Family Ties - Prologue

[Morveya Aris]

Morveya had stopped and eyed, somewhat warily, the approach of the two guardsman. They were indeed quite a contrast. The elvish man seemed a bit atypical for a guard in her experience of them. Though that experience had been primarily within Marn, itself. Out here, it made sense to pair a heavily armored warrior with an agile and stealthy sniper, she reckoned.

The armored man - who seemed perhaps the lead of the two - was also quite a contrast to herself. In some peripheral part of her mind, she was aware of a meeting of two worlds, here: Marnian and Shimite - soldier and civilian - butcher and healer. His raven-black hair was even the stark opposite of her own. She would wager him a puradyne as well. Common enough in guards. And there was something in the stance, or demeanor, she thought suggested it. She had something of a knack for identifying them, she thought, half in humor and half seriously.

This man, with eyes like the color of the amber she occasionally used in certain concoctions - offered succinct apology and explanation, as Kitan went on to his father. Leaving herself to answer his query. That was alright - she knew her new friend would want to make certain his father was in fact fine. Particularly in light of what the guard had just said - 'trouble in the woods.' What sort-? To discover that she needed to answer him first:

"We are traveling from the village to Marn, sirs. Myself in response to a letter from relatives there. Kitan is the courier who brought me the communication; he is simply returning. And giving me company on the road. He wished to drop in on his father along the way, to which I agreed. What has happened, sirs-? What trouble in the woods specifically?"

Even with her less than optimal hearing, she could discern Kitan and father having a bit of a row. Then of a sudden it quieted. Beside her the red roan snorted softly, wary of strangers and another horse. The blaze on the mare's snout a dash of conspicuous seeming white, identical to her hair, in the ubiquitous shadow of the trees.

She awaited answer to her own question.

[Alexandros]

The larger of the guards frowned, his visage of control shaken for a moment. He looked behind him to his elven compatriot, and the other guard looked back to him offering up his own dire grimace. Alexandros' hand wrapped itself around the head of his axe, thumb running atop its crest tensely. That in itself was disturbing: when sheepdogs grew nervous, it was time for the sheep to take heed. Wolves lurked. "Well, citizen Aris, there's reason to suspect a man was murdered along the road." What he said came flatly, dulled of all emotion it might have held. Alexandros' calming smile didn't return, and he stood just a bit straighter, as if he was a hound that had caught scent of something dangerous.

He had to remind himself again that the morning's events had been real.

He said nothing of the traveller's rended flesh. Nothing of his dark eyeless stare nor the bloody rictus of a smile he'd greeted them with when they'd arrived... Nothing of the torn dresses they'd found among the brambles.

Dragesus thought he could feel the yellow ribbon, even through his steel, wrapped tightly about his arm - feel it tightening around his bicep, reminding him, urging him.

"It's probably best," he said to cut through his own thoughts, banishing them at a whim "If we take you and the other one, the fox, back up to Marn. Leastwise then we wouldn't have to worry if you were all right..." The guard suggested. Then, as if it were a second thought and little more, he continued. "I'm Alexandros, or Guardsman Dragesus if you've a mind to be proper."

"The elf is Lurus, Guardsman Beriadan," he provided "Introduce yourself, Lurus." The steel-clad warrior turned to his partner expectantly.

"I'm Lurus." The archer replied, voice sardonic. His bright blue eyes never left the perimiter. He was even more on edge than his human counterpart.

Alexandros, the bigger and more talkative of the two, took up the silence without hesitation. When he spoke it sounded hollow: as if it were meant to be humored, meant to be a happy thing, but drained of all joy by their sad circumstances. "He's not always such a buggered sarcastic bag of piss, just usually." A moment's pause. "Which reminds me, I need to have words with Drifel." Alexandros moved past Morveya and into the dwarf's doorway, his heavy boots coming to a halt at the crest of passing through the portal into Drifel's home.

He noted the boy's brow-beaten appearance, then took a moment to look him over more closely. He seemed fine but one could never be too careful. Arguments among family were often hot, Alexandros knew that as well as anyone, and on occassion all that passion got someone burned. Satisfied that the dwarf hadn't laid a hand on the fox, Alexandros nodded in Drifel's direction. "Dwarf. We need to talk, and I need you sober enough to understand. There's been bloodletting in the woods."

[Kitan]

“Bloodletting? In this Theo forsaken wood?” Though not a Puradyne himself, Drifel had long ago picked up the local lingo. He growled out the rest of his response, “What a surprise. And I take issue with the second half of your request, Alex, so be quick about it.” He took another sip from his ale to prove his point. Still, he stood up and waddled over to get a chair for Alex: it wasn’t much more than an uprooted stump, hastily carved, but the regular furniture in the cabin was sized for Drifel’s stout dwarven frame.

As Alexandros relayed the mournful tale, Drifel started up a small fire in his ramshackle fireplace. Tending the logs, Drifel’s scowl grew deeper and deeper. “Bah. Damn bastards; think they can just do anything out here, don’t they.” He flung an arm clumsily around. “I’ve been drinking my short arse off the past few days, so I don’t have anything for you and the elf.” He moved to inspect his cloak. With the weather getting colder, he expected he would need it for any outdoor searches. “But, you point in the direction of that whoreson’s victims," the dwarf jabbed a thick finger in the guard's direction, "and I’ll see if I can’t find anything.”

He meant it with more vigor than he let his voice indicate. The person responsible had done this in his neck of the woods. And wouldn’t it be great for his tired bones if he brought in one more dirtbag... legally, just like before.

He sighed a long, hollow sigh which spoke of his years of experience. “You know Alex, dwarves don’t often deal well with feelings. But I’m getting old, too old for that nonsense. I want you to know I respect what it is you boys in the guard do. Just... just stay loyal to what the guard stands for, not what it might become, you know? I know it seems like it sometimes, but not everyone’s scum.” He polished off the remaining ale in his glass and then set the bottle in the corner, where a small pile was filling up. He didn’t believe Alex was quite personable enough to pick up on the fact that he was speaking from experience, but then he had underestimated the perception of others before. "They all deserve your protection. Those who are worth fighting for."

He was saved from seeing Alexandros’s reaction when he heard glass breaking. Instead their two heads turned alertly to the noise. “That would be Kitan, breaking any bottle he can find,” the dwarf explained, waving a hand dismissively. “He won’t find them all.” He leaned back a bit and stared at the ceiling while he continued. “I’ve got stashes my son won’t find; as for the kid, he means well, why stop him?” The dwarf gave Alex a weak smile as his thoughts turned back to his days in the guard.

Don’t let them get to you, the dwarf thought as he twiddled with the glass in his hands and whistled meaninglessly. Don’t I wish someone had said that to me, at his age? The dwarf chuckled to himself. At his age, you were still a boy, you sod.

[Morveya Aris]

"Well, citizen Aris, there's reason to suspect a man was murdered along the road."

Morveya gasped faintly, mouth left slightly agape.

Immediate, obvious questions assailed her mind and heart:

-Someone she knew?

-Someone that she was close to?

Garath, Torven; they both went out this morning. Neither was back yet when we left…

But she halted that tumult of dire possibilities, by recollecting the guardsman had said 'reason to suspect.' She must will herself to calm, and discover the facts. About to probe for more, she was forestalled by the man's, Alexandros Dragesus', introduction. Both of himself, and of his elvish comrade, Lurus Beriadan. Her mind only faintly registered both names – but register them it did. It seemed that she and Kitan would be sharing the road with this pair. For which, in truth, she was grateful. Lightly armed as they both were. Herself no warrior; and she guessed Kitan either.

But, that was neither here nor there for the immediate moment. Again she was about to interject, and again her opening was preempted by Guardsman Dragesus. This time in some light banter with the sardonic seeming elf – whose attention was plainly on their defense. Which she most readily understood.

And with that, Alexandros Dragesus announced his departure, and made his way inside the small dwelling. Apparently to confer with Kitan's now-awakened, and now-calmed, father. Morveya looked briefly to Lurus, thinking to get her answers from him. But she swiftly changed her mind. She did not wish at all to distract him from his vital duty. Better to get her answers from the other.

And rejoin her companion, meet his voluminous voiced papa, and learn where things stood there. She did hope it was nothing that would detain Kitan too long, or prevent him from coming along.

In spite of the safety the pair promised, it was simply her orientation as a life-long villager. And, too, the specific history and travails of her family. Being alone with a pair of heavily armed Marnians just wouldn't be entirely comfortable.

As Morveya passed the home's threshold, she heard Dragesus addressing the father. And calling into question his sobriety. As well as informing that violence had occurred. Father's rather vehement response proffered vigilantism. She entered the room herself, then. As the dwarf, who was plainly in his elder years, further elaborated his views.

Morveya started just a bit at the breaking glass. Calming quickly as Drifel explained that it was Kitan. Even before he stated why, she had a funny feeling she knew why. The same feeling also made her wager this had been the cause of argument between them. Her calling and profession being what they were, she was instantly more interested in what she might do for him. She had all of her needful medicinals and supplies with her. All packed in Alstris' saddlebags. There were several things she could do to effectively treat the ravages of the demons of the bottle.

Of course, their talons dug into soul as well as body. And treating that was another thing. But also possible, in many cases. Given enough time, and proper care. And, most importantly – a patient who actually wanted to get better. Not all of them did. For Kitan's sake, she hoped that Drifel wasn't one.

"Sir," she said then to the dwarf, coming forward two steps, though not yet close. "Guardsman Dragesus," her gaze turned to him, to convey that she was not intending to bypass any authority. Then to Drifel again:

"I am one of the village's herbalists. I have all of my important stores with me. If you are suffering any skull-drums," with a faint and wry smile, using the humorous slang that depicted the incessant pounding of hangover, "I can more than likely help you. It will take me but a short time to brew it. I would be more than happy to." Then her gaze swung back to Alexandros.

There was no humor this time; faint or otherwise. No – this time it was a fully earnest plea. Her dark eyes held pain.

"But, please sir, please. Everyone I care about – all those I love in this world – reside in the village. You say there has been bloodshed – you suspect a murder. Is it blood alone that you found – or have you a body? And, if so – do you have any inkling whose-?"

[Alexandros]

Alexandros took the offered stump gratefully, grabbing it by a barky knot and pulling it into place behind him. It scraped along the hardpacked dirt floor as it moved, leaving a barely visible trail. Then he took his seat, setting his gauntleted palms on his knees, and explained what he’d seen. Not everything, not the heartbreaking details, just what had to be said to convey the seriousness of the situation. His voice was methodical, even clinical, in its sterility. He spoke as if a passive observer, free of tragic emotion. Every word seemed damning to Alex as he said them though; as he let each fly he knew he gave them credence, made them even more real. There was some part of the mind that identified things that were truly horrible and set them aside behind a wall of denial. Each time Alexandros looked to that wall, gazed hard into it, or spoke of it… It seemed to grow thinner.

Guardsman Dragesus’ story found itself cut prematurely short when Morveya arrived, its ending rushed and vague. He glanced to her briefly, tracing her entrance into their conversation, amber eyes following her steps as his voice grew more quiet. There was a feeling that she'd intruded into something not meant for gentle womenfolk.

“… Whoever did it, they left precious little behind.” Except a man, dressed and cleaned like a game animal, Alex recalled glumly. He leaned forward, propelling himself upward to stand as Drifel left his seat. The guardsman slipped a thumb beneath his belt, watching as the dwarf walked to his cloak and then offered up his own assistance. The cloak was torn and frayed, well-used and unapologetic, much like Drifel himself.

Dragesus didn’t respond immediately; it was a tempting offer, in its own way. Drifel was not a dwarf to be trifled with. Alexandros didn’t know his story, not in any satisfying way, but he knew enough to take the codger seriously. Still…

“I wouldn’t, Drifel, but I won’t tell you not to go looking – that’d just push your stubborn ass there.” Alexandros looked again to Morveya, face solemn. “Sorry, Ms. Aris, don't mean to offend with a harsh tongue. But... Drifel whoever or whatever did this isn’t something you want to find yourself alone in the woods with when the sun goes dim and the owls sing. He's a hunter, at the least, and a good one mark my words. A few guardsmen, armed to the teeth, that’s what it’s going to take.” Then a moment, voice hemmed with uncertainty. “Maybe more, if that’s not enough and he ain't all that human, maybe a battlemage.” Whoever came back for this hunt, Alexandros would be in their number. Duty bound him to it along with an inkling... a suspicion that this was something darker than a hungry psychopath.

Then Drifel spoke his heartfelt words. Of respect, temperance, and something more… Alexandros didn’t know why, but to his ears it sounded like more than just naïve advice. Those words were heavy with meaning for the dwarf, and he hadn’t given them up easily. Alexandros’ head nodded, gaze steady on Drifel, but he said nothing in return. The hermit’s naked emotion had stunned him to silence: it was so honest, so unexpected, what could he say? He appreciated them in silence, knowing anything he said would cheapen them. The dwarf was right. Of course he was.

Sometimes the hunted man deserved a reprieve. Alexandros thought of Noxus then, and wondered if the magi had made his way to Shim already. He'd been older than the guardsman, and an elf to boot, but Alexandros felt some responsibility for him... Like a younger brother, he supposed.

“Nothing wrong with drinking, you just take care to leave room for more than that old man.” Alexandros warned, mind still elsewhere as glass crashed and shattered in the background. “Seen men get consumed by it. It ain’t pretty, when there’s nothing left but the drink.” He drank with Drifel more often than not, how could he tell the dwarf to forego spirits? Alexandros frowned, though it broke like clouds thinning after a storm when Morveya offered to help the dwarf with his ailment. A herbalist? That was lucky.

Her request though, that was a more treacherous issue. What could he say? To a young woman no less. It didn’t seem right to lay the burdens of the reality he’d faced on her. That weight was his, and Lurus’, to bear. “There was a body.” He admitted hesitantly as if treading in dangerous territory, then slowly Alexandros continued. “What was there, well it’d be hard to tell who he was, even if you knew him.”

“I’m sorry.” Alexandros said simply, knowing it wouldn't help even as he uttered it. “I hope for your sake it wasn’t one of your kin.”

[Kitan]

Drifel turned his head up the ceiling, exhaling a long breath. His hands halting their methodical inspection of the cloak, he looked down to Alex, then back to Morveya. “Maybe you’re right.” He conceded. He growled a throaty voice as he turned around, “I’m still gonna figure out where the bastard’s been hiding though.”

The dwarf couldn’t help but chuckle as Alex’s eyes wandered between him and the herbalist; the guardsman’s slight discomfort in regards to the language being thrown about was fairly clear. While he listened to Alex dodge around describing the murder, he felt a small grin growing across his features. It was all very chivalrous of the young man, but if Drifel’s time as a mercenary had taught him nothing else it had informed him time and time again that women could be just as violently pragmatic as men could, given the right circumstances.

“Either way,” he concluded, “it seems I’ll need to be sober for a while.” He said. Reaching into a pocket hastily sewn into the inside of the cloak, he withdrew a few bishani. “The very least, it couldn’t hurt me... Aris, was it? Couldn’t hurt me any.”

Granted, he thought as he handed the herbalist the coins, this Aris woman didn’t seem to be one of them. She was plainly distracted by the dire news Alex had brought, so Drifel simply trudged back to his seat and plopped comfortably onto the familiar chair.

.....

Kitan had, of course, overheard everything.

His ears swiveling, he tuned out the birds and horses, giving the conversation his full attention. He didn’t really understand anything the guard and father were talking about. It sounded spooky though. His head turned to face the forest. It was the oddest thing, he thought, how the shadows suddenly seemed just a little longer when one knew there was something out there, unseen and malevolent.

The heavy thoughts too much for the shifter to bear, he lowered his eyes. Studying the backyard which he had seen for so much of his life, his eye caught a glint of metal before he could refocus on the conversation inside. Leaning forwards, he quickly recalled the traps father had put everywhere. He smiled. Well, if anyone was out there he would have some difficulty getting to father. Kitan’s lips turned up at the corner. The shadows weren’t so bad with someone like his favorite dwarf to chase them off.

Making yet another effort to strain his focus long enough, he ears again swiveled away from the backyard. He caught the very end of Drifel’s acceptance. Had he really done that? He heard the clink of Bishani, and Drifel’s grudging acceptance. Joy swelled up from the depths of Kitan’s soul.

The fox shifter jumped up to his feet and jogged around the house, his own, swifter version of pacing carrying his frantic thoughts like his legs accelerated him. Father accepted. Why? He never had before. Kitan thought, and thought and thought, but his pacing was not enough. He began jumping up and down in the front yard- the horses shuffled uncomfortably, plainly displeased with his erratic behavior. At the height of one such leap, it hit him. His father had something to do. That must be it. Grinning widely, his mind crunched scenarios and situations he could engineer to further exploit this.

Unfortunately, one of the houses snorted loudly and broke his train of thought. He collided with the earth with both feet bearing the brunt of a heavy, thick impact. Sighing softly, the shifter stopped his bouncing. He didn’t seem to be able to come up with much all of a sudden.

Throwing the horse a glare, the shifter pouted in front of the cabin. Deciding to let the others have their talk, he wandered a little nearer to the road and climbed a tree he had often climbed when he was little, the challenge relieving boredom with ease. It had seemed much the greater obstacle back then.

[Morveya Aris]

Under other circumstance, Morveya might have uttered a laugh at the idea the word 'ass' would be sufficient to offend. But then she did think him probably puradyne. And, she'd oft felt that the First Settlers should have scribed themselves a seventh Tome: Propriety. They did place such a premium on it, after all.

The guardsman's consideration that a battlemage, might be requisite for dealing with this perpetrator, made a dreadful preface for his even more dreadful answer to her:

Hard to tell -who- he was, even -if- you knew him…

Reactively, Morveya put a hand to her heart; her look expressing only some of the horror she felt. As much as she couldn't successfully hide.

Once…once, something like this had touched her life. When she had been not old enough to truly understand. Except that, vaguely remembered father and mother were no longer present in her life. She had lived thirteen autumns before she'd learned any more at all. And that from another girl who let slip what much her family knew.

She did not blame Samwiell and Harala for that. She well knew it had been meant for an act of kindness. Even before they finally told her as much. In truth, it had been. No child needed to learn that.

Despite her semi-preoccupation with those thoughts, and the roil of feelings this news stirred, something else registered through all of it: Dragesus had said 'I'm sorry.'

In some yet available corner of her mind, she acknowledged, if but faintly, that it was more than she would have expected from him. The father's acceptance of her aid, and subsequent proffering of coin, snapped her from other consideration. Politely, she refuted the bishani with a raised palm:

"Ah, sir, not yet. I only request payment after I've succeeded in doing something. While I think almost surely I can help you, let us see for certain. And, aye, Aris it is. Morveya Aris. I shall return in just a moment." With that, she turned and made her way back toward the dwelling's front door.

On the way, she reflected that she thought it a little odd. That Alexandros had not dismissed father Drifel's offer to participate in the hunt. She did not think the Marn guard – or more specifically Marn's officials – much approved of vigilantism. But perhaps that was an incorrect assumption. Perhaps the guards were spread thinner than she thought. As well, there was obviously history betwixt the guardsman and the old dwarf. Though she couldn't be certain, she had a sense that, it was the sort that engendered some amount of trust. Or at least confidence.

Once outside, she expected to see only the elf Lurus. But she did not spot him immediately. And her own steed, and those of the guards', seemed slightly disturbed – snorting and shifting their footing a bit. She suddenly wished she had her quarter staff in hand, rather than still strapped to Alstris. Of course, the sane thing was to get back inside. Immediately. But…

She suddenly caught sight of Kitan, some distance up a tree near the road.

"Kitan! Are you alright? Did something happen out here?"

[Alexandros]

"I can't stop you," Alexandros admitted with a shrug of his plated shoulders "And I won't try. If you find the sod who did this though, send word to the guard instead of rushing in. Your boy deserves better than to lose you."" The guardsman looked over his shoulder, toward the road. The fox-child had climbed his way to the top of a tree. Morveya called to him, the worry in her voice plain as day, as she stood in the center of Drifel's old grove amidst quaking aspen and venerable oak. Moss clung to the ancient trees, some gnarled and in the winter of their life while other new whips shot up to take their place - leaves bright and green with new life. Rays of yellow light shot between the trunks, a reminder that midday would soon be well on its way to afternoon.

A chickadee bounced between the boughs, whistling a vibrant tune that sounded like he was singing 'hey-there-sweeeeetiiee'. Then, startled by Kitan's movements and the shaking of foliage he took flight and sung out warningly 'chick-adee-dee-dee'. Tiny black and white wings beat furiously, intent on escape. The horses stood below, unshaken, their heads stirring only occassionally to search out fresh grass.

It was idyllic, peaceful, but there at the edge stood Lurus. Alert and prepared. Because he knew what Alexandros knew: somewhere, under the mottled shadow and light of the forest canopy, there was a monster. A monster of a man, most like, which was perhaps worse.

"Drifel, we'll be on our way soon as the girl works her craft on you." Alexandros submitted, eyes still watching the portrait framed by his old friend's timber doorway. "I was going to question her and Kitan here, see what they've seen if anything. Strange travellers on the road. Weirdness, anything out of the ordinary. Probably best I do so on the road... Or safely behind Marn's walls, so as to be sure I get them there before the sun sleeps."

"I'll see them through the gates. No one will lay a hand on your boy, mark my words friend. Not a one." He added, voice stiff and certain as stone.

[Kitan]

The dwarf took a second to admire the stubborn tone of his friend’s voice. One hand lifted to his chin, scratching his beard, he scrutinized Alex for a short moment. Finding nothing lacking, he continued.

“Aye” the dwarf nodded, “I know you will.” His hand moved to clap the guardsman on the back, but he quickly noted the height difference between them and thought better of it.

Instead, his shoved his hand above his eyes to shield them from the noon sunlight, watching Kitan laugh down at Aris from his perch atop the tree. His teeth breaking through the white of his beard, the dwarf plodded down on the step behind him.

What was it that I once said while drunk? There is a lot of good in the world, or something like that? He looked at Alex the guard, ever loud and dedicated. Lurus, silent and watchful. Morveya, empathetic and wise beyond her years, and of course, Kitan, eager and playful. Well here it is.

.....

Kitan grinned widely at Morveya’s concern. “I’m fine!” he shouted back down at her. “Better than ever!” As if to demonstrate, he swung wildly about the branches for a short interval. The shifter’s acrobatics ended with him coming to a loud thump on the dirt.

As he walked over to the herbalist, laughing, he halted suddenly. The elven guard’s piercing eyes were no longer dedicated to the perimeter, but instead on him. They flicked to the side, avian in swiftness, to settle on his ears.

The little shifter’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by an uncomfortable frown. His stride became a walk as he continued to close the distance, but the elf’s gaze seemed to be encompassing more and more of his willpower. Kitan averted his eyes and resumed his earlier, skipping step, but his face remained just a shadow of the genuine happiness it had held moments before.

But nothing stuck with Kitan for long. By the time he got to Morveya, the wriggling of his bandage covered toes were the only obvious sign of his lingering discomfort.

“Hey.” He said, a twinkle in his eye, “You’ve probably guessed I heard everything. Thanks.” He extended a hand to her arm, a gesture of gratitude. He slid past to join his father and the guard at the steps.

When he got there, he embraced his father in another big, gigantic hug. Drifel patted his son on the back, the need for words already in the past. When it was over, Kitan spun to sit beside him. “You’re gonna be okay, father. It’ll all be alright.”

Drifel’s face showed his doubts. But he smiled and nodded anyways.

[Morveya Aris]

She spied Lurus then. Off past the largest of the nearest oaks – stoic sentinel, utterly steadfast in his watch. And thank Spirits and River for that. Despite some of her feelings toward Marn and its government, its guards and its administration – she fully appreciated the bravery and dedication of those who honorably protected the public. Particularly from the likes of whoever – whatever – had rended the unknown victim the two had discovered.

As Kitan responded to her with a boisterous affirmative, she did wonder if it was fully sincere. She had a notion his extreme elation was sometimes honest expression, and sometimes a veil for other things. And that it was hard to tell which. But it was only a hunch. She hardly knew him, after all.

The unshiftable shifter made his way toward her, laughing brightly on the way. And then halted so abruptly, it was as if some invisible hand stopped him. Plainly he had seen something; Morveya was instantly on guard, body tensing. Until she realized it was Lurus that Kitan was regarding – and in turn being regarded by.

What-? The elvish man's scrutiny of him seemed almost intense. And served to kill the courier's carefree demeanor. Did Lurus recognize him from somewhere? Some previous trouble, perhaps? Or was this puradyne prejudice for one who was clearly demi-human? She did very hope not the latter. She was just beginning to respect these guardsmen. Perhaps she should say something. It looked almost like a standoff.

And then Kitan was moving again, as if shrugging the whole thing off, and had closed the last of the distance between them. After he touched and thanked her, she smiled to him in return, slightly surprised. It was her trade, afterall. She was about to say something in response, but Kitan was already past her, on his way to rejoin his father and Alexandros.

Beyond the immediate situation, which was filled with concerns enough, Morveya was suddenly worried. For other reasons...which she would be hard pressed to define in words. Well, no matter on it. There was trouble enough, in any case, and things that must be attended to.

Walking to where Alstris was with the other steeds, she nodded courteously to Lurus. Several things came to mind to ask. But she held her tongue instead, as she unfastened the saddlebag, then reached within. Out came the satchel which was dedicated specifically to organizing and holding her medicinal herbs. It itself was one of her most dear possessions. It had belonged, originally, to her elvish great-grandmother. Gifted to her by her own aunt and mentor in the herbal art. It was beautifully designed; the leather work and tooling were elegant, immaculate. But it was the legacy it signified that made it so precious. Especially as great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother were all gone.

Moveya put the strap over her shoulder, and walked the same way Kitan had, heading back toward the door. Thoughts lingering a little on Lurus. And, even more on something else. Something she might be able to do...to help this killer be brought to justice. And provide her peace of mind, in leaving, that such a slaying would not be serial.

There was no guarantee it would work. Familiarity always helped; and she had none here. Or so she prayed, insofar as the victim was concerned. There was also the small matter that she was unlicensed. She would either have to do it covertly, somehow – away from the attention of both guards. Or else appeal to both their consciences – and hope the right thing outweighed oaths to the law. Or that they didn't accept her offer for help, and toss her in prison afterward. She wouldn't put it past a puradyne, in the least. No few of them were hypocrites.

In any event – she had a decision to make about it, very shortly. But first things first.
___________________

After she'd boiled the water with Drifel's available kettle, Morveya had set about brewing the tea. Based on what much Drifel had been able to recollect – what he'd drunk, how much of it, and how long ago – some detail of which was rather vague – she had selected a trio of herbs: moon thistle, river thorn, and blood bloom. As far as hangovers went, they were often what she called 'the big three.' And there was no residual drowsiness with any of them. Unlike some of the second choices she occasionally had to use.

In short enough order, she handed the steaming cup to Kitan's father.

"There you are, sir. Sip. Don't gulp. Not that I think you'll wish to. It won't be the best tasting beverage you've ever downed. But based on what you have told me, not the worst, either."

[Alexandros]

Much of the subtleties of the situation outside were lost on Alexandros, distracted as he was by his conversation with Drifel. Something seemed off as Kitan rushed past him to his father's side, but he brushed it aside, gazing outside as the others came in to the relative safety of Drifel's cottage. Ofcourse there was something off, there was a murderer loose in the wood, that was what he needed to concern himself with. Unless he wanted to end up boned and fileted like that poor sod down the river's bend... And the guardsman had no intention of sleeping beneath that old willow in the dirt. He'd made a promise too - a hard one to keep if he was dead.

Lurus glanced back, his face harder than usual, and offered a wave of the hand that suggested everything was clear so far. Alexandros offered him a nod in return.

Guardsman Dragesus walked over to stand on Kitan's other side, keeping his armored bulk firmly out of Morveya's way. He'd offer to help, but he didn't know a thing about herbs and he felt he'd be clumsy at it anyway. All hands and fingers. Now... give him a few sturdy boards of lumber, he could work magic with those... Alex had always felt like an artisan in his father's woodshop. Seeing the shape in the timber: feeling it in the grain, then carving through splinters and sawdust to breathe life into it.

Alexandros smiled, letting those old comfortable memories slip warmly over him as he watched the herbalist go about her business. He leaned back, satisfied, gauntleted arms crossed over his chest as he rested his back against the shack's wall. It was almost worth coming just to see Drifel down that foul concoction of hers without retching. If he did retch, it would definitely be worth it.

Then there was the foxchild. Alexandros didn't know what to think of most shifters, he hadn't spoke to any in quite a while, most avoided guards as best they could. This was Drifel's boy though... And that made him special. "So... Kitan, is it?" He asked, voice gentle "You climbed that tree real fast." Alexandros hoped it sounded like a compliment.

[Kitan]

Drifel accepted the steaming mug. Staring at the cup, he wondered how well it really would work. Surely there wasn’t some cure-all. The world would be a better place with such a wonder around. Toying at it with his hands, he spun the glass around in his hands for a moment.

Damn but he didn’t want to drink this. Didn’t smell nice, and probably wouldn’t pay off...

He became acutely aware of the fact that all eyes were on him. Feeling rather cornered, the dwarf cringed and raised the glass to his mouth, momentarily forgetting Morveya’s advice in his haste to appear willing.

Unprepared, he had to suppress the immediate gag. A faint mist of elixir erupted in a cone from his mouth, but to the dwarf’s credit, he did hold almost all the concoction in. To his chagrin, his struggles caused his cheeks to bulge in a rather comedic manner while his body attempted to reject the medicine.

Grimacing, he popped his cheeks back into place and swallowed. He closed his eyes and managed a weak grin. Saving some face with a joke, he quipped “Aye, not the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. That weak stuff the elves pass off as wine still tops-” The dwarf cut himself short when he realized there was in fact an elf present, to say nothing of his son, who really did not need to hear racist jokes. “Ah. Bugger.” He only hoped the elf had remained vigilant to his surroundings rather than his terrible jokes. The dwarf downed the rest of the elixir, trying to ignore whatever expressions had sprung up around him.

Meanwhile, Kitan gave the guardsman his signature smile, realizing he had some potential for mischief here. The little shifter had realized guards didn’t always seem to know how to react to him, even if he wasn’t certain why. Stalling for time to decide the exact course his impishness would take, he chose to stare at a point just beyond the guardsman’s head; his intent was to distract the guard on some imaginary curiosity in the woods.

Phase one thus implemented (he didn’t stop to see if it had worked) he crouched, sprung at the nearby wall of the house. Kicking off of the old surface, causing enough noise, he hoped, to redirect the guard’s attention to his father’s side, the fox shifter propelled himself upwards and over the guard’s head. At the apex of his jump, he was completely upside down, his hands crossed as smugly as the grin on his face. He landed as softly as he could on the guardsman’s far side.

“Yeup. I’m pretty good at that.” He was obviously very proud of his demonstration, and his tail wagged back and forth beneath his tunic. The faint swishing sound was very distracting, and Kitan lost his pose to turn and try to stare at his own biology.

[Morveya Aris]

As she realized Drifel was not going to heed her words of caution, Morveya began to raise a hand in warning, and started to speak.

She was not fast enough on the draw, however.

She wasn't sure what to make of herself, when she very nearly laughed at his bulging cheeks, and attendant expression. This was hardly the time, or place. And she was sincerely attempting to do something for him. But it was funny! And for only a moment, served to lighten the darksome pall of the matter at hand.

For her own part, Drifel's comment about elves and their spirits was neither here nor there. Feelings between those races were what they were. And Drifel's tone was humorous seeming, more than mean spirited. He probably didn't realize she bore elvish blood; it wasn't much obvious, shade of hair notwithstanding. And, Morveya did not consider herself elven, per se. Certainly not enough so that she identified with them, or was caught up in perceptions other races might hold of them. Any pride in being part of her great-grandmother's line was based on an approach to life, not blood heritage.

Her mouth gaped slightly at Kitan's abrupt acrobatic display. Those would take some getting used to. He probably possessed greater agility than anyone else she'd ever met. She wondered offhand if he practiced in some disciplined way, or if it was mostly inherent. Perhaps even a sort of magic of its own, in a way-? Hopefully the guards would not think so.

She was curious how Alexandros would respond. But she had an even stronger curiosity, too.

It was an impolite thing to ask. Of one she'd only just met. The sort of question that might incur anger. And not at all inappropriately. Yet, she already knew she was going to. It was something about Kitan having smashed those bottles. An act, possibly even a desperate act, from the heart for a loved one. Despite Kitan's erratic and offhand way, it was very hard to think it anything other.

"Sir," she asked of Drifel, a soft but still quite audible tone: "You may of course decline to answer this. Or tell me to go chase zyme lizards. Or curse me with stronger words. Or simply tell me it is too personal, as you will. But I am curious how long ago - and why - this affair with the bottle began."

[Alexandros]

Alexandros glanced to the woods, his amber eyes questing to find what had grabbed Kitan's attention. The leaves still whispered with harmonic movement, trees bent defiantly against the breeze, and everything stirred with life. Everyone knew it well: the common miracles of the woods, ordinary... But perhaps to a child, the guardsman thought, they had not lost their wonder? Then, to his side, a crash against the wall and creaking of dry old timber. He turned, eyes caught on movement as Kitan's limbs and body left the wall and floated over him for the span of a heart's beating.

It's not an impossible task to hide surprise, particularly behind the dour mask that came so easily to a guard. But, there are times, when suddeness and outlandishness make it truly difficult. A child, even a shifter, leaping over your head. That was one of those times for Alex. His eyes went wide, shock evident even as his lips slackened from a firm and unreadable line. How he had managed to read Alexandros' height relative to the lowness of the shack's ceiling, predicted the arc of his jump, and executed with such masterful exactness was beyond Dragesus.

Magic, he could not help but wonder, was that at work here? Alexandros' head shot to the doorway and outside. He couldn't see Lurus anymore, and he prayed Lurus could not see them. The elf had always had harsh words for Alexandros when it came to his tolerance for the mystical arts. The day grew more complicated by the hour.

But, concern disguised, he looked to where Kitan had landed. His smugness was obvious and perhaps a bit healthy - a child's boldness should nearly always be encouraged. Alexandros' smile returned, his face alight with very real appreciation Kitan's skill. He was impressed, how could he not be? It might be wise, perhaps on the road, to tell the fox-boy of the danger of being so cavalier with his ability when they arrived in Marn. But for now: that could wait, he ought to have this.

"So you are." Alexandros' gauntleted hand came down to rest on Kitan's moppy head of hair. He rustled it gently, careful to be gentle given the second skin of steel over his fingers. When Morveya's question dug into Drifel's love of the drink he drew his hand back, head turned to look the dwarf and herbalist over. The intimacy of the request... He wondered what Drifel would say. If it were a man, Alexandros knew, the dwarf would say nothing and answer with his fist.

A pretty face though and a woman's gentleness. That was a different thing entirely. Guardsman Dragesus wondered too: what would Drifel's response be?

[Kitan]

Damn it, the dwarf thought as Morveya asked the question, and I was just mocking Alex for his chivalry.

Still, he supposed he wasn’t feeling angry. The magma in the veins, the snarling face, he just didn’t have the will to summon any of it up. The dwarf wilted like a dying tree, painfully aware he wasn’t in much of a position to act indignant. She was a healer after all; it was practically her job to pity others. Really, all he felt was the shallow thrum of regret, a steady, liquid sensation that trickled cautiously, cerebrally, through his stooped and weary form.

Unable to meet the herbalist’s eyes, he turned his own away. By what right did she pry into his personal affairs? His boy was here for Theo’s sake, and the dwarf would be damned before he lost the one person who still looked up to him. But the little spark could not make a fire amidst the smothering force of the dwarf’s self-loathing, and Drifel moved his knees uncomfortably.

He rose from his seat and wandered back to his door. “Thank you for stopping by, son.” He said simply, the he reached out for the door handle, retracted his arm quickly and slammed the door shut.

Immediately on the other side, he slumped down onto the dirty floor. Blast it all, he hadn’t even warned Alex not to tell Kitan he shouldn’t do something. It was obvious he would, but that had never worked.

He turned he head to look through a tiny hole in the old wooden frame. He saw Kitan, staring with his mouth agape and Alex’s hand still on his messy hair. It killed the dwarf to see the joyful features falter once again, but what could he do, step back outside and start blubbering apologies? It would be ridiculous.

“C’mon, we should go,” He heard his son say miserably, turning away from the shack, “when he gets like this talking to him just makes things worse.”

Damn it. Damn it. The dwarf's thoughts raced. Damn it all, you stupid drunk. Damn it.