[RP] Dway's attempt at new life
[RP] Dway's attempt at new life
It was shortly before sunrise when Dwayberry left the tavern to return to her little home, on the outskirt of Bravia Capital. Since she moved here several weeks ago, she spent many hours in the tavern, until she was too tired to think about the past. At least that's what she tried, many times.
Forgetting about the past, however, is not easy when you wish to forget and start over, but it's nearly impossible when part of you keeps longing back to your old ways, to what could have been if things had been just a little different.
Walking the narrow path between the trees, snow crushing under her feet, her thoughts involuntarily returned to the chest she kept hidden underneath her bed. She knew it would have been better to destroy it. Throw it down one of the deep ravines she crossed, so no-one would ever find it and she would be forced to forget. Instead, she carried the chest all the way to Bravia. She never took a look in it, no matter how tempting. It was useless, she would never practice her old profession again.
But could she be blamed? Who would so easily forget many years of education and practice, the pride she took in being good at her job. Part of her enjoyed starting over, but part of her missed the past.
She entered the small house that was now her home. She had found it deserted and claimed it as her own. It contained a bed frame, closet, table and two chairs, yet no sign of more personal belongings. The owner must have left and not bothered taking the heavier furniture along. For Dwayberry, it was as perfect as can be considering the circumstances. No close neighbours, far enough from the town centre, yet close enough to hang around the other townsfolk often enough to not attract any suspicion.
She took off her scarf, gloves and coat and shook her long, dark hair, dragging her fingers through it. The same motion she made every time she returned home after the job was done. This time, however, there was no satisfied smile.
With a deep sigh, she prepared the trusted herbal tea, before she laid down on the bed and let the sedative do its work.
"It's alright, you wouldn't be the same if you were nice."
Re: [RP] Dway's attempt at new life
She was so happy to go out again. She excitedly paced after gran, who climbed the steep mountain path with surprising speed and strength, considering her age. She asked a thousand questions about the plants and animals that surrounded them.
"That's a mountain nettle, Berry, don't touch it. It will leave you with itching rash for several hours", Gran would answer, or "It's goutweed, very tasty, but never eat if after its flowers appear.", or "It's only a hoverfly, silly girl. Nothing to be afraid of."
She loved to explore the mountains, the forest and river area with gran, collecting the supplies gran needed to make her tinctures, ointments and herbal teas. And for the more questionable potions for those who chose believe in them.
She stopped to watch a butterfly and gran walked on, not noticing she stayed behind. The sun disappeared behind a cloud and a cold gust of wind made her shiver. She looked in the direction she came from. Their village in the valley was gone. The mountains seemed higher. She was about fifteen years older now, and gran was gone. She was alone and cold in the high mountains with a storm approaching. A storm that could bring the first winter snow. The encounter with the highwaymen had slowed her down. She would not manage to cross the mountains before winter. She looked down at her hand holding the knife that took the life of both men. So quick, but so less subtle than all those other times. Blood dripped down from the knife on the barren rock. She stared at it.
No more... she thought. Never more... And she felt empty.
Dwayberry awakened. It was still dark outside. She stayed in bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the feeling of emptiness to leave her.
A higher dose could make the dreams go away. She wouldn't wake up until several hours after sunrise. But she knew too well the dangers of addiction. Perhaps, in time, the nightmares would cease. Time heals everything, her teacher used to say. In time, even the worst things will be forgotten, because if it wouldn't, people would not make the same mistakes over and over again.
She made a sound in between a chuckle and a sob when thinking of her teacher. How would he do without her?
"No...", she didn't want to think about him and forced her thoughts towards the day that was to start. She would explore the curious place that was Bravia Capital once more. Pick some of the strange, sweet strawberries that even managed to grow under a blanket of snow, have a good laugh at juggling eggs and of course, make a trip to the tavern. Force a smile upon her face and live by the moment, not think about the past.
"That's a mountain nettle, Berry, don't touch it. It will leave you with itching rash for several hours", Gran would answer, or "It's goutweed, very tasty, but never eat if after its flowers appear.", or "It's only a hoverfly, silly girl. Nothing to be afraid of."
She loved to explore the mountains, the forest and river area with gran, collecting the supplies gran needed to make her tinctures, ointments and herbal teas. And for the more questionable potions for those who chose believe in them.
She stopped to watch a butterfly and gran walked on, not noticing she stayed behind. The sun disappeared behind a cloud and a cold gust of wind made her shiver. She looked in the direction she came from. Their village in the valley was gone. The mountains seemed higher. She was about fifteen years older now, and gran was gone. She was alone and cold in the high mountains with a storm approaching. A storm that could bring the first winter snow. The encounter with the highwaymen had slowed her down. She would not manage to cross the mountains before winter. She looked down at her hand holding the knife that took the life of both men. So quick, but so less subtle than all those other times. Blood dripped down from the knife on the barren rock. She stared at it.
No more... she thought. Never more... And she felt empty.
Dwayberry awakened. It was still dark outside. She stayed in bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the feeling of emptiness to leave her.
A higher dose could make the dreams go away. She wouldn't wake up until several hours after sunrise. But she knew too well the dangers of addiction. Perhaps, in time, the nightmares would cease. Time heals everything, her teacher used to say. In time, even the worst things will be forgotten, because if it wouldn't, people would not make the same mistakes over and over again.
She made a sound in between a chuckle and a sob when thinking of her teacher. How would he do without her?
"No...", she didn't want to think about him and forced her thoughts towards the day that was to start. She would explore the curious place that was Bravia Capital once more. Pick some of the strange, sweet strawberries that even managed to grow under a blanket of snow, have a good laugh at juggling eggs and of course, make a trip to the tavern. Force a smile upon her face and live by the moment, not think about the past.
"It's alright, you wouldn't be the same if you were nice."
Re: [RP] Dway's attempt at new life
As she made her way to the market, the cold, uncomfortable feeling came over her again when she passed the town hall. Even though the previous mayor Xavier left town, taking the town's money with him, the feeling of
discomfort stayed.
Dwayberry had not spend enough time in her new home town to really care about the money. She had stolen things herself in the past, even though it were small things. She had never tried to become rich. As long as she had enough to live comfortably, it was sufficient. She knew the rich and most of them were bored, always looking for ways to spice up their unchallenging lifes. And if they weren't bored, they were paranoid, waiting for someone to take their precious money from them. Even if such a person never showed up, they would create one in their own mind.
Once she arrived at the market, she spread out a blanket on the cold floor. There was no fresh show here, like on the quiet path that led to her home. The market square was paved and many feet had turned the snow into a thin and slippery layer of ice.
She sat down on the blanket, ignoring the cold, for she experienced much worse while crossing the mountains. Carefully, she took the small jugs, bottles and pouches out of her bag and placed them on the blanket before her. She smiled friendly at the people walking by, even at those she knew to be healers. The ones that frowned at her for being not a true healer, yet selling potions and medicine to the ignorant. Dwayberry didn't bother. People liked to believe there was she was glad to sell it to them.
She chuckled, looking at her bright red love potion, wanted by many insecure young woman. Even carrying the beautiful decorative perfume bottle around in which she sold the potion, would give many the boost of confidence they needed so badly. She bought the bottles at the best glassblower she could find in Bravia. She had a weakness for the decorative perfume bottles from the moment she first saw one, and knew the how much more attractive they made the product she sold.
It didn't take long for the first pretty bottle she saw to come in her posession. The rich owner never noticed, but gran found out and was furious. It taught Dwayberry an important lesson: if people disapprove on what you're doing, then make sure they don't find out about it next time. Gran's anger, however nasty, never made her regret the action.
She knew it would be the same with Xavier. He would never regret the action, no matter how angry people would be. Quite the contrary, he was proud, a winner, and would make sure everyone would hear about it.
Dwayberry knew what it's like to be proud of actions others saw as wrong and immoral. When plans succeed, it gives a person an incredible and addictive feeling of excitement. Not many have a concious strong enough to counteract such a feeling, and she wasn't sure if those who do were either blessed or cursed.
discomfort stayed.
Dwayberry had not spend enough time in her new home town to really care about the money. She had stolen things herself in the past, even though it were small things. She had never tried to become rich. As long as she had enough to live comfortably, it was sufficient. She knew the rich and most of them were bored, always looking for ways to spice up their unchallenging lifes. And if they weren't bored, they were paranoid, waiting for someone to take their precious money from them. Even if such a person never showed up, they would create one in their own mind.
Once she arrived at the market, she spread out a blanket on the cold floor. There was no fresh show here, like on the quiet path that led to her home. The market square was paved and many feet had turned the snow into a thin and slippery layer of ice.
She sat down on the blanket, ignoring the cold, for she experienced much worse while crossing the mountains. Carefully, she took the small jugs, bottles and pouches out of her bag and placed them on the blanket before her. She smiled friendly at the people walking by, even at those she knew to be healers. The ones that frowned at her for being not a true healer, yet selling potions and medicine to the ignorant. Dwayberry didn't bother. People liked to believe there was she was glad to sell it to them.
She chuckled, looking at her bright red love potion, wanted by many insecure young woman. Even carrying the beautiful decorative perfume bottle around in which she sold the potion, would give many the boost of confidence they needed so badly. She bought the bottles at the best glassblower she could find in Bravia. She had a weakness for the decorative perfume bottles from the moment she first saw one, and knew the how much more attractive they made the product she sold.
It didn't take long for the first pretty bottle she saw to come in her posession. The rich owner never noticed, but gran found out and was furious. It taught Dwayberry an important lesson: if people disapprove on what you're doing, then make sure they don't find out about it next time. Gran's anger, however nasty, never made her regret the action.
She knew it would be the same with Xavier. He would never regret the action, no matter how angry people would be. Quite the contrary, he was proud, a winner, and would make sure everyone would hear about it.
Dwayberry knew what it's like to be proud of actions others saw as wrong and immoral. When plans succeed, it gives a person an incredible and addictive feeling of excitement. Not many have a concious strong enough to counteract such a feeling, and she wasn't sure if those who do were either blessed or cursed.
"It's alright, you wouldn't be the same if you were nice."
Re: [RP] Dway's attempt at new life
It wasn't long before Dwayberry decided to pack up her wares again to make a stop at the tavern. Perhaps this day was too cold to hope for good sales. She noticed several of her potions freezing in their bottles and feared they might break. And the few people that came to the market took little time for looking around, purchasing the essentials as fast as they could so they could go elsewhere.
As she gently wrapped the various bottles in protective cloths before placing them back in her bag, a familiar figure strode past. She looked up in surprise, for she rarely saw him after the day Xavier had proved to be a most unreliable mayor. His stance was nothing like on the day she had first met him. He had been the mayor of Bravia, his skin the colour of monkshood, his smile rarely leaving his face. His enthusiasm could be overwhelming at times, yet it had made her feel welcome in the taverns, and in town in general. Not to mention he frequently sold meat of unexpectedly good quality, judging from the price. During his reign, he had greeted every new citizen with a kindness and openness that made her wonder whether he had grown up in paradise. If all citizens of this town lived the same untroubled lifes, she figured, there would be no need for her skill here. It would be the perfect place to start over.
Of course it was a foolish thing to think.
The mind had curious ways of dealing with memories.
During her old life, her profession had rarely troubled her. Quite the contrary, her teacher frequently had to tone down her enthusiasm. "There is nothing with taking a little pride in what you're good at, Dwayberry.", he used to say, "But with our profession, a little reticence is needed. Never forget what we are. We are needed and we're good at what we do, but the task itself is not something to be proud of. Most people would be shocked beyond belief, if they only knew...", he would look deep into her eyes to make sure he had her full attention, "So make sure they will not know."
She had taken his advice to the best of her efforts, although it never made her regret her actions, never made her wish for a single second she had chosen another path in life.
But now, the days were more quiet, more routine-like. There was no plotting or scheming, no working out of scenarios. Unless she would meet new people in the taverns or on the market, every day was similar and predictable. It didn't bore her, in fact, it gave her a peace of mind she hadn't often experienced before.
And that was why the memories found opportunity to came back in the form of nightmares. Not only those memories starting from the moment everything had gone terribly wrong, and she was forced to move, but also older memories.
Memories of gran, looking at her until a silent tear streamed down her old face. "You look so much like your mother. Except for those pale eyes. A small reminder of the one that ruined your mother's life..."
Memories of the body of the incredibly hairy man that was suspected of being a werewolf. The silver dagger that assured he would never cry for the moon again.
She blinked, suddenly realising were she was. The half-djinn was nowhere to be seen anymore. Instead, she found herself staring at a rather hairy man carrying a large bag of flour, and shuddered.
She shrugged, a small gesture that didn't quite make the uncomfortable feeling go away. But there were other solutions. Resolutely, she lifted her bag and walked off to the nearest tavern. Upon opening the door, she was greeted by the warmth of the hearth, the smell of food and beer. Here would be people and many other curious creatures that came to forget and to enjoy. As she took in the surroundings, it wasn't hard to get into a more cheerful and charming mode. She greeted the others with a smile, before making her way to the bar to order the first of many drinks.
As she gently wrapped the various bottles in protective cloths before placing them back in her bag, a familiar figure strode past. She looked up in surprise, for she rarely saw him after the day Xavier had proved to be a most unreliable mayor. His stance was nothing like on the day she had first met him. He had been the mayor of Bravia, his skin the colour of monkshood, his smile rarely leaving his face. His enthusiasm could be overwhelming at times, yet it had made her feel welcome in the taverns, and in town in general. Not to mention he frequently sold meat of unexpectedly good quality, judging from the price. During his reign, he had greeted every new citizen with a kindness and openness that made her wonder whether he had grown up in paradise. If all citizens of this town lived the same untroubled lifes, she figured, there would be no need for her skill here. It would be the perfect place to start over.
Of course it was a foolish thing to think.
The mind had curious ways of dealing with memories.
During her old life, her profession had rarely troubled her. Quite the contrary, her teacher frequently had to tone down her enthusiasm. "There is nothing with taking a little pride in what you're good at, Dwayberry.", he used to say, "But with our profession, a little reticence is needed. Never forget what we are. We are needed and we're good at what we do, but the task itself is not something to be proud of. Most people would be shocked beyond belief, if they only knew...", he would look deep into her eyes to make sure he had her full attention, "So make sure they will not know."
She had taken his advice to the best of her efforts, although it never made her regret her actions, never made her wish for a single second she had chosen another path in life.
But now, the days were more quiet, more routine-like. There was no plotting or scheming, no working out of scenarios. Unless she would meet new people in the taverns or on the market, every day was similar and predictable. It didn't bore her, in fact, it gave her a peace of mind she hadn't often experienced before.
And that was why the memories found opportunity to came back in the form of nightmares. Not only those memories starting from the moment everything had gone terribly wrong, and she was forced to move, but also older memories.
Memories of gran, looking at her until a silent tear streamed down her old face. "You look so much like your mother. Except for those pale eyes. A small reminder of the one that ruined your mother's life..."
Memories of the body of the incredibly hairy man that was suspected of being a werewolf. The silver dagger that assured he would never cry for the moon again.
She blinked, suddenly realising were she was. The half-djinn was nowhere to be seen anymore. Instead, she found herself staring at a rather hairy man carrying a large bag of flour, and shuddered.
She shrugged, a small gesture that didn't quite make the uncomfortable feeling go away. But there were other solutions. Resolutely, she lifted her bag and walked off to the nearest tavern. Upon opening the door, she was greeted by the warmth of the hearth, the smell of food and beer. Here would be people and many other curious creatures that came to forget and to enjoy. As she took in the surroundings, it wasn't hard to get into a more cheerful and charming mode. She greeted the others with a smile, before making her way to the bar to order the first of many drinks.
"It's alright, you wouldn't be the same if you were nice."
Re: [RP] Dway's attempt at new life
Dwayberry awoke many hours later. Bright sunlight entering through the small window suggested it was near noon. And a bright, sunny day it was. Small, half melted lumps of snow fell from the tree branches on the roof of the house. It felt like someone dropped stones on her head and she moaned. Even thinking of herbal tea, something to make this headache more bareable, made her stomach turn upside down. She didn't even know how she got home. In fact, she couldn't remember much of the previous night at all, but that she had many a drink too much, she knew for certain.
The floor was uncomfortable, and the bed only a few meters away, but it felt like eternity before she reached it. Once arrived, she didn't bother to undress and cover herself with the blankets. No more movement. Just stay as still as possible. This had to be the mother of all hangovers. She closed her eyes against the bright light and sighed.
He was tall, or maybe he seemed tall because she was still a child, sitting on the floor, with gran's scrolls spread out in front of her. The man had streaks of grey in his hair, a slightly crooked nose and friendly brown eyes. But she only noticed the small bag on his belt, that looked like it contained a lot of money. She wondered how much she could ask for the scrolls if this man wished to buy one. Most were simple ones, written by gran herself. But there were also older ones with pretty illustrations that gran had collected during her life. She refused to think of what gran would think of all this. Refused to think about gran at all. She was dead, thinking wouldn't bring her back. Gran had left Berry to take care of herself, and she had to eat.
The man kept looking at the scrolls for a long time, than lowered himself on one knee and brought his hand to one of the scrolls, as if he wanted to touch it, but was afraid it would fall apart in his hands.
He opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind. He slowly looked from the scroll to Berry, and back.
"Can you read, child?", he asked softly.
"A little.", she wondered why he asked.
The man carefully lifted one of the old scrolls and examined it. It listed the beneficial uses and dangers of the yellow foxglove, she knew.
"You should not sell these...", the man said.
She shrugged. "I know them by heart, all of them." She could not hide a little pride in her voice.
The man looked at her. "All of them.", he repeated. It wasn't a question.
"That one is ten freznics.", she said bravely.
The man looked at her as if she had told him she was the queen of the elves.
"Have you sold many scrolls yet, child?"
He would try to drive the price down. She had sold two scrolls yesterday, both for six freznics. She was hoping this man would pay more. He had enough money and seemed interested. But now he tried to make her tell him he was her first customer today, that she was desperate for money.
"I sell enough.", she said.
His expression softened and he seemed to look at something far beyond her.
"You have pale eyes like the Whalehunter Tribe of the Far North. Is it true they have gills behind their ears?"
The unexpected question startled her. What did he want?
"I have never heard of them.", she said and pointed to the scrolls in front of her. "All this, it's about herbs, potions, divination. Not about whales or other fish."
The man chuckled, yet he kept looking at her like there was some hidden secret inside her he wanted to know more about.
"Who wrote these?", he had put the old scroll down and pointed at those written in gran's handwriting.
"Why do you ask.", she was getting tired of this man. If he wasn't going to buy anything, she was not going to answer any more of his questions.
"Why would I buy something anyone could have written? It could be nonsense for all I know."
Berry took a deep breath. "A very wise woman wrote these.", she decided.
"A witch?"
Anger welled up within her. She held her breath, felt her hands clench to fists, but then she relaxed them again and took another deep breath. "A very wise woman."
"Very controlled.", the man whispered. His eyes sparkled with interest, but he wasn't looking at the scrolls. "Very controlled indeed..."
He seemed to want to say more, looked at her and seemed to be pondering something. Then he took one of the scrolls gran wrote, stood up and dropped his purse in front of her. He turned around and walked away, without saying a word.
She hadn't sold another scroll that day, or any of the days after that. She feasted on meat and fish for a week and spent her days like carefree children do.
Dwayberry awoke from the memory-like dream. The headache had diminished, yet she still didn't feel like moving. A lone tear streamed down her face at the first memory of the man that later became her teacher.
"Damn this weakness.", she muttered and wiped away the tear.
The floor was uncomfortable, and the bed only a few meters away, but it felt like eternity before she reached it. Once arrived, she didn't bother to undress and cover herself with the blankets. No more movement. Just stay as still as possible. This had to be the mother of all hangovers. She closed her eyes against the bright light and sighed.
He was tall, or maybe he seemed tall because she was still a child, sitting on the floor, with gran's scrolls spread out in front of her. The man had streaks of grey in his hair, a slightly crooked nose and friendly brown eyes. But she only noticed the small bag on his belt, that looked like it contained a lot of money. She wondered how much she could ask for the scrolls if this man wished to buy one. Most were simple ones, written by gran herself. But there were also older ones with pretty illustrations that gran had collected during her life. She refused to think of what gran would think of all this. Refused to think about gran at all. She was dead, thinking wouldn't bring her back. Gran had left Berry to take care of herself, and she had to eat.
The man kept looking at the scrolls for a long time, than lowered himself on one knee and brought his hand to one of the scrolls, as if he wanted to touch it, but was afraid it would fall apart in his hands.
He opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind. He slowly looked from the scroll to Berry, and back.
"Can you read, child?", he asked softly.
"A little.", she wondered why he asked.
The man carefully lifted one of the old scrolls and examined it. It listed the beneficial uses and dangers of the yellow foxglove, she knew.
"You should not sell these...", the man said.
She shrugged. "I know them by heart, all of them." She could not hide a little pride in her voice.
The man looked at her. "All of them.", he repeated. It wasn't a question.
"That one is ten freznics.", she said bravely.
The man looked at her as if she had told him she was the queen of the elves.
"Have you sold many scrolls yet, child?"
He would try to drive the price down. She had sold two scrolls yesterday, both for six freznics. She was hoping this man would pay more. He had enough money and seemed interested. But now he tried to make her tell him he was her first customer today, that she was desperate for money.
"I sell enough.", she said.
His expression softened and he seemed to look at something far beyond her.
"You have pale eyes like the Whalehunter Tribe of the Far North. Is it true they have gills behind their ears?"
The unexpected question startled her. What did he want?
"I have never heard of them.", she said and pointed to the scrolls in front of her. "All this, it's about herbs, potions, divination. Not about whales or other fish."
The man chuckled, yet he kept looking at her like there was some hidden secret inside her he wanted to know more about.
"Who wrote these?", he had put the old scroll down and pointed at those written in gran's handwriting.
"Why do you ask.", she was getting tired of this man. If he wasn't going to buy anything, she was not going to answer any more of his questions.
"Why would I buy something anyone could have written? It could be nonsense for all I know."
Berry took a deep breath. "A very wise woman wrote these.", she decided.
"A witch?"
Anger welled up within her. She held her breath, felt her hands clench to fists, but then she relaxed them again and took another deep breath. "A very wise woman."
"Very controlled.", the man whispered. His eyes sparkled with interest, but he wasn't looking at the scrolls. "Very controlled indeed..."
He seemed to want to say more, looked at her and seemed to be pondering something. Then he took one of the scrolls gran wrote, stood up and dropped his purse in front of her. He turned around and walked away, without saying a word.
She hadn't sold another scroll that day, or any of the days after that. She feasted on meat and fish for a week and spent her days like carefree children do.
Dwayberry awoke from the memory-like dream. The headache had diminished, yet she still didn't feel like moving. A lone tear streamed down her face at the first memory of the man that later became her teacher.
"Damn this weakness.", she muttered and wiped away the tear.
"It's alright, you wouldn't be the same if you were nice."