RP:An Offer You Probably Shouldn't Refuse

Summary: Khitti and Hanan meet in Larket, not long after Larket's big battle with Cenril and Macon's subsequent surrender. Hanan is apparently on the run from something and Khitti decides to be nice for once.

Lucy's Crossing, Larket

Hanan had had a little good luck, and a little bad luck. The good: stumbling around in the Dark Forest after being pulled out of a mindflayer lair by Mcracken, she had come across what appeared to be someone’s abandoned picnic. That got her a half bottle of bloodwine. Still thirsty, but living. On the outskirts of Vailkrin she’d managed to find a change of clothes hanging outside–a crisp white shirt, some cotton pants that were probably too snug but hell, she liked them that way. That combined with her old trusty peacoat made her look a little less like a bum. The bad: her leg didn’t magically grow back. She was still hobbling along on a pegleg that was a little too tall for her and a crutch, neither of which she was really used to yet. This meant she was reduced to thumbing a ride. That was the other issue: she had to get out of Lithryndel. Fast. She had spent years making sure she wasn’t on this godsdamn continent. So there she was. Bumping along on the back board of… a cabbage cart. With a cotton scarf wrapped in such a way as to cover her nose and mouth, because she’d been spotted already in Vailkrin. It was only a matter of time. She looked back over her shoulder as the rolled into Lucy’s Crossing. “...you’re sure this is your last stop? Do these people really need cabbages?” “Mmmhmm,” said the farmer, tugging on the horse’s reins and slowing to a stop. Great. Just great.

Khiti needed time away from Larket. She hadn’t even been there that long and she felt like she’d been there forever. Of course, in their shared mind, Khitt was muttering about her being a baby, but he did not have the trauma she did. Nor the memories of another war where the ‘big bad evil guy’ did not get sent to death for his crimes. In fact, this was Khitt’s first real war at all, so what did he know? Was a little justice so hard? After all the murders? All the battles? And the energy she put into fighting these things for these people? This was why Khitti hated politics. Nothing ever turned out like it should. Now Balgruuf was running around Frostmaw like it was no big deal, and it was probably only a matter of time before Macon was too, in Larket. But, she kept her mouth shut around the Cenrilians--and especially around Valrae--when it came to all of this. But now that she was not around them, her head swam with these thoughts and memories. It almost felt like a betrayal. People like Macon and Balgruuf did not deserve to live. And yet, here we were. The redheaded twilight witch was so caught up in her own head that she almost didn’t see the cabbage cart as she just shadowstepped along the path. “Hey! Watch where you’re going!”, she said with an irritated glare. She probably could’ve been watching where she was going to, but that didn’t occur to her right now.

Hanan was just hopping off the back of the cart when she heard the shout. She turned with a little hop on her right leg–the complete one–and used the crutch mostly to make her way around toward the front, checking her scarf on the way. “You alright?” Instinct. Stupid instinct, that she kicked herself for immediately, because she was supposed to be hiding, wasn’t she? She’d gotten the black spot. She was being tracked. They went after people who helped her as well. She couldn’t be seen, the spot was the entire reason she’d left. She had to focus on getting as far away from Rynvale as possible. West, then on a ship to somewhere far away. Or she had to take herself out of the equation. She hadn’t been able to go through with that latter option yet. She’d started several times, before she was captured and the things she didn’t think about and the mindflayers. Coward. “Ruttin’ cart didn’t get you, did it?” She looked up at the farmer, still in his seat. “You’ve gotta watch the road! Place is crazy.” “Mmmhmm.” Sigh. She turned back to Khitti. “Heard there was a war, right?” War was obvious, but she’d been underground for at least a couple years. “...just passin’ through, didn’t get news.”

Khitti let out a sigh of her own once the cart was stopped and the people on it seemed alright. “Yes, I’m fine.” It was probably obvious that she had been eyeing them all to make sure they were fine too. She was still in her two piece silk dress that Iintahquohae had made for her, with tiny plates of mithril sandwiched between the black fabric, that she’d been wearing during the last confrontation of the war, only now she had her black peacoat on top of it, to keep her warm along with her usual worn boots and knit leggings. The space where Hanan’s leg had been was noted, and it reminded her of Emilia’s missing hand, which Khitti had replaced herself, and she thought to mention that she could help with that but something seemed off about the vampire. Something that she couldn’t quite pin down but nor could she shake the feeling of. “There was a war,” the redhead said at last. “But it’s over now and Cenril is occupying Larket now for…” She shrugged. “I guess however long it takes the mayor of Cenril to sort things out.” She didn’t seem happy about it though. “It should be safe enough for you to travel around now, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Hanan :: “How ruttin’ stupid. Cenril and Larket.” Hanan loved a fight, even a big fight, but wars like this with civilian casualties she’d gone sour on. She turned to the farmer again and put two fingers to her temple, a sort of salute. “Thanks for haulin’ me too.” “Mmmhmm.” As he drove the horse and cart to what appeared to be a vegetable stall, Hanan turned to face Khitti more fully. “He was great conversation.” Also the first person she’d really spoken to since being freed. She noted the woman’s clothing–nice coat, they matched a little–and raised a brow. Weird to wear a dress for it but she looked like a fighter. “What side were you on, then? You occupyin’ or occupied?”

Khitti || “Eh, it's a long story. Lots of people at fault on both sides. I’m sure you know how it is,” the redhead said, watching the cart make its way to the veggie stall. Khitti smirked at Hanan, “Sure seemed to be that way,” she said with regards to the cabbage farmer. “Cenril’s side. Live and work there. One of the witch citizens. Etcetera, etcetera. But, it was not my first time fighting against these people. Larket’s been at this for a while. This should’ve been over with years ago” Khitti crossed her arms over her chest and eyed the woman. She looked like the gears were turning in her head, but about what, well Khitti wouldn't say just yet. “I feel like I should ask you what you’re doing around here--not in a suspicious way, of course, just because you ask me as well--but you don’t look like you’d be the type to really answer it.” The former vampire was a little perceptive. Probably a little too perceptive. Her clairvoyance didn’t help that much either.

Hanan :: “Ain’t that always the way. Glad to see not everything’s broke down and pissed on at least.” She had no idea what Larket had been “at” but she could easily believe it wasn’t good news. She’d spent more time in Cenril anyway. Wait, why was the woman looking at her sp close? Her mouth twitched a little under the scarf, though she did her best to keep her brows even. The bounty on the pirate was stupidly high. Still, word couldn’t have passed this fast, right? It’d only been a couple days. She leaned back on her right leg, put just a little weight on her below-the-knee peg and leaned an arm on her crutch. Casual. But she also glanced across the crossing, checking her exits. A clairvoyant might have picked up on the worry. Hanan had either been chased or convinced she was being chased for years. When she hadn’t, she was in a mindflayer cage seeing things. Hanan was also a terrible actress. “You’d be right about details. Just headin’ west. Alright, now you. War’s over, and I don’t know why they’d need witches to occupy a town. Why are you still hanging around? Battle’s over.”

Khitti snorted at Hanan. “We’re here until the mayor figures out what the hell to do with “King” Macon.” It’s funny, if anyone would understand about being in cages with mindflayers, it was Khitti. She’d been subjected to them not once, not twice, but thrice in her nearly forty years of existence. And yet, since neither woman would be very forthcoming about their past, recent or otherwise, neither would know. “I don’t even want to be here. And I’m not keeping you here, so quit your squirming so much.” The redhead sighed heavily. “I just happen to be a person that can probably fix your leg. But, we don’t know each other, you clearly have places to be, and I’d need to do a little research before I could do it.” Well that explained the observations she was doing. “There’s a woman that I know. An ice genasi. She’d lost her hand to… something I don’t recall what. And I rebuilt it for her.” Khitti lifted her right hand into the air, drawing shadows to it and pooling it together with shadow-ice in order to create the muscles, tendons, ligaments, and even what looked like skin with the two magicks, which ultimately created a hand. “It was fully functional when it was attached. But, she also had an affinity for ice and you… are a vampire.” Yes. She knew. “As a former vampire myself, I’d never lost limbs, though I came close several times. Hence the need for research.” Clearly upsetting Hanan somewhat, Khitti turned her attention elsewhere, though the gears were still going.

Hanan :: The pirate huffed, just a little bit, when she got clocked. Not that she wasn’t used to it. She’d been around enough other vampires, lycans, etc to know it’s always a possibility. And she’d been in Vailkrin enough times to know that vampires can be absolutely, utterly basic. Didn’t necessarily mean anything. “Former? How’d you manage that?” She shifted her weight a little. “And I’m not ‘squirming,’ I’m just talkin’. You don’t have to talk to me either.” The truth was she was jumpy but she’d been bored. She always did the stupidest things when she was bored. Khitti was literally the third somewhat friendly person she’d encountered since the Mindflayers, if you counted Mcracken–whose name she did not know–yanking her bodily out of a tunnel, yelling something, then disappearing exactly friendly. Definitely not negative? “And… it’s kind of you to offer that but I won’t be around long enough. And I’m no mage or artificer. I just want something simple I can maintain myself aboard ship.” Shyte. Shyte! Why did she mention boats? “Bet there’s plenty of legless fools around here who could use that kind of help, though. Is the tavern still open? Assuming there is one?”

Khitti || “I died. After a lot of work I don’t feel like going into about right now. And then I came back, and I wasn’t undead,” Khitti said with a shrug. “I didn’t have any memories either for a time and part of me wishes it stayed that way.” The last year of her life had not been a fun one; divorce was not kind to her. “Anyway. Suit yourself then. If you change your mind, send word to the Necromancer’s Guild.” She ignored the mention of other legless individuals, because well it was true. She -could- help other people with it. An idea at least. But it’d require much more research than whatever it would’ve taken for Hanan’s leg. “The tavern is indeed still open. The only place that should be “out of business” at the moment is the Fort.” There’s a slight smirk at the end of her sentence but it soon disappeared. “Anyway,” she said again. “I’m heading elsewhere as well. Need some time away from the aforementioned Fort before I burn it down and upset my best friend.” It’s anyone’s guess if she actually meant this or not. “If you know of any legless individuals that are “just heading west” that need a place to stay, you might direct them to the big mansion in Frostmaw’s wilds. It’s safe, owned by my guild, and doesn’t usually ask questions.” Unless it’s under special circumstances like members foolishly helping the now-perished God of Undeath. But, again, special circumstances and those days were now long past. With that said, Khitti’d wait for any possibly reaction from Hanan before she’d let the pirate be off about her own business.

Hanan action :: “...you died, came back, so then you’re not undead?” Hanan was not at all well versed about anything related to necromancy. She in fact wrinkled her nose at the mention of using necromancy to build her a new leg. Something about having something deader attached to her–-she presumed that’s how it worked–was almost as bad to her as having lost the leg at all. She shoved any thoughts of that loss–the bonesaw, the powerlessness–down. “Sorry your best friend isn’t burnin’ it down, then. Sounds like that’s the best course of action.” So subtle was she that she only stiffened a very rather than very very unnatural amount when a guild mansion in Frostmaw was mentioned as a hideout. Did she… know? Was this some ploy to get her to a place where it was easier to get her bounty? Could she afford not to take the help? She hated Frostmaw on account of the cold, but… “...again, that’s kind of you. I’ll keep it in mind. Hope you get to watch Macon get burned. Or torn apart. Beheaded? But say, after the other stuff.” She smirked–it reached her eyes that time–and headed in the direction of the tavern. “I owe you a drink if you end up back my way.” Nope, no introductions. She was at least smart enough to do that.