RP:Carry On My Wayward Son

Summary: Trent continues to seek out Meri, but finds her boyfriend Callum instead.

Outside The Rochester-Boyce Residence, Larket

It had been a couple weeks since Meri’s disappearance, and even longer still since Callum quit his job for the monarchy. With nothing else to do, he managed her shop for her, The Rebel Room--at least to the best of his ability anyway. Thankfully, Meri’s assistant Estelle could handle the actual art-related portion of the job (for it was an art studio, you see) and Callum handled the business aspect. Business, it’s what he was good at. Taking people’s money, adding it to his pile at home; it was how he survived for a year and a half before that psion had come along. So, just as he had every day since Meri’s disappearance, the former Royal Botanist dressed, put on his coat and shoes, and headed out the door, carefully locking up before heading towards the shop that next door to the townhouse that was the Rochester-Boyce residence. If anyone was looking for Meri or Callum himself, they’d be directed to this area of Larket. Callum didn’t quite make it far from the steps of his home, though. Several small batches of flowers--only a small portion that made up the massive garden of various herbs and flowers that surrounded the house--caught his eye. It was the niphredils he’d cross-breeded for Meri: blue to match her eyes, yellow for her hair, and red for that ever familiar lipstick she loved. It was a constant reminder to him of her, seen day in and day out as he crossed the sidewalk from the house to the street and back again. It was a constant reminder of how much he missed her, of how useless he felt right now. The worry and the sadness that followed these thoughts etched themselves onto the Catalian’s features and distracted him momentarily from the task at hand.

Trent has been through Larket a few times now in his search for a familiar friend that seemed to have disappeared off of the face of the planet. Each and every time he was directed on where to go, he managed to miss this ‘Callum’ person, whom Trent had been told would be the best shot at finding Meri’s whereabouts. The blonde haired male casually walked along the streets of Larket with his hands tucked into the deep pockets of his leather coat, fur-lined hood lifted to shield him from the biting winds of winter. It wasn’t quite as bad here in the condensed town, but he still felt that chill. It was only when he noticed someone standing outside the house he was about to approach, that Trent slowed his pace, and he reached up to remove the hood with one flesh-colored hand and one metal bearing hand. The stranger was surveyed then with a cool, steel gaze- He matched the description enough. “Excuse me. Are you the man known as Callum Rochester?” he asked, keeping his distance for now.

Callum heard Trent. Oh, yes, he heard him indeed. But, his gaze still lingered on those flowers as if he were looking at Meri himself. “Yes.” There was hesitation, first in his voice and then in his demeanor before he finally looked towards the other male. Trent was unfamiliar and soon led Cal’s mind to wander elsewhere: did he work for the monarchy? Was he someone from Kahran’s forces? No. That didn’t seem to be Kahran’s way. Callum squinted those ocean-blue eyes of his as he stared at Trent, “Who are you?” He pressed on passed the greenery that he himself had planted and tended to as if they were his own children--they -were- in a sense, really--and moved somewhat closer towards Trent, still keeping a decent distance between the two.

Trent looked Callum up and down when the other turned fully, to get a better view of whom he was speaking with. The vocal confirmation of his identity caused Trent to nod in an involuntary manner, as if to tell himself that he was finally on the right track. “Forgive my tresspass, but I am seeking a friend. Someone whom I have not seen in quite some time, I suspect. Her name is Meri.” By now he had heard tell of what relation this Callum had with the blonde haired artist, and so as he thought about it, the way in which he posed his question might have come off a little redundant. The snow under his boot compressed and crunched as Trent stepped forward, his naked hand held out in a polite and respectful manner. “My name is Trent. I am… or was.. A friend of Meri’s.” Glancing past Callum and upon the home in which the pair shared, he then asked, “Has she returned home,by chance?”

Callum wanted to lie. He wanted that silver tongue of his, that he’d used to his advantage so many times since his arrival in Lithrydel, to aid him here. It was as if his charisma was a superpower and the lack of Meri’s existence at home his Kryptonite. The anger that had taken hold of Callum as of late had waned and the depression following Meri and the other Catalian’s trip to the Shadow plane gripped him as if it were death itself dragging him down into whatever hell Callum deserved to be in for the things he’d done as a businessman. Feeling rather awkward and not at all like himself, he shifted uncomfortably in his coat, adjusting it so the collar was popped up to shield him from the breeze, before he finally took Trent’s hand and shook it. “I see. Um, no.” He frowned, trying ever so desperately to hide his despair. “She’s not come home yet.” The depression made him sluggish, and he only just realized that he’d only taken hold of Trent’s hand, but hadn’t quite shaken it yet. He did so, finally, and muttered a faint apology. “It may be some time before she is home, but when if she returns, I can tell her you’re looking for her.” If. Not when. He knew what kind of place that other realm was, the things that came for it. It’s not that he didn’t have faith in Meri and her abilities, it’s just that things there were ever so awful.

Trent could be slow at times. Downright dense when it came to reading people. Yet Callum’s features, his mannerisms- The ebon coated vagrant knew something was amiss. The sound of metal creaking and scraping against itself carries upon a breeze when Trent’s armored hand flexed and shifted, almost as some sort of a response to the Catalian’s slow and vague answers. While Trent could just leave things as they were; At knowing full well that this man would reveal to Meri that someone from her past once again roamed the land of Lithrydel, the amnesiac instead chose to press on with his line of questioning. “If? Some time? Has something happened?” With the shake complete, Trent stuck once again stuck his hand in his pocket. Just that hand though, the other was a bit defiant. Again the man pressed further, “Where did she go?”

Callum retracted his own hand towards his body, ran it through his jet black hair and scratched the back of his head somewhat anxiously. “There was a thing she was doing, with some friends of hers from Cenril. This woman she’s friends with has this curse on her and they went to go take care of it. Or, tried to anyway.” He sucked in a bit of that cool, wintry air between his teeth, his eyes rolling back somewhat to fixate on the sky, his head tilting back with it. “Something happened--a frakking ambush or something. They were attacked and the woman tried to get them out of there, but either her concentration wasn’t up to snuff because the person they went to talk to attack Meri’s friend or Meri was too far away from the group… either way, she didn’t come back.” Callum sighed finally, “She’s strong though. I’m sure she’s still alive. But, the woman and these other friends can’t go back just yet. The woman’s pregnant… and well… going there would be walking right into another trap. Because that’s what this enemy of theirs wanted, was the kid and its mother. So… they’re working on it.” He shrugged, finally fixating on this ‘friend’ of Meri’s again. “Not sure how well you know her, or whether or not that’s a good enough explanation for you, but it has to be. It has to be good enough for now because there’s no one else that can take care of this but that woman and her family.”

Trent ’s brow knit as he listened to Callum’s explanation; Sorrow and anger waged war with one another as they fought for control of his emotion. The pendant, while not visibly on the outside of his jacket, seemed to pulse a little brighter than normal and it bathed the underside of his chin and neck in a faint blue glow. This was the sort of thing that worried Trent. He had a feeling that there was something to all of this. “No, that is more than helpful. I am.. Sorry. Obviously this has affected you greatly. She is, or was some time ago, a good friend. She is strong willed, and quite stubborn…” His serious demeanor cracked a little as the corner of his lip curled into a smirk. “I would dare say that she’s holding her own.” He couldn’t exactly be sure, but hope was the best he could offer this distraught Catalian. “Is there no hope for some sort of search party to go in this woman’s stead? Surely there must be something that can be done?” He looked down at that metal hand, the fingers once more flexing and curling in some kind of autonomous response. “You said Cenril? What is the name of this woman? Do you know how I might find her?”

Here, Callum had to gather his strength and take a bit of a stand. “I don’t feel comfortable giving out that information. Her and I, and her family, we’re mostly just acquaintances, you see. Plus, after what happened to her over there, I don’t think it’s quite right to push her with this. This guy forced her pregnancy along, with dark magic. Made her go from a couple months to nearly full term in a matter of minutes.” The Catalian shook his head, raven-colored brows knitting together, his features shifting to something looking akin to frustration, “If there is something we could do, I would’ve done it already. But, this woman, she’s more than a friend to Meri--they’re practically sisters now. I know she won’t just leave Meri there. They’ll take care of it as soon as they can.” He had to believe that they would. Brand and Lionel wouldn’t just leave Meri there. They wouldn’t. They cared about her too, just like Khitti did. “Just… trust me.” It was a lot to ask of someone he’d just met, but he didn’t know what else to tell him.

Trent sighed with disappointment. He hated not knowing what was going on. He hated being unable to do anything. To be told there was nothing he could do- That was even worse. “…Very well. I will trust you.” It had been so long since he had seen his friend. The one person he had trusted in this strange world of mystery. Things were different now- Those she associated with were different. In the grand scheme of things, Trent was just some unknown interloper. Those metal digits curled into a fist, and so, Trent forced them into his pocket to prevent any sort of incident. He was not a violent man, but there had been too many outbursts in the past. “I am staying at the Tavern in Kelay, until I can find work. Should things change, should she return… please let her know?” The blonde haired man’s eyes bounced back and forth over Callum’s features, “And if you, or those involved… need a hand or anything at all, I will make myself available at first notice. You have my word.”

Callum drew in another deep breath and let it out in yet another sigh. “Carrying on for now is the best course of action until we can do something. If we can do something. I’ve been trying to manage her art studio,” he motioned towards The Rebel Room nearby, “but I’ve about as much skill with art as she did with dealing with plants.” He laugh a little, bitterly, at the thought. “There’s a tournament soon, in Frostmaw, and I’m going to make myself available as a healer there. It’s… what she would’ve wanted me to do, I think--to help people.” He hoped, anyway. Things had changed in such a short time after Kahran’s attack. Callum had broke his pacifism and now thought this was some sort of punishment from Selene herself. “Perhaps you could find work up there, for a short time.” He looked like he might say more, but hesitated and decided against it. Despite no longer working at the gardens here in town, he still had his own herb business to run, but… it felt too soon after Valrae’s death to replace her with someone else as his assistant. Even if she -had- stolen from him. “Yes… I will let you know,” Callum finally said at length.

Trent 's attention soared to the heavens above as he felt something grace the top of his head. He watched as rather large flakes of snow began to descend- It looked like it would be a light dusting. The hood of his jacket was lifted to protect him from the elements, and he finally broke through with a smile as the Catalian laughed. “I am right there with you when it comes to artistic talent. I could not hold a candle to that woman’s talent.” With news of the upcoming Tournament, Trent perked a brow with interest. “In Frostmaw?” A place that Trent had yet to visit. “I will look into this. Thank you.” As the hour grew late and the snow fell, Trent felt as though his business here was done- At least for the time being. He had something to go on, some sort peace of mind in knowing that she was will around- Even if it was stuck in some horrible place. He had found a connection. “I guess I will leave you to your business the, Callum. I thank you for taking the time to speak with me, and the information you have spoken. I am grateful.” Trent bowed his head and turned then, footsteps once more crunching in the snow as he took his leave. “Stay strong, friend.” he called out as his final words, soon disappearing into the winter night.