Adventuring through twisted time.
She fucked up.
No, she really fucked up.
Her job and carelessness don’t go hand in hand, she knows that, and she let herself get careless anyway. Now there’s a whole fucking mob after her and she can only be grateful that she had the foresight to glamour her appearance before getting caught. Now the issue is getting away… which is easier said than done.
Her feet are silent against the grass as she runs through the night, hood pulled up over her head in the hopes of losing them amongst the crowd of people in town, though that hadn’t happened. Now she’s out in the open stretch before the cover of the woods and she can hear them closing in on her, all around, everywhere except right in front of her. She hears the whistle of the arrow before it thuds into the ground in front of her, narrowly missing her retreating form and finally bringing her to a halt. She keeps her hood up as she turns to face her assailants, at least 20 of them that she can see, probably more considering the size of the gang she’d wronged.
Curse this job and curse her mother.
No water source nearby for her to take advantage of so it looks like she’s doing this the hard way. The glint of the daggers in the moonlight is comforting to her, far more so than the glaring humans forming a wall around her. She remains silent as they throw insults and jeers at her, as they call for her head, as the new boss steps forward and demands that they all attack her for her crime. Humans are so loud and never in the fun way of Thistlemoon. As the first few reach her, Elyssa is ready for them. Though she never enjoys it her daggers become a glimmering whirlwind of death for the first few, giving her enough of an opening to back away, always backing away toward the cover of the forest. She hears more than she sees the arrow flying at her and this time she knocks it out of the way with a blast of wind. There’s simply too many for her to fight off fairly, there’s even more approaching now from the village thanks to the commotion, so fighting unfairly it is. Now if she can just get to that creek that runs it’s way through the forest… She pulls the bow from her back and rapid fires several arrows at the approaching crowd, hoping to hold them off without giving herself away quite yet. She can hear the screams of pain as a few of her arrows hit true but it’s not stopping them, not fast enough. Shit. The woods are still too far away. She glances over her shoulder at the line of trees, only for a moment, but it’s enough for a rival arrow to graze her leg and she hisses at the sudden pain.
“Kill the monster!” is repeated through the crowd penning her in, enough that it’s almost becoming their rallying cry. A monster is she? To them, she probably is. After all she can do things none of them would dream of. “Very well then…” Her voice is too soft for the humans with their ears to pick up, especially over the wind and their own shouts. If they want a monster, then a monster they shall have. The first one doesn’t even see the knife she’s pulled from her boot, propelled on a jet stream of air until it sinks deep into his chest. Three more follow, each aimed at different targets and moving faster than any knife has a right to. She’s not crazy, she knows she can’t fight them all off on her own, but if she’s to fall here then she’s going to take as many of them with her as she can.
“Would you forgive me if I blamed The Wind?”
Jeo chuckled himself softly at his fading thoughts. He closed his eyes and took in the fresh air as it whizzed by his face. Gods! He loved this! Air walking. It was different for everyone just like everyone was different. For some it was like flying, others it was like riding a magic carpet but The Wind was the carpet, others it was rough. The wind might throw them around. For Jeo it was like he was feather or leaf cradled by The Wind as it blew him towards his once home Kattegate.
He was up in the clouds. Shrouded by them from the rest of the world. He ran his hands through his damp hair, the moisture from the clouds so saturated with water he found staying dry hard. But it never bothered him. Nothing really bothered actually. The last thing that did was when he was learning how to be one with The Wind. He was lost in his own world up here. Couldn’t tell you the last time he saw another person, had a simple conversation. Maybe except the occasional arguments he had with the wind which always resulted in him looking like a mad man. From far down below The Wind carried a whistle up at him. Immediately he recognised it. He knew the sounds of a fight better than anyone.
And so, The Wind dropped. And the Man From Nowhere fell from the sky.
He landed on his feet. A violent wave of wind washing over the humans rushing towards him and the woman he now stood between. Those not hit by the wind fell back from the sudden shock of a man falling from the sky unharmed. Jeo glanced over his shoulder toward Elyssa for just a second. Just to see what or who these men were after. The why never even crossed his mind. Mainly because he found it unfair, they were ganging up on one person. Even if upon first glance he knew she wasn’t human. His hazelnut opaque eyes returned to the men still rushing his way. He had to be careful. Determine why he was going to fight. For fun? Or defence?
He never drew his sword. Or any of his several other weapons latched on or dangling from him. Instead, he used The Wind. As a whip. A sword. A spear. You could actually see the white shaded air in his hands as he wielded it wildly. Executing his windy strike with precision. But still, he lost ground. The women he was trying to help. Who could clearly hold her own had the humans not kept multiplying, kept growing closer to the woods behind him. So as a means to keep up with her and be sure no one got passed him to her. He backed up with her. Letting the humans gain ground on them. For every two he incapacitated five more appeared. “They’re like an infestation!” His Spanish accent rolled over his words to himself.
Eventually, he drew his sword once they made it to the woods. “what pissed them off?!” he looked at Elyssa for just second before returning his eyes towards where they might be coming from. In the woods, it was harder to see at least for him. He was far more used to desert lands and open plains. The whole sky was his after all. But that just meant the humans could come from anywhere. He slashed one and stabbed another. But they were closing in. He stopped following her by then. Made sure he led all these men in the opposite direction of where she had headed off. He soon found an open enough space to stand and fight.
“All this for a woman? Well. She must be something special or something dangerous. Or both. You know I think I’ll choose both.”
They piled on top of him coming in every direction. And so, with a powerful push, The Wind sent them all flying back and off of him at his request. He found his way to her just to be sure she was okay but he could hear them still coming “I’m sorry there are too many to take alone.” He was breathing hard. Trying to fight through all the pain he was suddenly feeling but he was bleeding profusely and he didn’t have enough hands to put pressure on any one wound. He heard the strum a heavy arrow loosing from its longbow and humming through the air. Rushing towards her he tossed her into the water she had found and the arrow went straight through him instead of her. Lodging into his body protruding from the back and front. Nearly piercing his heart. He watched the water rise as he fell desperately climbing to his sword so Valhalla would accept him.
She certainly hadn’t expected to see a man drop from the sky in the middle of a fight, but considering the way the rest of the day has gone she’s not sure why the sight surprises her. At least this one seems to be on her side for… some reason. Turns out he can hold his own pretty well too, his interference allowing her to keep some distance and continue firing arrows into the mob. His powers are strange, they remind her of her own ability with the wind but his are different somehow. No time for questions in the middle of a fight however.
Even with the, rather effective she’ll admit, backup the relative throng of people continue to push them back. She does note how the stranger seems determined to keep himself positioned between her and the pissed off humans, which is fine with her, though she does notice that for all her killing he’s only incapacitating. “They’re worse than rats!” Comes her response, though she’s not certain if he’d intended her to hear his little quip. Still they keep coming but thankfully she’s at the woods now and the relative safety the trees and branches provide. She can feel the life thrumming through the plants, feel the woods responding to her presence. “Move wind walker!” As soon as he clears the boundary she focuses, holding her hands out and feeling as the vines and bushes expand and grow, forming a barrier between them and the humans. It’ll buy them a couple minutes at least.
“I shot their leader.” Straight through the eye too, it was a beautiful shot. If only that asshole kid hadn’t spotted her and screamed. “We need to find water, I can fight them off if we do.” Why is she helping him? Or accepting help for that matter, she should’ve shooed him off the second he landed, she knows perfectly well what happens when people stick around to help her in a fight. There’s no time to dwell on that question now though as she can hear them hacking at the barrier of vines and limbs, determined to break through. She takes off on silent feet, navigating her way through the undergrowth with the ease of the fae, fully expecting him to be right on her heels. Imagine her surprise when she comes to the brook and stops, only to find the area behind her devoid of the man. “Ah shit…”
She’s not going back for him, that’s for sure. Self preservation and all and, at least in this moment, her rational brain has time to breathe. Only a second later she can hear the thrashing about of feet in the undergrowth and she has an ice spear ready as the stranger comes barrelling through into the clearing so thankfully she doesn’t impale the help. He’s bleeding from several wounds and the rushing of feet from the humans draws ever closer. “I didn’t expect you to. You’re hurt, you should-” She’s cut off by the whistling of an arrow, snapping her eyes toward the dark shadow of the woods as the arrow comes flying. She brings her hands around right as the feeling of a body colliding with her knocks her off her feet. She isn’t able to stop the first arrow, watching it pierce his body in almost slow motion, but the rest are stopped by the ice shield she’d barely managed to throw up between them.
She comes out of the water just as fast as she’d been knocked into it and she quickly grabs the man’s arm, dragging him half out of the water before focusing. The water from the stream quickly swirls around them, forming a dome all the way around that freezes just as soon as it’s formed. She’s panting by this point, using her powers to such a degree starting to cause exhaustion but from here she has a minute as she waits for the humans to spring her trap. She takes the time to kneel down next to the man, who is currently staining the ice red. “I hope you had no attachment to this shirt…” He’s unconscious but breathing thankfully as she rips his shirt into strips to begin the process of binding his wounds. She has to leave the arrow for now, pulling it will cause him to bleed out quickly, but the others have the now ruined shirt pulled tight to staunch the bleeding. It’s a roughshod job but all she can manage without somewhere to rest and prepare.
She can hear weapons clanging against the ice dome and finally she turns her attention to the humans that have congregated outside, attempting to pierce their way through to get to her. This will be their last mistake. They said before that they wanted a monster and so, in their final moments, a monster is what greets them. They don’t have a chance to defend themselves as the sphere turns to spikes, dying the creek red with their blood. Come morning the only evidence of what happened will be the frostbitten wounds left behind in their bodies.
There’s a cabin nearby, abandoned for years. Her own bleeding wounds are smarting but she hauls the stranger to his feet, draping his arm around her so that she can drag him along. She owes him at least that much for taking an arrow for her, even if it was incredibly stupid. She’ll save the berating him for after she gets his wounds taken care of. Breaking into the old place is not exactly difficult, she’s done so several times now, but for whatever reason getting him positioned halfway comfortably with that arrow still in his chest is a struggle. She’s stitched wounds more times than she cares to count so this too is no problem and a brief check shows that he’s still breathing. Wonderful. Were he awake, she’d warn him this would hurt. He’s not awake, so breaking off the arrow and removing it comes with no warning and she immediately sets to work on cleaning and stitching it so he doesn’t bleed out on the floor. She’s utterly exhausted by the time she gets him to the point where she feels he’s out of immediate danger. After this it’ll be up to him to wake up, if he does then she’ll worry about mixing up the poultices that will help him heal. She pulls her cloak off, throwing it over him to help him stay warm, then curls up in one of the chairs nearby, allowing the tide of rest to drag her under.
"Okay. It's okay just calm down."
"How do you calm down when you're a ghost?!"
The women gently chuckled. She reached out to touch him but she knew she couldn't given the circumstances. So she pulled her hands back slow.
"You're not a ghost, exactly. You're body's just lost its soul."
"How is that any better!?"
Again the woman gave a soft chuckle. Sadder this time. "It isn't I guess. But I haven't collected your soul yet and... I'm not going to. So let's find your body together?"
"Where is she!?"
"WHERE IS SHE!?"
"You need to calm down!" One of the men holding him back urged. He fought them all until they eventually just had to pin to the ground. His yelling eventually turning to screaming and eventually a loud wail. The people all around bearing witness hurting for him. Their hearts breaking with his.
The pain slowly rose. Starting in his chest and slowly burning through all of him. It woke him immediately causing him to pant. He groaned from the pain that shot through him. It forced him to sitting position. He huffed in relief. The pain was less this way. His opaque chestnut shaded hues scanned the quaint cabin.
He froze on the woman in the chair. Immediately he remembered what'd happened. He closed his eyes to the relief of them having made it out safe. More so her. He forced himself from the bed. Holding in the groans of pain and remaining as quiet as possible as he moved closer to her. He picked her up. The Wind helping and actually doing most of the work in his condition. He carefully placed her in the bed as slept.
He peered around the cabin. Looking for something to eat. Eventually realizing he'd have to hunt. Surprisingly, he wasn't gone for long. The Wind again doing most of the work as he returned with some small game to make a nice stew. He sat back in a seat near the fire he had just lit. At last wincing. Looking down to see he was bleeding through his bandages.
Sleep hasn’t come easy to Elyssa in years. Even now, with her extreme use of her powers causing bone deep exhaustion, her sleep is uneasy and fitful. She appears almost pained in her slumber, not really a surprise considering the blood leaking it’s way through her shirt and trousers as she rests. She’d been too tired to bind her side or her leg, determining that they’d stop bleeding eventually. The incident certainly draws up bad memories for her brain to replay to her while she slumbers, filling her dreams with blood and screams and flashing fangs and pain that she’d rather forget ever experiencing.
She manages to wake silently despite the last image in her mind being bright green eyes, her own slowly opening so she can reorient herself. She’s in the bed, not the chair for some reason, and the smell of cooking meat is gracing her nose. That pales in comparison to the pain in her side, a deep ache that radiates through her and causes her to hiss out slowly as she forces herself to sit up. She scans the small cabin swiftly, eyes immediately landing on the stranger in the chair near the fire and she can only assume that he’s the reason she’s now in bed instead of cramped up in the chair. She can’t say she’s happy that he managed to move her without her waking but right now she’s more concerned about managing this wound. She should’ve taken care of it before she rested, now her blood has stuck her shirt to her side and separating them is going to be a nightmare.
She finally alerts him to her being awake when she gets out of bed, a hand pressed firmly to her side to help mitigate the pain as she walks to the door. She says nothing to him yet as she ducks outside, using water caught in a bucket to help loosen the blood soaked shirt enough that she can peel it away from her side without it causing her an obscene amount of pain and only then does she return back inside. She has questions for the man, several of them, but she supposes there’s a time for that. Preferably after she’s no longer got a gaping wound in her side. She takes a seat back on the bed after grabbing her stitching supplies from earlier. “... I feel I should ask who you are. I would ask how you managed to tear your stitches already but I think I know.” Her voice, though quiet, carries easily in the small space. She tosses the supplies over to him but keeps a couple bandages for herself, immediately setting to wrapping the angry cut on her side like she should have the night before. The one in her leg barely bothers her so she ignores it, instead turning her eyes to him after she’s finished and lowered her shirt. The blood leaking through his bandages doesn’t bother her by itself but her expression does seem to darken some as she stares.
“You shouldn’t have helped me. Now look at you.” Her voice has an edge to it that wasn’t present before, almost as though she’s angry, even though it doesn’t appear to be at him. There’s a tense moment where she’s practically glaring at him before she takes a breath and her expression goes back to a neutral stare. She’s quiet for another moment before unfolding her legs from under her and approaching him, leaning in close so she can undo the bandages and check over the wounds she’d stitched the night before. Sure enough he’s busted a few of them and she looks up at him with a small huff, practically snatching the needle and thread from him so that she can repair the damage. Between the two of them her pack is almost out of bandages but she uses what she has left to help stop the bleeding so she can stitch him back up. Thankfully she does go fetch water before she starts so she can freeze it to reduce the pain.
She doesn’t speak again until after she’s finished, putting the supplies back in her bag and turning to him with her arms crossed. “Bust them again and you’ll stitch yourself back up.” The look on her face brooks very little argument though the corners of her mouth are turned up in a slight smile, as though she finds something about the situation humorous. “If you’re hurting badly I can mix a salve to help… preferably after we eat.” Then she needs more bandages and they need food and other supplies. He won’t be leaving this cabin for a while judging by the state he’s in and she can’t very well abandon him here. She owes him for helping her after all.
He hears her stir but from where he's sat she still looks asleep. His attention returns to the stew and the fire. But before he knew and could respond she's gone out the door. He's not given the chance to reply. And upon her return, he forwards his brow. A faint frown playing on the edges of his mouth. He should've noticed she'd gotten hurt herself. He actually felt foolish and ashamed he hadn't checked once he'd placed her on the bed.
He tried to get up and head over to her to help. His pain and injuries, however, had different plans. He holds his groan and stays glued to his seat. He shoots a breath from his nose alone to sort out the pain. And turns his head as she lifts her shirt. His attention again returns to the food he is making. "Jeovani De La Vega." He answers her almost non-question. He Spanish accent causing his name to from his lips with ease.
Her anger is detected immediately and he begins to resolve if it's him she's angry with. Or not. His thoughts all her interrupted the moment she's close and in his face. His opaque gaze watching her intently as he forgot to breathe. He wasn't a man of many words mainly because he hardly around anyone to use his words. He gives her and stern nod at the mention of not breaking her stitches again.
And so, his attention returns to the stew once again. "Salves. Supplies. Stupidity." He shot out at her as he scooped the stew into two bowls and put them on the table. "Sit and eat. Take a breath. If not for just a moment." His words although laced within his charming accent wasn't him requesting or suggesting. Then again it wasn't a command or demand either. Far be for him to command anyone. Especially a woman he just met. This was more a statement based off of his observation.
He was naturally serious. More serious than not. Yet even he knew when there was a time and place for it. Even he knew being that stern and angry all the time wouldn't get you a long life. His eyes stayed on her now since the food was done. And suddenly he noticed the blood seeping from her leg. He lets a slow breath from his nose and with the quiet in the moment it's audible. He slowly removes the knife from his boot sheath and slices the fabric of the scarf around his hips. Slowly he invades her space as she had with him. Leaning down he wraps the sliced fabric around her leg to stifle the bleeding.
"Just because something doesn't hurt anymore doesn't mean it is not still a problem."
Her eyes cut to him when she senses him attempting to get up but since he doesn’t end up moving from the chair she remains silent, a raised eyebrow the only indication of her confusion over his reaction to her coming back in. Perhaps he doesn’t want to be in here with her? Understandable, she got him shot, but for right now they have little choice in the matter. She smirks a little when he turns his head from her, a small huff of amusement leaving her. She had forgotten just how strange mortals can be over things like that and, though this one isn’t human, he seems to hold to those strange tendencies. Or perhaps she’s the one who’s strange. Oh well.
In the quiet like this, not surrounded by people that want her dead, his accent hits her ears once again as being quite strange. She’s never heard anything like it before, not that she’s generally traveled far enough to. “Well Jeovani, I must say that what you did was stupid.” Her glower is back on him now, specifically at the wound in his chest. She never seems to be glaring at his face. Her own accent seems fairly normal for the area, though perhaps a touch more lilting than most. She does take note of the way he practically stops breathing when she gets close, another strange mortal quirk she’s not used to. It’s like the only people they ever get close to are family or lovers and it strikes the fae as being incredibly odd, but she does ignore it other than an amused glance up at him.
It does seem like she’s the talkative one in this scenario which is incredibly strange. Most of the time it’s whoever she’s with that fills the silence with chatter but Jeovani seems to be an incredibly quiet type. She at least appreciates that he takes her warning about his stitches seriously. “If you mean stupidity over getting shot, I’d agree.” She does seem genuinely angry over him taking that arrow but the anger seems less like it’s directed at him and more directed at the situation. Perhaps surprisingly she doesn’t argue when he tells her to sit and eat and though she moves gingerly for the sake of her side she doesn’t seem to be in much pain. The silence stretches out as she begins eating, though she does eventually turn her eyes back to him. “Thank you for cooking.” A stew is certainly a nice change from the dried meats and fruits she’d taken with her to snack on.
He can feel her eyes shoot back to his face as he removes the knife from his boot and she watches him silently as he gets to his feet, having ripped the fabric from around his waist. She makes no moves to stop him from wrapping it around her leg but he can feel her eyes on him the entire time, the unnaturally bright blue interested in his actions. Her curiosity will be the death of her one day she swears. For now she settles for leaning in closer to him again, searching his eyes for something, some answer to a question she hasn’t asked. “You’re right. Normally it would be no problem for me, that sword must have been iron instead of steel.” It would explain why she’s not healing like she should be, normally a wound like that would be most of the way healed by now. "So, why did you help me Jeovani?"
Stupid. He rolled his eyes faintly at the word. Rising to move from her leg slowly and with a wince. He sat back down and closed his eyes to sort through his pain. Eating slowly. "All of the weapons were iron." He sighed clearing his throat. "So you may still continue to call it stupid but would it not be equally as stupid not to accept and appreciate the help?" It was more of a rhetorical question. To give her something to think about.
He turned his attention away from her, at last, to continue to eat. "I've a niece that's half-fae." He had already figured out what she was way before they mentioned the iron. Her mannerisms and tactlessness we're quite telling. "I call her chipmunk but I doubt you'd like that so... What's your name?" He offered her a faint smile in between looking down at his food and eating. He'd occasionally freeze to breathe through the pain shooting through him. "I'm a Gypsy. The Wind is my god. It saw fit to save you so it threw me into the equation to see it so. But why is my question? And not to the wind. Why did you kill the human's leader? And please share me any " it's my job" type of answer. "
Annoyance, perhaps a touch of frustration. Those she can handle, both a far cry from the strange kindness he was showing a complete stranger that managed to get him seriously hurt. Mortals. “I accepted your help and though I appreciate it, I still find your actions ridiculous.” Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes, though she keeps a careful eye on his reactions to gauge just how much pain he’s actually in. “You speak as though fate had something to do with this. There’s always a choice. To help or not to help. Just because something calls you doesn’t mean you must answer.” It doesn’t mean you must give in. Doing that leads far too often to heartbreak if you ask her. She doesn’t say that the main reason she has a problem with it is because she doesn’t care much if she gets hurt or even dies. People tend to react poorly to that.
She doesn’t bother to hide her surprise when he mentions a half-fae relative, her eyes widening slightly in shock. Fae leaving Thistle is rare, to leave permanently, especially to then have a half-fae child is practically unheard of. This girl is probably quite wild and untamed with her abilities though. She refrains from commenting on that particular aspect and instead schools her expression into polite interest by the time he’s looked back up from his meal. “Elyssa… Frostmourne.” Chipmunk is, admittedly, a cute nickname. Though it brings to mind an image of a small child with big eyes and rounded cheeks chasing this man around. Since she’s not in as much pain as him she’s finished her meal by the time he’s explaining what he is to her and is already on her feet, taking in his occasional wincing and preparing to do something about it. She motions for him to continue speaking as she moves over to her pack, pulling a bag from it and immediately setting to removing small bundles of herbs. Many of them look strange, as though they didn’t grow in the area. Mostly because they didn’t, these were harvested back in Thistle. She picks several out of their bunches, grabs a bowl from the bag, and sets to mixing them. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you disappointed then. That man was the leader of a gang that was interfering in the interests of my employer, accusing our human contacts in various towns of witchcraft. I was sent in to remove him from the equation.” She doesn’t look up from her mixing as she speaks and soon the fragrant aroma of crushed herbs are reaching his nose.
“He was a nasty piece of work too, especially for a mortal.” That said she approaches him again, the now crushed mixture held out to him. “Place this on your wounds. It will dull the pain and keep gangrene from setting in.” That now offered she turns to place everything back in her bag, grabbing her cloak from the bed and wrapping it around herself. “I need to go back to town. You’re in no shape to travel anywhere so we’ll need supplies. Is there anything specific you need while I’m there?” Mentally she’s going through a quick checklist: bandages, food, water, medical supplies, blankets, hopefully a book or two… He’s also in dire need of a new shirt, she can’t imagine he’s comfortable.
He blinked at her. Or more so her words. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. He clicked his tongue and returned to his food. Taking a moment to actually enjoy it. Given the lack of resources, he made a decent stew. He remained silent for a while as she spoke. Composing what he wanted to say aloud before saying it. He'd gone long enough without speaking to anyone he wanted to be sure he made sense.
"A Gypsy can't choose less they risk not being a Gypsy any longer. And that I don't want."
He shook his head as he wiped his mouth. "Elyssa" he repeated to help him remember. His accent dancing with her name beautifully. He chuckled to himself because he already knew he wouldn't be able to say her last name correctly. He'd roll the first R in it too much that he'd end up tripping over the rest of the name with his tongue by the time the second R comes up.
His chuckles slowly faded to silence as he listened to her next words. Twisting his mouth he shook his head "I'm not disappointed with that answer because you gave me an explanation. I merely meant don't be vague so thank you." He offered her a kind smile. He watches as she focuses on the herbs and grinding them away. He dares not ask what these obscure plants are well aware of the elusiveness of the fae. His smile eventually curls downwards as her words trigger a few bad memories.
"I know only good mortal and the world might not even see him as good. Being a rogue and all..."
He gently takes the salve she made and gives her a curt nod. He smells it out of habit. Enjoying the natural earthy scent it holds. He very carefully unwraps his wound and does as she instructed. Wincing softly. "Besides a shirt... Rum." He was serious. He sighed and stood wincing again. He desperately wanted to go with her but he knew he'd only slow her down. He made his way to his stuff which she'd clearly neatly set to the side. He pulled a coin pouch out of some hiding spot he had in his jacket and handed it to her when he made his way back over.
"Thank you... For not leaving me back there. And fixing me up."
He smiled again and this time while she was looking at him. A part of him was yelling at him. Telling him she wasn't returning but he fought himself to ignore it. "I just wanted to give something to help with what we may need." He approached her slowly and cautiously pulls her hood over her head "and hide your ears." He was really trying to friendly and break through the awkward ice. Lightly snickering to himself because he was just trying to mess with her. He stepped back a bit and started looking around the cabin to find something to keep himself preoccupied while she was gone.
"You don't have to answer now. Or even soon. But you're not used to kindness are you?"
Those bright blue eyes of hers are sharp, immediately finding his face as he goes to speak but stops himself, apparently considering his phrasing before saying anything. It’s no secret that she seems to regard him with a level of curiosity, and the little smirk playing at the corners of her mouth only serves to reaffirm it. Something about him is amusing to her. Instead of answering him she tilts her head to the side in a slight acknowledgement of his words, though the look in her eyes suggests she either doesn’t believe him or doesn’t like his answer. To her credit she doesn’t fight him on it, instead remaining quiet as he continues his meal.
“Where are you from? You’re fairly obviously not from this area..” She’s never heard the likes of his accent before, the way it carries over his words strange to her. Not bad strange, just different. She notices that he doesn’t attempt her last name but everything considered she doesn’t care. She’s not sure why she offered it in the first place, she has no attachment to it. Her family name is truly only a reminder of her place in life and what she’ll be returning to after this whole ordeal is over.
Her eyes flick to him over her bowl as he thanks her for the explanation and she offers a small nod. Noting his interest she speaks again, though likely not in as much detail as he’d like. “These are herbs from my home forest. They’re more effective than any you’d harvest around here so they can be used in smaller amounts. These are harmless, don’t worry.” The smell of the herbs is admittedly sharp and strong, powerful with that earthy scent. “Whether the world deems him good doesn’t matter. If he’s good in your eyes that’s what counts.” She doesn’t look at him as she says this, her attention turned away and back to her bag, her tone quiet.
She hears when he gets to his feet and turns her head back toward him, watching as he moves slowly to his bag that she’d moved neatly to the corner. She takes the small pouch he offers, looking at it and then him and immediately realizing arguing with him over this would be futile so she puts it in her bag instead of arguing like she wants to. “Very well. Anything specific you would prefer?” She opens her mouth to address his thanks but closes it again when she can’t really come up with anything to say, instead giving him a nod. She seems to find being thanked uncomfortable.
Her hood settles comfortably on her head when he pulls it up and she blinks up at him before, slowly, a smile crosses her face. Then, as he watches, her hair turns from dark to blonde and her eyes darken until they match his own shade of brown. She looks like an entirely different person. “I think I have it covered, but thank you.” Jeovani would recognize this ability from his niece she’s sure, as it’s something all fae possess and she’d need it to hide any fae traits from mortals. She’s just about to head out the door when his voice stops her and she pauses to look over her shoulder at him. Her expression is impossible to read under the hood. “... not for a long time Wind Walker.” The sound of the door closing is soft behind her. He’ll be alone for at least a few hours. She hopes he can handle it until she returns.
Where are you from?
Such a simple question. But with a very convoluted answer for any gypsy. Jeo shifted his head back and forth as he thought of how to answer. To explain exactly? Or defer to deflection? He took an audible deep breath.
He gave a sly smirk as he spoke but left it at. Maybe one day she'd discover the answer was staring her right in the face. Conveniently cradled in his sentence. He watched her work around her herbs. Talk about them a bit honored she'd share this information with him. Or maybe it wasn't really an hour and he just believed the rumors about the fae and their allure.
"Just rum and a shirt."
He gave it a good thought before deciding that was all that was needed that she didn't already mention. An impressed smile coming to his face as she changed physically before her. He let out a breath to represent his laugh. Not only did he recognise this from chipmunk but it was also similar to one of his own abilities. A showcase for another time. His smile slowly faded at her last words, however. His head tilting as he thought about them for a while after she'd left.
Sleep was a cruel mistress to Jeovani. If it were a person it'd be his enemy. And yet, as he sat at the edge of the bed he could feel his fatigue settle on top of him. Given his condition it made sense. He needed the rest. He slowly laid down and let his body relax into the bed. Careful to not burst his stitches again. He stared up at the roof. Fearing his own mind and what memories his dreams might carry he fought to stay awake. But he lost.
And so, in the end, he fell asleep. Without even realising it.
It’s fairly obvious from interacting with Elyssa that her behavior is a touch off, at least to mortals or anyone not of the fae. She stares too much, rarely blinks, gets far too close, but she manages her facial expressions like a champ. It’s impossible to tell what she’s thinking as he gives his answers if she doesn’t want him to and right now she seems to not want him to. “That sounds like quite the lonely life for one that showed up alone as you did. I ask only because I’ve never heard the likes of your accent before.” For as much as she’s travelled outside of Thistle, far more than the average fae, she’s never come across a gypsy before.
A small smirk pulls at her lips at his answer. “I was asking if you wanted any particular type of rum, but if you’d rather leave it to my judgement that’s fine as well.” She can tell from his reaction that he recognizes her glamour ability, so it seems that his niece has some handle on her powers. That’s good. A fae learning their powers with no teacher is at a disadvantage. She barely catches sight of his smile fading as she turns to close the door behind her but she says nothing. She was honest with him and there’s not much she can do to ease that now that she has been. Stick her head back in and lie and say she was joking? No.
It’s a good hour’s walk back to the town which she spends in silence apart from the chittering of the animals around her. She takes a different path than the one they took in which is why it takes so long, her intent being to avoid any search parties the humans may have sent out. She can now only hope Jeovani has the good sense to stay in the cabin. Elyssa doesn’t miss the way the mortals at the small market eye her. She’s strange, even with her glamoured form. Women don’t wear trousers, they don’t carry weapons, the only normal thing she’s doing is buying supplies. The only reason they don’t refuse to sell to her is because her coin is good and in a poor village like this they need all the trade they can muster. She ends up gathering blankets, a new shirt for Jeovani, medical supplies, and food before she runs into any trouble.
At the end of the dusty street stands the remnants of the group from yesterday, all drunk, tired, and angry over the events of the day before. They seem to be harassing anyone that walks by without a care as to the trouble it could get them in. She still needs to get by them to see about buying bandages and fresh water but she doesn’t want to cause a scene even if she could handle the small group by herself. She ducks down a tiny alleyway, noticing one of the group gesturing before breaking off to follow her. Since her hood is pulled up she rolls her eyes, a knife already in her hand for when the man tries something. By the time they find the man’s body, his throat slashed, she’s already gone from the small town.
She’s silent when she reenters the cabin, her steps managing to make no noise at all on the old wooden floors which is a good thing since he appears to be asleep when she makes her way in. None of the search parties seemed to be near the cabin but just to be safe she takes a little extra pain to make sure the undergrowth around looks like no one’s been through. She’s sorting through all the things she bought after that, occasionally glancing over at him to see if he’s woken yet after taking the time to fold his new shirt and a blanket near him for when he wakes.