1629, Fire Season, Fertility Week, Waterday
Context
The day of Gunda’s death, with the Wolf Pirates fleeing Wilmskirk. Session SA5.10.
Events
Later in the evening, after the Cinderfox Fox household has begun to settle, Varanis goes hunting for Silor. She saw him last at dinner, when she’d been pouring him wine and discussing ways to redirect Yamia. He’d been summoned to deal with a crisis of some sort and she hasn’t had a chance to catch up with him since.
A crash nearby indicates that Hengrast is in the area, or something big has fallen over. The swearing begins low and works its way up. Lord Silor is apparently not amused by whatever just happened, and it was in the back courtyard.
Varanis follows the sound of the ruckus.
“… swiving son of a dog and a blind alynx, and…” Something happens to bring him to a halt, but at least she can follow where the voice was. The courtyard is empty other than Silor and a tangle of wood and wool.
Taking in the scene, Varanis arches a brow at the clan chief. Her expression has gone from worried to … well… she might be trying not to laugh.1Varanis fails Insight Human.
Silor shakes out his left hand like he pinched it in something, and then lets it fall, as he looks down at the mess. On hearing something he looks up – and directly away from Varanis. Whatever he heard, it was not her.2Fortunately, Silor fumbles Listen.
Getting herself under control, she asks, “May I be of service, my lord Silor?” She glances between him, the pile, and the direction he is peering.
Startled, he turns and manages to keep his feet and indeed his dignity. “Oh, Varaena.” He pronounces it like his brother does, but with less self-satisfaction. “No, unless you know how to put looms together.”
She winces. “I’m afraid not.”
She looks at the pile again. “We could try though?”3Varanis: how hard could it be?
“Then probably not, no. And you likely can’t get wolf pirate piss out of half a bed-covering either.” That would account for the odd smell as she gets closer. “But I’m told it’s possible. I said I’d bring in my wife’s loom…”
There’s a low growl. “Why th’fuck they’d do that?” When she swears in Heortling, she sounds a lot like a Colymar peasant. Someone should probably work on that with her one day.
“Close to the main gate. They got here pretty early on.” Silor sighs. “I think we have to get rid of the wool but some of it holds things together. I know that much. Aelna’s sleeping and I can’t ask her – she’s the wrong wife.”
If Silor cares about peasant language, he gives no sign of it. The blind alynx he was swearing by earlier also probably does not.
“Well… it’s probably just the bit that looks like cloth that needs removing,” she suggests, coming to get a closer look.
“It’s all one. I suppose someone can put the warp back on. They’ll have to.” Silor sighs, and then hiccoughs. “Damn. This job needs water and I need water. Maybe I’ll tell people I couldn’t find it.”
“C’mon,” the Vingan urges, reaching for one of the beams.4And passes POWx3 to avoid grabbing anything unpleasant. “Let’s at least get it out of the way so no one trips over it.”
Silor rocks slightly as he looks down at the pile of wood, then puts his hand out too late to stop Varanis from grabbing the beam. “It’s… it’s my problem. My wife’s thing.”
“I understand, Silor,” she tells him. “But, we’re Orlanthi. And you and I? In a way, we’re kin. So, let me help.”
“My job,” he says. “And my failure. I’ve been failing a lot lately.”
She sets the beam down and comes around so she’s facing him. “Your son married my cousin. You are therefore my kin.” Mentally playing with the Heortling for a moment, she finally comes out with, “Uncle Silor, let me help you. We all fail at times. Trust me, I’m a… craft master at it. But, I have been learning that not all the failures are mine alone or even mine to claim. And that fixing them often takes extra hearts and hands. Even Orlanth knew when he needed help.”5GM called for a Love (Family) to augment Orate. The Orate is a pass.
Silor pulls himself together a bit, although he says, “It gets harder every year now. You know, nobody’s going to trip over this, but I’d prefer to fail without having made a worse mess. Do you feel like another drink?” He still looks like a man who does not want to be sober right now. Despite that, sobriety may be creeping up on him.
She links an arm through his and steers him around the mess of the loom. “Let’s go raid your wine.”
He is in need of a little steering, but can still walk steadily. “I’ve done worse things for need, but getting piss on me for pride isn’t right. Let her other husband deal with it. We’ll see better by Yelm’s light.”
Silor is obviously used to walking without help, and seems slightly confused. Still, he knows how to get back to his room.
She wrinkles her nose at him. “How about you grab a fresh tunic or something while I pour us some wine.”
“I know when to take a hint.” He looks around his room, which currently has one unbroken stool and the promise of repair in some neatly stacked bits of furniture. His inner room has fared no better. “You’ll have to look for it under the floorboard to the right of the door. Stick your finger through the knot. There’s a gap that goes under.”
“Orlanth’s balls. They got all the way into your rooms,” she hisses. Following his instructions, she finds his wine cache and just takes the first one she lays her hand on. She glances around for an intact cup. Finding none, she shrugs, unstoppers the wine and tries a sip.
“They spent the better part of a day here, and the night,” he notes. “I was up in the air from early on, and then looking… I lost Rald, Varaena. My boy.” He comes back in without his tunic on, but with a night-shirt instead. Its excess length is tied up and knotted over his sword-belt.
“But you got him back,” she offers. “He’s a sturdy lad with a loving family, Uncle. Be patient with him and he’ll recover. He needs time.”
“He’ll perk up, I’m sure. I’ll think about … pass the wine.” He reaches a hand out. “When I’m like this, I’m useless. I’ll be better in the morning.”
She waves him to the stool, sinking to the floor beside it. Then she offers up the wine.
He sits down, and takes it, slugging back far too much, then handing it back. “Most of the furniture is broken but magic and glue will fix it. The soft furnishings we can buy again.”
Accepting, she takes a long pull of wine. Unwatered, it’s likely to hit hard, but that doesn’t seem to matter just now. She glances around at the tidied devastation and wordlessly hands the amphora back.
Silor’s sigh lets a lot of tension out of him. “I was … no. Enough. My kin is here, the cousin of my son’s wife. What can we do for each other?”
“You’re my uncle now,” Varanis decrees, reaching for the wine. “I have said so, so it must be true. Also… do you have words for Yamia? Or, for Venlar? I came to offer messenger services as I’m already offering escort ones.”
Although there are multiple ways to take her words, the Vingan seems entirely innocent of any alternative interpretations.
“Maybe ‘guard duty’. Silor shakes his head. “She knows all I have to say. But yes, tell her I love her. She’s dear to me. And to kiss Tamakt and tell him he is brave. Venlar is to look after his wife, but to be honest we can do with them both. It’s just that… Yamia right now would be hard to manage.”
She nods and hands back the wine, patting him on the knee when he takes it. “You’re a good man, Silor Cracks Rock. An’ a good father too. I wish my father were still around. You’d’ve liked him. An’ he you.”
“Wind Lords are all the same. Flattery. Younger every year, but you’re like a son to me too. You know I love Yamia, don’t you? She has such a wide heart.” He smiles at Varanis and then at the wine.
“Yamia is gorgeous an’ a fiend an’ probably one of the best warriors I’ve ever seen. Venlar’s so smart and wise he makes my head hurt sometimes. Hengrast is sweet and loving and funny…” She works her way through all of his children – a small army – and has words about each. “An’ they all have you as their father.”
“Their mothers are fine too. You know Aelna was prepared to believe in a rebel hiding in the hills with his war band? I was out of favour with the Lunars when I first met her.” Silor hands the wine back. “You said you would ask me about how I learned to set ambushes. It was all long ago, though. I’ve mostly given it up.” The chief seems more interested in talking about love than war.
“You are still formidable. I have fought under your command recently,” she points out. “But we can speak of other things if you wish. How fares the Tula?”
“I fell and my kin saved me,” he says, and this time shrugs it off. “Orlanth getting back up is important. The harvest looks like a little more than we can eat, but only by enough to sow. Our stores will not be creaking and complaining. And of course, there’s the Firebull… everything.”
Varanis offers up the wine after taking another mouthful. “I haven’t been back to Blue Tree in a while. I don’t know how the harvest has been. And then there’s my lands in Esrolia…” She sighs.
Silor matches the sound, and then drinks. “Sea Season in the Blue Tree was good,” he notes. “There’s some wheat planted and the spring greens have led to strong lambs. Yamia says the herds are not providing her with the horses she wants, but I think that is about her, not about health.”
“I want to be fighting for Sartar,” Varanis tells him suddenly, “an’ instead, I’m politickin’ for my king. An’ I shouldn’t resent it. She trusts me an’… and everything. But… politics. An’ then I went an’ got my arm chopped off by a pirate!” She shows him the scar left by the Humakti healing, which cuts right through the head of the serpent tattoo on her arm.
Silor leans down to put an arm around Varanis’ shoulder. “I can’t even chase after the fish-loving swine-swivers who broke into my house. You’re not doing so badly.”
“As soon as Farinst says he doesn’t need us anymore, I’m back to Whitewall for more politics. Tryin’ to help them get a king sorted. D’you know someone once tried to make me queen? Not really. They jus’ yelled about it a lot.” She looks up at him, patting the hand on her shoulder. “I’ll kill ‘em if I find ‘em. You have responsibilities here. Gotta put your people back together. An’ Farinst is good, but he needs a calm voice and steady hands to advise him. Help him put the city back together. You got all these hot-headed artists here who’ll be badly shaken an’ dramatic about it.”
“Farinst isn’t even supposed to be King. Vamastal Greyskin is, but he’s off Heroquesting. Or dying. We’re left with someone who hasn’t proved himself, and that sits hard with people. Then he’ll either hand over to our resident madman when the great Sambar returns, or he’ll have to be tested. It’s been like this since Sacred Time.”
“Mhmm,” Varanis murmurs. “But he’s king now and you are known an’ trusted. Help him to help Wilmskirk.”
“I know,” Silor says without rancour. His arm tightens on her shoulder for a moment, but when he tries to straighten he is obviously finding it difficult, and he hands back the wine to sort out how he is sitting.
She slides closer so she can lean against his knee once he’s settled. She takes another long drink of the wine. The amphora is running low.
“Did you mean it? Like a son to you? Esrolians don’t place a lot of stock in fathers, but I loved mine. He was patient an’ kind an’ liked to tease, but never to hurt, you know?”
“Esrolians don’t know what a father should be. You shuld rejoice for all chuld… children, not just heirs.” Silor leans a hand on her shoulder. “You need to toughen up sons to boasting and …” he casts around for the right word. “Living in their skins. I thoughd I had it right with my oldest, then the next two came along. Rald’s easier now. Poor boy.” He reaches for the amphora with care.
She offers it up wordlessly.
Silor manages not to dribble wine. “You’ve been good for my family. All of you, but I have a special spot for the Adventurous.”
“S’good. I love you too.” She grins up at him, then starts to sing. It’s a light-hearted song of fathers and their children.6Passes both sing and Heortling, so I think she does ok.
Silor knows it, and joins in the bits that a father should sing. He also finishes the wine.
She reaches for the amphora and shakes it mournfully. “Go to bed. I gotta find my sleepin’ hides and sleep. We’ll figure out Yamia in the morning.” She uses his knee to lever herself off the floor, only stumbling once in the process. Then she offers him a hand, as if she’ll be able the pull the bear of a man up from his stool.
He uses her to balance as he gets up, and as he is already that close, his arms come out to offer an enveloping hug. If he does not get one he may fall over.
She takes a half step in and wraps her arms around him. “Thank you, Silor,” she murmurs against his chest.
He sobs on her shoulder for a moment. “Young ones like you are our hope,” he growls. He is big enough that when his hand shakes her shoulder, it moves all of her.
She just tightens her hold on him. “An’ we’re here because people like you made sure there was still a Sartar to be here for.” Her voice is muffled.
Silor tightens his grip again, and manages to pat her shoulder too. “Off you go.” He has forgotten to let go.
“In a minute. Haven’t had a fatherly hug since I was little. Savourin’ in now.”
That’s enough of a challenge to him. Silor is now humming a cradle tune, softly.
It’s Varanis’ turn to let out a sob. She squeezes him harder.
Silor rocks slightly, like a mother – or a father – holding a small child. It is subtle, not enough to push her over, just enough to remind her of his strength and his presence.
Finally, she sighs and her muscles relax. “You’re mine now,” she whispers to him. His nightshirt is damp from her tears. “I’m keeping you.”
“I’ll put you with the rest,” he says. “In my heart, while it beats.” Her shoulder is damp too.
“We’d best find our beds before Yelm sneaks up on us,” she says on a sigh. Varanis reaches up to pull his head down, so she can kiss his forehead, then steps back. Her face is ruddy, eyes red-rimmed and bruised looking, and her hair is messy as usual. It is past time for her to sleep.
Silor ruffles up her hair, and pauses a moment to take in the sight. “Yes. Mine is a cloak on the floor in my room.” He gives a smile full of tears and victory, and turns to tromp away. The amphora falls to the floor with a clatter that he ignores.
She scoops it up to place beside the door. Out of tripping range. Then she heads off in search of her sleeping hides by the hearth.
- 1Varanis fails Insight Human.
- 2Fortunately, Silor fumbles Listen.
- 3Varanis: how hard could it be?
- 4And passes POWx3 to avoid grabbing anything unpleasant.
- 5GM called for a Love (Family) to augment Orate. The Orate is a pass.
- 6Passes both sing and Heortling, so I think she does ok.
