RP:Hatching a Plan

Part of the Thy Kingdom Come Arc

Summary: Krice visits Josleen after investigating what happened to Leone after she was taken by a death knight. He explains Leone’s condition to the best of his ability and Josleen offers up a potential solution which would send the pair on a quest to the Nameless Desert.

Meadow

Josleen is visiting her parents for dinner as part of Jessa’s plan to repair the relationship between Kyl’oriel and Josleen. Apparently frequently dining together is key. Father and daughter make passive aggressive quips throughout the three-course meal, each as bad as the other. Indeed, Josleen learned her passive aggressive instincts from him. But the quips are few and far between. Mostly Jessa tries to initiate pleasant conversation while Kyl’oriel and Josleen count their peas, both stubborn but committed to Jessa and pleasing her. The setting sun’s orange rays stretch through the dining room winds and lend the family a ruddy cast. “I’ll skip dessert. I should get home,” Josleen announces.

Krice walked through Xalious this time, instead of lurking outside its northern gate like a creeper, approaching the house in which Josleen was exchanging pleasantries with her family. He approached as she stood from the table, aligning his moon-purpled gaze on the front door. He was dressed in his usual attire despite the chill in the air. Rather than interrupting the bard as she said her farewells, the warrior waited a few metres back and off to the side, standing just outside reach of one of the town's trees. Pressing his lips together, he glanced around at Xalious to occupy himself as he awaited Josleen's emergence from the home.

Josleen is held up as Jessa insists she take dessert to go. Several minutes later Josleen emerges carrying a powder blue ceramic dish with a glass lid. Roses have been painted onto the ceramic, naturally. She stares down at the bread pudding through the glass as she replays every tiny facial twitch, exhale, click, and word her father imparted during dinner. She makes an effort to pretend she isn’t bothered by his antics, but her total absorption in replaying everything he does betrays her true feelings.

Krice was naturally a patient man. Given that his news for Josleen was not urgent, he comfortably waited for her to emerge, without irritation or impatience. When at last she broke free of her family, the warrior turned his head to watch her attentively, silent and curious. The air in Xalious kept the scent of that bread pudding from reaching his nose so he was uncertain as to the contents within that ceramic dish, but his attention was on Josleen anyway, not food. Noting her deep internal musings, Krice sought to nudge his way into her awareness with a gentle, " Hey, Josleen."

“AAAH!” Josleen instinctively drops the ceramic in the snowy mud and flails an arm at Krice’s chest. With no instinct for martial arts, her wrist is limp, hand open and flopping like a fish. Thick gloves further neuter her ability to so much as scratch. If she makes contact with his chest at all, her hand bounces off him with an unsatisfying ‘thp.’ “Oh Sven,” she gasps when she realizes who it is. She exhales sharply, braces her hands on her knees, and says, “You scared the wit out of me. Give me a second to find my dignity,” she jokes. On the floor the ceramic has burst open, bread pudding in the mud, a deep long fracture in the dish. “Oh damn.” Suddenly like a flash it occurs to her that Ezekiel could have fixed this; Ansel can’t. She looks up at Krice as she crouches. She removes her gloves then gingerly starts to pick up the pieces of broken dish. “What are you doing out here? Looking for me?”

Krice grimaced as the bowl left Josleen's hands, something he should have foreseen; chalk it up to more important thoughts clouding his judgment. As her hand came flailing toward him, he leaned away and blinked at the abruptness of her 'flight' reaction, his own hand lifted to fend off the flailing limb should she continue past the initial burst of action. When the bard came to recognize the identity of her 'creeper', he lowered his chin and offered her an apologetic half-smirk. " I even tried to -not- scare you," he murmured, gazing down at the soiled pudding. " Sorry." Another cringe creased Krice's (seewhatIdidthere) features but he relaxed a little when Josleen inquired after his presence. " Yeah," he said, in the affirmative, crouching to assist the woman in ceramic-piece collection. " Can you go get more?" Or was the pudding in the mud the last of it?

Josleen smiles sheepishly. “I scare easy.” (Isawwhatyoudidthere) When he asks if she can get more she glances towards the house. The answer is ‘yes’ but instead Josleen says, “I’d rather not, truth be told.” Krice’s super hearing has given him enough clues to fill in the blanks. “I was going to give this to some boys, anyway, but perhaps it’s best I don’t give them any more sugar this late in the evening.” As they stand she tries to find a way to carry all the pieces without cutting herself. “Did you find out anything about Leone?”

Krice held large and small chunks of ceramic bowl in the palm of his left hand, but as Josleen spoke of not wanting to collect more pudding from the family home, he arched a brow. Her mention of Leone inspired a wistful shadow through his gaze, which he masked by murmuring, "Yeah. Just a sec. I'll go get some more pudding for you," before turning to stride past the bard toward her home. If not stopped, he'd be tapping the door twice with his right hand's knuckles, awaiting an answer from within.

Josleen is too stunned by this frankly adorable gesture to stop Krice. An amused smile plays on her lips as she watches Kyl’oriel open the door and squint at Krice. It’s a squint that says ‘this guy again’ and possibly ‘I knew he was involved with my daughter, aka the divorceé whore.’ Her father is really upset about her divorce, is what this narrator is saying. “Good evening,” says Kyl’oriel politely enough. He looks down at Jessa’s dish and follows up with an unsurprised, “Ah. Thank you for bringing that back.”

Krice lifted his chin to regard Kyl'oriel following the opening of the door. He acknowledged the other man's gratitude with a nod whilst returning the shards of the broken dish to him. " Greetings. I startled Josleen on her way out and she dropped this. My fault entirely. Can I trouble you to prepare another serving for her? She's partial to it." If Krice thought anything of the judgmental looks he was getting from Josleen's father, he certainly didn't say as much, but the other male -should- have been able to see awareness of that judgment in the warrior's gilded gaze.

Josleen’s smile fades as she watches the display unfold. Krice’s formality and championing of her right to bread pudding only confirms in Kyl’oriel’s mind that his daughter is somehow involved with this cat too. First that out-of-work drifter Ansel. Now this muscled defender of desserts. The elf feels sick to his stomach. Ezekiel, the son he never had, betrayed by this lot. (Poor Krice is just being a good guy and accidentally setting off a family trip wire, but alas, families, island unto themselves.) Kyl’oriel takes the broken pieces and sniffs, “Wait here.” He returns with a baking tin, harder to break, half-full of bread pudding. Wax paper has been pulled taut over it. Jessa joins Kyl’oriel now to try and smooth any tensions, mostly her lover’s. “Nice to see you again. Krice, yes?” Josleen gave his name when they asked her after he left that day. “It’s always nice to meet Josleen’s *friends*” she emphasizes while shooting Kyl’oriel a sharp look through her periphery. “Don’t let us keep you. Have a good evening.”

Krice waited as instructed by Josleen's father, and in the meantime, glanced over his shoulder at the young woman also waiting - albeit further back and a little less in the limelight. The presence of another female drew his gaze back to the home shortly after and he came to look upon Jessa, a much more pleasant visage - and attitude - to deal with. His expression was softer for Josleen's mother, respectful and kind in his guarded way, before Kyl'oriel returned to spoil it all. The warrior's gaze shifted only once it had returned to the older male, and it was with a pointed stare leveled on the father's eyes that he accepted the reinforced bread-pudding refill. " Thanks a lot. Your honest, loyal daughter appreciates it." The warrior bowed his head to Jessa and took a step back before turning to depart the home, approaching Josleen once more. His body language was relatively normal for him, but his features - visible to the bard - wore signs of irritation.

Josleen jaw drops as Krice vocally defends her against Kyl’oriel. Family dramas rarely take kindly to outside opinions. The elf snaps at Krice’s retreating backside, “See if that opinion holds up when she’s through with you too.” Jessa yanks Kyl’oriel back and slams the door. No shouting follows. They don’t have that type of relationship; he wouldn’t allow it. Josleen braces a hand over her open mouth as Krice returns. Her eyes flutter in disbelief and shock. “You didn’t have to say that, though I appreciate it. ...And, to be frank, am embarrassed you know as much as you do…” Though just how much he does or does not know Josleen can’t be sure. She has no interest in filling in the gaps, and thus changes the subject as she takes the bread pudding. “Thank you…” Her route takes her northwest. Once the topic of her father concludes, she says “Let’s talk about something more important. What did you learn of Leone?”

Xalious Village

Krice said nothing. Though Kyl'oriel's parting comment had surely added to his irritation, he knew well enough of the hearing possessed by elves and harboured no desire to make a family feud worse by retorting, even to himself - especially when it wasn't his business. He had tried to defend Josleen in as indirect a manner as possible and that was good enough for him. He relinquished his hold on the bread pudding once assured that the bard had a good hold, and stepped northward whilst murmuring a calm, " You're welcome." With the conversation redirected by Josleen to talk of Leone, Krice's mood shifted to something a little less bristled and a little more somber. His voice was low to avoid piquing the interest of eavesdroppers. " She's being cared for by healers who've seen to her before." He was intentionally vague. " I didn't directly sense the presence of the Death Knight, but I'm sure he was there, watching from some other plane." Like the creeper that Krice wasn't. " She's resting." Given the warrior's shadowed mood, perhaps Leone was in more serious a condition than he revealed to Josleen.

Josleen is relieved that Krice moves on from the topic of her family drama, not that she expected any less of him. As he explains that Leone is being cared for, the gravity of his tone does not surprise her. She has seen Leone before the presumed death knight took her. Several healers in Xalious couldn't help her, so grim was her condition. "Did you speak with her? Did she confirm it was him? This Grailan character?" Pause. "Did it upset her or did she want him to take her?"

Krice wasn't intentionally vague when he answered Josleen, just naturally evasive to avoid latching onto too dark a topic; at present, Leone's condition was too dark a topic. He answered the bard's inquiries after his priestess companion's acquaintanceship with Grailan. " He has taken her before. She's explained to me that he finds her intriguing, and he -has- apparently helped her recover from similar situations, once or twice in the past." Silence followed the man's answer, but it didn't linger too long. After a short period of time, the air around him thick with apprehension, he cast a sideways glance at Josleen and concluded his answer with an honest, " She's unconscious. They're trying everything they can, but they can't say for certain if she'll recover." Krice blinked his gaze off Josleen and squinted into the distant east, in the direction of the priestess' location.

Josleen watches Krice's evasiveness that moves like veiled pain. She balances the bread pudding tray on one forearm -- it wobbles, but frees her other hand to squeeze Krice's arm comfortingly. She is careful not to drop the dessert a second time. "I'm sorry, Krice. I know she is a friend." Her hand lingers on his taut bicep a few seconds longer than is necessary to communicate comfort and empathy. Aware of the awkwardness not of the touch itself, but of the length of the touch, she drops her hand and blushes a pale pink. Her gaze turns away towards the low half moon to the northwest so that her stare may not betray her. Staring at the moon, she has an epiphany. "...You know... I may have an idea to help Leone." Focused back on the task she trusts herself to look at Krice. "But... well, I don't have the resources or..." She squints at herself critically. "Proof? That it will work, I mean. It's..." A harsh sigh escapes her lips. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be giving you false hope."

Krice tolerated Josleen's touch without issue, though whether because the touch itself was tolerable, or because he was distracted remained to be seen. His expression did soften for her compassion, but then shifted into curiosity - and distant hopefulness - upon the prospect of an idea to help the fallen priestess. He turned his head to glance at the bard as they walked, following her lead. " No, go ahead," suggested Krice, eager to hear the woman's idea. "Anything will help at this point."

Xalious Park

They're close to Ansel's cabin now and Josleen would rather discuss this out of the house, or perhaps not discuss it at all. Bringing it up at all may have been ill-advised. "Alright, but it's dangerous... and..." She hesitates and meets Krize's focused stare. In it she finds a determination that convinces her this conversation, though dangerous, is one worth having for Leone's sake (and he isn't going to let her not say it anyway; this she understands instinctively). "Join me in the park?" She turns east into Xalious Park and picks a bench near the entrance. She slides the bread pudding onto her lap and offers some to Krice through a gesture alone. "Promise me you won't take off and do anything reckless, alright? This is dangerous, and besides, even if you do decide to do this -- at great risk to your life--" She holds his eye contact with steely resolve. He needs to hear this. She knows warrior types. The disclaimer is necessary, for the insurance of his own longevity. "It takes a little planning and you need someone good with manipulating sound." Like a bard, like Josleen, amazing how that works. "And not to mention, my idea would require a trip to the untamed Nameless Desert, where the heat alone could kill a man." She searches his expression for any sign of healthy concern and level-headed assessment of risks. In a way she's been spoiled by Eliason who rarely stopped to do such things, and left Josleen with a terrible fear that heroes rush headlong into danger because they all secretly crave the early death of a martyr. She won't let Krice martyr himself, just like she wouldn't let Eliason.

Krice did indeed follow Josleen into the park but halted before sitting. He declined the offered pudding with a small shake of his head. As the bard spoke, he pressed his lips together thoughtfully; he didn't need a minder to make sure that he wasn't going to rush recklessly into life-threatening danger. After wearing a healthy dose of bemusement along with a calculative stare, the warrior unwittingly portrayed to Josleen his displeasure at the thought of acting recklessly and broke his silence with a wry, "I'm not a fan of heat, but go on." He remained standing in front of the bard as he awaited her explanation about her idea.

Josleen glances at the seat beside her on the bench. She would feel more comfortable if he sat. Standing as he is, the disequilibrium between them erects walls. He often feels impenetrable by choice rather than an accident of character. It's unsettling sometimes, but she doesn't press the issue. "I can't be certain, but I would assume her caretakers have considered the benefits and risks of replacing her blood. It looks to me like an extreme case of wasting, and wasting is often due to an impurity in the blood. The trouble is that there are many cases of rejection. The body may not accept the alien blood. There is no way to know for certain if a body will reject another's blood, but... there is one rare and expensive substance commonly known as blood clay. It isn't a clay at all, but a fungus. It is said to have magical properties that filter blood, in the same way that clay filters water, to make it sweet for the recipient. The body won't reject blood that passes through blood clay, the trouble is getting some. It's a fungus that grows on the skin beneath the fur of a giant, reclusive bat that dwells in the Nameless Desert. The fungus must be taken during moonlight. Without the moon, it won't retain its magical properties after being extracted from the body of the bat, which must be killed lest it kill you first." Her speech speeds up as she recites what she has learned. She may resent her father this evening, but it is his academic discipline and insistence on educating his daughter that has filled her mind with all manner of trivia, especially knowledge of the natural and arcano-natural world. "What more, the bat is identical to another species of bat down there that doesn't carry the fungus. The only way to tell it apart is by its mating call which is said to be only very slightly different from its identical cousin. I believe the sound library in The Tower has sound samples of both types of mating calls. Once I learned it I could mimic it" through her limited bardic magic, "... but... The cry would attract a female, and the females drink blood and can stun prey with their sonar clicks. They're extremely difficult to capture or kill." Beat, then as an afterthought. "And of course they fly."

Krice stared intently at Josleen as she recalled the details of their plan, from the name and description of the blood-filtering fungus, to the beast on which it grew. He wasn't a fan of recklessly charging into battle, but this wouldn't -be- reckless, and it was necessary. Leone's life hung in the balance, which necessetated the need to procure an assistant to her healing. Lifting his chin, the warrior redirected his gilded gaze out across the garden in a moment of internal contemplation, perhaps cataloguing what he himself would need to take with them on their adventure into the desert, before Josleen's description of female bats, and her following conclusion, lead him to gaze upon her once more. Deadpan, with little hesitation, he muttered, "That sucks. Let's do it."

Josleen takes a slow deep breath, shutting her eyes for a moment. At last she nods. "Right." Her heart drums loudly in her chest, but steady. As a performer she never quite felt her nerves until she was in the wings, just about to take that vulnerable leap. She'll feel her legs turn to jelly when they leave Gualon, that's for sure. Between Xalious and Gualon, she'll be alright. For now, she appraises Krice from head to toe. He has her trust in his intentions, her faith in his ability, but is it enough? Once they're in the desert, it's mostly on him to get them both out of harm's way. It's a lot for one man, even a super human like him. "We'll need certain gear. I have attire for the desert, some tools. I can gather my things. When do you want to head out?" And what will she tell Ansel? She tucks that question away for now.

Krice seemed unusually level-headed--when was he ever not?--and calm in the face of such news, that he and Josleen would need to venture into dehydrating conditions to fight elusive, neuro-toxic, killer bats in search of an even harder-to-locate fungus that -should- filter blood from one person into another. He had taken on impossible tasks before, sometimes just on his own, so this wasn't exactly new territory for him. Nodding in acknowledgment of Josleen's direction that they'll need 'certain gear', he thereafter answered her question. " As soon as you're ready." A beat. " Don't forget to tell Ansel." The warrior squinted slightly and looked to the right, contemplating something. " I need to tell Callamyre, and the nurses in the clinic."

When Krice mentions Ansel, Josleen rubs her face and looks weary. "I know, but if I tell him then he will come. I won't be able to stop him. But if he comes... I don't mean to be pessimistic... What I am saying is that should the worst happen, there are two little boys who need their father. If Ansel knows what I am going into he either... At first he will try to prohibit me from going, but I must. Then he will come with, and I can't bear the think of the fall out should the worst occur." She rubs at her collarbone nervously and peers through the darkness in the direction of his cabin. Her cabin too, sort of. He inists on that, but she isn't convinced of it yet. "I'll figure it out." Which basically means she is going to downplay it heavily. Something like 'Oh you know, just popping into the Nameless Desert to pick up a fungus to help heal Leone. I'll be watched at all times'. Not a lie, technically, but heavy omissions of truths. And for a reason Josleen can't quite bring herself to unpack now, she feels tempted to omit Krice's involvement in this too. She gets up and moves towards the park exit. "How much time do you need? Do you need to go back to Frostmaw? I can be ready as early as sunrise if necessary. Tell me when."

Krice studied Josleen quietly, not judging her for her reticence to tell Ansel; he had similar reasons for not wanting to tell Callamyre, but the most important people in their lives -needed- to be made aware of big things like this trip to the Nameless Desert. "I'll be here at Sunrise, if that's a comfortable time for you to be ready. Don't rush." A beat. "If you need to, tell him that I'll be accompanying you. We've met once or twice. Hopefully he'll understand that I'm no push-over." Cue a wry smirk. "Devil bats be damned."

"Yes, maybe that will help." Josleen lies with an effortless smile that reflects Krice's impishness. She knows how and when to make herself hollow, to echo others back to themselves -- as in, the company they most often keep and are most fond of. But no, she won't mention Krice. Ansel is a pathologically jealous man. There is no amount of hunky warrior in this equation that will calm the lycan. "Sunrise, can do." And besides, for some secret reason, Josleen simply doesn't want to disclose Krice's involvement. It's a secret that fills her up with something hard to define, but when she thinks about it now, as she does after she and Krice part ways ("Bye, see you tomorrow.") she can feel it moving in her belly and spreading through her chest.

Krice was ever studious as Josleen replied to his suggestions, drawing his gaze to her face once more. Whether or not he fell for her ruse remained to be seen, but he certainly looked a little skeptical. Regardless, it wasn't his place to insist how she handle things on her end before their trip. With the bard leaving toward Ansel's home, which Krice now realized -might- harbour traces of his scent to a werewolf long after he's gone, depending on the winds in Xalious, the warrior dipped his head in a nod of farewell. He hesitated a moment, his eyes drooping, but he blinked back the momentary lethargy to fix a harder stare on Josleen. " Take care," he murmured, before turning to depart the magical town for clearer air - and the company of a potentially stressed vampire.