After Session 20 Season 6 Prax
Back in New Pavis, Varanis has planted herself next to the hearth at Geo’s. She’s got her back to the wall and is keeping a wary eye on the room.
From the door comes a complaint in a well-bred voice. “I fail to see why you insist on failure, but… ah, here we are. I shall have a mulled wine. Call on me when it is ready.”
Berra walks in as a cloud of smoke dissipates behind her, like there was a spirit there and it is gone. She steps to one side of the door to look around the room without getting too far in.
The common room is occupied by scattered groups of various sorts. Some are locals, though others have the look of winter-worn travellers. As is usual, there are a lot of Orlanthi about the place (and not a single Uroxi). Varanis has set herself apart from the room, but she waves at Berra when she catches the Humakti’s gaze.
Berra raises a hand, and by habit checks out the rest of the room, but she is already on her way to her friend’s table. “Back, then.” She looks a little thinner, but only in the way that happens in cold winters. She needs feeding up.
“You’re not frozen to death. Means I don’t have to make good on my promise to burn the Count’s temple down around him,” is Varanis’ reply.
The Vingan summons the serving boy to ask for mulled wine and a platter of roasted meat.
Berra slides into a seat beside Varanis, so she too can watch the room. “I had Lord Raven, and then Maalira arrived, and then someone else arrived just in case, and then it got warmer.” She considers. “I think Count Vega might end up confused about what happened. I – we – wasn’t particularly pleased to see him.”
Varanis arches a brow at the mention of Vega and gestures for Berra to continue.
Berra sighs. “I was looking at Inora’s cloak – the colours in the sky. I’d never seen anything like it. But Maalira was cold, so she needed to go in, and a Yelmalian had found our hut. Hacedon Goldbreath. He said that Vega had not sent him, but she knew he was coming. I don’t know if he set off from New Pavis – I guess so, because otherwise I don’t think a message could have got to the Sun Dome, but I’m not actually quite sure where it is… and so I had to be his host, and I missed the lights. Most of them, anyhow. But he tried to be good about not being wanted.”
“We saw Inora’s cloak too. And … spirits. Too many spirits. Sorry, Dezar. And Lord Raven too, if you’re listening. Too many fucking spirits.”
After the mulled wine arrives, Varanis takes a sip. With Berra at her side, some of her wariness eases and she allows herself to stare at the wine for too long, as if she’s looking for something in the dark liquid. “I’m glad Maalira found you. I was worried.”
Next to Berra a dark figure begins to form. She pushes a cup that way.
“I could turn into a wolf,” Berra points out. “They have fur coats.”
Lord Raven gives Berra a dark look, in all senses. A couple of people at nearby tables make signs against evil, and he ignores them.
“Turn into a wolf?” Varanis asks, looking back and forth between them.
Berra reminds her gently, “Like I learned to do from Humakt.”
“A fur coat is not arrow-proof,” Lord Raven murmurs, and takes an appreciative sip of his wine.
“I don’t think I fully understood that you could do that on purpose. By choice.” Varanis chews on the thought. “Dezar objects.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, I can. But I don’t yet know how it would be useful to be that instead of being me.” Berra scowls slightly. “Except maybe for keeping warm.”
“Do you know any of what’s happened to us since you were sent out? And why you were sent where you were?”
Berra takes a deep breath. “I reckon someone did something to bring back Storm Bull, because we felt it get warm, so maybe that was Hanafa? Hafana? And maybe you? And I got sent out there so if I died it wouldn’t be Belvani’s fault, but I’d still be dead. I’m gonna be patrolling the city late at night, which is going to be fun once word gets out.” She shrugs and reaches for the meat platter as it arrives, checking with the server there are no herbs or vegetables before she tucks in.
“He tried to use you to manipulate me,” Varanis tells her. “He implied that if I backed his claim, you could be made safer.”
There is a little nod. “It seemed to be going that way at the judgement, and then Lord Raven had a lot to say too.” Berra peers at the Wyter, who is ignoring everything else in favour of helping himself to food with the elegance of a very dark stork on the hunt for very slow fish.
“I’m sorry. I refused to bend, even though I knew it might break you.” Varanis scowls at a man who is looking their way and he turns away. “I couldn’t let him control me.”
“Nahnah. I wouldn’t have taken it if he’d threatened me like that. Why would anyone else make a choice like that for me. Although if anyone tries that on me with you, they may be eating their own spearhead, so you know.” Berra finds the small bowl of bread next to the plate of meat, and starts trying to eat while not getting her hands dirty. Two knives seems to be the way, and she has at least two on her.
“I certainly contemplated it, but to be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure I could kill him. And I still had a sentence to serve out here. If you’d died though… I don’t think the risk of losing would have mattered to me much.” Her voice is thick with emotion and her shoulders have begun to creep up towards her ears again.
“Hey hey.” Berra puts her hand up. “We’ve been in worse than this before. And the hot winds came back. Do we know what’s going to happen at the next Holy Day? I should let the Hero know.”
“I should tell you what happened with Valind, at the temple,” Varanis says quietly. She is still tense.
“Yeah, I know it got warmer again, with his wind.”
Despite himself, Lord Raven is looking interested. And politely hungry.
Varanis fills them in, but her version plays up the roles of the others and skims over herself. The true hero, of course, is the new high priest of Storm Bull. And Xenofos, because he made a hollri bend the knee.
Berra listens, and takes in the whole story, and nods. “Seems like you’ve been busy. I just got to stay in a tiny house for a while. Nobody attacked.” She seems almost wistful. “And we … you probably won, then. Well done?”
“The hollri was useful,” Varanis admits. “I’m told it took care of the eggs and maybe slowed me down when… I nearly killed them, Berra.” An undercurrent of guilt and fear is audible in the horrified whisper.
Berra takes a slow breath, and says what might be exactly the wrong thing. “We all fall short sometimes. We gotta keep going.”
Lord Raven manages not to wince. Much.
The Vingan’s tension ratchets up, but she doesn’t argue. “Of course.”
The Wyter opines, “Berra, you are not only short, but fell short there, as you say. Think about what you did.”
Berra gives him a surprised look, shading to astounded.
bleysrex: WE WERE NOT SHORT WERE WE?
Her companion winces. “I let myself be taken over by a Lunar spirit,” she whispers. “The was my weakness. I should have been able to fend them off. You taught me better, Lord Raven. I failed and it used me.”
He raises a scarred brow. “So you failed and things nearly went badly. What did you tell Lady Berra when that happened early in the season, and you saved her life at cost to yourself?”
Berra looks like someone has just thrown a bronze spike into an expensive mostali pump, all the more so because she did not expect the pump to be there. She is struggling to keep up.1varanis: ((Gah. Can’t remember. When did I save Berra and from what?))varanis: ((Oh was that the Telmori?))bleysrex: (( When the werewolf nearly … yes. DI clutch save. ))
Varanis stares at her cup. “Probably something about not being able to win everything. Or that we can’t let our failures eat us up.” She winces again. “Not that one. Unless I worded it differently. I can’t remember. It seems like a lifetime ago, not a season.”
“Mm. Shut up, Priest. And do you think it mere accident that Berra is here to listen to you today?” Lord Raven pauses with his wine halfway to his lips to listen all the more carefully.
“Well… no. We look after each other,” she says quietly.
“And if she were taken by a spirit – which I know she has been at least once before…?” Now he drinks.
Berra is recovering, but is now being quiet.
“I would say that sometimes bad shit happened and even the best of us can’t defeat everything,” she murmurs.
Lord Raven nods, like he was sure that was going to be the answer, but one thing still puzzles him. “Now, were your companions angry? Upset? Need we defend you from them?” He does innocent questions so well.
Berra, infantry, just starts eating again.
“No one was angry but me,” Varanis acknowledges reluctantly.
“Hmm. Well, no doubt you know best.” He looks down at his cup and then offers it to Varanis as if changing the subject after being defeated in debate.
She has a cup of her own, but takes the moment to refill both. “Thank you,” she tells him.
He smiles, and tries more wine. “I admit to a touch of pride. The best people have it. Do you know it is nearly the end of Dark Season?” For a moment his voice is almost wistful. Berra looks at him and pauses in eating, but does not break in.
“It is,” Varanis replies softly. “Which means it’s nearly Storm Season and my daughter will have seen another year.” A year without the presence of the Vingan who carried her. “I feel closest to the gods in Storm Season,” she admits after a moment. “I know it’s supposed to be Sacred Time for that, but in Sacred Time I feel the ties that bind me to my people more – tugging me in different directions. Who I should be. Who I should serve. Duty sits heavily in Sacred Time. But in Storm Season, I hear Orlanth and Vinga calling me to dance, and fight, and sing, and fuck, and drink, and fly, and…” She gestures vaguely across the inn where a pair of Orlanthi look as if they might erupt into an argument across a board game.
It looks like the Wyter was going to say something, but he falls silent to listen, and merely nods as Varanis talks of duty. “We will go back,” he tells her, as he begins to fade. His last words are for Berra. “You communicate best with your mouth closed. Stay quiet a little.”
She gives him a glare that has no venom in it, and keeps chewing.
Varanis sips her wine in silence for a long time, letting Berra eat her fill. Finally she says, “He has an annoying tendency to be right.”
Berra swallows. “He’s been looking forward to talking to people again.”
“But he’ll be less active when the season changes, won’t he?”
“He’s got to stick to darkness, yeah. He still gets about, but he likes to see the sun.” Berra makes sure not to be touching her sword as she speaks, going so far as to look down that way and move her arm just in case.
“It must be hard for him,” Varanis muses. If it’s odd to think about the mental wellbeing of a spirit, Varanis doesn’t care. He’s her friend, of a sort, and she holds close those she loves.
“I … yeah. Oh, right, yeah I get why he told me to shut up. Because I was going to talk about him being stuck out here with us.” Berra nods, and gives the sword a respectful look. “Sometimes I kinda wish he didn’t know me that much.”
“Oh. Is that what he was unhappy about?” Varanis looks at Berra, then back at her cup.2 ((Insight: She’s not sure she agrees, but doesn’t really want to risk an argument.))
Berra considers for a moment and then says, “I think so? Why?” She is lightly reaching for more bread. She might need to be carried up the stairs carefully.
The Vingan just shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s fine.”
“You say that when… ah, y’know what, it’s not a big thing. You’re not here guarding the… you’re here, not guarding the Temple?”3varanis: ((Are we off the hook? Or am I likely just on an afternoon off? Varanis would know, whereas I forgot.))bleysrex: (( Hanafa would have said to talk to her before the High Holy Day, and that would be it. ))
“I’ll be going up to check in with Hanafa, but for the moment, I’ve got some downtime. What about you? Is the Count busy trying to come up with a new way to kill you off?”
“I think he already has, although it’s not as bad as winter. On duty in the city. Night patrol.” Berra shrugs. “I don’t think anyone who knew the Storm Bulls will be much trouble, but the ones who are might try for me.”
Varanis growls under her breath. “I doubt any of them could be a match for you, if they fight fair. But be alert for assassins. We already know this city has enough of them lurking. No one has made a run for me or Xenofos yet, but I would not be surprised if it happened eventually.”
“Yeah. That’s my big worry. I’m going to be away from you – I have been away from you – and you might be used to … no, wait, the other one. I might be used to get you in the open.” Berra wrinkles her nose, thinking.
- 1varanis: ((Gah. Can’t remember. When did I save Berra and from what?))varanis: ((Oh was that the Telmori?))bleysrex: (( When the werewolf nearly … yes. DI clutch save. ))
- 2((Insight: She’s not sure she agrees, but doesn’t really want to risk an argument.))
- 3varanis: ((Are we off the hook? Or am I likely just on an afternoon off? Varanis would know, whereas I forgot.))bleysrex: (( Hanafa would have said to talk to her before the High Holy Day, and that would be it. ))
