† Kohryn †
Sari's tavern had a grand appearance for being in the middle of nowhere. A relic from before the great Ipahnish revolution, it held the architecture of an empire long gone. Three stories high it perched on the steep of the mountain, its emerald stained walls watching over the valley. A tiled roof was made of old blackened stained clay from factories that no longer ran and wrought iron balconies dotted its exterior.
Late blooms fell from flowering bushes that crept around the building and framed a patio. Kohryn clenched her teeth and kept her eyes trained down as chatter filled the air from people seated at the outdoor tables and benches. She could feel the curious interest growing as more of the tavern goers spotted the odd pair.
Mikhail hummed as he unloaded the cart, handing her one of the baskets. Around them wagons lined between trees and in clearings, parked with oxen and horses tethered to their sides. Travelers slowly filling up the tavern.
Kohryn quickly took the bread, thankful to have something to hide behind. She usually brought the deliveries up the mountain. The tavern, Pine Butcher, and ten houses total she'd drop bread off to. At the houses she'd leave the bread on the doorstep and quickly run off after a sharp knock. The tavern kitchen and the butcher both had back doors, out of the eye of customers and much more comfortable for her.
Here in the front she felt exposed and watched. Surely Mikhail knew about the door in the back, next to the kitchen. It was more convenient than dragging baskets through the dining hall. Or perhaps he was dragging her through the crowd on purpose.
He tossed back one of his puppy dog grins as his long legs carried him up the stairs. A group of giggling women in loose chiffon and dangling beaded jewelry piled out the door as he approached. Their cheeks flushing and fans appearing from bustiers to cool their faces. They stepped to the side and gestured him through the doors with lewd looks and bitten lips.
Kohryn hid behind the basket as they passed and then slipped inside.
Despite the chilly air of the high altitude, the dining area was warm and inviting. The walls were washed in deep maroon and clay, aglow in hues of violet and blue, as plasma crystals charged arcs of light in hanging metal cages. An old miner named Fern, who lived on the mountain, played lazy tunes from a lute in the corner. A few more patrons than usual crowded into booths and tables, the air filled with soft chatter and Ferns melodies. It was warm and inviting. A place of gatherings, hot meals, chilled ale, smooth liquors, and warm beds.
Juicy and hearty smells of stews and potatoes wafted from the kitchen in the far eastern corner. The mouthwatering scents mixed with that of fresh bread and Kohryn's stomach let out a little growl that no one heard.
Sari, the tavern's namesake, was a curvy woman with apple cheeks and a dazzling smile, who currently stood at one of the tables taking an order from a regular.
Kohryn caught the end of his lengthy preparation request as Mikhail waved to the tavern owner, pointing at the basket he balanced in one arm. At the sight of the tanned blonde man the eccentric Sari immediately abandoned the regular, the rest of his order falling on deaf ears.
"Mikhail!" If there was one thing about her that everyone knew, it was that she absolutely adored beautiful men. Something she wasn't shy about at all. And Mikhail was the perfect target of her affections.
"Good evening, Miss Sari." Mikhail replied ever friendly, "I have tonight's delivery for you."
"I told you you can just call me Sari. No need to be formal." She blushed and playfully swatted at the air before directing him with a finger, "You can take the delivery back to the kitchen as usual."
With a quick nod Mikhail made his way back. Sari watched after him, admiring his graceful footsteps as we wound his way through tables. An airy blouse and skirts artfully layered over tight pants swayed around him—quite different and a little more provocative than the standard Ipahnish garb.
"Oh the great spirits surely blessed that man." She breathily sighed addressing no one in particular.
"I didn't know Mikhail was blessed by great spirits?" Oblivious to the meaning of Sari's words. Kohryn knew of the 'great spirits', old elementals that had survived in the godweak lands. Often worshiped by niche groups and a growing number of eccentric and expressive women.
The tavern owner yelped, drawing the attention of quite a few patrons. Sari turned towards the familiar voice. "Good gods, you scared me. I didn't hear you come in."
"I'm sorry." Kohryn apologized, doing her best to stay behind the basket, starkly aware of the growing number of eyes on them. "I'm helping out Mikhail tonight. Shall I take this back to the kitchen as well?"
"No need. You can just set it here." Sari waved one hand and pointed at the ground with the other. She was among some of the few villagers who weren't distressed by Kohryn's presence. But she had also spent a good deal of time with Sari as a child when her father helped Lars remodel the building, so it had given her time to become accustomed to the strange woman. Or as accustomed as one could be. "I like watching Mikhail work." She wiggled her eyebrows with devious suggestion.
Korin bobbed her head, wishing Sari had told her just to take it to the back. She was regretting offering to help Mikhail out, but it felt rude not to. She set the basket down and felt the weight of the stares itch across her skin with nothing to hide behind.
"Actually, I'm a bit relieved you showed up tonight." Sari's face contorted apologetically before pointing towards the back corner where a bar lined the wall. "Samhir passed out here again."
Sat on one of the stools, hunched over, face buried in his arms was Kohryn's father. A few empty liquor bottles glumly sat around him. A shot glass rested on its side, the remainder of the contents spilled on the bar and soaking into the sleeve of his sweater.
"You know I'd usually just have Lars take him up to an empty room. But a merchant convoy is to arrive in a few days and some early birds have taken all the extra space." Lars, Sari's older brother and the only cook at the tavern could be seen fluttering about steaming pots and pans through saloon doors. Mikhail was unloading the baskets and dodging the frantic man.
Kohryn's attention turned back to her father and she stared at him for a second then bowed to Sari. "My deepest apologies. I can't thank you enough for the kindness you show him. If there is any way I can compensate you, please let me know."
For a moment Sari was taken aback. It was very rare to hear the quiet women speak so much and with such conviction.
The tavern owner shook her head. "Please, there is no need for all that. Samhir usually does so much to help out with the tavern, I mean he practically built this place! It's really not a problem at all."
"Regardless, you have my appreciation for taking care of him." It was unsaid whether or not her thanks had value among her community but she offered it anyway with another polite bow.
Kohryn made her way over to her father, passing staring diners as she went.
"That's the kid I was telling you about." A familiar face prattled on. It was Sven, Anise's husband. "Just being in her presence always gives me the heebie-jeebies."
The tavern wasn't large or loud enough to eat Sven's words and they continued to grace her ears as she shook her father awake.
"She was in a coma for months after she went missing in the forest. Then, when she woke up, the girl just wasn't the same anymore. Them fancy doctors in the capital said she 'prolly got brain damage, but it didn't really explain why she became so creepy." Sven eyebrows shot up and he took a giant drink from his mug, foam spilling into a rusting beard.
Kohryn's father grumbled as she pulled him to his feet.
Throwing his arm across her shoulders they began to stumble towards the exit. He walked like a noodle trying to slip to the floor. She stumbled as she tried to keep hold of him. "Walk straight, Dad. Or else we're gonna fall over." She ordered.
"The council and the elders confined her to the mountain above the bridge." Sven kept talking despite the daughter father duo that slowly made their way towards him. "Soon enough most everyone in the village began to avoid her and the mountain entirely. Even people who knew her family suddenly wouldn't go anywhere near them."
Samhir threw his head back, his gait slowing and his eyes narrowed at the other man.
"Just leave it be, dad." She tried to continue to drag him away but Samhir dug his heels into the floor coming to a stop.
"Even the girls own mother-"
Sven was abruptly cut off by the sound of Samhir loudly clearing his throat. His stumbling intoxication morphing into a drunken anger. "What are we talking about, Sven of Harus?" He clipped through clenched teeth.
Sven, son of Harus, began to visibly sweat. "Oh ya know. Just chit chatting with my new friend here." He nervously laughed in an attempt to brush past his indiscretions.
"Chit chatting?" Samhir clipped loudly, drawing more attention to the group. "So I supposed some good chit chat with a stranger would be on the topic Anise." His eyebrows pinched up mockingly, "Yeah! That loud mouth wife of yours! Let's talk about how she has been going around lifting her skirts- "
"Woah, woah, woah!" Sven quickly interceded. Looking like a melting candle as his complexion paled. It was known that Anise was of a more promiscuous nature and recently that nature was making itself prolific in the village. Though monogamy wasn't broadly practiced among the Ipahnish, such apparent wanton behavior as Anise had displayed was considered malicious and taboo. People spoke about marital troubles between the two. When the topic turned towards his own less than savory affairs apparently Sven didn't enjoy the gossip.
"It must be Lars' new batch a' brew." Sven meekly held up his mug of half drunken ale. "Strong batch, this one. Got my lips a little loose."
Samhir swiped the mug away, ale sloshing about, and placed the drink on the table with a heavy thunk. Veins flexed and popped along his hand as he pointed a rigid finger in the other man's face. "I don't give a damn if it's the liquors of Seval that had you feeling chit chatty. When you're in the presence of my daughter I suggest you tighten up those loose lips. Don't want something bad happening to the slimy tongue of yours-"
.
Kohryn stood off to the side as her father delivered his violent promises to their fellow villager. She knew at this point there was no pulling him away. Sven already had a sour history with Samhir and had just brought up his wife. He would be lucky to escape the situation with a verbal lashing alone. Her father had traded firsts with the man for less before.
Across the room she met Mikhail's green eyes and she could see the curiosity and thoughts behind them.
And it mirrored all of those around him.
Her throat tightened and she dropped her gaze to the floor
Instead she took notice of how the floor swelled beneath the booth from years of spilt beer. How Lars' new brew smelt like the apricots in season all across Ipahn at the moment. And how, out of the corner of her eye she could see Sven's companion studying her through hooded sky blue eyes.
____________________________________________________________________________________
† Mikhail †
Crrreak.
Creeeak.
Mikhail winced as another splintering whine sounded through the empty house. He was a master of sneaking but this old house with its worn wooden floors seemed determined to give away his presence.
His foot came down with another groan from the floor and he whipped his head around anticipating to be caught. When a moment passed he let out a sigh. He took another step towards his bedroom.
"So you have been avoiding me." A cold voice confirmed from the darkness to his right.
Mikhail jumped as his aunt emerged from the shadows, a deep scowl etched into her face. Their familial relation was undeniable. She possessed the same golden hair, tanned skin, and green eyes as he and every other blood born member of the house of Maaroi.
He had indeed been avoiding the woman.
Amelia was sent with him in order to supervise and report to her sister (his mother) on his progress with his mission. She was his favorite family member but his mother had begun to become increasingly impatient in their correspondence and thus his aunt had no choice but to harass him for further updates.
"Noooooooo-" He had no desire to discuss these matters yet, so Mikhail did what he did best. He summoned his magic and his skin crackled and popped and bones bloomed from its smolder as he disappeared into a ball of smoke.
It was his favorite emergency exit strategy and always gave him a little giggle. A fun little trick of a body sloshing away and leaving its inner frame behind. A fun little visual trick of turning into a skeleton. Taught to him by a shady mercenary on one of his brothers ships. The first time he'd mastered it, he played the mean little trick on his mother. The steely and hardened Margrave Maaroi's wail had been so immediate and gut wrenching that Mikhail had instantly reappeared, guilt ridden and trying to comfort his mother. She beat him through the castle with everything she could grab as she chased him through the halls.
However it t wasn't a new trick to Amelia who growled and lashed out at the skeleton. Bones exploded in every direction from the force, flying through the air and shattering into smoke where they crashed into surfaces.
"Damnit Mikhail!" Amelia typically found much amusement in her nephew's pranks, evening joining in here in there. But it was rather infuriating to be on the receiving end of his trickery.
.
He rematerialized in his own room. It was bare except for a simple bed, a nightstand, and an old wardrobe. In most villages one could find vacant houses with simple furnishing for the use of long term visitors.
He flopped onto his bed with a deep sight and sunk into the down of the surprising comfortable mattress.
His mother wanted an update on his progress and he'd been ignoring her for the last moon. She'd been getting more and more pushy lately. He could feel her becoming desperate, hear it in her agitated voice and how she complained about the Eenoans. They were pushing further into the disputed territories and she was certain he was going to find something to defeat them.
But his search had been fruitless thus far, and he was still unsure of what exactly was going on with Kohryn and the small village. So later once he felt ready, she would appear in the waters of the looking well and he would give the same news; no news. Then she would berate him for his incompetence. Nag him for being incapable, question whether he was demonborn or not, and wish he was more like his brother. She was hungry for his success, just like she had been with Lucien, and eager to find what the seers kept repeating.
It was exhausting.
He rolled onto his side, dug into the inner satchel he wore strapped beneath his shirt, and pulled forth a small stack of cards. They'd been received from seers and fortune tellers all across the Enora. Each card part of a different collection. Some had simple designs of flowers or clouds while others were more complex- featuring ornate weaving, dragons, birds, and sigils, and runes. All of them had one thing in common, an eight-spoke wheel.
The last card he pulled sat right on top, His thumb ran across its embossed surface and he was sucked into its memories,
~Seval—two moons prior~
A briny ocean breeze wafted through open curtains. It was the signature smell of the city state of Aribram, named so for more than a thousand years. It'd recently seen a massive increase in the export of fruit and sugar and its streets and docks were brimming with activity. Known for its fruity liquors, rums and pristine beaches, the southern continent was usually lively and it had treated him very well the last few months.
He was laid in his bed, partially intoxicated in the afternoon sun. The mousy hair of his current companion swirled around as she let out a shrill giggle. She was jiggly and quick to sing out peals of laughter, good natured and around for a good time. Half naked and seated on Mikhails' hips she swatted at his wandering hands. "Okay, okay," she said, breathily recovering her composure. He's been tickling her, the demon in him eagerly feasting on her breathlessness and light. "Seriously this time!"
She raised her left hand oracle cards held out in exaggeration. The cards took on a soft light, slipped from between her fingers to float in the air. Their glowing surfaces split apart and they began to twirl in an entrancing dance. A rhythmic little swinging and circling flux of magic often performed by oracles. Part of the thrill always in the performance.
Then they were returning to her palm, stacking themselves in uniformity until all but one remained. Mikhail was already fairly certain which one it was. The same card every seer had pulled for the last year. Sure enough, the card was as he thought. Flipped towards him, ornate, and decorated in ribbons and gold, were two dragons clinging to each side of a spinning wheel. Above it in old Lysai script read, 'Wheel of Fate'.
The card began to animate, the ribbons slithered like snakes, the dragons opened and closed their maws and released the wheel as it began to spin.
A lush ribbon of thick, velvety light shot forward and saturated the room in a deep pink.. A woman formed from the mirage dressed in layers of silk skirts that sashayed in the breeze. Her incredibly dark hair floated around her as if she were under water. A face, indistinguishable and blurred stared down at him with large eyes.
"Woah." The seer sighed.
.
The apparition glided forward, taking Mikhail by the face then pressed an airy mouth to his in a deep kiss. It was forceful enough that it parted his lips and air played with his tongue. He had seen the woman a couple times before in his readings, but never had she interacted with him in such an intimate manner. For a brief moment his eyes widened in surprise before he subconsciously relaxed into the familiarity of her lips. They were cool, like a shaded cave on a sweltering day, crisp and wet, a haven from the heat.
CRACK!
The apparition coiled and disappeared when a hand shot forward to deliver a powerful smack to Mikhail's cheek.
"What in the hells!" His companion seethed having been momentarily forgotten by him.
He held his face, his words failing him as she left from her position. He couldn't really defend himself, so he watched her leave; gathering her clothes and stomping from his bedroom. She'd been so fun and he was a bit disappointed at her departure, but not enough to chase her down.