give the dog a bath. “All right, little lady. Two gold for the flea treatment, and you can have the soap for free.”

Armed with a little money of her own, Taische reached into a tiny pouch at her waist. Clara was going to spend a little while being very unhappy, but then she’d feel a whole lot better. So would Taische, who could feel the fleas testing the skin of her hand. It took a lot of concentration to not burn them off, but it would scare Clara and Uncle Storm would yell at her again.

[Storm Veritas]

The aging magician watched as his would-be apprentice paid for some treatments; he wasn’t sure if she felt him replace the coins in her little purse. There was almost no chance she saw him; his sleight of hand was finely tuned, albeit generally developed in the exchange of cashflows in the opposite direction. Her gesture was noble; she deserved some recompense. He smiled as he led the disgruntled little girl to a nearby side street, walking a few dozen feet away from the heavy crowds and stopping at the curb which bordered a hand-lain gutter, usually used to drain rainwater off from the crowned cobbled streets.

“Here,” he began, his eyes shifting rapidly to survey the immediate surroundings. “Here, we can take care of your little friend.” He smiled again, squatting to whisper directly at the doe-eyed Taische. “No one fears the magic that they don’t see or know about.” Her pouty nature after his bell-ringing was a clear sign she was put off; as much as he liked her, guilt trips would not be tolerated.

And You’re Welcome, toots. Just when I thought we were making progress!

It was good for Storm to assist in taking care of the little dog, he decided. Some sign of compassion would be helpful in front of the girl, particularly since they’d both have to part ways soon enough with the mangy runt. In their squatted pose, he invited the girl to conjure a bit of water, which she happily obliged. It was just enough water to lather and eventually rinse the dog, watching as he shook and sprayed her uncle with the renowned cologne of wet dog. A joking smile twisted across his face as he feigned irritation.

You furry dickhead! You’d get a wingtip to the ribcage if the little shit wasn’t here…

Taische’s pleasure at Storm’s discomfort was short-lived; the eventuality of releasing the sad little dog clearly weighed heavily on her. The wiry Veritas nearly wavered, considering briefly if Karuka would really care if he deferred the decision to her. This dog was nothing like the useful pet; the fiery Taodoine could hunt and fight for itself. This poor thing wouldn’t likely see the new year under the best of conditions.

The flea bath came last; a powdery type substance that they rubbed into the skin. While it had a different sort of funk to it, this medicinal rub decidedly also stunk to high hell. Unfazed, the dog happily continued to wag her tail and lick the powder-coated hands of the two travelers. Storm pulled away somewhat sharply, becoming keenly aware of their fast connection.

“Okay, kiddo. I’m sorry, but this is the end of the road for our travels with cute little Clara here. Your mom didn’t sign up for new travelers.”

As the two wizards began to walk, a coldness seemed to form over Taische. She literally seemed to grow colder, as though a physical manifestation of her frustration. Moments later, Storm found himself back in Center square, purchasing two chicken drumsticks for lunch. Taische’s drumstick went wholly untouched; she remained close enough to avoid scolding, but her eye level never came close to catching those of the experienced elder. Perhaps she could sense the wisdom despite the decision she disagreed with.

And perhaps she just thinks you’re an asshole.

Clara wasn’t far behind them, and Storm had sent food a few times behind him for the dog to chase. Each time he threw the chicken a few feet farther, trying to get away from the dog as they walked. Each time, that same dog was able to inhale a sizable portion of meat and return before they had managed to slip away. The child giggled a bit more at his failure and dissatisfaction.

Goddamned flea-bag is harder to shake than the crabs.

At last, Storm triumphed as he threw the remainder of Taische’s drumstick considerably further into the side street. Clara gave him a confused look before taking off to feast. He laughed in spite of himself as he watched the scrawny dog scamper off, and turned to find the men’s room and rid himself of some wine. With a grimace spread across her little face, Taische continued towards the tailor's shop where their appointment had been set. The jingle of the bell above the door as they entered the little store was a juxtaposition to her suddenly soured mood.

[Taische]

Taische paused just outside the tailor shop's polished oak door. She wanted to slip away to go find Clara, because it wasn’t fair for Uncle Storm to just decide she couldn’t come with them just because she was old and might not have been useful in hunting. He was old and wasn’t much good for traveling – he was delicate and whiny. He still got to come. At least a dog would stand watch at night.

But her mom had chosen to be with Storm, and because it was her choice to allow him to travel with them, Taische was trying to be good. If he was with them for another month or another five years, they’d have to get used to each other. That meant that if she was going to misbehave deliberately, she needed to space out the occasions. The child had to remind herself of that, because even a day could be a long time if she and Storm were hostile to each other. She wasn’t sure why it was her job to be good, but she knew that life wasn’t fair.

That didn't mean Storm wouldn't dearly regret not letting her keep Clara until her mom could decide. It just meant she had to time things right.

She knew what she wanted to do. She knew what she had to do. And she knew how she wanted the tailor to view her, so before her uncle could catch up to her, Taische straightened up, put on a smile, and let herself into the shop. Immediately the cool scent of cotton, clean scent of linen, beechy scent of vlince, and slightly fake scent of processed silk washed into her nose. Gleaming buttons and shining spools of thread sat in neatly-ordered bins, all awaiting the skilled hand of the tailor or his seamstress wife.

It was she who looked at the child from her workbench, a slightly plump woman with straw-colored hair and more than a dozen pins held firmly at the corner of her mouth. Her expression was warm and hospitable, perfect for greeting customers, but there was a slight set of her mouth and irritated quirk of her brow that questioned if the dark little girl had gotten lost. Pulling the pins from her mouth, she smiled. “Good afternoon, little one. What brings you into our shop?”

“My name is Taische, T-A-I-S-C-H-E.” Her hands found the small of her back and she rocked back and forth a little on her heels. “My uncle made us an appointment with the cart so he could get a fancy suit and I could get a new dress. I want a sleeveless dress with a band in the middle, and it should be too big so I can grow into it, but not too too big.”

The seamstress’s irritation washed away. A customer was always a most welcome guest in her shop. “All right then. Go pick out the fabrics you want for your dress, and I’ll get your measurements.”

Taische hurried through the stacks of bolts, heading toward the slightly stiff, sturdy cottons. Those would make clothes that would look good for years in almost any situation, would wash easily, and wouldn’t be too heavy to wear or carry.

[Storm Veritas]

Competence was welcome to Storm as he allowed the assistant to measure him. He looked at the boy who strung a tape measure in a dizzying stretch of lengths across his chest, arms, wrists and legs. The young boy couldn’t be more than eleven or twelve, but worked with a keen squint and focus beyond his years. The lithe wizard was originally a little frustrated to “settle” for the apprentice as his little partner was treated by the experienced woman, but that had passed boy. Although the seamstress with the knowing smile and thick, padded fingertips was certainly capable, Storm was being treated by someone with very prescient skills.

Eyeing himself in the mirror, Storm tried to ignore the graying hair, the sunken hollows beneath his eyes, and the slight but not invisible loss in elasticity his skin was enduring. His looks were slipping a bit from the rock star he fancied himself as an adolescent; he’d now need to keep details such as the cut of his suit even more meticulous. This particular pinstriped gray cloth was a blend of soft, long strand cotton and another ultrafine thread that he didn’t quite recognize. It must be something new, he figured.

And either way, you’ll look like the Mayor of Radasanth again. Hopefully once that sweet little shit gets herself a new dress, she can cheer up a bit from missing the dog she had developed that deep ten minute relationship with. Hell, I might even get a smile, or –God-Forbid- a thank you from her!

The boy continued to race about, marking numbers on the sheet that corresponded to points on the template of a previously printed suit. There were at least thirty lines he had filled out, and still a dozen or so remained as he popped the pencil back into his mouth to measure again. Focusing a bit, Veritas caught the boy red-handed, stretching the tape down Storm’s hip and looking straight through it, catching a peek of Taische, who was being measured by what must have been his grandmother.

It all would seem harmless, at least if the boy had any idea what he was dealing with. The mage bit his tongue briefly, remembering the foolishness of young crushes, and that the boy had in no way overstepped himself. A little warning was the least he could do.

“You’re clever, son, but not as clever as you think. I see you peeking at her; you’re not as subtle as you need to be.”

Little bright, round eyes shot up to meet him, and Storm saw a confused fear in the boy’s face. He was desperate to keep himself out of trouble. He began to stammer awkwardly immediately, but Storm saved him from the embarrassment. With a whisper, he continued.

“Relax, relax… don’t forget I was your age once. I just thought it fair to warn you that we might not be in town for long. If you want to talk to her, I’d suggest you do so quickly. If not, at least introduce yourself. She’s sharper than I am, so if I caught you peeking at her, I’m sure she did, too.”

He smiled to himself as he raised his arms for another measurement. The discomfort in the boy was sweet, if a little painful. In either event, he’d soon be done with the measurements. As they finished, the boy would either talk to Taische or avoid it. Either way, he’d be amused.

[Taische]

Taische had picked a dark green fabric that was liberally strewn with white daisies, and a pale gold fabric for the belt in the middle. She'd helped the seamstress design the dress, cooperated with the measurements - admittedly, without needing a particular fit, collar, sleeves, or pants, she didn't need half as many measurements as her uncle did - and tried to not pay attention to the boy whose eyes kept wandering her way. Boys liked to pull her hair or push her, like they did with other girls they knew, and then got upset when she hit back and hit harder. She didn't have the patience for boys today.

Her dress would fit loosely at first, end at her mid-shin, and have big armholes. She could tighten the belt to adjust the fit or fiddle with the seams and hem to extend the life of the outfit, but it would probably be too small some time in her twelfth year. Sooner, if she started growing really fast again.

Her uncle wasn't done yet, and that presented a little bit of a problem. She hadn't needed to relieve herself half an hour before, when going into the shop, but she needed to go now. So she turned to the seamstress. "Um... I need to go to the privies. They're just down the street; can you tell my uncle where I went and that I'll be right back in a few minutes?"

The seamstress didn't think anything of the request; a lot of little girls Taische's age were independent enough to wander a little bit. Besides, she was already bent over her parchment paper and working on the pattern. She hardly noted when the girl wound her way through the dimly lit aisles of fabric and slipped out the door, but shortly after she went over to check her grandson's progress.

"You're doing a good job, James. Mind you check his shoulders, though; the measurement looks a little off." Her eyes turned to Storm, a handsome man, if flashy and young to her perspective. She'd never had the looks to land a man like that, but she'd never wanted to. Her own husband, humble tailor though he was, took pride in his work and in the care he took of his family, and they had a happy, comfortable, ordinary life. A man like her client wouldn't provide that, and a flickering thought wished the Thayne's mercy on any woman who spent more than a day with him.

"Your little girl headed off to use the privies and said she'd be back, but I wouldn't put much weight to that. There's a toy shop just across the street, and I've never seen a child able to just pass it by their first time seeing it. If she's confident enough to leave the shop without holding your hand, that's where you'll find her, mark my words."

Indeed, after using the privy, Taische did not return to the shop. She hadn't really intended to, but she hadn't formulated a plan, either. Now, in the bright sunshine of the early summer day, with throngs of people passing by and all sorts of businesses open for her inspection, the raven-haired child found no need for one. She could go wherever she wanted. Maybe she could find Clara again, but she doubted it. Dogs were clever about getting around, and while the old mutt had needed a family to love her, she'd probably approached someone else already. Clara was a nice dog; she'd be all right, especially now that she was clean.

What to do...?

The weight of the pouch under her shirt reminded Taische that she had some money, and not all of it was from her mother. In Salvar, her Uncle Mal had spent some time teaching her how to yo-yo, despite not having any idea what to do with children and only having to take care of her because his employees had been idiots and taken her. He hadn't wanted her mom to be madder than necessary when she got to his place, so he'd begrudgingly done his best. He'd given her a handful of change on the morning she'd left so she could get one of her own. This was her first good opportunity to get one, so she headed into a shop.

Visits to the tailor for anything specifically fitted took time, so she was sure Uncle Storm wouldn't even notice she was gone. And if he did... he wasn't a stupid man, so if he noticed, this would be the lay time she was able to pull this on his watch. She was absolutely going to have fun with it.

[Storm Veritas]

Storm listened to the old seamstress as she advised him of Taische’s departure. He stifled a grimace at the news, knowing how difficult it had been to find the diminutive child in the crowds earlier. Hopefully, he estimated, the mobs would have thinned by the time they left the shop. He had planned to hang about the outside of the shop while they began cutting cloth and creating his new suit, rubbing his thumb around the trace of the mahogany pipe in his satchel.

Good idea. Hang around to smoke a pipe while Taische wanders through Center Market by herself. What could go wrong!? Good luck going back to mom after you’ve lost her pride and joy on your watch. Stupid ass.

The lad named James had finally finished, and double-checked his measurements to ensure the suit would be a good fit. Given the expensive fabrics the sinewy mage had chosen, any significant mistake could be wildly expensive to the little store. His young eyes scanned the template with an admirable fierceness, and smiled proudly as he raised them back to meet the impatient customer.

“I’m done! We have all of your linens stocked, so I can begin to assemble now if you like. We could be done with your suit and dress in three to four weeks!”

A little laugh popped from Storm’s throat involuntarily. Three to four weeks was a starting point the negotiation could ill-afford. Certainly, the shop wasn’t bursting at the seams with business. Most little family shops did their catch-up work at night, eager to enjoy the cash flow of a good job.

“Come on boy, let’s not be foolish. Here’s your sitting fee, but if you can’t have our clothes ready for the morning I’m afraid I won’t be here to pay you for the goods. You might have mentioned the back-orders if it’s a real problem. I’ll even add an extra ten percent to your price for the rush.” He gestured quickly at the intentionally misleading chalkboard with a series of prices listed. They had never agreed to an actual number, but then his abilities had granted him a reasonable confidence in his ability to drive a bargain.

With that, Storm pulled a handful of gleaming golden crowns from his satchel, shuffling them through his long, elegant fingers. The boy nearly salivated at the sight, tipping his hand at the level of urgency. No, business wasn’t prohibitively good; they would have their suits. A lobotomized nod met Storm as he offered a healthy tip to the boy, his generosity piqued by the lad’s lack of savvy. He would NEED it.

Nodding politely at the older woman, Storm left the shop for the night, moving directly towards the toy shop across the street. Stepping out again, the shadows loomed longer, and the air had a slight nip to it, indicating the coming night. It would be a pleasant one, and more pleasant still was the fast dissipating crowd. Center Market would nearly shut down completely by the dinner time; people had long begun to trickle out in the hours after noon.

The toilets were sparsely trafficked enough for a quick glance to suffice; with no young O’Sheean present the girl would have to be in the toy shop. Entering the brick archway, Storm had to duck his head to avoid knocking it on the keystone. Inside, however, nearly a dozen aisles led to vast assortments of carved and sewn toys and dolls. Several dozen patrons were spread throughout the store, assessing the vast assortment of goodies.

Of course you found an absolutely PALATIAL toy store. Is this place new?

Now where, oh where did you go little Taische? I’m sure you aren’t playing with the dolls. Far too feminine and dainty for my little savage. Thank the Gods that this place doesn’t have a pet section; I’d hate to actually be able to find you here.

He peeked about, looking at the counters, the aisles, and all of the bins full of hundreds of useless little trinkets. That sinking feeling returned in a morose wave; he had managed to lose the little shit again.

[Taische]

Taische stepped out of the little store she'd found down the street from the tailor shop, spinning her new yoyo up and down its string. It was heavy for a yoyo, but well balanced, and she was sure that if she could remember the tricks she'd learned from Uncle Mal, she could get back to doing them soon. She hadn't learned many tricks, and Uncle Mal had been sure to tell her that if she used the tricks he taught her on someone, it would hurt. She wasn't sure if he'd told her to keep her from hitting someone with a yoyo, or to encourage it. It was hard to tell with the Salvaran fire mage, whether he meant to actively hurt people or whether he was disinterested in them.

Her eyes drifted down the street. She hadn't gone far from the tailor's, because then she'd really get in trouble when her mom found out, but she wasn't really ready to go back yet. Uncle Storm hadn't even noticed that she was gone yet, had he? Was he even done getting measured yet? She'd never met anyone who was as fussy about their looks as he was; even the Duchess just followed her morning routine and didn't consider what she looked like the rest of the time. The little girl thought it was kind of silly. People were always going to be who they were, whether they were barefoot and covered in mud or dressed in silks, diamonds, and shiny shoes. What was the point?

The point is, if Uncle Storm found a mirror, I've got an hour to wander around.

Taische snapped the yoyo back to her hand and reflexively reached up to shove her hair out of her face, even though it was up for once. Someone had come out of the tailor. Someone tall, thin, purposeful of movement, and probably irritated that she was out of sight. So he hadn't found a mirror after all. Instead of stopping and looking around, he did something very strange, at least to the little girl. He headed right into the biggest building on the street, a store she hadn't paid any mind to before. TOY EMPORIUM, its sign proudly announced. She did a lot of walking and had to carry her own stuff. What use did she have for trinkets, especially since there were all sorts of interesting trees to climb and bugs to find? Uncle Storm was silly.

So, I can't leave this street, or my mom will make sure I don't step outside for a tenday. I don't want to go into the toy store, and I'm sure Uncle Storm will find me eventually. Maybe he won't even beat anyone up this time.

A rumble of hunger sent her in search of a food stand; with any luck, there would be something on the end of the street closer to the main road. She didn't see any reason there shouldn't be; the tailor, the cobbler, the toy store employees, the lady in the shop with all the plates, the ghost girl from the shop where she'd bought her new yoyo (as both a toy and a weapon, it was something she could carry around without it being something she didn't need - unlike her doll Hannah) - all of them needed to eat, right?

After a couple of minutes of walking through the lightly-crowded street, the scents of fried dough, roasting potatoes, and sizzling meats and vegetables started calling to her nose. Another minute more, and she was standing among a handful of brightly-colored stands, each of which showcased their particular wares. The little brown-skinned child stood in the middle of them all, occasionally moving out of someone's way, trying to decide what she was in the mood to eat, exactly. She'd almost decided on a pork and pepper shish kebab when something brushed against her leg.

It was a fat cat, brown, white, and gray, who was cozying up to her and purring. When she bent down to pet it, she noticed the leather band and metal tag around his neck. Boots, it read, saying that this cat was definitely someone's valued family member.

"Are you going to get into trouble too, Boots?" The only answer she got was an insistent headbutt and a loud purr.

[Storm Veritas]

Resigned to the fact that he had lost the mischievous little girl yet again, Storm decided it best to avoid doubling down on his mistake by chasing about. She could very well still be inside the store; hiding intentionally or incidentally amongst the bustle. He wouldn’t go out and walk away, leaving the last point of reference from his watch. He also wouldn’t run about the square like some form of damned fool, wandering about as she watched on and giggled.

No, not this time. Screw it. I’m done chasing, little one.

He leaned back slowly against the frame of the door to the emporium, enjoying the now cooling air against his face. Pulling his pipe from his satchel and a second small bag of leaves with it, he filled the cherry-wood bowl with a healthy pinch of dried tobacco. It smelled rich, strong, and smooth. He feigned the production of and lighting of a match, simply sparking a small electric arc between his fingertips. It would pass as a match to all but the heaviest level of scrutiny. In a few puffs, he felt the fire had caught, and his lungs were quickly filled with the thick, sweet flavor.

Holy shit, been way too long a day. Take your goddamned time, Taische; I can keep myself busy just fine.

Storm stood and observed as people came and went, the crowd continuing to slow as the late afternoon sun dipped deeper towards the horizon. A young shopkeep popped his head through the threshold and looked toward the tall villain, no doubt originally intending to request the smoker be walked away from the building. A harsh glower was returned back to the boy, who picked his battle wisely and retreated quietly to the safety of his work in the toy shop.

That’s it, kid. You never saw me here. Hell, seems that no one does.

This consideration clicked within him. Despite all of his old misdeeds in this very city, Storm Veritas remained completely unseen in the mass of humanity. He had gone unrecognized in all his return to Corone, and his presence in Radasanth was downright pedestrian. Time had healed whatever wounds he had imprinted upon the town. New monsters had come and gone in the time, fought by new heroes.

You reigned hell for YEARS here. Killed plenty, robbed and drank and screwed your way to infamy. What do you have to show for it? A few coins in your pocket, decent clothes on your back, and not a damned thing aside from it.

It was a sad but inevitable conclusion. His lone desire had once been fame, a fleeting prize which left him hollow and unfulfilled. The cries of fear died quicker then he had expected; the applause and praise for good deeds faded out even quicker. Names like Letho and Damon and Cyrus were all foreign to the citizens here; oblivious lemmings who held no regard for history, legacy, or lore. A deep breath; Storm let the smoke fester in his lungs a while as he contemplated what legacy he would leave. Karuka had achieved immortality with Taische; it was a connection he was certain he’d never reach with the girl. He was also likely too old, dangerous, and miserable to have a family of his own, particularly seeing how fond of him the little, now-lost apprentice wasn’t.

You can’t be the home-maker. It’s not who you are. It was worth a try, but she wouldn’t have run again if she wanted you to find her.

Stop f*cking kidding yourself. This charade is over. If you want them to remember you, you’ll have to do a hell of a lot better than this song and dance.

…or a hell of a lot WORSE.

The pipe had run empty, and he flipped it, tapping out the last crumbs of orange-glowing ash into his hand. It was fiery hot, but the heat was too small, too ephemeral to be concerned with. Pocketing the pipe, he rolled the taste through his mouth, spitting out the taste of resin and tar to clear his throat. Stepping away from store, his face had run cold, drawn, and distant. His eyes glanced off about the marketplace, nearly indifferent to the disappearing act of his diminutive companion.

Rifling his hands back into his pocket, Storm walked smoothly towards the center of the marketplace. He’d find her, or she’d find him, or not. A moment’s thought had convinced him that his failure as a babysitter would no longer dictate his value as a man.

[Taische]

Taische only spent a few minutes with Boots before the fat cat figured out she wasn't going to feed him and wandered haughtily away. Either he'd go seek out a different mark or he'd go home to a full food dish. Either way, he had a family, so trying to keep him didn't even cross the little girl's mind.

The lines at the food stands were starting to thin out, other merchants were closing up shop, and more orange than blue tinted the sky. It was starting to get late. Taische's eyes scanned the crowd from beneath hard eyebrows. Her uncle's fitting should have been long over, and even if he was silly enough to look for her in the TOY EMPORIUM, he should have found her by now. Had he gone the wrong way?

Had he gotten fed up and abandoned her?

The little girl ordered and paid for her food, biting into a crunchy grilled pepper while wandering once more into the street. All of a sudden, buildings that had been merely part of the backdrop loomed above her, huge and foreign. The cracks in the bricks and the way figures were starting to stir and shuffle in the shadows of the narrow alleys screamed that the area wasn't safe after dark, least of all for little girls who had lost their caretakers.

Greasy pork followed the sweet pepper, and Taische forced herself to breathe and focus. She was west of Center Plaza, and she could still see the church tower with its big bell. To the south were the docks, and she wasn't going there, to the north was the inn where they were staying, and to the east was the way to Underwood. She just had to get back to the market, which would just be a huge, empty square. Then she had to take the north road until she got to the green building with the pretty mug on its sign, turn right, walk that way for a quarter mile, and the inn was on the left. Easy. If she couldn't find her uncle by the time dusk settled, she'd just walk herself back. So long as strange men who could make slabs of stone race up out of the earth didn't sneak up behind her to snatch her, she'd be fine.

I wonder why they call it a square when it's really a circle. Tradespeak is weird.

Scuffing her shoes a little on the cobblestones, a betrayal of anxiety she tried to deny feeling, Taische wandered toward the square, looking around for someone tall. Few Coronians were even as tall as her mother, so Storm ought to have stood out like an oak among the pines. She didn't see him, though. He was nowhere.

Twice in Dheathain, then once at the docks when they'd returned to Corone, Storm had just decided he had better things to do and walked off from her and her mother. Was that what had happened? Did he know how mad her mom was going to be? Even madder than she'll be at me for wandering off, probably.

The murmur of the thin crowd that walked around her was neither afraid nor concerned - a child walking on her own didn't get a second glance, nor was Storm beating people up for no good reason anywhere nearby. Probably abandoned. Fine, then.

Finishing her shish kebab, Taische discarded the stick and headed purposefully for Center. She didn't need an uncle; she could take care of herself. As she saw it, she was far too old to need a babysitter. Her mom had probably only made sure she had one out of sheer overprotectiveness. It was silly; she was nine, not five.

She was almost out of the alley when a boy blocked her way. At least fourteen, he towered over her, eying her warily. From his tattered clothing, his gangly limbs, and his skittishly aggressive lean, Taische got the impression of a hungry wolf that wasn't sure if he was stalking a rabbit or a badger. Two other boys closed in behind her, and Taische's mouth set into a line. She was alone, smaller than them, and dressed like she might have something worth taking. Even the small pouch of coin carefully tucked into her shirt would be worth something to these grimy boys. None of them looked like they even had a mother to look after them.

Taische's little brown hands gripped her yoyo, slipping the loop around the middle finger of her left hand. She felt bad that they were hungry, but there was no way she was about to let them bully or beat anything out of her. Fire prickled just beneath her skin, hot and eager to burst out in one devastating attack. A lady does not use magic on those who cannot. There are probably exceptions for situations like this, but even so.

"You gotta pay a toll if you wanna pass us," the one in front growled out. His voice was thin and raspy, he probably had a cough; they were all probably sick, without anyone to take care of them. Even so, there were better ways.

"I will not." Taische's feet slid so they were shoulder-width apart and her knees bent slightly, but she kept her torso straight and her head high, watching the boys around her with piercing eyes. None of the adults around were watching the scene; they seemed to be actively ignoring it. Just a tiff between children, none of their business. Three boys on one much smaller girl, and no one was going to speak up.

So be it. Even without her magic, the daughter of Karuka O'Sheean knew how to fight. "Please stand aside. I am trying to go home and don't want to hurt anybody."

"Trynna go 'ome," a boy with dirty blond hair mocked from behind her. "You'll go 'ome without 'urtin nobody." All of a sudden, he grabbed her by her braid and yanked, making her stumble back, off balance. "But you won't go 'ome wifout gettin 'urt - bitch!"

His would-be victim had not only regained her balance immediately, she'd driven a sharp elbow into his gut and stomped on his foot. Free, Taische pulled away, but caught a backhand across her face before she could find an opening to run. Three little knives flicked into their owners' palms, and the fire under Taische's skin demanded even more urgently to explode outward.

She swung her yoyo around on its string instead, catching it so that she could throw it like a punch. "Please stand aside," she repeated. "Or I will hurt you."

Instead, all three lunged for her, since she was only one small girl and no one was going to stop them. Forced to fight, Taische lashed out with her weapon, slamming it into the shoulder of the nearest boy and spinning around to catch a glancing blow to the chin of the third one - a black haired boy who was smaller than the others. The last one's knife slid across her shoulder, slicing her shirt open and leaving behind only a small scratch on her skin.

Small flames licked Taische's hands as she caught the yoyo again. Her heart was pounding, her head was clear, and though two of the boys had taken hits, they watched each other and her instead of running. They still thought they could take her down working as a team.

And because a lady does not use magic on those who can't, they just might have been right.

[Storm Veritas]

The bustle and attention that Taische had gathered didn’t take more than a moment or two for Storm to notice. What originally was a child’s quarrel had become serious at the sight of weapons. The breakout of this skirmish was unmistakable; people spread to avoid errant shots and to get a better perspective of the fight. The small circle, fresh with a few onlookers in the now-sparsely populated center stood fixated on the small group of boys surrounding the singular fireball of a mage-in-training. Storm squinted to see in the low sun; long shadows cast deep cuts in the fleeting orange light of day as Taische’s eyes, (bright, blue, and determined) appeared focused on a larger boy. None were helping, and one boy swung a knife.

Oh, shit, of course…

The thin wizard broke into a dash immediately, coughing violently as he errantly tossed his pipe to the cobblestone. The fine chamber broke immediately, its old owner now ten feet before it already. His eyes were locked on the blonde boy closest to him, who brandished a dagger and spoke with a foolish confidence.

“Drop the knife, you chickenshit little prick!”

His voice cut through the open air as he closed with a stunning speed; his velocity almost unbelievable as he moved in a smooth glide. The span of one hundred feet would close in no more than three short seconds. His frustrations with the little O’Sheean had flown from him like a sparrow from a roof into the morning sky; they were a memory as he focused on defending her from serious harm.

The toe headed youth turned his head into a slack-jawed stare as Veritas closed on him. The boy was obviously no warrior, and was frozen in panic as an actual adult was approaching. It was likely Taische would handle the three on her own if she were to unleash her abilities, but Storm would allow for no such risk today. The initial reaction the electromancer considered was withdrawing his own fine, twisted titanium blade, and slicing him wide from stem to stern. He restrained, and opted instead for an open hand.

That’s it, boy, keep those dumb eyes open to face your f*cking judgment. Your just lucky I’m teaching little Taische restraint today…

He arrived with a pivoting slap as the little blonde boy futilely waved his knife. Storm’s right hand caught him firm under the left side of his jaw as the blade sailed weakly across the air before his belly and fell to the ground. The force of the shot was incredible, carrying terrific momentum with it. The sound was a thunderous clap, and the boy was actually elevated two feet from the ground before landing in a horrific thud upon the cobblestones. The blade skittered to a clinking rest by the feet of the arrived Veritas, who retrieved it and pointed the tip at one of the two remaining assaulters.

Definitely broke that little bastard’s jaw. Good.

“What do you think, punk? Three on one probably doesn’t sound as good as two on two to you, does it? Want to take a crack at me?”

The remaining two boys were stunned, and took a step backwards at the sight of the adult. The fight was most definitely over; it only depended on if they knew it or not.

[Taische]

The boys circled around Taische like a pack of young wolves, hungry and wary. In turn, each would charge her from the front, trying to attract enough attention for one of the others to get in a good shot at the back. She’d turn from each swipe or stab with cat-like grace, repelling her attackers with swings from her heavy yoyo.

Black, blond, brown, blond, brown, black. When the brown-haired boy withdrew from his second attack, Taische whirled around to slam her forehead into the black-haired boy’s chin. He went stumbling backward into a wall, eyes crossed from the force of the blow, and the little girl turned to launch the yoyo at the blond’s chest. It only tapped him, but it was enough to make him retreat a step.

This isn’t a fight in their favor. It’s not even fair. Why aren’t they running? The boys weren’t even holding their knives right, and they were challenging a budding clairvoyant who was combat trained since she was little. Even without her magic, sooner or later she would win the fight. They would get a few more cuts in on her, but when she lost patience and started hitting hard with her yoyo, they’d get hurt much worse. If she got hurt badly, her mother could heal her. They didn’t even have anyone to wrap their wounds.

The battle turned in an instant, with a shout and a slap, and the boys’ leader went flying. He spat and groaned, and the bitter tang of blood filled the air. Four startled sets of eyes looked up at the tall, thin man who had interrupted their fight, and silence reigned in the street so entirely that each child could almost hear the pounding of their own hearts.

“Shit! It’s her dad!” The brown-haired boy motioned to his smaller, darker friend, and the two grabbed the blond, fleeing into one of the smaller side streets as quickly as they could. Presuming they found some food in time to ward off starvation, Taische hoped that the seriously injured boy was able to eat it. Without help, though, he would probably die. The thought twisted her stomach so hard that her shishkebab almost came back up, but such was the law of the jungle. Wolves who thought they had a fawn oftentimes found themselves mauled by the herd’s buck, instead.

Hushed murmurs drifted between the few bystanders, who hurriedly moved along, pointedly not looking at the area where Storm and Taische stared each other down. The child’s eyes were wide, surprised that she had not, in fact, been abandoned, and uncertain as to whether she might have been better off if he’d simply left her to whatever fate.

The hot blood that had stirred in her tiny body when she needed to fight fled all at once, leaving her cold and almost shivering despite the warmth of the evening. The couple of little cuts the boys had inflicted on her stung and her forehead throbbed where she’d hit the smallest boy. Whatever else happened that night, she was done running. She couldn’t say if she’d learned a lesson or not, but she was exhausted and ready for the day to end.

“U-uncle Storm? Can we agree that we’ve both been bad today, call a truce, and go home? Please?"

[Storm Veritas]

It was over more quickly than it had started, and Storm had left no doubt in the mind of the young boys that their best course – their only course – was to run away. They heeded this sound advice, scuttling back into the shadows from which they appeared, leaving him to check little Taische for injuries.

Does she even KNOW she’s been cut three or four times?

He knew the glare; it was the eyes of a fighter whose glory had been stolen. In hindsight, she likely could have taken down the pack of foolish kids, as a magician is never truly unarmed. Her words carried a tone of despondence and frustration. She wouldn’t thank him for saving her; she wouldn’t acknowledge the trouble she’d caused by running away multiple times. She saw only his anger, his rage, and his lack of apathy.

Because she’s a goddamned kid, and you know it. All emotion, no wisdom, no knowledge. She doesn’t know what she’s put you through, since effort spent she presumes you haven’t worried about her. You can’t reason with the unreasonable.

He offered a half smile, while tapping his hip for his pipe that he realized was now gone; perhaps back at the shop. His smile quickly turned to a scowl before he acquiesced, trying to placate the girl a bit. He squatted to look her in the eyes, noting the fire and vibrancy in her bright blue eyes highlighted by the setting sun behind him.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Taische, but I can’t agree with you.” Her eyes turned down in a confused disapproval, but he continued on unfettered.

“You weren’t bad, and neither was I. You’re a kid, and you pulled some silly kid crap. I don’t have the first clue what to do with a kid… as seen in exhibit A over here.”

He rubbed her shoulder, gesturing towards a large scratch, a knife wound that would fester if left unattended. Of course, her mother was a master healer, so there was no doubt that this wound likely would be gone by sunup if Karuka was so inclined. She didn’t pull away, but didn’t lean into him either.

She’s still calling you “uncle”; pick your battles and take victories when you can.

“We can, however, certainly go home. I want to go find my pipe, and then need some ice for my hand!”

A wide smile; he thought he caught her smirking in spite of her frustration. His open hand was still quite red, although it certainly wasn’t any real injury. It was a good break in tension.

“I dunno, though… those kids looked like they were in trouble. Think you were going to take them all down?”

If there was one subject every child enjoyed talking about, it was themselves. The wiry Veritas hoped that this assertion rang true as he attempted to cool the situation.

[Taische]

Taische shrugged at her uncle's question regarding the fight. "I might have tripped because I'm not used to wearing shoes, or they might have gotten lucky and got in a good stab. Their knives were small and pretty dull, so the scratches hurt a lot, but I'll clean them and burn any infection out and they'll be fine in a couple of days. The boys would have had more luck if they'd used their fists, I think. They could have got in closer and hit harder. I think they were just hungry and didn't know how to ask for help. I'd have given them some money if they'd asked. But mom says never let anyone bully you into anything, and she's taught me how to fight since I was really little. But mostly with staves, so I'd have been better off if I could have found a good stick."

Storm started walking back the way he came, looking for his pipe, and the little girl reached out and took his hand. She was exhausted from spending so much time in such a chaotic new place, she hadn't had anything to drink since the morning, so her throat was dry and her mouth felt like she'd been chewing cotton, her head hurt because she was dehydrated, her hard, shiny black shoes had started fiercely pinching her calloused feet more than an hour before, and blood trickled down her arms and shoulder from the handful of shallow cuts she'd sustained. Though she wasn't complaining, she wasn't in good shape. Her feet were dragging, and if she didn't have hold of the tall, lanky man, his long strides could easily leave her behind. He might not even notice it until he'd lost her again.

"You walk away from us a lot. I think maybe it's because you're used to being all alone. Or because you're scared to be together. Or maybe you think mom won't be interested in you unless she thinks you're always about to leave, maybe forever. So when a long time passed and you didn't find me, I thought you'd just walked away again."

Taische rubbed her face, shoving a black curl that had escaped its braid back behind her ear. In the moment her eyes were off the dusky street, the sole of her shoe caught a crack in the cobblestone. Storm's hand tightened on hers reflexively, but she caught herself. Something clattered beneath her foot and rolled away in the darkness. She looked down to see what she'd kicked, and saw no fewer than five pieces of a pipe bowl, with the stem gleaming dimly a few paces away.

"Uh... is that it, Uncle Storm? It's broken pretty good." Taische glanced up at her uncle, but his expression was unreadable. She'd been around him long enough to know she'd missed the quick flash of fury in his eyes. If she gave him another moment, he'd probably smile and act like he wasn't mad.

She slipped her hand out of his and crouched down. Her tiny fingers picked up a couple of the pipes fragments, which she looked at carefully. "I don't think glue would work. Glue melts in the heat. But we can try, if you w-"

Taische's hand had slipped a little, and her contemplated expression turned to surprise, disgust, then horror. A frequently used pipe, even if it's regularly cleaned, still accumulated some sticky residue from burning plant leaves. She had accidentally touched it, and now she could smell the noxious fumes.

"You breathe this? On purpose?" Storm had only smoked in the open air since she'd known him, so their living quarters hadn't ever been clouded with smoke or as subject to the unbearable stench as Uncle Mal's penthouse suite in Knife's Edge. But up close, the pipe smelled almost worse than the cigarettes. AND it was sticky and gross, besides!

[Storm Veritas]

There was something the fast-aging man learned about little girls one day, something that he would have been wise to learn about women in general years before.

Female emotion is f*cking EXHAUSTING.

Storm Veritas learned that the questions that females asked didn’t necessarily beg an answer, but were sometimes used as placeholders and opportunities to expose thoughts or feelings. The complexity of female emotion didn’t totally escape the wizard, but one of the luxuries of male hormones was the predictability, the simplicity of the thing.

He had started to respond to the first question when she barreled through to the next point. It was for the best; his answers were likely no surprise to her. She was wise for her years, and for all his travels the magician knew himself a bit of a fool in these matters of the heart. Walking with her, he couldn’t help but beam a bit at the impressive little tot; she was charming, funny, and felt like family to him. That Taische took his hand was wonderful, warm, and welcome, but he also found himself counting the seconds until the little fingers would slip out again.

Her crinkled nose was adorable as she eschewed the odor from his pipe. It was true; that sunk-in odor was deeper, stronger, and had a unique pungency that a child may describe as “death”.

“Yes, I smoke from it. The trick is to smoke the leaves that go inside, and not the clay part that smells so brutal. Don’t worry yourself with it; smoking can hurt those tender little lungs. My parents made me wait until I was twelve, and so too shall you – at least if I have a say in it.”

Not that you have a say in it.

It had been years since he’d given any real consideration to his childhood. Seeing the little one run around reminded him a bit of the innocence of youth, but it was a different, rougher, more competent childhood than the proper, entitled upbringing he’d “enjoyed”.

Looking at the crumbled pieces of the bowl, he considered the metaphor of the whole thing. Taische hadn’t been smashed to pieces, despite his best contributions to incompetency relative to parenting (or even babysitting). Fortunately, she was made of a sturdier stuff, and Karuka had built into that little girl a will and a fire that would serve her well anywhere upon Althanas.

He squatted down to look at her, taking in those big blue eyes, which popped from behind her jungle-tanned skin. She’d be a different kind of trouble soon enough; and those boys would be after more than her pocket change or to simply prove themselves tough. For now, she was still innocent, and deserved for such innocence to be acknowledged.

“Then, I’m sure you have no desire to smoke this stuff – trust me when I tell you it’s best to avoid altogether.” He wasn’t sure if this was a lie or not, but the draw to smoke was strong enough that he convinced himself it was an honest statement. There were still enough patrons of the market out to watch, and he wondered if real parents were laughing at his lack of grace in handling these things.

The air would get cool soon, and when the lights went out on Radasanth, it became a very different place. It was best, the wizard postured, to get little Taische off the streets before the monsters came out to play. Monsters not unlike the man the city once called Storm Veritas. Extending a hand towards little O’Sheean, he smiled and joked.

“It’s been a long day, and I need a nap. You ready to roll out of here?”

[Taische]

Taische wiped her tar-stained fingers on the hem of her dress while Storm talked. The vile, sticky substance had to be poisonous, she just knew it. It couldn't smell that bad and be good for anyone. And he breathed it. He'd been breathing it since he was twelve. That was only three years older than she was. And he had to be... how old? Older than her mom.

If he'd been breathing poison for that long - literally forever - then he was either immune to poison or he was going to drop dead at any second. Either one seemed equally likely to the little girl. She'd been pulled along while Storm ran. She'd watched him get crushed by a dragon. She'd seen him act generally healthy, and her mom probably wouldn't let him do anything that would outright kill him. Right?

On the other hand, Taische knew very well that when any living thing was exposed to too much poison, it died. So what was true? Was her uncle healthy, or was he going to die?

She stared at him blankly for a few seconds when he held his hand out to her, a mix of sheer exhaustion and a wandering mind. She took his hand and started walking back toward the inn with him, steps falling far more gingerly than they had that morning. Hadn't there been something else he'd wanted to do?

"...didn't you want ice for your hand, Uncle Storm? Or did you need a nap more?" She rubbed her face with her forearm, much like she did when they were in camp and the sun was almost down. "It's late for a nap. And early for bed. Do you think my mom will be back yet?"

[Storm Veritas]

The injury to his hand had not even really registered to him. It had been an open-handed shot he’d laid on the boy, so the worn, calloused palm of his hand didn’t scream with the same pain that knuckles tended to. It was bright red, and rich with blood, but likely would go back to normal within a day or two. He found himself a bit surprised that Taische would think him hurt, but still touched that she cared enough to notice.

“The hand? It’s no big deal, kid. Should be fine. You’re right about the time; just been a long day.”

The adorable little cherub was rubbing her eyes; he was hoping that she’d look to rest or sleep, or just call an end to a day of mischief and exhaustion. She didn’t take the cheese; despite her obvious fatigue she wanted to continue on.

Shit, kid, you’re like that clock tower. Tick, tick, tick… do you ever stop?

Her little fingers wrapped around his old, vein-addled hand, and he smiled at her. Taische offered a weak smile, and Storm couldn’t discern if it was patronizing, or genuine but tired. He began to lead her out of the market at last, ahead of some of the long, stretched shadows that now began to exaggerate the features of local rooftops.

“I think your mom may be home by now, but either way I’d like to get my feet up. A tall glass of water, (and a short glass of whiskey,) and some quiet. Maybe let you practice a little with that yo-yo; think you’ve got any tricks to show me?”

Her eyes widened a bit at this, and she smiled strongly enough to show teeth. Sure, in her hands the yo-yo was a weapon of lethal magnitude, capable of concussing or killing fools that dare enter her range. At its basest level, the mighty thing was still a toy.

Without a word, the girl skipped ahead, producing the yoyo and instantly practicing for what she expected to be some showcase of just-gained skills. It was unclear to the magician if little O’Sheean had used one for years or was simply a savant with the stringed-rock, but her avarice was unmistakable.

[Taische]

He had said he wanted ice for his hand. But he didn't, really. And now he wanted her to show off with her yo-yo for him. She was bleeding and he wanted her to show off. Did he think that would occupy her and keep her where he could see her? At this point, all she wanted was to force her blistered feet to take one step, then another, until they were finally at the apartment. Then she wanted to wash off the city grime, tend to her cuts, and go to sleep under Taodoine's wing. She didn't want to show off for some old man who cared more about his whims than her well-being, and if looks could kill, he'd have probably dropped on the spot.

Even so, she dug the toy out of her pocket, untangled its string, and did a few half-hearted tricks to appease him. They'd be home soon enough, and then the day would be done. They'd barely crossed the now-closed market square when she put it away. "I think that's enough for today, Uncle Storm."

Each step felt like a dozen knives digging into her feet. While she could walk barefoot all day over gravel, grass, sticks, or mud, a day in hard shiny shoes was too much for her to tolerate.

Part of her wanted her mother to be back before them. Sure, she'd probably get into trouble for running off, but she wanted to be held and soothed. It was a big world, full of chaos, and she didn't understand the jungle that was Radasanth. The world seemed like a safer, more friendly place when she was within reach of Karuka's arms. Part of her hoped her mother wasn't there, because she didn't want to explain what had happened that day. She just wanted to go to bed and deal with it in the morning, if at all.

They trudged down the street, man and child, with the former getting ever more impatient at the latter's painful, halting steps - the only thing that was keeping him from his alcoholic indulgence. But she was doing the best she could.

Contented snorts and rolling brogue greeted their ears as they passed the stable; Karuka tending to big Attila before her day was done. That meant they had a few minutes to get in and settled before the road-weary redhead made her way into the apartment.

[Storm Veritas]

His suggestion to let the girl play had gone over with all the popularity of a fart in a broom closet. Dealing with children hung around Storm’s neck like a noose; they were irrational and unpredictable and difficult. As an expert in the matter of acting irrationally, unpredictably, and with considerable difficulty himself, the electromancer failed to identify the source of the tantrum that was bubbling to a hard boil right before his eyes.

Gods, you little shit. I look after you all day and save you from that handful of little bastards that wanted to slice you up for loose change. Bought you a dress, better than any you’ve ever owned I’d bet. Some sort of gratitude… You know, kids have “fallen” down wells for less.

Taische had grown tired, as any mature adult could plainly see. Storm was exhausted, as any mature adult would have easily predicted. He instantly caught sight of Karuka far ahead, tall and elegant and calmly grooming his mighty beast. A maelstrom of emotions that washed over him in a wave of confusion, frustration, anger and guilt. He had made several mistakes, errors in judgment, and allowed the little miscreant to put herself at risk. Would her mom understand this mischief, or hold it against him? He supposed either was possible, but his own temper was burning like a small fire, begging to be flared.

Looking down at the tender-footed wildling, the self-appointed wise Storm Veritas attempted to tamp her frustrations first.

“Hey kid, you want a lift? You’re limping like you hurt your feet; I didn’t see it but know how lousy that can feel.” He offered an open arm for her to be scooped into, fairly certain she wouldn’t accept. Immediately he realized that it would look like a desperate play to improve the optics of the situation, and allow him to stride back to the barn a conquering hero.

That was stupid.

Undeterred, they still had a few moments and dim twilight as they approached the large barn and those somewhat welcome familiar faces. He only had a minute to prepare his words, and it seemed obvious that he’d be best choose them carefully.

“I think we both want to pack it in for the day, but you know your mom is smart enough to know you’re a little banged up. You’re limping like you took shrapnel, and all sorts of scraped up. Personally, I’d rather go straight in and hide, but think we’d better come out with the truth first here.”

And which truth would that be? The truth of the absentee protector, who lost track of a child in a dangerous market on multiple occasions, allowing her to brush up with death? Or the truth of the selfish little shit that snuck away every time her babysitter blinked, causing him endless heartache and putting herself in danger?

He swallowed his pride a bit. He could have likely fast-talked Karuka, who was sharp and instinctive, but also a touché naïve regarding the dangers of the city. It wouldn’t last; if he spoke on behalf of the girl he risked being betrayed by her the next time the two broke off on their own. It was unacceptable.

“You know what? You can tell her the story. I owe you that much. Just make sure you don’t sell yourself short on how well you handled those little punks…”

Perhaps playing into her blossoming ego wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had.

[Taische]

Taische looked up at Storm, then over at the stable, where her mother was still preoccupied with the horse. She'd rather hide inside as well, but there wasn't really any more running to do, since her uncle was making her tell her mom. Her feet hurt too much, for one thing. But she wasn't a baby to get carried, so she hobbled into the well-lit stable, where her mother had just finished tending to the great black horse.

Karuka smiled wearily down at her daughter, but her warm expression only lasted for a second before her eyes widened. She knelt down in the hay, checking the little girl for injuries. "What happened?!" Her gaze flashed from Taische to Storm, then back again. "What happened?"

The O'Sheean pet phoenix landed beside the women, joining his keeper in inspecting the youngest member of their family.

Taische looked down, then back up at her mother, fidgeting side to side a little. "I went to get dinner when Uncle Storm was still in the tailor shop and-"

"Stop right there." Karu looked from the worst of Taische's cuts to meet Taische's face. "Y' know very well y' can't lie t' me. Th' fact that y' tried means y' wandered off at least once when y' knew y' shouldn't have. Fer th' runnin' off, one day indoors. Fer th' lies, two more days. Now. How about y' try tellin' me th' truth?"

Taische seemed to crumple. Her shoulders pulled in and started to shake, her eyes squeezed closed, and her little teeth bit into her lip. Her valiant attempt to not cry lasted only a handful of seconds. A little tear sneaked out of one eye, followed by a bigger tear from the other, and after a few seconds, she was a mass of sobs. Karuka wrapped her arms around her child, holding her and stroking her hair while she cried and listening while she spoke in a language utterly unlike either Tradespeak or Dheath.

The redhead didn't talk again until Taische's words ran out and the deep sobs had settled into half-choked gasps. "Y' had a longer day than y' were ready fer. Y' have some injuries, we need t' get rid of those shoes, an' yer overtired. Go on inside, clean yerself up. I'll be along in a bit t' help, but if y' need me b'fore I get there, call me. I'll come."

Karu kissed her daughter's forehead and pulled out a cloth, wiping her face and nose. "Yer still in a ton of trouble, but I love y' all the same. Go on."

With a sniffle, Taische motioned to Taodoine, who followed the little girl back. Karuka sighed and stood up, rubbing her forehead and the bridge of her nose. "Jus' a day, it's all I asked. An' people want t' know why I only had th' one!"

[Storm Veritas]

It shouldn’t have surprised Storm to see how quickly and effortlessly Karuka was able to sift through the half-truths her daughter offered, cutting immediately to the root of the issue and setting straight the generally good kid. After all, Taische was mischievous, but certainly good-hearted, and this hadn’t happened by accident. The very act of competent parenting felt like a bit of witchcraft to the experienced wizard, who came to realize during this long day that it was far easier to kill a platoon of Coronian Rangers than safely raise a child.

Karuka quickly dismissed her scraped, tired, and embarrassed child, who took her big orange bird with her off inside. With a disarming comment, the stunning woman seemed to offer a bit of an olive branch to Storm. Despite his novice status in dealing with children, he had dealt with women quite a bit. The hair on the back of his neck began to tingle; his nerves buzzed.

It’s a trap. A little dab of honey atop the spring and spike. Tread lightly.

“The one you had is a good one,” he began, standing tall and looking the magnificent Karuka in her eyes. “She’s just a better kid than I am a caretaker.”

He stood next to Attila, the big, brutish horse that was fast as lightning but acted dumb as rocks. He was also ornery to a fault; as a general “friend”, Attila would make for a fine source of glue.

Sound familiar? Maybe it’s time to invest in a mirror…

Storm breathed deeply as he rubbed the round, thick jaw muscle of his magnificent monster of a horse. It was incredible; the unique Karuka O’Sheean was the only person aside from himself that Attila wouldn’t bite or kick before submitting to mount.

The sun was nearly down completely now, and the oil lanterns of the stable began to drive a harder contrast to the rising black that crept forth from the ground to swallow this unmerciful day. His mind raced to find the right thing to say to a rightfully angered mother, knowing full well that despite his silver tongue, there wouldn’t be words that would aptly save his ass this time.

“If she’s in trouble, then I’m expecting I’d be damned near dead.” A hard swallow, a sheepish grin; Storm refused to show fear or shame. He had made his bed to this point; there was no sense trying to connive Karuka, who had long since proven herself too shrewd to be conned.

[Karuka]

Karuka's blue eyes flashed from behind her hand, focusing in on the lover who had still not yet grasped the depths of her rage. She'd only asked Taische for one day - one day! - of staying with her caretaker and behaving. The child should have learned something about staying close to her responsible adult on the day she got snatched away from other caretakers and whisked away to Salvar. That she'd ended up with someone who had a vested interest in returning her to her mother had been a stroke of luck. That she hadn't learned anything was probably her mother's fault; excessive willfulness ran deep within the O'Sheean bloodline. But she'd only asked a day.

She'd only asked Storm for the same. One day. Just one. One day to focus on minding and caring for a child he'd known for a month. One day to not drink on the job, to not run his mouth off like an exasperated donkey, to just... just watch the child. She hadn't asked him to buy her anything. She hadn't asked him to take her child into Corone's busiest market on its busiest day of the cycle. Those had been choices he made. If he'd taken Taische to run around in the local greenspace for an hour, grabbed her some lunch, and then spent the rest of the day relaxing inside, that would have been more than fine. But no. He'd had to be Storm Fucking Veritas.

Prob'ly should've asked him in a moment when his head was clearer, an' not b'lieved his flippant 'how hard could it be?'

Karu reached out with a golden hand to rub Attila's soft nose. "Since she didn't die or get carted off t' some other country on yer watch, I do want t' thank y' for tryin'. She's not easy on her good days, an' t'day she d'cided t' be testy. Doesn't help that she's been aristocracy since b'fore she knew what th' word meant an' has enough pride fer a lion. Doesn't help that y' come off as condescending an' acerbic an' she hasn't yet learned that y' don't mean any harm by it. Doesn't help that she has no idea how C'rone works. Doesn't help that y' have no idea how children work. Y' coulda saved a lot of grief if y' knew she always does that side t' side wiggle when she's not tellin' th' truth."

The redhead sighed, exhaustion settling on her like a blanket. Neither one of them was going to like what she said next, but she had to say it. And she had to be absolutely certain that he understood her, and understood that she was serious. When she spoke again, all but the slightest bit of roll and lilt had been stripped from her tone.

"You probably think that Taische despises you. She doesn't. Having you around day in and day out - here when she goes to sleep, still in bed with me when she wakes up, walking, talking, eating together, being together... it's a first for her. She's never had a man be part of the family like this. And you've been so long without a family that you don't understand its burdens and its privileges. So at her first chance, she started asking questions, and asking them in ways that you could neither evade nor answer falsely."

Darting shadows danced in the guttering lantern light between the two lovers, dividing the space between them into jagged fragments.

"What is a man? What sort of man are you? Are you watching? Are you going to protect me? Do you care? And she got her answers, even if she doesn't understand them yet. But I understand them. And she's also posed questions to me. Just how much does a woman take from a man? And what does she do when that line's been crossed?" Karuka didn't look at Storm, instead sliding her gentle, calloused hands up the big horse's face and scratching behind his ears. She let him shove his head into her chest; he wanted scratched how he wanted scratched, and he could trust that she'd respect that.

"If you ever decide you're ready to be an adult, with an actual family, come find us again. We'll give it another try. But as you are now... as you are now, you aren't good for my child. And you're reasonable enough to know that however much I might love you, she will always come first."

She looked back at Storm, a little bit of moisture shining in her eyes and her mouth set into a firm line. Attila snorted his discontent as she stepped back, crunching straw beneath her feet, but she didn't bend to him any more than she'd bent to Taische. She reached into her bag, bringing out a beautiful new pipe and holding it out to him. She was a clairvoyant; she'd had a hint that his old one would get broken over the course of the day. He shouldn't have to lose anything because he was watching her little girl.

He was already losing so much because he hadn't watched her well.

"Take this an' anything else that belongs t' you. An' know I wish y' well, wherever yer feet might take y'."

[Storm Veritas]

He had expected the strong, venerable Karuka to come back at him hard, but her careful, measured words were much more difficult to manage. It wasn’t some flippant, angry response that led to her spouting disapproval, but rather the thoughtful, intentional decision that he was bad for Taische.

Before trying to govern the brazen little girl for a day, the concept of being a bad influence would have rolled off his shoulders like water off a duck’s back. Having tried and failed, the concession of incompetence was impossible to bear. Gently snatching the pipe from the caregiving redhead, Storm moved to Attila, running his fingers through the mane. The big beast snorted a bit before acquiescing to his owner, stepping across hay to land nearby.

No, you big bastard, you don’t get to choose. Taische chose, and she chose to leave. Karuka chose, and she chose to leave. You are coming with me, and I won’t hear the first f*cking word of argument.

Karuka hadn’t been unfair, but her words still cut through him as deep as a tempered blade. What could he say to her accusations? With a deep breath and a sigh, he squinted his eyes tautly to stifle any errant tears before speaking.

“If you want me gone, I understand. Probably best I go, anyway.” He walked Attila over to the stable side wall, pulling up the heavy leather saddle that slipped effortlessly over his back. It cinched well beneath the horse in only a few pulls, stirrups dropping smoothly below the mighty belly of the stubborn stallion.

Enough work to do on your own. Need to pull in a lot of cash to get that place back in Radasanth, and it’s not the type of work that these two would approve of.

…yes, of course. Get that spacious loft overlooking Center Market; let it remind you of what you DON’T have. What you left behind.

Storm raised his eyes to meet Karuka’s, able to tell that her decision, while final, hadn’t been made easily. He wasn’t easy to love, but after what they’d been through, she was tied to him in a way that was hard to understate. There was nothing left to say between them; while they were good for each other, Storm was a terrible influence on the impressionable Taische, and it could not be tolerated.

Without a word, his left hand shot out beneath her jaw, softly gripping the supple flesh of the staggering beauty. He pulled her tight despite her confusion, kissing her firmly on those lips which felt as soft silk and sweet like the sugar-borne candies he’d have wished to spoil her girl with. The kiss was brief but intoxicating, and he pulled himself away just as his body began to scream to him, demanding more.

You don’t deserve more, and she deserves better. If you can’t make this work, in what situation could you POSSIBLY be happy?

Hopping atop the wide, rock-hard back of his loyal horse, Storm pushed off down the road with only a single final thought.

“Farewell, beautiful. Tell the kid I’m sorry, and that I’ll miss her.”

The uneven clip-clop of hooves began their rhythmic beat, as the old wizard rode off in the darkness. The nagging pain that pulled at him was a reminder that future times would not come more kindly to him. It was an indictment of past deeds which would not escape him.

Some people don’t deserve happiness.

[Karuka]

Karuka held her breath while she watched Storm vanish into the night. Though he sat tall and proud in the saddle, she'd seen the look in his eyes when she'd told him to go, like he'd just lost something far more precious than a limb. She'd wanted to give him instruction, to teach him better. But he just wasn't the listening sort, and his actions and inactions had put her child into very real danger. That was unacceptable.

No, Storm Veritas was not an easy man to love. He was as coarse and crude as he was suave and smooth, and while that was not always a bad thing... he just wasn't ready for the blessings and burdens of parenthood. He also wasn't a man who loved easily, and while she had no doubts that he would soon find himself between the legs of a prostitute, so drunk he couldn't remember his own name, she also knew that the pain of this parting would return with the hangover. It would get worse for a day or two, and then it would ease. He was, after all, a man who really only thought of himself.

She finally let herself breathe when Attila's footsteps faded into soft raps on distant pavement. It shuddered on its way in and rushed out explosively. She stood like that for a few seconds with her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, just breathing and fighting hard against the tears that threatened to fall.

I haven't th' time fer this. I've a child that's been hurt. A child that needs tendin' to. Her first, whatever she's done.

She closed the door to the suite only a minute after leaving the stable. Taische was in her room, dealing with her injuries and her punishment. It was a nice suite in a decent hotel; Storm's pride wouldn't let them stay in poor accomodations. Taische even had her own space, though it only had a child-sized bed, a small dresser, and a basin.

It would have been so easy t' him, t' jus' not have come back any of th' times he left. But he kept comin' back. T' th' both of us.

"...mom?" The piteous little voice called Karuka's attention back to the present, and she knelt to look at Taische's cuts. They'd already been cleaned out with water and sterilized with fire, so she turned her attention to her daughter's raw and blistered feet. The soles of Taische's feet were tough and leathery, perfect for navigating all but the toughest terrain. They weren't made for the sort of hard shoes that Rayse had bought for her during her brief stay in Knife's Edge. Taische didn't even like them, she'd just thought that maybe her uncle would like her better if she was wearing shiny shoes.

"Mom? Did I break our family?" Taische's tear-stained face still screamed of her frustration with the failures of the day. In the end, she felt, she'd ruined everything.

"No, wee bit." Karu dipped a cloth into the nearby basin, squeezing it before washing her daughter's face. "Fam'lies don't break b'cause one little girl misbehavin' fer one day. Storm jus'... has some thinkin' t' do. If he comes back, we'll make a go of bein' a fam'ly again. If he doesn't... then it jus' wasn't meant t' be. But he did say that he's sorry an' that he'll miss y'."

"But...we're only here three more days." Taische's face scrunched up when her mother traced a healing rune onto her forehead. Beorc would deal with her cuts and feet by the morning, but it tingled. "Does he even know where we're going?"

Karu shook her head, moving around to release her child's thick black hair from the intricate braids that had held it in place all day. "My tiny love, we don't even know where we're goin'. We'll just go wherever th' wind takes us next."

"You always say that. And it's always weird."

A weary chuckle passed the redhead's lips, and she sat, pulling Taische into her lap and holding her close. "I wasn't with yer father long... less time even than we've been with Storm. But I told him about dharma, like I told you. That we've all got paths t' walk. He went off, d'termined t' carve his own. He prob'ly thinks he's doin' it, but he's makin' a damned mess. Storm just has t' walk his own path a bit. If it's meant t' be, we'll see him again. If it's not... Yer gonna learn right quick, wee bit... there's more'n one man in th' world."

Taische's blue eyes blinked for a few seconds, calculating. Should she ask about Storm? Should she ask about dharma? Should she ask about any of over a hundred things? No... No, she shouldn't.

"Can we go see my father? I'd like to meet him."

Karuka's mouth hardened. "No, wee bit. Maybe when yer older an' can handle th' man he's become. Maybe when he realizes he's a damned idiot and that power an' money aren't worth anything, really. Maybe never."

"Oh. Well... can we get a puppy?"

"That, wee bit..." Karuka leaned back against the little bed. "That, we can see about."

[Rayleigh]

Thread: Bringing Big Street to Little Country (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?30097-Bringing-Big-Street-to-Little-Country/page4)
Participants: Storm Veritas, Taische & Karuka
Type: Workshop (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?30751-Workshop-Bringing-Big-Street-to-Little-Country)

Congraulations!

Storm receives:
3,460 EXP
250 GP

Karuka receives:
370 EXP
30 GP

Taische receives:
2110 EXP
225 GP

[Rayleigh]

All EXP and GP have been added!