What Dreams May Come/2021-12-04 Actions, Plans, and Consequences
Socius and Iyo
"Your kindness cannot be repaid," Socius said, bowing in the Iyo fashion to his host.
"It is no kindness to assist a friend in need, it is duty, and duty need not be repaid. You have incurred no debt with me or mine for doing what was expected, Or-resh," the Iyo woman replied.
Socius winced slightly at her words.
"With respect, I would prefer you not use that title. I had requested it of your father-"
"Who is no longer among us," the woman interjected smoothly. "The title was earned, and will be used by those of us who still remember what you did to earn it. There are things too important to cast into forgotten memory, as you well know."
"I have come to understand it all too well these past months, I fear. My decisions haunt me, as I have seen the consequences of them for those I... have come to care about."
"You learn, Or-resh, but the lesson is incomplete. You must also consider the consequences should you not act... not decide. These are actions themselves, and bear their own risks."
Socius nodded slowly, his features troubled, but he kept his thoughts to himself. The woman regarded him stoically for a moment before speaking once more.
"You mean to leave once more," she stated.
"I must. This is not my time, and my presence has caused more strife than I could have imagined."
"You are welcome to remain here, Or-resh. The Iyo remember, and would be honored to-"
"Not all the Iyo," Socius interrupted with a smile.
The woman returned the smile, nodding her acquiescence to his point.
"I must leave," Socius said softly.
"Do as you must, Or-resh, and know that you have those who call you friend, with all that entails."
"I could never forget it if I lived a thousand lifetimes," Socius replied warmly. He extended a hand, and after a long moment, the woman clasped hands with him.
"Thank you, Orioso. For my life, and for your friendship."
Hooded Figure
"Isn't that a little steep?" the hooded figure sneered.
The half-krolvin shrugged carelessly, responding in a bored tone.
"Ye wanted information, an' that's never free. If ye could get it somewhere else, ye would, but we both know ye can't. So stop wasting my time."
The hooded figure grumbled, fumbling around in its belt pouch before dumping some silvers on the table. The half-krolvin picked one of them up, noting the tarnish on its surface.
"Where ye keep these? Bottom of a well?" he asked, a mocking tone to his voice.
"Never mind that!" the other figure snapped. "Tell me what I need to know..."
The half-krolvin swept the silvers into a small sack, which he affixed to his belt, then leaned forward across the table, a mean grin crossing his face.
"There isn't a way. The Chronomages are the source of the trinkets, and there's always a way to track comings and goings, if the right person wants to go looking."
"No. It has to be completely secret," the hooded figure insisted, its teeth clearly clenched.
"That's what I mean. It can't be done. I smuggled stuff there plenty of times during the heyday of the Flock. It was good money, and what passed for law on the Isle had its hands full. These days, though, that's all history. Nobody goes without leaving a trail."
The hooded figure slammed a closed fist onto the table, drawing the attention of the barkeep and a few of the patrons. The half-krolvin made a lightning quick movement to grasp the hilt of his belt knife, but did not draw it.
"There has to be a way," the figure insisted.
The half-krolvin shrugged carelessly. "Maybe there is. If there is, though, I don't know it, and neither do any of my crew. Even if ye stole one from someone with access, their trinket could still be tracked, especially once it was reported. And if ye were somehow able to get one from the Chronomages directly, they would still be able to trace it back to ye with little effort. And you can't sail or fly there, since nobody knows where it is."
"So where does this leave me?" the figure demanded.
"Looking for a comfortable bed for the night?" suggested the half-krolvin, rising from his seat. "I hear it's gonna be awful cold out there. Be sure not to catch a chill."
The figure slumped back in its seat with an explosive oath.
Greth
She was covered in blood. It was splattered across her face, pools of it collected in her closed eyes. There was no movement beneath those closed eyelids, and no sign of inhalation in her still chest. The terrible wound started just below her left ear, deep enough to reveal bone, and traversed the rent flesh to her sternum in a jagged arc. No blood actively flowed from the wound, but she lay in a huge puddle of the stuff, already turning coppery at the edges.
Above her form, on the wall, were words scrawled in what appeared to be her own blood.
"You Failed Again"
"ZOFIYA!" Greth cried as he woke from a dead sleep, the image of the nightmare etched in his mind's eye.