Little Love Lost

The Risen Aye
The air around you seems thick and cloying. Musty smells (that you cannot quite identify, and might not want to) assail your nostrils. Through the haze you can make out a door near the back with a rather heavily armed and seedy looking man standing next to it. Men go in and out at regular intervals after a small cash transaction.
Light filters down through the wooden rafters from windows high up in the ceiling creating a smokey twilight effect. Off duty Easterling soldiers lounge around in the corners, at tables, and anywhere else they can fit, gambling and playing drinking games.

Contents:
Caitlin
Lok'Mod

Lok'Mod blinks slowly and sets his mug upon the bar watching as another person emerges from the back room...

Caitlin sets the tray on top of the bar. Wiping her hands on the side of one of the soaked clothes. She looks up to see the other man's reaction and glances back over her shoulder. Her spine stiffens and she turns her back once more...

Xirith appears in the doorway to the back room, a beaten, pathetic figure leaning on the door frame. His pale face is ashen and skull-like. His leg, arm, and shoulder are wrapped in bandages and along his forehead is a deep gash.

Lok'Mod raises an eyebrow at this odd couple coming out of the back room, then takes a slow draught from his ale...

The albino staggers his way into the room, barely making it to a table. He lurches into a chair, his face wet with sweat from the effort and his breath heavy. "Caitlin," he croaks from his dry lips.

Caitlin begins taken the rags from the tray, tossing them behind the bar. Before lifting the tray and roughly placing it in the hands of the bar keep. Her eyes narrow slightly as she takes in Xirith, "What do you think you are doing?"

Lok'Mod can't help but turn a little on his stool to continue watch the little show, setting his ale on his thigh, curiously looking at the couple..

Xirith grunts, "I cannot stay in bed forever." He rubs his leg gently, gritting his teeth. "Fetch me some wine for the pain, will you?" His other hand grips the arm of the wooden chair tightly, knuckles straining.

Caitlin stands still in her tracks, "You got yourself that far you can get your own wine."

Lok'Mod takes a draught from his ale and smirks a little.

Awrilth comes in from the street.

Awrilth has arrived.

Xirith glares at her for a long moment, then calls out for a wine to be brought to him. "And quickly."

Awrilth walks in and and quickly turns backing away.

Awrilth has left.

Xirith's dark pink eyes fly to the door in a panic as he spies his attacker and his hand drops below the tabletop to clutch frantically at his sword. But as the man leaves, his brow furrows and he looks over to Caitlin, his pale face a question mark. A white eyebrow angled.

Lok'Mod drops his hand to this scimitar quickly at the mans' sudden movement, then relaxes as the situation resolves itself just as quickly, he looks confused at this, and orders another ale.

Caitlin breathes out, and turns back to the bar. She nods her head to the other patron, blatantly avoiding dealing with Xirith.

Lok'Mod nods to the woman, grabbing his next ale.

The barkeep walks towards the albino, glass of wine before him. Xirith taps the table and the man places the wine down. "I thank you," the wounded man says and hands the barkeep a coin with a trembling hand. He then picks up the glass with both hands and drinks, some of the red wine dribbling ont his chin, which he wipes off with the back of his hand.

Caitlin lifts her eyes to those of the stranger. She smiles slightly, "Yours is a face I have not seen here before..."

Xirith sighs in satisfaction, the wine bringing a bit of color back into his face. He takes another swallow of the burgundy fluid--its color the same as the dried blood on the albino's scalp--watching Caitlin talk to the man over the rim of the glass as he drinks.

Lok'Mod bows his head slightly at the woman, "Nor have I seen yours." his full attention now upon her.

Caitlin smirks as she smoothes a stray lock behind her ear, "Business has kept me away, but I have returned.." she glances up into his eyes, "I assume tis the same for you?"

Lok'Mod stares at the young woman, his face impassive, "Business bring me here, not away."

Lok'Mod looks her over slowly, then takes a drink.

Xirith licks the wine from his lips and swirls the remainder in his glass, watching the two with growing annoyance at his being snubbed. He shifts in his chair, grunting at the stabs of pain this causes him.

Caitlin turns, resting her arms on the bar, her back leaning against it. Her eyes alighting on Xirith, as she keeps her conversation going with Lok'Mod, "Business dealings in this town...you must be either a brave man...or looking for death..."

Lok'Mod laughs deeply at your words.

Tibo comes out of the backroom, rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms out.

Xirith calls over to the man in his reedy voice, "Dealing with the lady there is looking for death, for certain." He gestures to his wounds. "See where it can lead ye!" He looks over his shoulder. "Ah Tibo. Just in time to fetch me another wine." He drains his glass.

Lok'Mod finishes laughing with a smile upon his face, "This village is as safe as my mothers yurt."

Caitlin sighs as Xirith calls out, "You begin to talk like an old man Xirith..." She turns her back on those in the bar, "And I grow tired of it..." She stares at the back wall behind the barkeep, calling for an ale...

Tibo smiles and nods, then he walks over to the bar and orders a pitcher of wine from the barkeep. When he gets the pitcher he walks over to Xirith and pours him a full glass. While he is pouring the wine he looks at Xirith and smiles "I'm happy to see you are feeling better today, Sir."

Lok'Mod look over at the wounded man at his words, but says nothing, looking back to the woman, takings a draught from his ale.

After pouring the wine Tibo puts down the pitcher on the table and he takes a few steps back before he goes to sit at a nearby table.

Caitlin slaps a few coins down on the bar counter as she accepts the ale. Lifting it to her lips she drinks from it heavily. A dark look growing over her face, as she hears Tibo's words....

Still smiling the man asks the woman,"What is so dangerous about this little village?

Xirith ignores Caitlin, simply pursing his lips and mumbling, "Tis you who are making me old" as he turns to Tibo and looks at him askew. "A pitcher of wine? Hmm, well, if I must." He looks around with his nose upturned. "I cannot expect much in an establishment such as this." He drinks and makes a slight face. "Yes, Tibo, I am better. The wound on my leg still pains me something fierce though. But I will live."

Caitlin lifts her mug of ale, staring into its depths, "You should have died...."

Tibo says, "Well, I'm sure the wine will take the sting out off it, Sir"

Xirith lifts his glass and swallows. "My thoughts exactly." He glares at Caitlin, his mouth pressed into a line straight line, his eyes hurling daggers her way.

Caitlin straightens and turns once more, actually bringing herself closer to the stranger and facing out to watch Xirith, "You know I would be willing to comply..." Her tongue slides out and wets her lips, "Far be it from me to keep a man living who would rather be fodder for his own kind..."

Lok'Mod watches the woman closely, his smile evaporating, his hand slipping down to the hilt of his scimitar as she gets closer..watching her hands.

Tibo gets up from his seat and walks up to the bar to get himself a beer.

Xirith looks at her for a long moment, then shakes his head in amusement, chuckling a bit. "Lady Caitlin, you have a personality like a flawed gemstone turning in the light. A bit of a twist always brings an ugly glint to light." He lifts his glass for another drink.

Caitlin tilts her head back in a chuckle. She lifts her ale in salute towards Xirith, "Just do not look to closely, for what you may see is your own reflection." Her mug lowers, "Such a pain that might give..."

Seeing Xirith raise his glass, Tibo walks over to the table, putting his glass down at his table. There he takes the pitcher and fills the glass again.

Lok'Mod continues to keep his eyes locked upon the woman, his face is a rock, he idly listens to the conversation but his hand is firmly upon the hilt of his scimitar.

"Always the dutiful servant, Tibo. I thank you," Xirith says. He turns back to Caitlin and says with all seriousness. "I have always like seeing myself in you. It is your best quality."

After putting the half full pitcher down on the table Tibo walks back to his table, paying no attention to the stranger or the girl.

Green eyes flash as Xirith hits the target he intended. Ale splatters the air as she hurls her mug towards him. Her lips curls back in a smirk, "Don't tempt me, bastard." She takes a step forward watching....

Halfway back to his table Tibo turns on his heels at the woman's scream and looks at the table.

Lok'Mod stands from his stool, and move back away from the woman, down the bar farther, his feet apart a little, watching the situation calmly..

The mug sails over Tibo's head and clips the albino on his wounded shoulder, causing him to howl and gnash his teeth. Beer splashes on him, soaking his black cloak. Xirith tries to rise from his seat, but his wounded leg has stiffened and he cannot. So he shakes his fist at her. "You insane wench!" he calls out, his other hand clutching his shoulder. "You spend three days putting me together and now you try to tear me apart again!"

Tibo ducks as the mug sails over him, then at Xirith's scream he turns towards him and sees the mug hit.

Caitlin crosses the room, stopping at Xirith's table she places her hands down and leans forward. Her braid spills over her shoulder as she faces him, "You just remember that, Xirith." His name comes from her lips like a hiss, "When you are well and you take aim to hurt me again...you remember this..." She reaches forward, nudging his wounded shoulder, "I'm not like you."

Xirith grabs her wrist forcefully after she prods the wound. "You only think you are not like me," he says, pulling her so that her face is inches from his. "You mighty folk of Dale, you famed dragon slayers. So superior. You turn from the dark because you dare not look into it," he hisses. His breath is the scent of red wine. "Did you not know that when you battle monsters, you risk becoming one?" He gives her a painful twist of the wrist before releasing her.

Tibo looks shocked at Caitlin's reaction.

Lok'Mod sits down at the closest stool, as the woman walks away watching the interactions of the patrons.

After Xirith releases Caitlin, Tibo walks over to Xirith and says "Permit me Sir, I will have that cloak cleaned Sir."

Xirith shrugs out of his cloak and hands it to Tibo with some difficulty. "Take it," he barks. "It is soaked now. Ale is probably in the wound. Find me some fresh bandages as well!"

Tibo bows and says "Immediately Sir."

Tibo takes the coat, folds it and then he walks out of the bar.

Rubbing her wrist, the red and white finger marks the albino left begin to fade. Dripping her finger into his wine, she runs it over his lips in a slow smooth, sensuous caress. A slow smile spreads over her lips, "Yet what you offer is to become a slave..." Her light touch becomes harsh as she drags her nail over his lip, "I refuse to become under the will of another the way you have with your master."

Lok'Mod takes a drink from his ale, finishing it he orders another from the barkeep, tossing a few coins upon the bar, still watching the others curiously.

The albino's pink eyes sweep over the bar at the mention of his master then return to her face. He strikes her hand away feebly, the strain of arguing in his wounded condition showing in the furrow of his brow. "Slavery you say," he says. "Are you not a slave to King Brand then? His little fiefdom in the north. It shall not be a haven for long. Then you shall know what true slavery is, Caitlin. You and all who resist the inevitable." He wipes the blood from her scratch to his lips with his fingertips. "Then those who you now call slaves shall be the masters." His dimmed eyes flash bright again for a moment, then a cough wracks him.

Lok'Mod smiles at the man's words, taking a drink.

Xirith looks to the man over Caitlin's shoulder and meets his eye, nodding in acknowledgment. He takes another swallow of the wine to help his cough.

Lok'Mod tips his mug to the man chuckling a little as he does so, evidently finding things amusing in his own way.

Caitlin straightens as she reaches for a cloth from Tibo's table. Tossing it at Xirith she watches him. Her eyes have gone from fiery temper, to cold disinterest. "You do not understand one thing. I will kill you and me before that day, -if- that day ever arrives. I would rather lay body down as a feast to carrion hunters." Her fingers move to her throat, tracing the outlines of the pendent hanging there, "You are not as faithful to your master as you lay claim Xirith...You know I will not fall under your sway and yet you keep me about when I am sure the orders have been to see me and mine dead..." She tilts her head as a smile flits to her face, "You are not as strong as you think..."

Xirith looks distainfully at the cloth, then his eyes narrow and sharpen. His voice becomes a strangled snarl and he leans forward, a fist landing with a thump on the rickety table. "How dare you question my loyalty! You--who have never been loyal to anything but your own hide." He picks up the cloth and coughs into it, his body trembling. He looks up when finished, his lip curled. "If you think my master cares a whit for a gutter snipe like yourself, you flatter yourself and are sadly mistaken. If I care to keep a pet that amuses me, none will stop me." He takes a deep breath, winded.

A full smile now spreads over Caitlin's face as she gains a glimmer of hope from Xirith's words. Her fist comes down onto the table in delight, "You have proven that I am not like you!" She stands, her hands moving to her hips, "I am loyal! Or do you forget the parcel we have come here to deliver?" Her head rises as a feeling or worth once more fills her, "And it will never be more then my body you will possess...it will never be more then that, that your master possess of any one of my people!"

Lok'Mod looks away from the two, beginning a conversation with the barkeep..

The weakened albino rolls his eyes. "A very moving speech," he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I am so touched." He leans over and spits on the floor. He gestures to Lok'Mod. "You are losing your audience, Lady." He staggers to his feet with some effort, one hand clutching the edge of the table. "I myself need to go to the back and ponder your words, I am so bowled over." He snorts a laugh and propels himself towards the back room.

Caitlin closes here eyes as tears begin to form at their corners. She lowers herself into Xirith's vacated chair and does not even lift her head to watch him leave. Swallowing she speaks down towards the table, "I am going with her..."

Lok'Mod continues his conversation with the barkeep, motioning with his hands occasionally, speaking in the Easterling tongue.

Xirith stops for a moment as he reaches the door, hearing her words. He doesn't turn around but his body stiffens. He pauses and then he is gone, back into the room behind and darkness.