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Kellehendros -> RE: The Hallows Inn (12/31/2014 22:52:02)
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Marietta looked away from Toren, staring at the little girl for a long moment in silence. There were so many things, so many emotions, rushing through the half-elf, clawing at her like the riptide, trying to pull her under. She resisted the wrenching flood with the training and experience of all her lonely iron years, drawing in a slow, deep breath and letting it hiss quietly through her teeth. Glancing at Toren one last time she nodded, and then turned and headed for the door of the inn, stepping back out into the rain. The others were moving about, scattering to their own tasks and leisures, until such time as they would meet again and face the darkness.
”Stand and cast a light into the darkness...” The hunter smiled sadly, memories rippling through her as she walked through the town, her feet leading her towards the small hut that she called home. It was nothing much to look upon, a small shack with three rooms; just a bedroom, a place to eat and prepare food, and a storage room where the half-elf kept drying pelts and her bowyer tools.
It was small and Spartan, but it was home. Marietta did not need much, just a place to sleep between the hunting expeditions that were now her life. Even in the old days she had not required much. Once she not told… No. The hunter shoved that thought away hard, though she could not save herself from a momentary misstep as painful memories welled up, demanding to be recalled. “A long time ago…” she muttered to herself, regaining her balance. “It was a long time ago. Another life, another place, other nights and other skies.” She shuddered, mouthing the mantra to herself until the near-fit subsided. Concentrating on placing one foot before the other, the half-elf continued on, finally reaching her door.
Fumbling her way inside, Marietta paused on her doorstep, blinking owlishly, jarred out of her thoughts by the sight that met her eyes. Normally she returned to a dark house and a cold hearth testament to her singular existence, but this time she found a pair of tallow candles guttering on her makeshift table, and a banked blaze snapping in her fireplace. The half-elf frowned slightly, moving inside with a light tread, and letting the door fall closed behind her. She stalked to her table, finding note there from her neighbor. Marietta’s frown faded, and the lightest of smiles touched the corner of her lips in the surprising light and warmth of her little abode.
Drex was a good man, and she was glad that he had found his happiness with Lena. He had taken the half-elf’s rejection with better grace than most, and had settled down with the daughter of one of the river fishers. According to the note, Drex had overheard one of the guards relating the incident with Turner to another of the off-duty peace officers, and took it upon himself to make sure her home was at least comfortable when she returned from the inn.
No doubt word of her encounter with Turner would be getting around town soon enough. That put an end to the hunter’s smile. While she would garner some praise and support from the townsfolk, given how little Turner was liked, the guard himself would be livid. Their next encounter, she was certain, would be less than pleasant.
Marietta sighed, leaning her bowstave against the wall. Pulling out a chair she slumped into it, staring into the banked fire. Unhooking the belt about her waist, she drew the shamshir off, hanging it on its belt from the back of the chair. Her fingers stroked over the worn leather of the hilt absently, lingering for a few moments on the pommel. “Promise me..”
She shivered, lifting her fingers from the weapon, so familiar to them, but yet unknown to her hand. The half-elf had taken it, a reminder of five foolish friends who had dared so much. Five, and four had lost all. No, not four, all five. Marietta stood, turning as if in a dream and walking towards her bedroom. Had they, really though? The doubt came to her sometimes, the desire to question what she had seen. Could it be that one of the others had… That was impossible, everything she knew denied it. “Curiosity is adamant,” whispered the past in the voice of the Red Lady.
Kneeling, she pressed her shoulder up against the post of her bed, letting out a soft grunt of effort as she shifted the furniture over to one side. Slender fingers played over the wooden floorboards, carefully picking out a loose board and lifting it. Her hand slipped down into the space revealed, dipping beneath the floor to the stone-lined cavity below. She drew forth a slender package of burlap folded about a slim, rectangular shape. Biting her lip, Marietta unfolded the sack, drawing out the contents to reveal a flash of silver atop an ebony case of some sort.
Delicately, the half-elf ran her fingers over the shape resting atop the ebony case, a leather cord that held a simple pendant of silver, a circle with a proud hart carefully inscribed upon it. Marietta swallowed, gently tracing the hart’s antlers with the tip of a finger, before lifting the cord and slowly hanging the pendant around her neck. She closed her eyes, shivering and letting out a sighing breath, tucking the pendant safely beneath her clothing and out of sight. Turning, she leaned against the bed, sitting and drawing her knees up, curling about the ebony case.
She had never opened it. From time to time she took it out and looked at it, ran her calloused hands over the fine grain lightly. When the memories were strongest, she even considered opening it, at long last disclosing its contents. In the end she always stopped herself, drew back from undoing the latch and lifting the lid. In a way, she knew without knowing what was in the box, and yet, to look, to give it definite form, to make it real… She couldn't do it, not until she knew for sure.
Hidden away in the bedroom of her shuttered house, the banked fire popping cheerfully in the main room, Marietta let go. She let the memories come, swamping her in a wave of salt that coursed down her cheeks as, for a little while, she gave herself over to the past.
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