RP:Fermin Trap

From HollowWiki

Part of the Agitation Arc


Summary: During a rendezvous with Ansel, Josleen tells him of rumors of strange noises in the cellar of The Jester's Gambit. She wants to investigate them and Ansel tags along as companion and protector. In the cellar, the lycan's nose detects the scent of fermin. It isn't long before a fermin assassin attacks Josleen. An invisible barrier seals the stairwell and keeps the pair trapped, and an orange mist burns their nose, eyes, and mouth. The Xalious Tree Amulet, gifted to Josleen by Hildegarde, glows blue as it slowly eatw away at the magical mist. Josleen has an idea and presses it to the magical barrier to try and dispel it.

In the meantime, Ansel stuns the assassin and believes himself victorious, only to discover to his horror that there were two fermin assassins all along. He turns around just in time to see the fermin slice through Josleen's carotid artery in her neck. Ansel snaps the fermin's neck then applies his limited healing power to re-knit her artery with a precarious magical stitch. Extreme blood loss spells her doom and sends Ansel into a panic, but soon the innkeeper Finley, a local doctor, and a pair of Xalious guards arrive on the scene. The doctor stabilizes Josleen then leaves her in Ansel's care.

A Cliff (Outskirts of Xalious)

So time had passed since the last weird incident of slipping and sliding on Linn’s “slip ‘n' slide”, and things seemed to be getting stranger each day. Symbols were found, talking trees, and Josleen had been getting angrier at her husband, so there were perks. All the man could really do was say to leave him, and then the same response would play again ‘it’s complicated’, and all he really respond with was ‘sure it is’. This conversation was becoming repetitive, and Ansel was mostly on auto-pilot, but really, how much nagging could he handle about another man that she could have left months ago? Oh well, right? Today was another day, and Ansel had sent notice to the woman about meeting her on the mountain near a cliff – not too sketchy at all, right? This location was near his home, but not quite. A little getaway time? A little catch up time? The man would stand looking over the cliff, hands stuffed in pockets of a pair of dark colored pants, he was wearing a black v-neck shirt that would button chest to neckline, but he left this open, and he had a grey colored coat with a plain green scarf around his neck. The man was wearing a scarf? Looking classy for his lady (eyebrow wiggle), or there was just a small chilled breeze, then again, that never bugged the man before. This was probably not the right place because she was not a heights type of gal, but he could not think of many options of hiding away.


Between working at the clinic, investigating the strange events, arguing with a moody husband, and sewing the seeds of a political rebellion, Josleen has been very, very busy. What more, ever since these strange events began a number of friends have dropped by to ensure her safety. Ansel is secretly with someone who is very much loved. The most frequent visitor and protector of Josleen is no one less than Hildegarde. As Josleen hikes up the hill to the cliff, she fingers a silver and blue-gemmed pendant of the Xalious Tree given to her by the silver dragon as a token of friendship and (allegedly) platonic love. Her new jewelry? Fanciest piece she owns. But of all the things that demand Josleen's attention, her favorite remains Ansel and his family. She's well-dressed as usual, and warmly too. The winter chill has arrived in Xalious. She smiles broadly at him as she eyes him from head to toe. "Hey, handsome." Her breath steams in the crisp air between them, a distance which closes quickly as she embraces and kisses him hello. "What's the occasion?"


Ansel slightly shifts his torso the side as he hears her voice. A slight bolt of electricity shoots through his stomach as he hears the far too busy girl. As she kisses him, he continues to keep his arms wrapped around her small frame as he looks down at her. “The occasion that I haven’t done this,” he leans down to kiss her neck, “or this,” and he begins trailing until he is back on her lips before smirking “in a very long time,” he finishes before catching the pendant around her neck. “What’s… that?” He is thrown off slightly, mostly because he feared about Ezekiel… Who else would give her a pendant? He was a little flushed.


Josleen leans into the kisses and yields to his arms. The problems of the village vanish when he holds her like this, looks at her like that. She's returning the affection in kind when he stops to ask about the pendant. "Oh, yes," she lifts it for him to take a closer look. "Isn't it lovely? Hildegarde gave it to me. The blue stones are fluorite which are said to absorb magic. She had it blessed by shaman. It's to protect me against magical attacks. Isn't that sweet of her? The tree is the Xalious Tree. The gems represent Frostmaw. It's a union of the two towns. She's so thoughtful!" Her nose wrinkles over a self-conscious smile. "I was a bit embarrassed to be given something so expensive, but she insisted. The truth is, I don't think she has a concept of the value of things. When she was bed ridden after the assasination attempt, Governor Tristram gifted her an entire chest of gems and she told me I should have them. I refused of course, but who does that? Must be a dragon thing." Oblivious Josleen is oblivious to Hildegarde's feelings. Surprisingly, she's also oblivious to Ansel's fear that this pendant could have come from Ezekiel. Normally she can guess at his anxieties, but the idea of Ezekiel giving her anything but a headache is so foreign to her it doesn't even cross her mind.


Ansel leans back slightly to take a better gaze at the pendant. A breath of relief escapes his lips, and his shoulders ease. As Josleen goes on about Hildegarde and how generous the dragon is, the man half smiles and tilts his head out of curiosity. “A dragon thing? Must’ve done something to get on her good side,” he pauses and his fingers slowly reach up and drum gently against her collarbone – close to the pendant but not quite touching the gem. “Hildegarde must really care about you,” his thoughts trail slightly, but that could not be right – he shakes the thoughts off and keeps an innocent mind. “At least someone is keeping their eye on you,” he grins. The grin fades slightly into a soft neutral gaze. “How are things?” He looks her up and down briefly. He was talking about her personally – her state of mind, her next moves on current situations.


Josleen places her hand over his at her collar. His attentiveness has her smiling like a school girl. The last time he was this attuned to her was when they first started seeing each other, before she told him about Ezekiel. That bombshell put a damper on romantic impulses, with good reason, but she takes it as a welcome sign now that they're reaching a new normal. Her arms encircle his middle again and she looks up at him as she say, "I'm alright. Better now. Things have been quiet the past few days. Rumor has it Linn slept under the Xalious Tree for days like a right bum." She grins at this gossip, suggesting she isn't judging him too harshly for it. Linn is weird but harmless, a fact Josleen has no doubt asserted many times before. "I think the mages are hiding. They must know we're after them. But I heard there are some strange noises coming from the cellar of The Jester's Gambit down in the Hobbit burrows. Could be related to the events. I was going to go have a look today before my shift. Want to come with?"


Ansel rests his hands gently on her lower back, and he tilts his head at her gossip. The first thing that drew him to her when they met. He remains quiet and lets her continue her response. “Mages are hiding? Did you ever figure out if they are connected to the Guild?” Another topic he was curious about. His mind had been in other places lately, like how he was going to find a job at a healing practice and practice his skills. As she speaks about The Jester's Gambit, the man raises his brows. “Well, you’re not going alone,” especially with all the situations she has gotten into before.


Regarding the mages, she replies, "I think they are, sadly. Though I can't prove it. I tried probing with my father, but he's been displeased with me as of late." Ansel can surely figure out why. Josleen has been a vocal proponent of limiting The Guild's political power and her father is deeply embedded in The Guild's internal machinery. The dots connect themselves. She smiles at his wolfishly protective response and kisses him one last time. "One for the road." Because on the road they can't kiss, or hold hands. In public they must pretend to be no more than friends, who, according to local gossips, see each other a little too often. During the short walk to The Jester's Gambit Josleen brings up the scientist Callamyre who has been in correspondence with Josleen. "She may be a healer. If so, perhaps I'll ask if she'd like to take on an apprentice and make an introduction." Inserting herself in the introduction is key, lest they repeat the disaster of Lanara 2.0. "Is there anything you specifically want to learn about? I can put it in my letter."


Ansel nods slowly, eyes squint in thought for the meantime. As she kisses him, he smirks and nods. Still a little uncomfortable that they cannot show their affection in public, then again, patrons were talking about the two as of late, and this him slightly uncomfortable as he remembered he was technically the “other man”. As they begin to walk, and Josleen begins to talk, the wolf widens his eyes. “Doctor Callamyre?” He pauses before continuing. “I remember her. Back in Cenril, long ago. She tended to me after a sticky situation…” His lips twist, and he continues on their brief walk. “Also, I remember seeing her at a party back in Cenril… Worst situation ever,” he leaves this at that. No one wants to talk about the man who was eaten by a mermaid. “I don’t know if she is in touch with elements, she was rather old fashioned, which could be of use to me. Learning new techniques without magic would be helpful, I suppose.” He chews on the inside of his cheek. “The Guild… do they often go over elements?” He was very timid.


Josleen answers his final question first with a quick, "Yes, they do." Something else he said caught her attention, about Callamyre and his past. She glances at him sidelong then trains her look forward again. With an effort to sound oh-so-casual, she asks, "What sticky situation?"


The man does not even think about the jealous Josleen. His mind is still in thought about The Guild, but he tries to maintain his focus on her question. His mind switching to auto-mode. “I told you a while back I use to rogue in Cenril,” he starts, “Calla was there when I was stabbed – last situation I was in. She patched me back up,” his voice was low and smooth.

The Jester's Gambit

"Oh." She keeps her stare trained ahead. Her hand itches to take his but she can't on this populated street. There aren't many people about, but one witness is all it takes. She wants more details, to know it all, to know how to feel about the sticky situation, but right now everything is a wash. Rationally, she knows there's likely nothing to worry about. It's the past. But their relationship is still so precarious that just about anything threatens to topple it. "I'm glad you're no longer doing that sort of thing. I'd be worried all the time," she says. She smiles anxiously at him. The arrive at The Jester's Gambit and Josleen takes over the social greasing as usual. 'Hello so-and-so!' 'How's the family?' 'Oh don't be a stranger.' 'This is Ansel, a friend.' 'Lovely to see you Mrs.such-and-such! How's the leg/arm/sight/rheumatism/arthritis?' The bard possesses an encyclopedic knowledge of the village, its residents, and all their business. It takes about twenty minutes of boring small talk (during which Josleen makes a valiant effort to include Ansel) before Josleen feels like the mood is right to find the innkeep and get down to the business of the cellar. "I've been hearing the same noises as my patrons, Josleen," says the innkeeper, "and I have gone down several times to take a look myself, but there's nothing down there out of the ordinary." The innkeeper eyes Ansel suspiciously. "Will your friend be joining you down there?"


Ansel does not go on, nor does this even cross his mind. “Well, I won’t be doing that, but Cenril is calling my name to pay a visit at some point. Old friends I left behind there when I went to Frostmaw,” he nodded slightly. As they arrive, Ansel is a shadow. However, he comes into contact with a few strangers. He plays the Frostmaw act to seem slightly more charming. He talks about how Josleen are old friends and happened to come across each other in Xalious. He was very smooth, especially when he was not the major talker. The wolf was growing socially more and more everyday he was with Josleen. As the innkeeper eyes Ansel, Ansel raises his brows at the keeper. Almost offended by the suspicion, but he plays more of a mockery. “Why, would you like to join her-- us instead?” He cringes. Sadly, he needed to play nice…


Josleen would have answered the innkeeper differently, but Ansel's surly answer will do. She smiles sweetly at the innkeeper. The sugary sweet expression backs up Ansel with the non-verbal equivalent of 'what he said.' Flustered, the innkeeper unlocks the door and waves for them to go ahead. He must stay on the main floor to tend to business. His trust in Josleen speaks for itself. Ansel gains it by association. She jogs down the stairs before the wolf, glancing over her shoulder as she continues their conversation from earlier as if there wasn't an interruption between then and now. "Would it be an imposition to ask if I could tag along to Cenril? I could benefit from the beach. May be nice for us to have a little vacation where no one knows who we are." The cellar is well lit and at a quick glance nothing is out of the ordinary: casks, extra furniture, repair supplies, etc. Ansel's sharp nose may detect the scent of a fermin.


Ansel keeps a soft expression, making up for the tone of voice he portrayed towards the innkeeper. The wolf would follow right down behind her. As she asks to tag along in Cenril, he halts rather surprised at her question. “You want to come with me?” This was a surprise. “What about your… parents or… Ezekiel?” This time it came out as a bit of a shock. She was keeping such a façade with these people that he figured she would just stay. “You can… tag along. However, Alvina was talking to me and got me thinking a tad… and I was going to search for possibly a job over there – maybe. I’m just keeping options open. Like Frostmaw, unless I find another alternative.” This was probably the wrong time to talk about such a thing with the woman. He then gets cut off and looks around. “I smell something… funny…” He trails, his gaze was now darting about the ordinary area. “It smells sort of… sour? Do you smell it?”


Josleen turns around to face Ansel when he mentions looking for a job in Cenril. She looks gutted. Raw hurt works in her jaw and her eyes narrow in disbelief and pain. "What are you talking about?" The question comes out rhetorical, and she isn't sure she can keep it together if he answers. Impulsively she strides behind a cask to take refuge. Whether or not the cellar smells sour seems like such a small thing to her now.


Ansel forgets about the smell momentarily and shifts his hazel gaze back to her. “What do you expect me to do, Josleen?” he rubs the back of his neck timidly. His voice slowly lowers slightly and he looks towards the stairs. “It’s not like I don’t love you,” he pauses and he steps towards her as she takes shelter. “I praise you to come with me, actually.” He then sighs, “I have… mouths to feed, abilities to improve. Cenril has a clinic, and I’m only curious is all…" He trails, he was failing. "Josleen, you’re settled, and I’m… trying to be,” he squints at his own choice of words. “Feed me more options, and I’ll take them into consideration too. It’s not permanent, I’m going to Cenril to scope the place out, yes?” He was trying to keep his voice at a gentle level, an understanding level.


Josleen stays hidden behind the cask. The occasional sniffle and sob gives her away. "If you scope it out and you like it and you go there, what about us?" Another loud sniffle. "You say you love me, but... You know how I know I love you? When I fantasize about my future the details of what I am doing may change, the setting may change, but you're always there." Up above, chairs scrape on the tavern floor. Footsteps pace. A few other sounds, difficult to identify and closer to the cellar, and click and creak beneath the murmured cacophony of tavern life.


Ansel almost wants to face-palm his forehead. This was the wrong place at the wrong time. “Am I really always there, Josleen? Or am I just in the background for you to hide?” His voice is showing a little inflection. He shakes his head and shakes his hands in front of her face as if he wants her to stop crying. Eyes flicker towards the stairs again and his voice lowers again. “It’s not like I don’t see you in my future, you’re in my future, but mine is a different picture than what yours is."


"You don't even know what my picture is! You never ask!" Her whispered shouts sound like a hiss. Her face is more red than wet. The crying clogs the back of her throat and sinuses. Her eyes glisten but the tears stay put for now. "I don't want you in the background forever!" If Ansel is facing Josleen head on, he may notice something peculiar at his two o'clock, behind and slightly to the right of Josleen. A floorboard lifts and beneath it something shiny and metallic glistens. "I want the divorce, Ansel. What do you think I hope for next?"


“You always say that it’s complicated, I’ve given up on asking!” And the man is whisper shouting back. The man tilts his head at her. He already knew that she did not want him in the background, but there was no action. Instead, eyes lingered on something new to get off the subject, but first... “Then do it already, Josleen. Stop crying and telling me about it and just do it,” his tone is simple and short. This conversation has been talked about too much – too repetitive. He then brushes past her in almost a march, he was very distracted, and mostly wanted to save this conversation for later. They were on a mission, and well, he did not want patrons above to get even more suspicions. The man then kneels down and yanks on the floor board. “Now, get your butt over here, and help me,” he was a little demanding due to frustration, eyebrows were narrowed as he stared her down.


When Ansel glances at the shiny object it disappears. The floorboard falls back down, but the surface is uneven enough for someone to lift it back up. Josleen wipes at her eyes as Ansel strides past her. Is that what all of this Cenril business is? Pull the trigger on the divorce, or I'm leaving town? Who could blame him for the ultimatum, but still she resents it. He tells her to get her butt moving, and she does. They can't stay down here too long. She stands behind him as he wrenches the floorboard free. There's nothing. "What did you see?" If he turns around to look at her, he'll see yet another floorboard lift up behind her to reveal a black-cloaked fermin aiming a crossbow at the back of Josleen's skull. The assassin fires a bolt at his target's head. The fermin disappears as soon as the bolt flies.


Ansel is trying to pry the boards open and when the board cracks up, there is nothing there. Also, he was not going to leave her behind, after all they had been through, he would never just leave her there, but at the same time he was running out of options in Xalious to stay except for her. The man then looks back at her. “Something—“ he then gasps, looking at the new floorboard that was up. He then clenches her hand and yanks her downwards into him. The bolt flies and sticks into the opposite wall. “I knew it!” He looks at her and places a hand on her face momentarily to check if she was alright. “Are you okay? There’s something here with us,” this was obvious.


Josleen yelps in surprise as Ansel brings her down to his level. It all happens so fast. The yank, the bolt, her wide-eyed alarm and his hand on her face. "I'm fine, I'm fine." Her hand cups his for a second, then she's scrambling onto her feet and pulling him up with her. They need to be alert in case it happens again. Once they're both standing she releases his hand. "The innkeeper said he never witnessed anything. So why now?" Wine bottles sitting in a rack clink as the fermin scurries in the walls behind them. Josleen presses her back to a cask. The fermin waits until Ansel is looking away from Josleen again before reappearing in the rafters of the ceiling and taking aim at Josleen's face. She spies it this time and gasps, "Ansel!" She ducks as a second bolt whizzes and lodges in the cask a mere inch over her scalp, her hair tangled in its shaft. She rips off a knot of her own hair to free herself and scurry away from the cask. "Let's go!" She runs to the stairs and looks over her shoulder to make sure Ansel is following. Her leg lifts to take the first step, but instead she bounces back on the floor, landing on her butt hard. An invisible magical barrier (with a little kick!) keeps them imprisoned here.


Ansel blinks and rises up with the woman. The man is trying to think about her question. He is looking around for the fermin. Follow the scent… Where was it? It was moving so fast. As she shouts his name, eyes cast her direction. He launches towards her to help her before following after. The man also bounces back from the magical gate. “What the…?” The man is dumbfounded. He then flicks his gaze to her. “Whatever it is, it’s after you. It knows that you’re the curious one,” he stands up quickly. Wherever the scent was, the man was going to let his eyes linger, afraid another bolt would launch her direction. The man goes near the wine bottles and takes one out – waiting for the next attempt to happen.


The scent moves with the scurrying and clawing of fermin feet -- in the walls, under the floor, in the ceiling. A couple of minutes pass as the fermin assassin tries to position itself for its next move. From beneath the floorboard a tiny metal ball rolls out. It releases an orange mist that lifts and expands to fill the whole cellar. It burns the nose, throat, and eyes and makes seeing anything more than an arm's length in front of you impossible to see. Josleen starts coughing convulsively. The amulet that Hildegarde gifted her begins to glow blue and eat at the orange mist around Josleen slowly. It'll be several minutes before the flourite fully dispels the orange mist, and it only takes seconds for the assassin to get his bolt in Josleen's head. What more, her coughing gives her position away.


As the orange mist fills the air in the enclosed basement, the man crinkles his nose and begins coughing as well. The scent of the fermin dissipates as the orange mist comes into his wolf senses. Fight it. The man charges forward with blind sight but listening ears. The man reaches out and feels for the woman to snag her into his arms before the bolt can hit her – hopefully. The bottle within his hand breaks against a box, spilling liquid everywhere as the bottle cracks. There was a pinching pain that shot through his hand, and the man takes the top of the bottle within the other, ignoring the pain of his sliced palm. As the mist fades away, the man is now standing in front of Josleen as if he was a shield, slightly hovering over her. Ansel could only think of one option… Let the assassination games begin. “Why the hell can’t they hear us up there?” Ansel was now following the scent again. If the fermin were to reveal itself again, it’d be simple, the man would take the bottle and lift it to the side of his face. The man would flick his wrist and his arm would follow through a motion where the glass would flip before soaring straight through the direction of the fermin – at least stunning the assassin.


Josleen's coughing eases as Hildegarde's gift does the trick. It seems to consume magic upon contact. Thank you, Hildegarde and Frostmaw shamans! Ansel easily pulls her against his chest, and she cowers against him as they listen for the assassin's next move. "Magic?" Josleen guesses at Ansel's question. "I have an idea." She runs back towards the stairs and pushes the amulet against the invisible barrier. It repels her hard, but with the aid of the magic-eating trinket, she's able to push back. One leg extends behind her, both bands brace the pendant, and she pushes with all her might until she's red in the face and breaking a sweat. Little by little the amulet begins to eat through the barrier, but Josleen is a sitting duck in the meantime. Ansel nails the fermin right between the eyes and stuns it unconscious. Here's the trick though: there's been two of them all along! Sneaky little rat bastards. They're dressed identically on purpose and attack in turns to give the appearance of a single, eerily quick, assassin. With his fallen comrade down for the count, the second fermin takes one last opportunity at their mark. He hangs upside down from the rafters just behind Josleen and stabs a 9-inch blade towards the base of her skull where her neck meets her head.


A pang of gratefulness hits the man. The deed had been done. Or has it? As the man turns to relax and share his relief, another fermin is in sight. This time, there is a blade aimed towards her head. “Josleen, duck forward!” He is jolting forward at the same time – hues become amber out of worry and anger. Will he get to her in time to beat the fermin to a pulp?! Find out next week on—wait, no, that’s not right! Arms extend out to reach to pull the fermin from the rafters and to wrangle the fermin’s neck, well, either way if he reaches the assassin in time or not he was going to strangle it.


Josleen ducks forward quickly but misjudges the distance and bangs her head on the invisible barrier. Her head bounces back right into the oncoming blade which slices through the side of her neck and shoulder, right where the two meet. Blood gushes out like a geyser, suggesting an important artery has been hit. She cries out in pain and falls forward, onto the barrier again and is sent sprawling back a couple of feet. Ansel gets to the fermin before he can disappear back up his hiding hole. It's a quick and grisly business snapping its neck so that it bleeds just like Josleen's. Eye for an eye? Blood pools around her thickly and quickly.


Ansel places his firm hands around the neck of the fermin. The man twists – crack! The fermin falls to the floor. Eyes are wide with those amber irises and suddenly reality is falling back into place. Time is slow. The girl is now on the ground in a pool of her own blood. His head is spinning. “No…” His lips part and the man falls to his knees. Automatically, one hand is covering over the wound and placing pressure over the spewing of bright red ooze. “Babe.. no. No, no, no. You’re okay,” his own cut hand is brushing over her cheek – using the back of his hand so not too much blood would get on her, he was nodding to her. He was panicking. Being a doctor for one patient was one thing, but being one for his own lover was another. The shock was kicking in. Don’t let it, Ansel. Remain calm. Keep pressure. He would then scramble to move behind her, lifting her slightly – keeping that hand on the wound – to keep her elevated somewhat. His hands were shaking. This was like a tragic drama. Don’t die! Though, elevation was not going to help this one. He has to find his cool. The man closes his eyes for a moment or two before opening them again. “Pressure…” Pressure points. The man guides one hand her to find a pressure point, perhaps slowing down the bleeding momentarily. The hand that would cover over the wound would then slowly glow a bluish tint. The tingles. The sense of energy pushing through him to her. He would slowly slide around her and try to get a better sense of vision with the weaving of the artery. Just a slice, right? A silly little slice. “You’re gonna be okay, you’re going to do what you want to do with your future, and I’ll be there, but I hope you’re living with me. So I need to get a job, so I can support you. This is why I need a job, Josleen, in case this stuff happens,” he continues on, the man flicking fingers to try to weave and mend the deep wound. He is slightly straining, the man was out of practice. Beads of sweat form, and hands are relentlessly out of control with shaking. Soon enough, most of the artery is mended, the bleeding stops, but the wound is still thin and can split open easily, he still keeps his hand on there just in case it rips open. She just needs to be careful. “Look at that, all better…” Though, he is unsure in his pitiful work. Too much anxiety was taking a toll on him.


Josleen's eyes flutter open for a moment when his hand glows blue and the energy flows forth from him, but it doesn't last. She sinks into the quicksand of unconsciousness again. The initial struggle to wake up wears her out, then forgets she's asleep at all. The blood loss takes it toll. She's swimming somewhere shallow and far away. Her body lies perfectly still and pale. The color fades from her lips. With the two fermin either dead or unconscious, the magical barrier collapses. It must have been the handiwork of the fermin Ansel killed. Sound travels up from the cellar now. The irony is that now everything is silent. But too much time has passed, the magic has lifted, and the portly hobbit innkeeper comes to check on them. He jogs down the stairs calling, "Josleen?" His eyes go wide at the bloody scene before him. The dead fermin and Ansel's grief speak for themselves. He crosses to Ansel's side and crouches gingerly, hands hovering as if to touch Josleen but he does not. "What can I do?"


Ansel is hesitant as the hobbit makes his appearance. The man snaps his gaze to him – filled with guilt and almost watery eyes before blinking them away. Be tough. “We need to get her to the clinic… Or the clinic to her,” He would slowly reach a hand underneath her neck to support her. “I need you to help me get her out of here and into a room.” And if he follows suit, the two would lift her up. “Gently, gently. Her neck can split open again!” He was full of hostility towards the hobbit. As the two slowly maneuver her up the steps, Ansel eyes a patron idly walking through the establishment with staring eyes. “You,” he would holler. “Go get help – now!” As for the hobbit assisting him, he would begin to speak. “If you have gauze, we need it. That way we can wrap her neck for the meantime until someone gets here with more energy than I have,” he swallows roughly. Hold back, Ansel. Hold it all back.


Finley, that's the elderly hobbit innkeeper at The Jester's Gambit, grabs a dolly from the back of the cellar. The wooden pallet is only long enough to brace Josleen's head, shoulders, back, and butt, but it offers some support in stabilizing her neck so it doesn't split open again. Ansel needs to wrestle with the wooden pallet and head and shoulders. Finley stands to the side of Josleen and supports the pallet under her butt and lets her legs drape over his arm. He guides Ansel to an empty room. The fact that the blood will soak into the bedsheets and mattress does cross his mind, but his compassion wins out and he doesn't hesitate to transfer Josleen from pallet to bed. The red stain spreads through the sheet immediately upon contact. Crimson soaks her dress thoroughly and seeps into the downy mattress. "I'll be right back," says Finley. He returns minutes later with fresh gauze and a large bowl of clean water. Sensing Ansel's emotional state, the hobbit gives him space. "I'll be just down the hall." He sets a bell down on the bedside table. "Ring if you need anything. A doctor should be here soon, as well as the Xalious Guard." Oh yes, that little detail. Fermin are technically people, Ansel. You just committed an act of murder. "Don't worry," says Finley helpfully. "If they ask me, I'll corroborate your story. I know this was self defense. I can see it in your eyes." His watery, tear-brimmed eyes. Ansel and Josleen are left alone. He pulse grows weaker by the minute. Her breath is so shallow it's impossible to detect.


Ansel nods to Finley as he exits the room and comes back with gauze and clean water. Ansel is standing close the woman, hand partially over his chin and mouth. The man was a whole different type of speechless – hands were shaking still. The man still in shock over the adrenaline and that she was unconscious and on the brink of death. The man looks at Finley out of slight worry. Was Ansel going to jail? That would be interesting. Anyway! He did not speak, for he did not have much to say. Would Ansel be favored? Or would it look like he did such a thing? The man then pulls up a chair and begins to dab the water against her neck gently, very gently. The gauze would then come soon after, the man wrapping the gauze around her to keep the wound secure until more stable help arrived. Her pulse was fading. “Come on, stay…” The man lowers his head between his knees as if he was going to be sick. Hands fold over the back of his head. Real tears… When was the last time he had cried? A few stream down his cheeks and he is not sure how much time passes until someone is grabbing him by the shoulder. “Sir, I need you to step outside with me,” the Xalious Guard was there, and a doctor following suit. Ansel jolts and he shakes his head. “No, I need to stay,” his voice is rather forceful, this makes the guard rather thrown off and irritable – narrowed brows. “Come with me, or you’ll have a lot more to deal with,” and Ansel obeys order, standing and leaving the almost breathless woman behind and the stable doctor to take care of her.


The doctor is a woman because #feminism. She is new to town and doesn't seem to know who Josleen is, and thus assumes Ansel is her new patient's romantic partner. She offers him encouraging words ("I'll do my best for her, sir."), then shuts the door to the bedroom behind her. In the hallway, the guard asks Ansel to tell his version of events. A second guard questions Finley in a separate room. The guard picks apart Ansel's story and forces him to retell each detail. The goal is to find inconsistencies, detect lies. For what it's worth, though the guard does his job professionally and is thorough, he doesn't seem predisposed to assume Ansel straight up tried to murder Josleen. The crime scene corroborates the distressed healer's story too. Racism also comes to Ansel's aid in the form of anti-fermin prejudice. They're creepy little rat-faced bastards aren't they? Sometime during the eighth or ninth retelling of Ansel's story, the doctor joins him and the guard in the hall. She waits for the guard to signal that she may speak then says to Ansel, "I've put a cantrip in place to patch up the artery. You did a good job repairing it when you did. She would have died if not for you. My spell will take about three hours before the artery is strong enough for her to be moved safely. Someone needs to stay with her to ensure she doesn't move too much when she wakes. I expect that'll be sometime in the next hour. I found a poison in her bloodstream. A common agent meant to accelerate bleeding." She looks to the guard now, "It would have been laced on the dagger." Thus, if they find the poison on the fermin corpse's dagger, Ansel is more or less proved innocent in the eyes of the law (no crime, no murder), though there is no doubt he killed the fermin. For the sake of thoroughness, the guard asks Ansel, "You have any idea why someone would try to kill Josleen?" The way the guard mentions her name suggests he knows her in the way all villagers seem to know of each other.


Ansel describes the situation, how they went into the basement, funky smell, fermin appeared and were trying to kill Josleen, the whole shindig! Ansel is careful with his words, the man is slow at talking and makes sure every detail is properly within the story. As the doctor comes out, Ansel’s heart skips a beat and begins racing. As she begins speaking, everything is a blur except for the words ‘she would have died if not for you’. He barely did a thing, though. He could barely keep himself together now. As the guard now asks the man the next question, Ansel squints. “I… I don’t know. Josleen tends to be nosy at times, and perhaps she stuck her nose in the wrong business,” he cringes and shrugs. Play dumb Ansel. “I don’t know much, I just know what happened today.” He sighs, almost exasperated by all the questions and emotions. “If you’ll excuse me,” he nods to the both of them before moving towards the door to go back into the bedroom, done with questions or not, he did not care. Now, all he would have to do is wait.


The guard lets Ansel know they'll be in touch, but they don't need to arrest him now. Hopefully they won't have to in the future either. The doctor follows Ansel into the room and gives final instructions: Three hours from now Josleen can go home, but she'll be weak. She cannot sit up until the three hours have passed. She should rest in bed for at least four days, then some light exercise would do her good. At the local apothecary Ansel needs to pick up some special juices with essential oils that will help Josleen replace the lost blood and regain her strength. Josleen needs to drink it once a day for a week. "That'll be all. I'll leave you to your wife now." The doctor assumes they are married due to Josleen's wedding band, which she must wear in Xalious. A few minutes after the doctor's departure, Finley brings Ansel a glass and pitcher of water and asks, "Would you be liking a stronger drink? On the house." He eyes the man's demeanor, curious as to the nature of the relationship between Ansel and Josleen, but asks nothing about it. If Ansel orders a drink, it arrives soon. It's another forty minutes before Josleen's eyes flutter open and she groans in pain. He instinct is to move her head side to side to inspect her surroundings.


Ansel would nod to each direction the female doctor would give with the occasional ‘right’ as a response. Eyes would linger on the woman lying in the bed covered in blood. As the doctor says ‘wife’, that’s when his attention averts to her, there is no words again; there is just a nod. He does not deny this, he cared about her too much. He only wished she was his. As she disappears and Finley enters, he shakes his head. “Water is fine,” due to his terrible days of alcohol, he refuses the offer of liquor. The man pours the water and gulps from the glass before sitting down in the chair next to the woman’s bedside. He stares into space for a long time and the forty minutes pass. As she groans, that is when his eyes cast to her movement. A hand instantly rests on her arm. “Shh, shh, shh, don’t move. It’s okay. Just stay down,” his voice is gentle. His heart is beating way too quickly. He was just happy she was awake. “Doctor’s orders. I’m here.”


Josleen turns her head as slowly and carefully to get a better look at Ansel's lined face. The searing pain stabbing through her neck makes it impossible for her to move quickly even if she wanted to (she doesn't). The extreme blood loss has exhausted her thoroughly. The color has not yet returned to her complexion. She doesn't say anything at first. She can easily enough figure out where she is, what happened, why he looks so distraught, why she's in so much pain. He's been so brave through all their past misadventures, and so resolute and firm in their arguments. To see him so wrecked now she knows that her situation must be bad -- really bad. "Baby," she says with every intention to reassure him, but her weak, wavering voice lets her down. Grasping fingers twitch weakly for his hand. She isn't sure what else to say or think. Her mind moves thickly. Thoughts congeal like gum and it's difficult to sort one from the other. Slowly she peels away at the easiest thoughts, those needs most basely felt. "I feel sticky. I want to bathe." She takes a deep breath and braces her elbow on the bloody mattress to try and push herself into a sitting position.


Ansel is now the one with the red eyes, the sadness. Ansel shakes his head and extends his arm out to reach for her fingers. He looks at the woman who is covered in blood. As she tries to sit up, Ansel stands and tries to press her gently back down. “No, no, Josleen. You can’t sit up for a couple more hours,” the man gently raises his other hand to place on her forehead. “Is there anything I can do for you to make you feel more comfortable?”


Josleen complies with his instruction. Her hand holds his feebly. Short of a soak and a snuggle (in that order, of course), what else can he do to make her feel better? "Make the time pass." She sounds parched. Her mouth sticks on itself. "I want to go home." A sudden sharp frown arrests her pale, trembling lips. The brush with death is catching up to her, making itself known, demanding to be felt. "I want to go home with you."


Ansel takes the glass that was sitting on a side table now and lowers the glass to her lips, nodding his head to drink. ‘I want to go home with you’. The man pauses, lifting the glass away from her face slightly, his lips part, but not a word comes out. He lowers to his knees so he is closer to her, glass still in hand. “Come with me, live with me,” he nods, and he raises her hand and kisses it multiple times. “I love you so much, and I’ll take care of you.” He pauses and shakes his head. “When you were lying there… I… I didn’t know what to do. I need you, Jos...”


Josleen didn't realize she was thirsty until the water meets her lips. She drinks greedily and winces with every swallow. He drops to his knees and comes closer and she wishes she was well enough, and clean enough, to embrace him. Not that he himself is very clean. Her blood cakes in the lines of his palms and knuckles, around his nails. Her eyes focus on his hands, then his lips as they kiss her hand. She's still frowning, but not at him or his words. The situation is hard enough, and further complicated by their affair. Her fingers cup and stroke his cheek. "I'm going home with you." It isn't as easy as all that, and she has so much more to say on the matter, but she's too exhausted to talk at length like she normally does. It hurts to speak and her mind turns to fog. All the careful considerations of their facade crumble when she is at her weakest and grasping for the things she needs most to be well: food, rest, bath, home, him. She's content to whittle away the next couple of hours soaking in his presence and love. At first they just stare at each other and stroke each other as they come down from this emotionally wrought high. The blood soaked bed seems less alarming when she asks him to tell her a story, anything to take her mind off of what just happened. They can figure it out tomorrow. Right now, tell me a story. It's likely a very interesting one to boot, but exhaustion pulls Josleen under again and she falls asleep for the last half hour before they're free to go home. Finley checks on them twice, but always knocks first and leaves quickly when dismissed.


His eyes close as she strokes his cheek. He wanted to believe that it was that easy and he would pretend for now. And now, it was time to tell her a story. He tells her the story about his first venture to the land. How he went through an extreme blizzard with his two boys. He talks about how they found a cave for them to live in until the storm passed. This took days. Ansel would have to go out and hunt for the boys, collect things to burn, go on full survival mode. They eventually became lost as they found greener land, and that’s how they ended up in the land. When she fell asleep, that was when he was about to begin the story of how he came across Xalious and a home, but it was too late, and he was content with this. When she falls asleep, he does not wake her up when the time hits three hours. Instead he lets her rest until the next time she wakes up.


Josleen wakes up again well after the dinner hour. She hasn't eaten anything since breakfast and hunger wakes her up. She looks for Ansel and finds him there watching over her. He makes her smile for the first time since the cellar. Thirsty again, she signals for water, and then his help to sit up. "Home," is all she says. Her throat and neck hurt more now than they did earlier. The doctor's cantrip's anesthetic effect is wearing off. The walk to Ansel's remote cabin is too much for her right now, but Finley the helpful hobbit offers to loan them a donkey and cart. Bring it back tomorrow. Don't worry about the blood. Finley's on it. Ansel and Josleen arrive home well past the boys' bedtime, much to Josleen's relief. She doesn't want them to see her like this. All she wants is a bath, then to climb into bed with Ansel and fall asleep as he strokes her. Although she's hungry, she rejects solid food. Swallowing would be too painful. Maybe tomorrow.

The next day she is still very weak and spends most of the day fading in and out of naps. She'll drink the juice the doctor ordered, and will eat soups, but nothing solid. In the evening she is antsy about staying a second night for the sake of appearances, but she can't bring herself to leave. The thought of returning home to an emotionally chilly apartment is more daunting than the challenge of figuring out lies to maintain the facade. What more, she is worried her parents have heard about the attack by now and are looking for her. She writes them a note explaining she is staying with a friend (which Ansel will need to sneakily deliver to their post box). It will certainly alarm them that Josleen has turned to someone other than her husband for comfort. The bard knows this and wants this. She is grooming them to accept the inevitable divorce. If she plays her hand right, when she tells them she is divorcing Ezekiel, they'll hopefully say 'I suppose we saw this coming.' When she speaks to Ansel now, it's clear she still wants to maintain some facade to preserve some pieces of her reputation, but now when they talk of her divorce it's no longer complicated. Confronting one's mortality has a way of uncomplicating things. There is still a process to be had, but the process has accelerated. She stays two nights total and intends to leave by carriage after dark on the final day. She doesn't want to leave and it's a teary-eyed goodbye. She's still fragile and could likely be convinced to stay. Though it should bring Ansel some comfort to know her destination isn't her home, but her parents' home. Her mother will ask what happened, why isn't Ezekiel here, and she can start the process if she has the nerve.


Ansel obeys the woman and offers her water, he is catering at her every need. The man carefully helping her up in the bed. “Careful, careful,” and he is nodding. Home… She was calling his home her home, and this gave him tingles. Do not over-excite yourself, Ansel. It’s still a long road. Loading the cart was easy. Ansel loaded her in, stole a few extra blankets for the woman to keep her “cozy”, well, as much as he could, and walked along beside the donkey and her cart. The sake of the donkey with Ansel’s weight made him a little nervous, he felt bad for the creature. As they arrive to the cabin, it is small, but warm. There is three bedrooms. One for the two boys, one for Jenson, and one for Ansel. The first thing the man does is help her to the bath, and assists the woman while she bathes. Ansel gives her an over-sized sweater to snuggle into, and he crawls into bed with her, brushing fingers through her damp hair.

Ansel is out and in the next day. As she falls asleep, he leaves, as she is awake, he has everything prepared for the woman. The timing was perfect. The boys are curious and are trying to poke inside the room from time to time, but Ansel scolds them quietly about it. “Go do something else, boys,” the boys groan and go venture off from time to time and they keep their volume to a low for the woman. The man is rather giddy, despite the situation, that she is here and in his home, in his bed, in his clothes. This was what he had been waiting for… Though, he knows that this is only temporary. Ansel does his job of delivering the letter to her parents. As the woman leaves goodbye, Ansel gives the woman instructions of how to take care of herself. The boys even wave to her goodbye and wish her well. Then, when the boys disappear, Ansel nods to her hesitantly. “I… I love you,” and this goodbye is as hard as ever to have someone else take care of her. The man kisses her gently. “Come home soon,” he half-smiles before letting her depart. Though, the comfort knowing that she was staying with her parents instead made him feel easy again, and this is what was keeping him held on by a string.