RP:Goodbyes Aren't Forever...Unless You Die
Part of the The Day I Tried To Live Arc
Summary: Khitti and Brand meet with Alvina in Vailkrin before their departure to Rynvale, giving the woman the updates she seeks on Khitti's situation.
Hanging Corpse Tavern, Vailkrin
The tavern seemed as good of a place as any to meet with Alvina. Khitti’d gotten word from Pilar that the blacksmith was going to tag along to check on Khitti after their first trip to the Shadow Plane. Originally, after receiving the letter, Khitti was actually happy to see her...until she remembered the things that her and Alvina had spoken about besides getting rid of Amarrah and finding a cure. You know, that dual-minded Catalian she’s kind of in love with. That Catalian that just so happens to have to guard Khitti nearly twenty-four-seven and would be accompanying her to this meeting in the tavern. Yep. This was going to be fun. (Not really.) Adorned in braided leather pants, a flowy sleeveless shirt, her nearly knee-high boots, and a long-brimmed leather hat--all black of course-- she’d make her way into the tavern. It’d been a hell of a long time since she’d been here. There was staring, as there often was with the vampiress, but here it was for different reasons. Once upon a time, she wasn’t like the rest of them, didn’t drink from the living, shunned it like the plague. If that hadn’t been enough, she’d also managed to get herself banished from House Dragana, and it seemed like word hadn’t spread yet that she was indeed allowed there again. With a heavy sigh, she pulled the brim of her hat down over her eyes, shielding all the other wretched creatures that called Vailkrin home from her sight.
Stopping at Steadman’s post behind the bar, she’d shove a small pile of coins at him, ordered a bottle of black fire wine with two glasses, and would leave extra cash behind so that he could stop Alvina, ask if she’d care for a drink, and then send her back to where Khitti’s table was. The table itself was not far from the fireplace--why is there even a hearth here when nearly everyone’s frakking dead anyway?!--and thankfully had no one occupying it. The redhead took the bottle and the glasses and settled herself at the table, poured a glass, and shoved it silently in Brand’s direction. If he’d never had it before, he’d find that it was quite different from the fruity, almost bubbly wine he’d found in Raiez’s cave--this one had a kick and burned all the way down.
It had been about a year since Brand had come to the Hanging Corpse last, and the tavern was perhaps the only thing that hadn’t changed in that time. Back then he’d been new to Lithrydel, looking for Lionel, and seeking information on the mysterious Hildegarde the man had mentioned. He’d flirted with some vampiress here, flattered her until she’d become pliant and willing to divulge what she knew. But he’d held no great love for vampires; it was a means to an end, nothing more. He couldn’t even remember the woman’s name. Hell, she could be amongst the patrons here tonight and he’d be none the wiser.
Lionel and Hildegarde, though… they were quite familiar to him now. Lithrydel, too. He’d certainly walked most of it over enough times in the last year -- the parts anyone ever seemed to consider worth knowing, anyway. As for loving any vampires, well…
“Oi, kiwi.” Brand barely eked the words out through a sudden coughing fit. Maybe he should have anticipated it, given the name, but he’d not been expecting any wine to burn like bottom-shelf whiskey. “If it’s somethin’ I said, maybe you can tell me --” cough cough, hack, wheeze “-- instead of repeatedly tryin’a kill me for it?!”
Khitti had been colder to him these last few days; he’d noticed that much. What he couldn’t for the life of him figure out was -why-.
Alvina had found her way to the tavern earlier than expected by a couple days for a few different reasons, none of which matter in the context of this moment. She is arriving again, so the tavern isn't as drab the second or third time around. The very first time, she'd looking into a wine glass for fear that it might be blood. This time, she orders a glass of wine with little regard to what it's actually made out of and lets Steadman point her in the right direction. Relief washes over her when she does indeed see the familiar vampiress, a moment's hesitation given to her companion. It was not the Catalian that held her own heart, so the bard proceeds with a cautious smile. "Khitti..." She says, setting her wine down and throwing her arms around the vampire without a second's hesitation. It didn't matter if she'd come back with seven heads and crawling claws where her fingers use to be. Alvina was relieved to see her.
There was something in their first interaction that had solidified Khitti's place in Alvina's heart. Maybe her frankness, or willingness to divulge her secret in the special way of sisters. Brand is to Alvina's back, while the bard holds fast to Khitti for much too long. She remembers herself when he coughs, and lets go to stand up straight with a rightful blush now painted on her otherwise pale features. "S-so sorry, " She offers to the male, "I"m Alvina, pleased to meet you - do you need some water?" She offered with a slight smile. "Khitti, I've been so worried...Just the other day I was asking Krice if he'd heard from you..." A chair is spotted and pulled out to support her moderate frame. Where she'd once been lithe and slender, she now wore the weight only child can bring to a woman's body. It filled her out, softened her with curves beneath her navy high neck dress and matching cloak clasped around her neckline. Her left golden arm wouldn't cause anyone any trouble; the silver platting had been removed long ago. A pre-wedding gift for a wedding that never came to pass. A momentary fear seized her, a need to ask if Lionel too had made it back unscathed, especially after all the powder he'd inhaled...but Alvina couldn't bring herself to utter his name and therefore could not ask such things. "What can you tell me?" The bard whispered, looking around nervously while she examined Khitti's face for signs of injury. Why she thought to do that to a vampire was behind her rational comprehension.
The vampiress returned the hug as if Alvina was her own sister, but was quick to shy away from the inspection of whether or not she was injured. Much like Brand, she wasn’t one to like having people fuss over any injuries she might have--unless maybe it was actually Brand being the one to show concern because it meant he might care, albeit just a little. Speaking of that Catalian, she grows a bit somber towards the things he’s said, but she doesn’t give him a reply. Instead, to Alvina she speaks, offering the faintest of smiles, “Ve’re fine. -He’s- fine.” Of course, she meant Lionel, knowing the blacksmith would be worried about that other Catalian. She didn’t even know where to begin and this was made evident by what seemed like she’d speak more after her assurances that everyone returned quite alright, but nothing came out. Khitti sighed heavily, staring at the table between the three of them. She’d had so much on her mind lately, what with all of those dreams and the severe lack of Dominic and all of the things that Emeritus and the Shadowseers had said in the Shadow Plane, that she wasn’t sure if she should even say anything at all--hell, she actually looked like she might cry. She pulled down the brim of her hat, as if it could possibly go down any further, to cover the misty look in her verdant-colored eyes. “I, uh, vell…” she started, pouring herself a glass of that wine finally, “...ve’re alive.” That...is not what Alvina wanted at all. “And I’m apparently zhe Harbinger of Death.” There we go.
If Brand thought anything of Alvina’s extended hug or her blushing thereafter, it wasn’t plain on his features. “Name’s Brand,” he managed to the woman, hoarsely. “And nah, I’ll live.” It didn’t seem to matter what he’d said, though, because some barmaid dropped a few glasses of water at their table anyway. Brand availed himself of it and proceeded to drink the rest of his wine with a bit more caution. “You know Krice, then? The man gets around.” Maybe -that- was where he’d heard Alvina’s name before. He had the vaguest feeling that wasn’t the whole of it, but he just couldn’t place it otherwise at the moment... “But yeah, peach here has the right of it. Whole frakkin’ place tried to kill us, but we lived. Met us some gorram trees as think they can see the future. Full of prophecies n’ the like. Real pleasant folk, what with their death-foretellin’ and their mind readin’.” Brand blinked. “Didn’t say anything about you.” Yeah, that wasn’t where he’d heard her name, either. He’d get it eventually. Maybe.
Alvina looked away guiltily when Khitti emphasizes that this mysterious other party (AKA LIONEL) was fine. While both women seem to mull over different thoughts, Brand speaks up and gains the bard’s attention with his question. Did she know Krice? “I do, in fact.” A nod to confirm this acceptance. “We’ve been wondering about you guys…” Bland overtones of concern, before Khitti speaks up about this Harbinger of Death business. It knocks the wind out of Alvina and she’s left to sit there; mouth agape while Khitti’s hat obscures her face. Emerald eyes turn to Brand while he continues the explanation of their adventures. Death trees and mind reading prophecies. It’s a lot to take in. “O-oh?” She stutters, clearing her throat of girlish concern. “Khitti – That can’t be…true?” She proposes, always being of the mindset that it’s only what you make of it and every difficult circumstance can be overcome with enough can-do attitude. It got her into more trouble than anything but it was part of what made Alvina….Alvina. “S-should he have said something about me? T-the trees I mean?” She blinks back at Brand, sitting between them in an odd triangle of sorts, nursing her confusion and staring into her wine. “W-what happens now?” She asks, still grasping for the ledge of comprehension, so far out of reach for her pale fingers. "Maybe a magical chainsaw...?" The bard suggests, as a means to deal with fortune telling trees that tell you things you don't want to hear.
When she was certain that she -wasn’t- going to cry--and I’m sure Brand would be thankful for it if he realized--Khitti removed her hat and set it on the table. You know all those times it’s been mentioned that Lionel looks tired? That he’d not had a decent night of rest in who the hell knows how long? Yeah, that’s pretty much Khitti right now. Brand too, likely, but he was a lot better at hiding it than she was. “No, Alvina,” Khitti assured the bard, shaking her head with a heavy sigh. “Zhere’s nothing for you to vorry about. You’ll be perfectly fine.” You’re not cursed. Not doomed to fail. Not doomed to never have your happily ever after. You’re perfection with your happy life--even if Hudson did sour things a bit. You are goodness and light and everything I’m not and I wish I could hate you, but I can’t because you’ve been so kind to me, like a ray of sunshine in all of this darkness. This...this she was good at hiding from either of them; a reassuring smile gracing her lips as she continued, her real thoughts going unheard, “Don’t be concerning yourself vith zhe vhispers of trees. It’s all made-up nonsense anyway, you know?” I’ll burn them soon enough though. “Ve’ve got some people zhat are villing to go vith us, besides Lionel, so I zhink ve’ll be just fine vhen ve go back. Even got a map and info and transportation awaiting us vhen ve get zhere. Zhings are going according to plan.” Well, the plan was that they don’t die and they’d achieved that so far.
Brand looked very receptive to this magic chainsaw idea of Alvina’s. “I was thinkin’ fire.” Brand was always thinking fire. “But the ones I tried it on -- not the same ones as the prophecy trees, mind; I think these ones just wanted to eat us -- were about as bothered by that as a rock would be. A magicked saw, though, maybe…” One could almost see the thought bubble forming over his head. Saw plus chains plus blacksmithing magic equals… treants, screeching in terror? Fire. Needs more fire. Okay yes, that’s better. Brand liked that mental image. Hold it there. “But no, I think it’s just those as went who got themselves all auguried on.” Yep. It’s a verb now. Deal with it. “Mostly her.” Heck, that wasn’t even true. Brand was just doing his best to ignore and fate-foretelling that had been thrown his way.
Alvina doesn’t look relieved when Khitti reassures her that she’ll be okay. In fact, seeing the vampire’s face only makes the bard look that much paler. She recognized the lack of sleep, the same mask Lionel wore in the world. It broke her heart and made Alvina wish she could solve all the woman’s problems with her concern alone. Even when Khitti smiles, it’s the same smile she’s seen Lionel wear. The smile of people hiding, but she doesn’t mention it. “Trees do seem a bit too nosy, if you ask my opinion.” Her even tone agreed, lofting a brow at Brand’s humorous suggestion of fire. Oh wait no, he’s serious and Khitti is concurring the idea of burning them down. “Why not add fire to the chainsaw?” And now, she assumes all three of them are picturing a magical chainsaw spouting flames in the place of blades. It’s a little cool, you have to admit. “Khitti…” Alvina whispers, concern growing in the shadows of her eyes, “Will you let me go with you?” She wasn’t afraid of being ‘auguried’ or finding death on the shadow planes…what she was afraid of was watching Khitti stretch herself to the limits and then some for this. Whatever her plan was, Alvina wanted to help.
Khitti’d been grinning a bit at the idea of Brand with a saw, because she knew him well enough to know that he’d certainly throw fire into the mix--and she’d be perfectly fine with it of course--and then Alvina went one further and even suggested it! Yes, Alvina and Khitti were going to be the best of friends one day. Hopefully. If things worked out and everything didn’t turn into a dumpster fire. Alvina’s question was voiced ever so quietly, though, and Khitti’s demeanor shifted real quick-like and her tone went right along with it, “Absolutely not.” Oh, you’d know the tone--and Brand sure as hell did with all the fights him and Khitti get into (though strangely enough there’d not been -as many- of late). It was the one sort of sounded like ‘don’t you ever say that to me again or else you’re gonna wish you were never born’. Like, mom-voice to the extreme, except Khitti’s not a mom at all. Weird. She’d soon soften again, as she realized the way she said it, following it up with a shake of her head and a sincere, yet sad frown, “No, Alvina. You need to stay here and take care of your babies. -Please-. Zhere’s not enough sugar in zhe vorld to coat zhat place and make it sweet.” Her frown worsened and now she was suddenly aching for a drink. While it wouldn’t get her drunk, and she wasn’t about to ask Brand later if she could feed from him once he’d had a bit of alcohol, she contented herself with wine she’d bought them, letting the fiery drink burn where it may down her throat and into her stomach. It was a good burn, but damn if she didn’t wish she was blackout drunk right now. “I need you here, for me...for -him-...vhen ve get back. Between zhis, and zhe bugs attacking, and all of zhose addicts, he’s gonna need you, Alvina. I know you probably don’t vant to, vith vhat you two have been zhrough, but -I- can’t do it. He’s my best friend and -I- can’t do it because I’m zhe reason he’s got a million more zhings on his mind zhan he should.” Khitti side-eyed Brand for a moment, but ultimately shifted her attention back to the bard, never once elaborating on who ‘he’ is, “He nor I need you dead in another realm somewhere and leaving your babies as orphans over here o-or vith some idiot ex-boyfriend zhat doesn’t give two fraks about you..and I mean all of zhat in zhe nicest possible vay zhat I can so you don’t hate me. I’ve got enough people vanting my head on a platter and my heart on a spike as it is.”
Brand was clearly a bit lost about who the hell ‘he’ was. He’d ruled out the possibility that it was himself. He was likely close to an epiphany as to who they were -actually- talking about (who else could ‘best friend’ be?) when an entirely separate epiphany showed up and smacked him upside the head. Babies? Idiot ex-boyfriend? “Aha!” he exclaimed, too loudly, shooting up from the table and drawing the attention of the surrounding patrons in so doing. He’d gotten a little too excited there, whoops. Brand righted his chair from where it had been knocked backwards and assumed his prior position. “So you’re -that- Alvina,” he continued, once most of the tavern’s inhabitants had lost interest and gone back to what they were doing. “Hudson’s… ex, I s’pose.” Funny, he’d neglected to mention that. “Been tryin’ to place it this whole gorram time, since Khitti brought up meetin’ you here.” He turned to the vampiress. “Did I ever tell you, he’s the one that got all that blood cleaned up? Made it look easy, even. Got him a big basket of hot wings for the trouble.”
When Khitti protests, Alvina’s poised to reply with some rebuttal but Khitti frowns and brings up a mysterious him. Did she mean Lionel? As she continues, Alvina can tell that she does. The bard sighs, leaning back into her chair and staring painfully at the floor. Whatever Lionel is going through, she can’t help him. He’s been a sandstorm of situations and she was the last thing on his mind. She’d written her letter; even saw him before he left with Khitti…in the Clinic. His numb face stares at her from the cot, her legs bandaged and trickling blood. The memory plays behind her eyelids as she massages her temples to keep herself from bursting into tears. The only thing that keeps her afloat is Khitti’s mood. Alvina can never be the broken heart in a room if someone else is hurting. Her problems are minimal, she’s not any kind of harbinger so she can’t complain about a broken heart at the Knight-Commander’s hands already. He didn’t need her, that was painfully clear. She takes a long time to answer Khitti, but she does. “It’s not that I don’t want to…I’d do anything to be there for you, or him but it’s…” Then Khitti talks about Alvina’s daughters and she grits her teeth, frustrated because she knows the vampire is right. She lets out a heavy sigh, wanting to fight her on it but feeling like Khitti knows more than the bard does. There’s no room for negotiating. Better not to see him anyway. Then Brand makes his outburst and Alvina stares at him hard. What’s this about blood and her being - that- Alvina. What had Hudson said about her? She lets Brand finish his line of thinking and nods to confirm it. “Hudson is the father of my children, but I don't ask what he does. Him and his mother would take fine care of Luna and Harper if anything happened to me…He’s actually a good father.” It doesn’t pain her to admit but saying his name is hard when…things were so good between them and it was Lionel that had broken her heart to pieces, leaving Hudson and Krice to repair the damage. It felt like some upside-down world where black was white and up was diagonal. Alvina continues to look at Brand with a softening face. She was remembering her confession with Khitti and she studied his face with her emerald eyes and silence written into her features. He was handsome, she wondered what the other guy looked like and put her eyes on the ground, searching her heart for some brightness to lend them. Another sigh, and the bard forces a smile. “He really is a handful,” She agrees without clarification of who she means, like they are talking about a puppy instead of a person. “I’ll do what I can, I promise Khitt. Don’t worry another second about it. I’ll take care of whatever I can for you.”
Really, Brand? Really? Now was not the time for that, and Khitti made sure to give him a look that said as much. Oi...this guy though. He’s hella smart like ninety percent of the time, but then there’s that last ten percent--when it flares up, it really does. Maybe it’s because he’s blonde or something. Who knows. Regardless, Khitti sighs at Brand -and- Alvina. “Look, love,” her words directed towards the other redheaded female, “It’s not zhat I don’t vant you to go. I just...can’t have every single person I give a damn about zhere vith me. It’s bad enough Brand and Lionel are going. Zhese Catalians, zhough, zhey’re about as stubborn as I am--vorse even. Can’t tell ‘em nothing ‘cause zhey von’t listen to sense.” Nevermind the fact that Khitti rarely listened to either of them and almost never saw sense with most things. Khitti took up Alvina’s hand and squeezed it, offering the woman another reassuring smile, “Ve’ll be fine. I promise you. I’ll come back and ve can talk about proper zhings like...I dunno. Vork or something.” What the hell did girls talk about? Khitti didn’t know. She doesn’t really have any female friends besides Pilar and talk with Brand and Lionel were almost always about fighting and war or drinking or some such. “I’ve got too many zhings I vant to do for me to just go off and die in some other plane of existence. Plus, Brand’s saved my ass enough times zhat you can be sure, even if I do get hurt, he’s not gonna let it happen. I literally can’t even count all zhe times on one hand at zhis point.” The vampiress actually seemed grateful about this; it was almost as if she didn’t hate Brand at all despite the way she’d been acting lately. “And, if you don’t vant to be zhere for Lionel, zhen don’t. Zhat’s your choice. I dunno vhat’s happened since ve last talked, but zhat’s your business not mine.” Well, there was the mystery ‘he’. Not long after the Knight-Commander was mentioned, she’d give Brand a sharp nudge in the arm with an elbow, “And don’t go and say anything to him about any of zhis, do you hear me? Or you’ll never see another drop of alcohol again. -I mean it-.” Shaking her head, the redhead sighed, looking to Alvina again, “If you get vorried or upset or anything really and need time away from zhe fort and zhe kids, you go on to our room at zhe tavern. Ve von’t be using it for a bit because ve’re heading off to Rynvale soon vith zhe guild. Zhere’s tea and books galore. You can even use my magic oven if you vant. Zhere’s a bag brimming vith vhatever ingredients you could vant sitting near it. I just--” The smile faded finally as crimson brows furrowed, “--I can’t deal vith losing anyone else right now.” If Khitti could read minds, she’d be damned grateful that Alvina didn’t bring up Dominic, because she hadn’t stopped thinking about him since her and Brand’s talk at Larewen’s house.
Brand looked smug as Khitti recalled just how many times Brand had rescued her from certain doom. If he was gonna be her gorram babysitter, he’d at least make sure he was a damn good one. If shifted to a look of surprise as Khitti mentioned allowing Alvina to borrow their rented room, but… “Aye, we’re paid up through the end of the month, so… y’know, just don’t burn the place down. We’ve nearly done that enough times, our own selves.” Seemed he was okay with it after all, despite being blindsided by Khitti’s offer. Hudson’s ex or no -- and it didn’t matter that much; he’d only met the guy once -- any friend of Khitti’s was… probably… mostly alright? He wasn’t sure about that one enchantress in Kelay, with the curls and the fancily embroidered dresses. She had the Crazy Eyes. He’d seen it even from all the way across her yard. Probably for the best he never got any closer to that one.
Alvina couldn’t help but smile when Khitti mentions Catal men not listening to sense. That was something she’d experienced first hand, oh yes she knew how thick headed and determined Lionel was in their conversations. He set his mind to something and it took all his focus. Stubborn and distant… Alvina’s eyes glaze over with some sad memory when Khitti takes her hand and squeezes it. It pulls Alvina back to the present, and summons a small smile on her pale lips. “Work or weapons or the stubborn tendencies of Catalians.” She nodded, confirming their gal pal date. When Khitti voices her thoughts on future plans and Brand saving her, Alvina regards both the vampiress and the Catalian with soft smiles. Alvina could see their bond, no matter what the romantic implications were. It didn’t matter. They cared about each other, and that was the most important part of the romantic pairings to begin with! Friends first, was her policy…even if it didn’t always go about that way. “I promise not to burn anything down, I’m hardly a fire expert.” She looks at Brand, getting a pyro vibe off that guy for sure. To Khitti’s remark about being there for Lionel well… Alvina knew herself. She knew if the Knight Commander needed her, she’d be there as his friend but…her heart wasn’t up for bidding on anymore. He’d broken it, intentionally or otherwise. What was done was done, and she couldn’t allow herself to rip open the sutures because of bigger things. Time and Alvina wait for no man. She’d done her share of waiting with Linken, two very long years, and it taught her never to pause her own life for someone else’s. If the gods saw fit they should be together, they would. Or they wouldn’t if they didn’t. Alvina couldn’t and wouldn’t pine forever. She’d tell Khitti all that someday. Maybe the vampiress could even read it on her features before she replied, “I’d never be able to turn aid away from him, no matter what transpired between us.” And Khitti knew Lionel was set in his ways, bound to be distracted by battles and all manner of things. His own addictions and turbulent memories. There just wasn’t a place by his side for her. Not to mention…Hudson had done some improving lately. So much time had passed since her confession to Khitti…she wanted to believe her words had been true. The pain in her heart told her they had been. “I’ll bake a batch of Strawberry tarts for your return. Please make sure you come back to eat them!” Alvina is forcing a smile, it’s too large,it hurts her face but it keeps her from crying. “I’m not going anyway, I promise. So don’t worry a second about me.” Alvina returned the squeeze of Khitti’s hand and let go. “A whole room full of tarts…” Alvina mused, trying to make the conversation less grim. It wasn’t a final goodbye, but the tone made it feel like it –could- be. The bard wouldn’t hear of it. They were coming back, in one piece. Nothing would convince her otherwise.
Khitti really didn’t want to get into a discussion right now with Alvina about menfolk ‘improving lately’, but decided to at least give her two cents on it for now. There’s a heavy sigh as she pulled her hands away from the bard, one moving to rub at her eyes like one does when they’re slightly frustrated. “Alright, fine. So zhings vith FireSwordGuy vent south, and hell, I’m villing to admit zhat he might zhat he’s not some white knight zhat’s gonna sweep you off your feet and stop vith all of his fighting. Zhat’s vhat ve do, Alvina. Ve fight and ve keep on fighting until ve die because zhat’s all ve’ve ever known. But, if zhis Hudson did something awful to make you leave--and trust me, I understand awful guys--do not fall for his tricks. You and I may not know each zhat vell, but I can tell vhat kind of a person you are.” The foreign woman shifted her line of sight away from Alvina, and made damn sure to avoid Brand’s too, “You keep on zhinking zhat zhings vill get better. Every zhing’ll smooth over. You keep giving and giving every little piece of yourself until zhere’s nothing left because you zhink it’ll help, because you zhink it’ll solve something. Because you’re kind and sweet and vant nothing but zhe best for everyone. You vant everyone to be happy. You vould give everything so zhat zhings are perfect. But, zhey’ll just use you and valk all over you. And vhether zhat’s something zhat happens vith Hudson, or Lionel, or anyone else--man or not--zhen you don’t let zhat happen. Ever. You stand up for yourself, do you understand me?” Her words were sincere, and definitely sounded like something that’d come from someone that experienced similar things. “Just...take care of yourself. Please. If you made zhe decision to leave, zhen it vas probably for good reason.” Khitti finally met Alvina’s gaze again, and despite the tears that started to well up in her eyes, she nodded finally and mustered a smile for the woman, “Zhere better be enough damned tarts in zhere to feed Brand for a year.”
Brand had sense enough not to say anything about ‘FireSwordGuy’. That was something, at least. Khitti did earn an odd look, however -- she was parroting something he’d told her not all that long ago. Proof she -did- actually listen to him, sometimes. Times like now, he was unsure if that was a good thing or not. The rest of the conversation, well… he felt something of an accessory now, or else listening in on a conversation that wasn’t really meant for his ears. He buried himself a little deeper in his drink and busied himself with eavesdropping on some other conversation besides the one happening before him. By the time the comment about the year’s supply of tarts was made, his attention was far elsewhere, on some fledgling vampire in the corner who was flirting -- badly -- with some undead woman who was giving him only the faintest bit of regard in return.
Alvina pulls back, startled by Khitti’s passion on the subject of Lionel and his affections. But it goes deeper than that, and the vampire branches out into some very wise words that Alvina valued immensely. She felt bad though, for making this conversation about her when really she came to check on Khitti…not spit her own heartache out in public for everyone (or Brand, who wasn’t even paying attention) to see. Whatever minor issue Alvina was having did not compare to Khitti’s ordeal, and she couldn’t take the focus off the vampiress. That’s where her heart was concerned. The words struck several chords though, knocking the breath out of her so that when Khitti is done speaking, Alvina can not. ‘You keep giving and giving every little piece of yourself until zhere’s nothing left because you zhink it’ll help, because you zhink it’ll solve something. Because you’re kind and sweet and vant nothing but zhe best for everyone. You vant everyone to be happy. You vould give everything so zhat zhings are perfect.’ That –was- Alvina. To a tee. No question about it, the bard had those very thoughts –daily-. If she could sacrifice every single piece of her heart and sanity for the comfort and contentment of those she loved…it wasn’t even a question. No ‘where do I sign’ required. Alvina would be there, tossing herself into that volcano without a second thought because…at least if she died that way, her life will have mattered. She would have made a difference to someone, would have –meant something to someone-. Tears are openly flowing down her face at this point, so she’s glad Brand is looking away when she rushed to hug Khitti in her arms. Alvina holds her, pressed so tightly that they both might burst, arms slung across her back as if to suck all the negativity out of the vampire so she could continue her journey unburdened by her fears and insecurities. It was exactly what Alvina imagined having an older sister was like, in all her fantasies of growing up with siblings. Or a mother, that she couldn’t remember. When Alvina finally does speak, it’s not about Khitti’s emotional words. It’s about the damn tarts. “I’ll build a whole new tavern out of tarts, vampires will come from miles around to sample my wares. You’ll never go hungry again.” Hyperbole promises but well intentioned to drive the conversation forward so the women didn't burst into tears at each other. Once the bard has the strength to speak, she releases Khitti and moves back to her seat, clearing her throat with mild embarrassment for 'catching the passion' so to speak. It was like Khitti looked into her soul and pulled out the most defining thread of Alvina’s existence. Hard not to react to that kind of thing. “Tell me what you have to do next, and if I can help with anything, even…” How did Khitti say it? “FireSwordGuy. Don’t you dare forget that I care about you too.” The bard’s eyes are focused intensely on Khitti. “Brand,” She says, repeating his name if he’s still engrossed in his other conversation observations. “I feel like I don’t have to say this but take care of yourself, and Khitti, and FireSwordGuy. It would mean a great deal to me.” The undead redhead blinked a few times at the quite alive one as she’s hugged. Quite some time ago, Khitti’d read a book by a doctor, one that had a rather odd fondness for time and blue boxes. He said, “Never trust a hug. It’s just a way of hiding your face.” The context was something along the lines of what he thought was him losing a friend, but they were soon reunited not long after. Khitti hoped that this situation with her and Alvina was the same. Hell, she didn’t even know if the guild and those that helped them, including Brand, would make it out of alive with all of these bugs in Rynvale. But, the very moment that her face was no longer in Alvina’s line of sight, the smile that had been there would disappear completely. She’d side-eye Brand as he stared off elsewhere, her lips twisting into a deep frown as she dwelled on things in silence during those few moments that Alvina held her. Of course, whether the hug was finished or if Brand actually looked her way, everything would be right as rain--or as right as things could be with Khitti right now. A warm smile would find itself plastered on Khitti’s face again as she pulled away from the bard and reached into her pocket to pull out her key to the room in Frostmaw. “I suppose ve should get going. Had our zhings sent to zhe house here zhat ve’re staying at, and I’ve a few zhings I vant to add to it from zhere before it’s sent on to Rynvale.” There’d be no more hugging, no more exchanging of heartfelt words and the like. The key would be handed over, Alvina’s gaze avoided as Khitti grabbed her hat and side-stepped away from the table and chairs, “Goodbye, Alvina.”
Was Brand paying attention? Once upon a time, it was his job to notice these things. One misplaced muscle in a person’s body language could warn of deceit or leave their vulnerabilities exposed. But Brand wasn’t getting paid to mind every little aspect of Khitti’s behavior. (Heck, he wasn’t getting paid to hang around Khitti at all, was he? Well, other than what funds the Warrior’s Guild could supply for his ‘tagging along’ on missions and the like. He should really look into making a career out of ‘babysitting’ possessed, multi-minded or otherwise dangerous individuals. There sure were enough of them here in Lithrydel. Note to self: bug Queen Hildegarde for a contract or somethin’, make it all official-like.)
No, Brand had eavesdropped on several different conversations and his mind had gone on about seven different tangents since he’d minded Khitti last. Mostly beer. And bears. And that whole ‘babysitting’ thing. Yeah. The goodbye drew his attention, though, and he hurriedly downed the rest of his drink. “Goodbye” meant no more emotional mumbo-jumbo -- and that was all it was to him. He echoed the word aloud and rose from the table and -- wait, he should probably do -something-, shouldn’t he?
“Tarts,” Brand said, clamping a hand down on Alvina’s shoulder in an action meant to be somehow reassuring, even though he’d entirely lost the context of the women’s conversation long ago. “Tarts for days. Weeks, maybe.” Khitti might find relief to know it wasn’t only her emotions that got Brand all aloof and awkward. It certainly wouldn’t take any sort of professional experience to read it in his stance. “We’ll be fine. You bake enough tarts, you will be too.” A beat. “Works for Khitti, anyway.”
Alvina was tempted to pull Khitti back but the damage was done. The key is in her hand before she can blink and Brand is patting her shoulder. She looks up at him, helplessly and confused by the urgency to leave. It got too emotional in here all of a sudden, she knew subconsciously. There must not be anything for her to do but bake tarts right now. Tarts for lifetimes, at the rate she'd worry. It almost sounded like a challenge. "Goodbye Khitti..." She murmered weakly after the vampire, "Nice to meet you Brand." She kept her eyes on his face, wondering if she'd see them again soon. And so the bard watches them go, cradling her key and staring at the tavern's exit until a waitress whizzed by and spilled blood wine all over Alvina's dress. Guess she would have to find a new one...What a sour note to end their tart fueled exchange on.