The TwiceBorn

Some Things Are Never Made Right

"To crave and to have are as like as a thing and its shadow."—Robinson

The first thing Alora noticed was that Darius Buron's face had a soft appearance to it.  It was the face of a man who could afford to devote endless hours to grand thoughts without actually engaging in any type of menial labor to turn such plans into reality.  His dark, deep-set emerald eyes were almost feminine in appearance and Alora took note of the spoiled "I want" frown on his full lips as she pulled Loki up and dismounted.

And yet...she couldn't deny there was a touch of steel beneath Darius' delicate appearance.  He was not a man to be underestimated.  Anyone could cut through his malleable demands but beneath it all was a hard, unflinching foundation that refused to compromise.  Here was a man that gave no quarter when it came down to wanting and having.

Alora's throat burned from the acrid smoke that lay over the town like fog.  She coughed, her eyes blurry with tears, as she grabbed a waterskin.  She was dimly aware of Islinn sliding off of Loki and doubling over, hands on knees, as she choked and spluttered.

"Here. Tilt your head to the side."  Alora hoarsely instructed. She attempted to wash the caustic smoke from the girl's eyes.  "Have a few sips of water.  Not too much though, you'll get sick."

Islinn took the waterskin and raised it to her mouth with shaky hands.

"What are they burning??"  She whispered, her voice scraped and dry.

Alora shrugged as she eyed the townspeople who'd cautiously begun to gather around them.  There was a guarded hope in their reddened eyes and Alora couldn't control the sneer that emblazoned itself across her features.

  Still evil...but the kind of evil that saves. 

"Smells like pitch.  Pitch and rosin with some quallo pine thrown in." Alora replied, her eyes sweeping over the tattered band of townspeople. 

"Give Loki some of the water when you're done."

Darius cleared his throat and Alora ignored him.  It was laughable really.  And if her throat didn't feel like it was on fire she may have indulged herself with a chuckle or two.

 Here were the townspeople riding a rising tide of panic and covered in greasy sweat brought on by the heavy constant burning and their fearless leader stood among them as conspicuous as a whore in a church pew dressed in a frock-coat,a frilly white shirt, and tight knee-breeches.

 Alora's eyes kept returning to the startling white of the shirt.  Against the hazy gray smoke and palpable desperation, it fairly glowed with optimism and promise.  If Darius Buron had dressed in a manner as to inspire his people he had failed miserably.

Nothing but a roguing sho in her language.  A lot of flash and fire that amounted to absolutely nothing.

Alora walked over to Loki and patted his muscular neck.  She scratched behind his ears and laughed softly as he tilted his head then sauntered back to her saddlebags and dug out a piece of tobacco for him.  She was well aware of Darius cat-green eyes as they followed her every movement. 

She fed Loki the tobacco and smiled as he bumped her with his head again and searched her hands for more tobacco.

"We don't have a lot of time here."  There was an edge to his voice that caused Alora's smile to widen.

"No?  I have all the time in the world."  She replied smoothly.

 Darius studied her with ill-concealed scorn as he dug a silk handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his face.  His eyes left her and settled on Islinn.  Alora could almost hear the wheels in his mind turning as he tried to define the younger girl's presence.

"You sent for me?"  She asked, in an attempt to break his hypnotic stare.

"Yes.  My brother Alain fell ill and has passed.  I've kept his body in the cellar of the Cork and Dagger." 

The handkerchief fluttered as Darius repositioned it more firmly over his nose and mouth.

"I expected you days ago.  The distance between Leomedon and Lochedge isn't that great."  He sniffed.  His eyes skipped from Alora to Islinn then back to Alora again.

"Yes, I took my time."  Alora said.  She was delighted to see his eyes widen a bit. Here was a man who apparently wasn't used to being on someone else's time table.

"In fact, I found it to be a rather enjoyable ride in the country," Alora blithely continued.  "You, on the other hand, seem to be a bit impatient.  So impatient that you seem to have forgotten to mention how much I am to be paid and why the Hynti are here."

Darius' eyes narrowed above his silken mask.  He tilted his head imperiously and his petulant gaze, once again, skipped over to Islinn, who studied him in her usual stoic manner.

"Your fee is ten gold pieces.  The reason why they are here is none of your concern.  Ridding us of them is."

Alora's smile lost its humor.  She glanced over at Islinn.

"We won't be staying here, "She announced.  "Laarden is half a day's ride away and we can purchase a new mount for you there."

Alora took a few steps towards Loki and had just enough time to experience a vast well of relief at not having to deal with Yzebel and this mess when Darius cleared his throat again and took a few tentative steps in her direction.

"Pardon my...impertinence," Darius said in a stiff tone.  "We've been plagued by the Hynti day and night and my patience is thin.  It has caused me to forget the usual formalities.  So, how much coin is paid for such a service?"

"However much coin I feel like asking for is usually how much is paid."  Alora replied. 

She was secretly delighted to watch the silken handkerchief flutter to the ground, the bright silk of it looking woefully out of place amongst the browns and grays of the smoke covered town.

"You also wanted my services as a Sineater as well, right?"

Darius seemed to be having a hard time catching his breath.  His haughty expression was slowly being replaced by panic and Alora decided she liked this countenance much better.  She glanced away from Darius and watched the Hynti as they stumbled about along the edge of the fire line.  Back and forth.  Endlessly.

"Yes.  I do.  How much for that as well?"  There was a grumbling sulky tone to his voice, like a child who had been denied a sweet and Alora glanced at him, her brow raised. 

"Well..." Her voice took on a calculating tone.  She glanced at the townspeople gathered about.  Gazed off at the Hynti for a few lazy moments.  And finally allowed her eyes to settle on Darius Buron's expensive leather boots and work their way slowly up his attire to his now reddened face before speaking.

"One hundred and fifty gold pieces."  She announced and couldn't help the smile that widened into a grin across her face.