• Closed • It Never Rains

[Elyna]

34th Vhalar

There was a saying that it never rained, but it poured. Elyna knew that she’d seen rain in spatters and gentle taps. In the slow stream of droplets down a pane of glass. She knew the mist of rain and the kiss of it against her face in the morning mist. With the torrent outside the house though, she could understand the saying. With the rain falling like the sea from the sky it was hard to remember all those other times that it had dripped or pattered. It was a deluge and overwhelming. The fire had been lit from the mid-afternoon and stew bubbled in the large cauldron. What was left of it anyway. The horses, Red, Ember and Shadow had been put to bed in their barn and a couple of members of her crew had turned in for an early night, tucked away between the hay in the loft and in warm beds.
The young woman wasn’t finding sleep easy. Uncomfortably laying on her side or back the night seemed to stretch for breaks and breaks no matter how tired she was. There was nothing beyond the incessant shower beyond the window, only darkness. The stars hid their faces and she couldn’t even smell the sea, or hear the wind beyond the rainfall. The fire crackled though, spitting flares against the stonework that surrounded it and kept it safe. She kept a candle lit on the table beside the window, a signal to any that approached that life remained within and an offer of a safe haven. If anyone sought to bring trouble to the small house, they’d quickly find themselves in deeper water than they’d expected.
Arms folded on the table she flick the flame with her fingers, dancing them in and out of the warmth. A childish, impulsive whim but then she seemed to court danger. Legs were tucked up beneath her. Hair pinned out of the way and up, though strands had escaped to cover the mark on her forehead and drift in soft waves around her features. Dark eyes focused on the flame her eyes grew accustomed to the light before finally they dropped to the letter.
How many times had she collected it from above the fireplace? How many times had she held it, thumb pressed to seal and ready to break it and read the missive. She had long lost count, and yet the seal still held. Elyna toyed with the letter she had received from Malcolm, holding it close enough to the flame that the edges dried and started to curl before she drew it back again. She was angry and she wanted to destroy all trace of the past. It was a cold anger though and more calculating than her reckless intention would let her complete and the letter was set back down again. Maybe she was a fool and maybe she was sentimental…
She had sent all her words with him to Ne’Haer. She’d stitched all her love into the clothes that he wore, knowing that syllables would be a poor expression of how she felt. He had sent words back and a part of her longed to know what he said, but a larger part dreaded answers to her heart’s questions. Fear. She was an old friend and eagerly embraced. Maybe she was fickle too or perhaps she was just a dreamer who had woken up to find that it never rained, but it poured.

[Malcolm]

The rain had been so heavy that it had sometimes been difficult to breathe. Low lying countryside was flooded and some of the roads were washed out. There had been no straight journey home and Malcolm could have sworn the fates were against him. When the little house on the hill came into view via the flash of lightning, Malcolm gave his horse one last kick to get them home. The addition of a barn had come as a surprise, but with no torches to light his way, drying Mithril in the dark was a chore in itself. He took as much of the water out of her coat as possible before throwing a blanket over her, and leaving her tried to a post linked to Red's stall. He was happy to see the gelding had been kept, and not taken during the war like a lot of the other horses he had heard about.
A strange rustling sound overhead saw the man pause momentarily, and look up at the loft. He decided it must have been an owl or possum and braved the rain once more to dash across the garden to the front door of the house. The rain masked his footfalls, and his light knock at the door. Through the edges of the doorframe he could see that the fire had been lit and rubbed his hands together, longing not only to be inside where it was warm, but to hold Elyna in his arms again. Malcolm couldn't remember a time he had felt so much nervous energy, twisting his insides in excitable knots. He swept his hair away from his face in an attempt to look more presentable, or as much as a downed dog could, and knocked again, this time with the edge of his closed fist.
A low hiss shot through the air to his left, and as Malcolm turned to meet it, pain coursed through his left shoulder, a guttural cry ripped from his chest as he was thrown backwards by the force of the impact and found himself on his backside in the mud.
"Who goes there?" The unfamiliar voice of a young man called out in the night, a newly lit oil lamp marking his location in the loft window of the barn.
Panic saw the knight gasp and breathe hard as he reached for the arrow protruding from his left arm. Another bout of pain spread through him as he closed his fingers around the arrow and tried to pull it out, only to realise that it had gone straight through. "Wait!" Malcolm bellowed as he noticed the man thread another arrow to his bow. "I'm a knight! This is my home!"
"This is the home of Lady Elyna, we don't welcome trespassers here!"
Another dull thump saw an arrow narrowly miss him to penetrate the soaked earth behind the knight, and Malcolm kicked the door before calling to Elyna. Another shock of lightning lit the sky long enough to blind the archer and throw off his third shot, and before the man could regain his vision, Malcolm got to his feet and fumbled with the iron key he had reached for in his pocket, desperate to get it in the door. Something, however, blocked it's entry, perhaps Elyna's own key, and Malcolm drummed on the door again. "Elyna!"

[Elyna]

It was the shout of pain that saw her heart racing. Panic was an icy liquid that slid down her neck like a bucket of cold water. She stood up so fast that the chair fell back and bounced on the floor. She pressed her back to the wall and closed her fingers against the hilt of her longsword, kept beside her person at all times. Air caught in her throat and she closed her eyes. Marcus had come for her? The door shuddered beside her then was beaten with a fist. The voice came louder and clearer and her eyes flew open with shock. Malcolm? She swallowed the lump in her throat and set the sword down before unfastening the catch and letting the door fly open.
Behind the man she could see Rafa, a scrawny young man of nineteen approaching. His hair a mass of black flattened against his skull by the rain. Her eyes fell to the arrow and she recognised the fletching.
“Kit!” Elyna stepped aside for Malcolm to enter but turned her back on the man. She pressed her boot to the chair and kicked it back upright, positioning it in front of the fire, “Malcolm sit down,” she ordered without looking at him. Tumbling through the door like a pair of excited puppies, Rafa came running in with Kit on his heels. Kit was the shorter of the two, with a paler mop of messy hair and wide blue eyes.
Malcolm’s assailant still had his brow gripped in his hands and the pair skidded to a halt, waiting for fresh instructions. Elyna pulled her sewing kit from table and retrieve a long strip of fabric. Whether Malcolm had sat or not, she looped the strip around his arm and pulled it tight, knotting it above the arrow to slow the pulse of blood. His skin was soaked beneath the shirt and cold.
“What’s the rule Kit?” She looked up at the younger lad, “the rule?!”
“Speak first, shoot sec-“ he faltered and his face paled. Any bravado and pride failing. Rafa grimaced.
“How can we help you, Ser?”
“Stoke the fire for now,” Elyna instructed and he jumped to obey orders, to bring the fading embers to life and line them with new logs.
“My Lady-” Kit’s skin had turned the color of yesterday’s ash and he trembled.
“If there’s a horse outside, tend to it okay?” The woman took a deep breath and returned her gaze to her patient. Focused on the wound itself.
“He said he lived here?” The young man lingered at the door and Elyna nodded in response.
There was no choice, she lifted dark eyes to Malcolm’s face. Uncertain of what she’d see in his expression. Somewhere distant, her stomach was tied in knots and she felt like a bow string pulled too tight. The sensation was buried though and deep within the ocean. Outward, she was calm. A lake on a cold day with barely a ripple to disturb the surface. Her crew was still learning, many of them young and inexperienced. She owed them the ability to remain calm, not matter what the circumstances.
She searched the Mortalborn's expression in silence as small hands curled around the arrow shaft and with a sharp snap, the end was snapped off and discarded.
“I need to untie the tourniquet. I’m going to pull the arrow out. Then I need you to take off your jacket. The shirt I can cut around – but there is no point me binding this wound only for your to split it open within a break. You’re soaked. You need to get dry.”
A list of instructions and details. Rafa stood up beside the fire and failed to notice anything out of the ordinary. Captain Burhan was eminently practical.

[Malcolm]

The man was absolutely soaked, pale on account of the shock and four days spent traveling in the rain. He stumbled and all but fell into the chair, kicking off his boots, his clothes, the necklace, and belt around his middle were too tight all of the sudden. Panic did that. Elyna might have been able to remain clam but the man's heart was racing, his pulse pounding in his ears. And then, like the end of the rain after a long storm, he became subdued and docile, staring into the fireplace, the turned embers throwing up burning bits of ash that hung in the air like fireflies. His vision went white, hot red, and then dark.
Malcolm caught himself before he fell forwards into the table, and steadied himself with an outstretched arm, clutching the edge of the wooden surface in front of him. He relaxed his left arm, careful not to let any of the muscles go tense in case more damage was done as the arrow was removed. Elyna didn't need to tell him twice, and by the time the arrow was free, his clothes were already coming off. The knight sat topless, a strap tied around his upper arm, with the limb raised up over his head. Malcolm watched as one of the two airmen ran outside to tend his horse, and he pinned the other with a look that could turn a man to stone.
"Get out of my house," he hissed and when the boy looked at Elyna for reassurance, Malcolm stood up quickly and watched the young man race through the front door like a bolt of lightning. Malcolm went to the door and slammed it so hard it shook the hinges. He moved the iron lock into it's keep and returned to his chair a little lightheaded. The lids of his eyes were heavy and he blinked slowly, fighting the exhaustion that had set in as the rush of adrenaline subsided. With eyes closed, he let Elyna work in silence as if left mute by the whole experience. Though this wasn't the case, Malcolm thought it best to let her speak only when and if she wanted to, and if it were to argue the dismissal of her underlings, she would be met with the same icy glare.

[Elyna]

He was in a foul mood and it did nothing to dispel the creeping fear in her bones. On some level she couldn’t blame him. He was cold, probably tired and hungry as well. Not to mention in pain and shock after the blood loss and attack. Even knowing all of this and even knowing that Malcolm was unlikely to ever try and hurt her, she was still afraid and struggling for calm. The arrow was removed and thrown to the flames. As soon as the shirt was removed she sat on the edge of the table. The pregnancy making it more than just uncomfortable to kneel on the floor. Feet were gently rested on the chair beside his thigh, the toes of her boots in a neat line and careful not to touch him. His elbow she pulled to rest against her lap as deft fingers wound clean bandages around his arm. The bandage ran out and still the blood threatened to come through, so another was applied and then another until the blood was held and the wound could heal.
The Skyrider remained mute, shifting a little as the baby kicked out against her side and once the task was done she excused herself to cross the room. Washed the blood from her hands and dried them before pressing her hand to the curve of her belly. A comfort, but for herself or the baby, she didn’t know. Elyna turned eventually and collected a bowl, filled it with stew and set it beside him, “you must be hungry.”
The silence was deafening and she left it behind, a blanket was pulled out from the bedroom and set down on the table top. The house had become a home, a safe haven, yet in a few short moments she was a stranger within it. Her safety net dismissed with a scowl that threatened to curdle milk.
She sank down in the empty chair and let out the slow breath she’d been holding in, “…you’re back.” A pointless statement. Her gaze fell on the unopened letter, “they’re only young. They’re learning. You have no right to dismiss them.”

[Malcolm]

Sometimes Malcolm found it difficult to tell if he was angry, or just resigned to the fact that he should be, and thus did his best to fill the role, even when it wasn't in him to play it out. For this reason he remained silent, not because he was angry, but because he felt he should be, that he had every right to be, he had just been shot outside the front door to his own house after all. The warm stew came as a welcomed distraction, what had she expected his reply to be to that? Yes, he was home and in his home he had every right to throw out anyone he was displeased with, and an arrow through the arm was just one way to get sent out.
Malcolm was ashamed of how quickly he had managed to wolf down the stew, like some kind of starved animal. During his time away he had gained a lot of the lost muscle back, if not a little more, but his stomach was sucked in with hunger, sitting back from his ribs. The look he gave Elyna then seemed to suggest that he was too tired to argue and now was not that time to reach out to his sympathetic side. The knight got to his feet and limped off to the bathroom to remove the rest of his clothes and wash the blood from his skin. The door was left slightly ajar in order to draw light from the living space, Malcolm's form muscled and shrouded in shadow. He towel dried his hair and skin before wrapping the towel about his middle to disappear into the bedroom.
A low burning oil lamp lit one corner of the room enough for him to find his way around. It didn't appear as if too much had changed since he had been gone. He found a clean pair of pants and long sleeved tunic that was too much of a chore to pull on with the pain in his arm, and frustrated, he threw the top aside instead. Upon his return to the living room, Malcolm rinsed the stew bowl and took up the blanket from the table, hanging the wet towel over the back of his chair to dry in front of the fireplace overnight. Outside it was still raining heavily, but there was something oddly calming about the sound of the rain meeting the roof. He was tired, struggling to keep his eyes open in fact, and knew he would be useless until the morning, especially if Elyna wanted to talk.
"I'm going to bed," he announced. "Are you going to join me?"

[Elyna]

They went through the motions it seemed of domestic life, cleaning and tidying after themselves. Perhaps they would have been a good match because they were both neat and tidy most of the time. Unlikely to sit idle when there was a plate to wash or something to put away. It’s why the house was warm and neat, clean and cosy. The young woman continued to watch the fireplace. She was a statue, the flames cast light and fire against her features and she was lost in them. The flickering rise and fall and the shadows behind. She heard his steps through the house, the splash of water and small noises of pain.
When he returned she stood to face him, pushing herself up with a hand on the table for balance. It was harder to stand with so much additional weight. Her body wasn’t used to the adjustment and it was always changing. She watched his boots cross the floorboards, water ran again and the bowl was put away.
"I'm going to bed," he announced. "Are you going to join me?"
She was pinned in place by his stare. Feet rooted to the spot as though she’d never moved. This wasn’t happening, this had to be another dream. A nightmare perhaps? He couldn’t truly be back and standing in front of her like this? The bitter tang of blood lined her tongue, there were droplets on the table and on the floor. She’d have to clean it before they stained. It was a question and yet it felt like a demand. She wasn’t ready for Malcolm to be back. Unprepared to face him or her own fear. The steady drip of water against the pane dragged out the passing of time and the continued silence between them. He was expecting an answer and she had nothing to say.
Fear held her tongue, the room was too small to confine them both and if he was angry enough would he force her? No, she forced herself to remember that he wouldn’t. Malcolm wouldn’t do that. Would he? She wet dry lips with care and forced herself to meet his gaze once more. Easier than it had been the first time.
“No,” she answered, “no I won’t.” He had betrayed her. Lies had consequences and they had changed her life.
She felt as though she teetered on a fine line of danger and despite her determination to be brave she couldn’t stand still any longer. Elyna turned, abrupt and collected her cloak, “I’m going to check on my crew. Goodnight…I’m …I’m glad that you’ve come home safe.” The door was unfastened with shaking hands and swung shut in the wind behind her as she strode out into the night.

[Pegasus]

Elyna

Points!:

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/ 5
Structure: 5/ 5

Knowledge:

It never rains, but it pours
Malcolm: wrote a letter
Malcolm: you sewed your love into his clothes
Malcolm: that boy knows how to make an entrance
Kit: shoots first, asks questions later
Rafa: a little more thoughtful than Rafa
Medicine: Tying bandages around a wound to stem blood flow
Medicine: Multiple bandages to treat deep wounds

Loot:

NA

Fame:

NA

Magic:

These points may NOT be used for arcana

Malcolm

Points!:

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/ 5
Structure: 5/ 5

Knowledge:

Endurance: Staying focused with an arrow in your arm is hard
Endurance: Staying alert when the adrenaline dies down.
Intimidation: If someone believes you are ready to kill them, they are more likely to be intimidated.
Kit: The rule is ask questions first, shoot after.
Kit: Shot you (and didn't ask questions first)
Elyna: Doesn't seem entirely pleased to see you
Elyna: Has a crew she's responsible for.

Loot:

Gains: NA. Losses: NA. Injuries: Shoulder injury that will take at least 15 trials to heal, depending on your movement etc. As long as you're careful, no long term damage.

Fame:

NA

Magic:

These points may NOT be used for arcana

Overview:

General comments. Oh dear! What an unfortunate homecoming / welcoming. Tricky for both pc's and a really fascinating read. You two really are wordsmiths and the imagery of the house with the rain trickling and pouring down the window was very real for me ~ I really enjoy reading the two characters, but conflict!
Story Fab. Just... fab!
Structure All good no issues.

Please do PM me if you think I've missed anything or you have any questions!