We Solemn Few

Chapter Ten : Travels, Tears, and Trepidation

Veyha shuffled forward as she sniffled quietly, her eyes puffy from crying and her cheeks stained by tears, of which she had none left to cry. Mourn later, Ixus had said at some point - time had been mostly a blur after... - but she wasn't able to so much as dwindle the flow. He did not try to quiet her, though, or impede her. For that, she was... thankful. Hardly fitting of a word. She drew Ixus' cloak tighter on her small frame; the rain had all but soaked every inch of it, but it was better than nothing. She shivered, nearly rolling her eyes. Better than nothing.

She had been silently following Ixus for some time now, having come upon a road of tight-packed dirt no less than three hours prior. She had asked him once where she was heading and was promptly quieted. She hardly thought he had a right to tell her what to do, but when more of those... things, lept from the shadows of the treeline, she didn't defy his commands any longer. Especially not after she watched him hurl bolts of pure blue towards a pair of them. She shivered again, but not from the cold.

Another hour came and went as the pair arrived at a cross-section of their road and another, melding together toward a third. Signs pointed in three directions; west-pointed was a sign that named Kluseth, and she nearly tore the sign down. It would only lead to rubble, now. The other two were names unknown to her; north led to Illutha, whilst south-east named a place called Fhurahr. Veyha spoke no question when Ixus turned down the seeming road to Fhurahr. Not after the bolts. She was not sure she'd ever question him again.

The walk was nearly as silent, the dim light of early morning shining through the air in layers of varying degrees of orange and red. Many of the stars had winked out by this point, the moon on the brink of being swallowed by the horizon. She sighed deeply, unconsciously hugging her arms as the thought of Zenrin and Marrow crossed her mind. If what happened to Samson happened to them... she shivered deeply, blinking away tears that began to well at the corner of her eyes. Please be safe. Please.

The silence of their travel was broken not by conversation, but by the continuous clop-clop of galloping horses from behind them, the distant noise quickly approaching. Without word, both herself and Ixus stepped off of the road, watching as a duo of black steads rode past, their riders donning gray leathers with silvered dove wings across the breasts and other metal pieces guarding joints while white cloaks bearing identical symbols fluttered behind them. One of the riders looked hardly older than she; with messy blonde hair and freckled cheeks, he looked little more than a boy, but the sword at his hip suggested more. As for the other, Veyha could hardly believe what she was seeing. Light, gray skin covered by various black tattoos with hair shaved at one side, the woman had more muscle than even Marrow. The two hardly spared a glance as they passed.

Ixus went on his way as normal, seemingly unphased, but Veyha could not be silent any longer. Too much time with her thoughts. Too much. "Ixus-" she began, though the semblance of a glare he gave her made her shift both her tone and wording, "Mr. vol'Umere..." the glare faded, "...this may sound odd, but what was that woman? I mean- Mythos! She had gray skin. Gray! And I'd not expect anyone in town to match her in muscle."

Ixus seemed to ponder a moment, keeping his gaze forward all the while. Once upon a time Huegur had joked that Ixus, of all people, was as easy to read as one of Marrow's books. Back then, she didn't suspect Huegur knew just what Marrow read, but with how little emotion touched his expression, she would rather try to read a boulder. Eventually, though, he spoke, "She is of Dru'or decent." She had no idea what a "Dru'or" was, and her face likely said so, for he spoke on with a slight sigh, "A Dru'or are more commonly called stone giants in supposed stories, but many of those stories are wrong in so many ways." He shook his head slightly as if he thought the stories were, to a degree, even shameful.

"Giants?" Veyha gasped. She had read many stories; they stole her attention nearly as much as Mjunik's tellings, and were nearly as vivid. Stone giants - giants in general, really - were a rare mention in stories, but stone giants in particular were said to shape the mountains themselves. Some stories even say Divine's Rise, a lone mountain resting in the midst of miles and miles of open field, was pushed there by stone giants. Or built there. Some stories were rarely consistent. "So she is a giant, then?"