RP:No Time for Us

Part of the Lies Within Us Arc

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

Summary: A cryptic letter from Kasyr and his sudden disappearance from Inks' senses prompts a rushed journey from Cenril to Frostmaw. The cold lands of the North reveal more truths than anyone could expect and a bittersweet confession that makes the oncoming war that bit harder to bear.

The Shop Beneath the Dunes; Oohjmaeyik Tailors, Cenril

The shop has been rearranged to prepare for the Spring Festival in Gualon. Out are all of the wintery garments she dressed the mannequins with, and in is the explosion of bright colors, floral patterns, and a collection of wide-brimmed hats decorated in silk flowers. This secretly was her favorite time of year, since it let her play around more with color. On the desk appears to be a mountain of different colored robes for the Archmage turned guinea pig, who Iintahquohae is walking over to in front of a full-length mirror she set up in the space. “Let's try this.” The seamstress steps behind Odhranos with yet another one of the colorful robes. She had fallen into the habit of making them for him since he returned to experiment. Helping to ease it on him, she pulls at different sections of the robe to make sure it sits just right on his shoulders and the sleeves aren't bunched up. With the help of the mirror, she can nitpick at any visual flaws on her part and admire her work. She casts fleeting glances at his face occasionally, fondly smiling. “This one is forest green, silk,” explains the seamstress, her tone hopeful. “Can you see anything at all? I tried sewing stones into all the inner seams this time so maybe you could see the outline of what's on you. They're bits of green fluorite. I don't know if that makes a difference...” Her face scrunches while she looks him over in the mirror, spotting one of the embroidered, twisting vines along the robe's chest area being asymmetrical with the other side. She'll have to fix that. “All of the embroidery is double-sided, so it looks exactly the same inside as it does outside for you. I twisted some bits of silver into the thread to help.” It felt like such a silly idea, trying to help Odhranos see clothes again, but it presented an interesting challenge. Peering over her shoulder, she searches the room for the golden cage housing S'erok. Maybe he had an opinion. “What do you think S'erok, if you're around?” Like all of the other robes in the pile, Inks made a matching blindfold to go with it. She places it in Odhranos' hands so he can tie it on himself, for fear that she may accidentally tug at his hair or not tie it properly for him. "Thank you for putting up with me," the seamstress say sheepishly. "Kasyr would never let me do this. He always wants the same exact thing and never let me play around."

Being a mannequin is a strange, but surprisingly agreeable career, Odhranos muses as he is helped into his latest piece of Oohjmaeyik Finery. “Ah! Yes, it’s quite a strange view; it looks- well, no, it feels like I’m wearing the outline of a robe but I can't see the fabric in between. Like the seams are made of starlight.” Odhranos straightens his sleeves and runs his hands over his chest, tracing the embossed pattern of the embroidery. "Sven above Inks, you have the gift, this is beautiful." He preens a little more until Inks takes his hand, putting another strip of fabric there. "What's this… oh! Yes, blindfold." Odh tosses it over his shoulder so he can tidy up his hair, gathering the now rather long mass of untidy hair and bundling it into a quick bun, before he places the blindfold over his eyes, tying it in a neat knot behind his head. "How's that?" He asks, straightening his shoulders and puffing out his chest, while his arms are folded behind his back. "Do I look the piece of a principal?" He tries to pull a stern face but bursts into laughter instead. "Oh Sven, I can't keep a serious face." The terramancer's mood is light and bubbly. "Ahh Kas has no appreciation for aesthetics. If it won't get him drunk, keep him warm or keep him alive, then it's frivolous to him." Odh sticks out his tongue in jest. "Not that my aesthetic taste is much better, but I like to think I'm open to the idea at least." He turns back to where the silvery mass of the mirror is, not for his sake, as to his eyes it doesn't reflect a stitch, but so Inks can get a good turnaround view of her work. "That reminds me, your mother handed me a letter from him a day or two back, it's on my bedside locker. I meant to ask you to read it to me, but it slipped my mind til now."

An outline of a robe was a good start, but it could be better. She chews on her lip, envisioning options. “Tailor's tacks might work if they're spread out evenly...” When Odhranos says that the seams look like they are made of starlight, she grins. “If I could actually make something out of starlight for you, I would. I'd want something like that for myself honestly.” The terramancer's compliments have her beaming. “Oh stop! Everything I make is only as lovely as the person wearing it.. Er. I -” This was beginning to become a problem lately, backtracking her words with worry that they may be misinterpreted. She takes a few steps back from him to get a better look of his reflection in the mirror as the blindfold is slipped on. “I mean...Whenever I make something with someone in mind, it's done with the intention to enhance what they already have going for them, I guess. I don't know how to explain.” Her shoulders sag. That explanation probably didn't help. If her parents or S'erok are eavesdropping somewhere in the house, Inks is willing to bet they're laughing at this. Then his posture changes, and Inks tries not to laugh. “Oh yes. You look very, very serious. Intimidating even. The most powerful mage in all of Lithrydel.” She fails, laughing softly at the thought of him being anything but kindly and sweet. “Yeah. Kas is...well, Kas. I wouldn't want him any other way, though.” She mimics Odh, sticking her tongue out at him even if he can't see. “We'll have to come up with something silly to dress him up in and talk him into wearing it with a bit of rum or something.” Thinking of her sire makes her wonder about his whereabouts, arms loosely crossing while her head turns roughly in the direction she last sensed him. There's an indeterminable amount of distance between them she feels, but there's an odd sense of emptiness that she doesn't understand. Could he be on the other side of the world? The seamstress wonders, but her eyes light up at Odh's mention of a letter. “I'll go get it!” In the blink of an eye, she is down the stairs, in the terramancer's room to locate the letter and back with it in hand. Odhranos may not see it, but she stumbles upon returning, hand reaching out to catch herself on his shoulder. “You would think after all of these years that I would be better at stopping myself when I do that,” Inks says, sheepishly. “At first, I used to get ahead of myself and fall all the time. But! I have the letter.” She opens it, unfolding the paper to begin reading.

A childlike grin is tossed over Odh's shoulder. "So I'm lovely then? Inks, you flatter me." Odh straightens his collar and brushes the creases out of the robe as he turns around. "I'm only teasing. You've worked a miracle to make this fusty old academic look somewhat presentable, and I can't thank you enough." Odh swings his arms about flamboyantly and bows dramatically towards the seamstress. "I feel resplendent in your handiwork. Thank you." The thought of dressing Kas up in something funny elicits a chuckle as he imagines what sort of florid getup they could convince him into. "Try something light and airy with a summer-y print. It'll throw everyone off guard." The terramancer grins cheekily, though he feels somewhat foolish when Inks doesn't respond. He recovers slightly when she dashes off to get the letter and greets her with a smile, as if nothing had transpired upon her return, though he was startled by her sudden hand on his shoulder. "Wonderful! Let's hear what he has to say." The envelope itself is a simple paper one marked with the crest of House Azakhaer, but more concerningly is the strange muddy smear on the lower left corner of the envelope. The sort of smear a vampire might be familiar with. The letter within is short and succinct.

Hey- Gonna be taking a forcible trip for a bit. Not much that I can do about it. But- the high point of it, es I am positive when it finishes I'll be able to crack a large hole right in the mage towers defenses. Won't have much of a choice in the matter, frankly. I wish you the best in keeping things together, I'm certain you can. Inks will be able to tell you when I'm back, So stay safe until then.

After all, she wants to invite you on a boat trip. ~Kas

Maybe in some ways Odhranos' inability to see is a blessing, because when she returns with the letter in hand, Inks is almost certain her face is bright red. “Y-yeah, I mean you're um...” It's so much easier to compliment people's looks when she's trying to sell something and isn't drawn to the person. Calling Tristram a catch without batting an eye? Easy. Odh on the other hand... Her eyes wander to the blindfolded terramancer and she clears her throat. Tries her best to not sound flustered, and ruffles the letter in her hands. “Got it! So...” She reads it to herself first, brows narrowing at the words on the page the further down she goes. ...And the blood. That's the scent of Kasyr's blood, surely. For the second time today, she tries sensing for where in the world her sire may be, but the link is impossibly faint. She did say that she'd read the letter for Odh, but he may be able to tell before Inks starts that something is wrong. “ 'Hey, gonna be taking a forcible,'” Emphasis on forcible her own. She frowns, “ 'trip for a bit...'” Finishing the letter, she holds it in her limp hand. “I can hardly sense his presence now, Odh. ...He's really far away. There's blood on the letter...” With fear being a concept completely lost on her due to Sacred, she finds herself feeling incredibly sad instead. “Something is wrong.”

Shrugging the robe off as Iintaquohae begins reading the letter, Odh’s eyebrows furrow at Kas’ particular choice of words. “Forcible trip doesn’t sound good.” Folding the clothing over his arm as he walks to place it on the table with the others, his head whips around at Inks’ mentio of blood on the letter. “There’s what!?” Odh dumps the new robe unceremoniously on the table and steps across to Inks, his face writ with concern. “Oh that’s really not good.” He murmurs, his heart sinking with every passing moment. Odhranos isn’t so lucky as to be devoid of fear like Inks and it is obvious in his face. “We need to go. We can’t lose him right now, Sven above, this is not the time!” Odh turns and throws his hand toward the far side of the room, where his old day-robes lie. Like some sort of cloth ghost, the robe floats into the air, sweeping across to swaddle the terramancer, who wastes no time in raising his hands like an orchestra conductor. In response, swathes of metal and stone shards hurtle out of the pockets within the robe and begin coalescing in the air before Odh. “Cut out the piece of paper that has the blood on it. It’ll lead us where we need to go. I just hope we’re not too late.” Without looking, Odh holds his hand out for the scrap of paper and once it is in his fist, he thrusts his hand into the midst of the angry whirlwind of metal and stone. It screeches to a halt and as if whisked away by some magic, swoops in between the terramancer’s clenched finger and out of sight. Odhranos opens his hand and drops a rather angry looking scarab beetle, which shakes its sharp looking spiked carapace before darting for the door, mandibles sparking with barely repressed fury. “Take my hand, we’re going by ground.” Odh is almost out the door, the beetle’s haste not lost on its creator, though he stops in the doorway, arm outstretched. “There’s no time.”

To say she is alarmed is an understatement. She can't feel fear any more, but this sensation is treading pretty close. “Absolutely not. And he's right about me knowing when he'll come back, but...I can barely -feel- anything from him right now an-” Odhranos' exclamations and launch into action are faster than she could possibly imagine from him, but then she recalls their discovery of the Xalious Tree, and the way he flew up the Mage Tower's stairs to find Valrae...The memory troubles her because of the fight it resulted in. Just as guilt wants to resurface, Inks is handing the entire letter over to Odh and wondering if she should bring anything else along. Sacred will be enough, she guesses, despite her lack of knowledge on how to use a sword. Fists solve problems too, she concludes, though the sensation of black scales slithering down her side to coalesce and form into that ebon blade in its scabbard at her hip catch her off guard. Looking down, the blade isn't there. There isn't time to think about this. Instead the seamstress is on Odhranos' tail, taking his hand the moment he instructs her to. “Lead the way.”

Leading the way up the stairs and out of the subterranean tailors, Odh has no sooner reached the top of the steps as he is descending again, having opened a sinkhole in the beach that the beetle has flung itself down without hesitation. “Watch your footing, it's not steady yet.” Ironic words from the blind man, but he keeps a hold on her hand nonetheless, helping her navigate the slowly collapsing sides of the sinkhole as their small pocket of air descends into the earth, soon sealing over their head once they are below the surface. “I’m going to start tearing a corridor under Cenril directly west. I have no worries that you won’t keep pace with me, but don’t go too far ahead or behind. I’m throwing caution to the wind in favour of speed and I really, really don’t want you getting hurt.” With those serious words, Odh lets go of Inks hand and slides into a longer stance, like he is about to demonstrate a martial art. His hands are thrust forward like a spear, then wrenched apart, tearing a long crack in the earth that slowly descends further. Without a moment to pause, the beetle tears off down the corridor, with Odh close on its spindly heels. He turns to check on Inks and once he is sure that she is close by, he suddenly wheels around and claps his hands loudly, not breaking pace. The near end of the tunnel starts closing with a horrid grumbling and their enclosed pocket of safety begins rumbling westward, under the city.

Inks shoots a look at Odh when he gives his warning, wanting to comment about watching one's footing, but keeps her mouth shut. This isn't the time for jokes, and really she's grateful for his sense of urgency. Holding tight to his hand the seamstress follows him out, and with his help she successfully makes it underground with him. “We're going -under- the city?” Inks exclaims. How is he going to see?! Oh. Right. Well, out of habit, the seamstress yanks the little chunk of glowing stone she keeps in her pocket for herself to see. She probably hasn't had need for it since her siring, but she preferred having the light. “I don't want to see you hurt either, Odh,” her hand gives the terramancer's hand a gentle squeeze before he lets go, taking a few steps back in case he required the space. The effortless way in which he splits the earth temporarily freezes her in place, awestruck, but she picks up enough speed to tail him and not fall far behind. The sound of the earth closing behind them is enough encouragement to keep her close too. “How far away do you think he is? I can't tell...”

“Aye, unless he’s up in Schezerade, it’s the most direct way to find wherever Kas is.” Odh’s words are short and clipped as he jogs, a slight catch in his breath as the long tunnel unfolds itself ahead of him. Sixth months in captivity have done nothing for the terramancer’s fitness and the close airless tunnel certainly isn’t helping. “Everything in existence gravitates together on some level or another. The blood on Kas’ letter is enough impetus for the beetle to be drawn to him, even from far away. I have no way of knowing how far it will be though.” At this point, Odh is wheezing with exertion but suddenly, he leans forward and seems to dive headlong at the floor. The rough stone rises to meet him but rather than smashing his face into the brutal looking rock, it flows up and around the terramancer. A long whiplike protrusion extends from his back, while two strong rear-hinging legs punch into the dirt, surging the terramancer forward. “I hate this form, but we can’t depend on my slow legs.” The terramancer’s echoey voice rumbles from the creature’s savage jaws. WIth that, the stone Razurath lowers its blunt muzzle and surges off down the tunnel, significantly faster than the terramancer had been previously.

“If that's the case, I can fly us u-” she pauses, slowing her run to a jog when she notices the terramancer slowing down. “Do you want me to carry you...? Odh!” Inks rushes to try catching him when he dives, but recoils at the appearance of stone. Her arms raise up to shield her face from potential falling rock, lowering only when he speaks again. Yet again she finds herself in awe of his skill, though uncertain of what exactly she is looking at. There isn't time to ask however, and once Odhranos takes off, Inks is close behind. Worry settles on her face at the amount of energy she thinks he must be using up to make the strange stone construct move along with the tunnel. “Do you need to take a break?” she shouts. “Maybe...maybe I could try if you need to stop.”

“No time. If we lose that beetle, we lose our way to Kas.” It is disconcerting to find the terramancer’s usually gentle voice coming from what can only be described as a velociraptor, but it is making better time, true to his promise. The next few minutes are a blur of grinding rock and heavy footfalls until the tunnel abruptly opens at the end, filling the tunnel with light. “Cenril Gorge!” Odh cries out, the stone of his Razurath form falling away, leaving only the athletic raptor legs. “Jump when you reach the edge and don’t look down!”

Iintahquohae nods and falls silent, continuing to keep pace with Odh. Somewhere along the way the glowing stone in her hand slipped from her fingers, so the sudden appearance of light catches her off guard. Shielding her eyes with her forearm, she feels the familiar sensation of snake scales skittering across her body. This time it's down either leg, with Sacred forming into a pair of ebon greaves that granted more speed and assisted in longer leaps. “We're at the Gorge already?!” She exclaims. How far away is Kas?! With the use of Sacred, she breaks into a faster than usual sprint, and just as she reaches the edge she jumps the gap, landing with a stumble on the other side. The greaves morph as she lands, with a pair of fang-like spikes jutting out near her shins to embed themselves into the ground to keep her from fully toppling over. Her forward momentum uncomfortably rocks her body forward despite being anchored in place. Her hands reach out to try catching herself, leaving her panting for breath, head turned to see if Odh made it too.

Odhranos listens as Inks takes the lead, watching her presence leave his vision then reappear like a comet crashing to ground, having crossed the gorge in one single leap. Despite the pressing concern of Kasyr’s whereabout, the terramancer can’t help but grin. “Sven, she’s glorious” he laughs into the void of the receding corridor, though it is drowned out by the roar of the closing stone. “I’m telling her you said that.” chimes S’erok lazily from the back of Odh’s mind, which only causes him to snort. “We both know you won’t.” Odh murmurs as his clawed foot crunches into the loose stone just short of the edge and he spears into the air over the yawning abyss. As the darkness and quiet embraces them, with only the whistling of wind in their ears, S’erok quietly asks, “Will you ever tell her?”. Odh looks up from the inky black of the gaping canyon as it sails by beneath him and across the expanse to where Inks’ glowing silhouette crouches like a sprinter on the start line, poise and power emanating across the void between them. “How could I, S’erok? It’d be so cruel when I know it will be taken away.” The dragon doesn’t respond as Odh begins his downward arc, abandoning all thought in favour of focus. Like an eagle’s talons, his raptors legs carve through the air ahead of him, while from the golden cage, multiple arcs of sand erupt out, stretching downward to intercept the ground first, each impact slowing the terramancer’s fall until his talons bite into the dirt once more. “The beetle is still beneath us. This way.” His musing packed away to a quiet corner of his mind, Odhranos is now fully focused on the task once more.

Once the greaves lose their fangs and she is able to stand up without toppling over, Inks is back on her feet again, just in time to watch Odhranos land nearby. Even with her stronger hearing, she doesn't catch any of the exchange between the terramancer and S'erok, believing the distant sound of his voice may be Odhranos voicing spells to keep his stone legs going. There is nothing but admiration on her face, the seamstress momentarily forgetting the task at hand. “You're a whirlwind, Odh!” she shouts, but then the scarab scuttles by. “It's going..north? Northwest? ...Frostmaw.” It's a gut feeling, possibly influenced by what little of the bond she has with Kasyr that remains. It feels more like a guess, considering they were both in Frostmaw during the Titans of Winter Tournament, but it feels correct. The greaves will help her run faster, so she wills them to remain. She wonders if flying might be faster and lifts her fingers to her lips to call for Pinquettki, but doesn't whistle. They wouldn't be able to keep an eye on Odh's scarab from that high up, so she breaks into a sprint again, this time pressing just ahead of the scarab since she knows where they're going. Once they do reach Frostmaw, the seamstress slows, not just to see where exactly in the frigid city the scarab leads them, but due to the greaves shattering into black scales in the snow from extended use. The use of the weapon saps at her energy enough to make her feel like she won't be able to call on it again for a while. Luckily, Frostmaw meant she could track enough food down to get her strength back, but locating Kasyr came first. As the scales fade away, she looks for Odhranos, presumably not far away. “How are you holding up, Odh?” Inks frowns. She should have thought to bring a cloak or something for him.

Frostmaw, The City of War

"Aye. It looks to be that way." Odh nods in agreement with Inks' deduction. As Inks tears off through the forest, Odh follows some distance behind. Though he can manage certain rapid bursts, terramancy is not an art conducive to speed. By the time that Inks reaches Frostmaw, Odh has disappeared a distance behind her. His arrival is heralded by a quiet skittering, as the scarab suddenly emerges from the snowdrift and begins scuttling along the pristine surface, leaving a shallow furrow in its wake. Shortly behind it, a mound of snow begins shuddering, before a cloud of vapour erupts from beneath it, revealing a ghostly silhouette in its midst. Odh steps out of the cloud, now swaddled in rough beige cloth that appears to be the source of the steam. "I'll manage. But we might need to spend the night here, I don't know how I'll handle a return journey without a rest." Inks' superhuman hearing would discover Odhranos' odd new garb is buzzing quietly, like a muffled horde of flies, as the sand it is composed of thrums with heat. Further into Frostmaw, the beetle begins skirting houses as it dives further into the city centre, leading the pair unerringly to the front doorstep of a modest looking inn just off the main thoroughfare. "Seems like the place." Odh mutters, turning to Inks to confirm the details he can't perceive. "Lead the way."

“Good thing we're near the cabin,” Inks remarks. And food. Odhranos' arrival after the scarab elicits a mischievous grin. “Beat ya.” Her head tilts, squinting at the cloth he is wrapped in. “We can head back to the cabin after we find him, or if you want we could stay somewhere around here. ...But what -is- that thing you're wearing?” That'll have to wait. She turns to follow the scarab again. The faded link she has with her sire feels stronger the closer they get to the inn, but not by much. This is worrying, but the seamstress tries her best not to show it. Stopping before the door, she considers what might be behind it, apart from just a normal inn for Frost Giants and other folk. Maybe there's a bar there, and Kas is just drinking away. Did him being drunk ever make their link behave like this? No, but...maybe he just drank a lot this time and she's feeling its effects second-hand. It's fine, she reassures herself, opening the door. Once inside she holds it open for Odhranos, nudging it shut with her elbow behind him once he is out of the cold. No cat-eared former revenant in a jacket sitting at a bar here. Her brow furrows. The scarab scuttles its way up the stairs, and as much as she would like to run after it, Inks figures it might be more polite to ask if Kas is here. The innkeeper is easy to locate, sitting at one of the tables scribbling something down in a ledger. She approaches, purposely making her footsteps slightly louder to get the giant's attention so he'll look up. “We're looking for Kasyr Azakhaer. Is he still here?” Namedropping felt silly, but using his full name seemed the best route to go. He was former king-consort of the city after all.

“I’d like to visit the cabin. Haven’t been back since..” Odh cuts that sentence short once he remembers the circumstances of him last visiting the cabin. “Not in a while anyway. Oh, this? Sand poncho. Stole the design from your shop, don’t you recognise the style?” Odh sticks his tongue out to try to deflect Inks attention from his previous slip of the tongue as he swooshes into Frostmaw; his sand poncho flaring behind him dramatically as he goes. Once inside the inn, Odh lets Inks take the lead, while he turns to look upwards, through the floors above in search of any sign of the Kensai. The beetle forges on ahead while the giant concierge squints at Iintahquohae through rheumy eyes and thick bottle-glass spectacles. A polite cough indicates her inquiry has been heard, but no further response is given until the giant finishes his scribbling. “Azakhaer, was it?” He mumbles in a thick Frostmawian accent, flipping through some of the pages in his immense ledger. “Yes, we have an Azakhaer. Checked in before the Tournament, has yet to check out.” Inks is once again inspected critically, as if being weighed up by the concierge for potential trouble. “Can I take a message?” Odh speaks up from behind Inks; “Oh, no, we’re just here to meet him. Silly sod was meant to meet us yesterday, but he must be sloshed off his head, what with the aftermath of the Titans celebrations.” Odh tries his best to grin convincingly and it helps that he can’t see the withering stare of the concierge, though he can damn well feel it. “Hmm. Alette!!” The spry looking giantess seems to appear as if from thin air. “Message for Azakhaer, he has two guests in the lobby waiting for him.” Alette nods, then disappears as soon as she arrived. “You can wait here for him.” With that, the giant returns to his ledger once more. Odh nods, then pulls Inks arm gently to get her attention. “I found his coat, the ghroundium one? It's in a room about two floors above us. No sign of anyone there, but the floors above this one are wood, so I can’t be certain.”

Iintahquohae frowns, recalling the incident of their last time in the cabin. Before she can linger on the memory and guilt for too long, she's staring at his...sand poncho? “I'm offended that you think I would make something that sandy,” she snorts, but she does like the idea. Usually a patient person, the seamstress finds herself more fidgety than normal, wringing her hands and shifting from one foot to the other. When the innkeeper asks to take a message all the color in her face practically drains. “No. We-” Thank goodness Odhranos cuts her off. Her hands clench into fists. They needed to get up there somehow. She can barely feel where Kasyr should be. Stepping closer to the terramancer once he tugs at her arm, her eyes light up at what he has found. So he is here. He has to be. “We have to get up there.” Alette returns not long after. “Sir,” she addresses Odhranos first. Probably for the best, given the news she has to offer. “Mr. Azakhaer didn't answer the door. I'm afraid you'll have to try back another time.” Inks looks incredulous. “No. We need to see him right awa-” Realizing how loud she was becoming and the scene it likely may cause, she quiets. “...Fine,” she mutters through gritted teeth, reaching for Odhranos' hand. “We'll come back later.” Once they have walked back out into the cold, Inks takes a few steps away from the doorway into the road, and looks up. This is a very dumb idea, but Kas would appreciate it. Probably. “...Think we can climb up there?”

Odh clenches his jaw when he hears that Kasyr hasn't answered and the ball of fear in his stomach only plummets further. He moves to catch Inks before she goes baseball-bat diplomacy on the concierge, but thankfully she stops herself before making a scene. Instead he interlaces his fingers with hers and smiles while his free hand flicks a spiral of sand from the cage into the space between their hands. He apologizes to the concierge with a big cheery smile. "Please excuse my partner, she's just excited to tell him the news! He's a family friend." As if in explanation, Odh raises the pair's intertwined hands and shows off the two shiny stone rings on their ring fingers. "Don't worry, Inks, he's probably just snoozing, we'll catch up with him as soon as he sleeps off his hangover." To hit the fib home, Odh grins an almost sickly sweet smile to the giant, who grunts and waves them away irritatedly. Once outside, Odh turns back to look up at the facade of the inn. "I was just thinking the same. We could, no trouble, but it might be difficult to do in daylight without being spotted." He turns to Inks and purses his lips with concern. "Would you wait that long?"

Holding Odhranos' hand would normally be a very exciting thing, and it definitely is, but she's too upset about not being able to see Kasyr. The sensation of sand between their twined fingers, then seeing the pair of bands he conjured up makes the seamstress practically stumble on the way out. He knocked the anger right out of her with that move. “I- Did-...Odh! Y-yes! I'm uh...very excited...to be Mrs. Kerrigan...” She was supposed to say this -inside- the building so the innkeeper could hear it, but that didn't happen. Instead she said it on their way out and is well aware at how strange it probably sounds to both Odhranos and S'erok. The thought of trying to scale the building to hunt Kasyr down is completely gone. She looks down at her hand in the terramancer's and is at a complete loss for words. Inks assumed her feelings were glaringly obvious, but was he saying the same here? "You...” Reluctantly, she lets go of his hand to get a better look at the ring. It didn't seem like the appropriate time to broach the subject. “This is really pretty,” she observes, sheepishly. Oh right. Kasyr. He's still in there. Looking back at the inn again, she nods to Odh, lowering her hand to rejoin his. “Sure. ...Where to in the meantime,” a pause, while she considers whether or not the joke might be safe. Sacred's encouragement nudges her. “Hubby?”

Immediately preoccupied with getting out of earshot, Odh neglects to fully register what Inks has said until they are halfway down the street. It then hits him like a brick. Right in the head. His mouth drops open but he doesn't even have a semblance of a clue what to respond with. He briefly recovers from his daze when she comments on the ring and suddenly Odhranos is painfully aware of every microscopic detail of that godforsaken ring he has just put on her finger. "It's...uh… quartzite. Shiny." Before he can recover from that trainwreck of a sentence, Inks hits him with the sucker punch, taking his hand and calling him hubby. S'erok, for context, is howling. He hasn't had a show this good since the cabin. Odh is still reeling as they parade down the street, just a couple of newly-engagees. "Um. The Winterberry Garden is quite pretty this time of year." Emboldened, or some might say shocked silly, Odhranos rounds off with a phrase that drops from his mouth before either he or S'erok can even register it. "Lead the way, mo ghrá."

“Winterberry Garden? That sounds like it would be a nice place for the wedding.” The air of confidence here is entirely bolstered by Sacred and not at all her own for once. Internally Inks is screaming about her thoughts just being voiced like this, but maybe Odh will mistake it for sarcasm? Admiring the quartzite ring on her finger, she continues. “I think something further south might be nicer, though. Warmer.” She guides him to the garden, and hopes that the slight tremble in her hands doesn't give away how entirely embarrassed she feels, but Sacred is doing its work to still the movement. “What does mo ghrá mean anyway, mo ghrá?” Since she first uttered it, she thought it was some Oileaniean word that meant something along the lines of 'my friend' or 'partner' or 'apprentice', maybe? But in this context, she couldn't tell. Odhranos' tone made it sound affectionate. “We're here. I haven't been this way in a while...During the day anyway. I forgot how nice it is.”

Odh does not take it as sarcasm. Instead, he practically chokes. "Wed-! Sven… thought never crossed my mind…" Even as he says this, Odhranos is cursing mentally. S'erok's having a field day. "It's pretty and quiet. I studied there once or twice, for my Steward's exams." Odh tries desperately to derail this speeding train but Sacred is having none of it, it would seem. "Ah. Right. That." Odh looks down to where he can feel Inks' hand in his, and where her ring sparkles gently beside his. Swallowing his utter terror, Odh turns to face Inks and smiles sheepishly. "It means "my love". It would be the...eh… Oileanian term one would use for a spouse or lover." His linguistic hiccup laid bare, the terramancer looks mollified. "I sort of replied on instinct. I hope it wasn't improper." Both of them are painfully aware that improper was crossed a long time ago, but Odh tries desperately to gather some semblance of composure as they arrive in the Winterberry Garden. The terramancer leads the way to a small clearing in the middle, fringed with holly and Rowan, speckled with little ruby-red berries. "We can rest here for a while, it's unlikely we'll be disturbed, so once dark falls, we can venture back into the city." Once he has gotten the important matters out of the way, Odh lapses back into silence, thoroughly bamboozled as to how to handle this situation.

With her free hand, Inks tries to cover the grin and laugh that she swears is not her, but it's definitely a little bit her. This entire situation is both hilarious and anxiety-inducing. Her gaze follows Odh's head to look down at their joined hands, which she gently squeezes, drawing her thumb across his knuckles in what she desperately hopes is a comforting gesture and not anything forward. She did say that she wouldn't mind being Mrs. Kerrigan not too long ago though, so...they're miles over that line. This isn't how Iintahquohae anticipated this conversation happening, if it ever happened at all. Her mouth falls open once Odh explains the phrase. “Oh.”A pause, in which she tries to collect herself. “...And I said that to you when I brought you home. Er- brought you back to my house.” She wonders what the rest of the words she mumbled that day meant, but doesn't ask since she can't recall exactly what they were. Following the terramancer into the clearing, to her disbelief she just shelves the whole 'we gotta locate Kasyr' thing and just looks at Odhranos quietly. Now or never, she thinks, peering down at the ring yet again. The other one that she showed him long ago was still in the cabin, waiting.“I...don't mind you calling me that.” She quickly backpedals after the words leave her mouth. "I- I mean, unless you don't want to? I understand if you don't. I mean-"

"You...did. Yeah." Odh honestly doesn't have a clue what to add to that. That it made him happy? That some part of him had wanted to say it back, but in a language she couldn't misunderstand? As he dithers in that small quiet glade, Inks takes the first step in crossing that breach, cutting through the half-said thoughts and hidden feelings in a way that honestly makes Odh heart both soar and sink simultaneously. He feels her thumb gently caressing the back of his hand and a part of his heart just quietly breaks. "Inks… I can't…" His face screws up with emotion as he slips out from her grip, taking a few steps away before turning back, cradling his hand as if suddenly feeling how cold it is. "We… I… this war…" The words simply aren't coming and Odhranos looks visibly upset before he sighs and seems to gather himself. "Inks, I can't let myself feel this way. Not now. Not when we are this close to everything crashing down around our ears with the slightest misstep. I can't afford the slightest waver in judgement, not when we are this finely balanced on the razors edge." Odhranos stops and his hands drop limply to his side's, while a sad smile graces his lips. "If I say the words that I want so badly to right now, if I lay my heart bare…and god's forbid, you accept those words, then if the moment came that I had to choose between you and the Guild, I don't know that I could make that choice." His expression is one deeply distraught, as he spreads his arms wide helplessly. "These feelings are cruel."

Iintahquohae's face falls when she feels Odhranos' hand slip away, even more so when he is no longer facing her. This is sort of what she anticipated. Maybe what Haladavar said at the Celestial Ball was true, and Odh was only here to not hurt her feelings. This isn't the first rejection she had experienced, and with how long she could potentially exist, it likely wouldn't be the last, but that didn't make it hurt any less. Her eyes, now welling up with tears, look down at the ring on her finger as she considers slipping it off to return to him. Despite her shoulders wanting to slump, the sentient weapon wills her to keep them up, to not appear as heartbroken as she feels even though she tries so hard to resist. Listening to him feels like a knife slowly twisting in her chest at first. There's some hope, it seems. “You wouldn't have to choose, Odh.” She hesitantly steps forward, closing the gap between them again. “I'd rather know now then...” Inks pauses, unsure how to phrase her thoughts. Her hand reaches for his to hold once more. “I'd prefer knowing how you feel now instead of spending however long I exist wondering what we might have... ” She can't finish the sentence. Deep down she knows that he would have to choose the Guild over her, no matter the circumstances. “Just...” The seamstress sighs, worried that this may sound like she's pressuring him. “I can't ask you to forget everything for just a moment to say it, but...I want to know.”

Odhranos has to clench his jaw to keep his emotions in check but Gods above, why is it this hard? "Time is so cruel." He complains, his voice hoarse with emotion. He rubs at the blindfold over his eyes, then after finding it damp and claustrophobic, he reaches over his head and unties it. The green fabric Inks had presented him with earlier nearly falls to the ground, but Odh is careful to catch it, holding her gift delicately in his hands. "I just wish we could have met in a different time." The terramancer's pale white eyes stare mournfully down, while his cheeks are stained with frustrated tears. "I want to spend time with you without thinking about my godforsaken responsibilities. I want to feel, without worrying about how those feelings could hurt someone." Inks hand finds his and he holds hers dearly like he might never have the chance again as the tears stream freely down his face. "I want to love you without worrying about how I might lose you!" He sobs, looking up to where her face should be, but all he can see is darkness. He looks down and a desperate laugh escapes him. "Now I can't even find your lips to kiss you, no matter how badly I want to."

“Me too,” she whispers, edging closer to Odhranos when he removes the blindfold. Tears fall down her face just as much as they do on his now. She isn't able to keep her composure. Iintahquohae lets go of his hand, so she can reach with both to wipe the tears from his face, cradling his head and gently angling it up to look into his pale eyes. “We'll find a way to make it work. Even if...” Sniffling, she trails off, considering what he said before. Choosing the Guild. He's the Archmage. He'll have to, but Inks is certain they could find a way for now to at least make the most of what they have. “Even...if we have a time limit. You won't lose me.” She wouldn't allow it. “I promise.” There isn't really a smooth way for her to lean in and kiss him after he laughs, so she just goes for it. Her lips press against his somewhat awkwardly, desperate for the contact. She bumps his nose first before they properly meet, hands reaching to tangle in the terramancer's hair and hold him close.

"Aye. Even if we have a time limit." Odh doesn't follow up with a promise of his own, though it is at that moment that Inks kisses him and any words seem somewhat moot. It was awkward, fumbling even, no dramatic moment with the orchestra swelling in the background. The cold had chapped their lips and the kiss was salty with the tears they had both shed, but there was a sort of quiet peace in that kiss that Odh found hard to put in words but found he had been yearning for somehow. When they part, Odh bites his lip as he presses his forehead to Inks', unwilling to open that distance and let the world in so soon. "I can't promise you won't lose me, Inks." He says in a shaky voice. "I can't guarantee that there is a future for us after this war. I didn't want to admit my feelings and make that promise to you, only to let you down. But just now, the idea of saying nothing scared me so much more that I couldn't..." He squeezes his eyes shut and sighs sadly. "I'm sorry."

Inks keeps her forehead pressed against his and wraps her arms around him. Hopefully this didn't disrupt his sand poncho, but she's willing to take the risk. She wants to smile. That's what you're supposed to do when you kiss your love, right? But with the circumstances, no smile comes. His words shatter her heart, but she nods, straining to hold back more tears. “But we have this for now, don't we?” She hates how pitiful she must sound to Odh, but it has to be better than pleading with him to just leave it all behind. Abandon everything, even tracking down Kasyr, and whisk him away to the cabin right that instant. Let the Guild and the rest of their problems sort themselves out. “Until the end.” Unable to even consider uttering the words about how much she would miss him if he were to die, she just clings to him, burying her head into one of the terramancer's shoulders. “Don't be sorry,” Inks mumbles. She had so much more to apologize to Odhranos for. Their argument, his loss of sight, pestering him occasionally to learn more when she was his apprentice. There is a very brief wave of regret that washes over her. She shouldn't have written to him to meet at the Mage's Tower that day. It would have saved both of them so much heartache, but to her, it was worth every single second. She wanted to just remain this way for however long they had, but the seamstress remembers they traveled up here for a reason. “We should probably go back soon, shouldn't we,” she mutters reluctantly.

Odh smiles weakly and laughs, even as every part of him is screaming out to cry and fall apart. “Aye, we still have time.” He lifts his hand and strokes her hair, tucking her in against him so he can just shut out everything and focus on committing this sad sweet moment to memory. Even the most mundane of details, like the gentle ripple of her curls against the palm of his hand takes on the most exquisite of significance, as Odh internalises this moment, as if it will never come again. He knows it won’t, but he has already revealed too much. When she murmurs that they should depart, Odh feels like refusing, telling the world where it can go shove itself and running away into the wilderness, but he can’t abandon his responsibility like that. It would eat at him the rest of his life. He nods morosely and steps back to unfold himself from her embrace. The sudden ingress of cold Frostmaw air bites at Odhranos like a dagger straight through his heart and in a moment's panic, he throws reason to the wind. “Wait!” Taking Iintahquohae’s face in his hands as delicately as one would hold porcelain, Odhranos presses one last frantic kiss to her lips, fearful passion shaking his hands where they cup her cheeks. The spell breaks and Odh steps back, now flushed with embarrassment. “Just… to remember, y’know? Repetition helps memorization.” Odh is clearly grasping at straws, but he quickly replaces his blindfold to hide the worst of his redness. “Aye. Let’s go.”

Inks clings tight to him, wishing she could will away everything around them so they could just be alone together. Like the terramancer, she is trying to commit little things to memory. The warmth of his touch, his hands, the general feeling of contentment from simply being in his presence. Particularly his heartbeat, which made the seamstress tremble. Of course she noticed it in the past, but it was more of a passing acknowledgment of Odhranos being alive, nearby, and nothing else. Each thump she heard felt like a dreadful step toward the end of everything. Inks considers suggesting if maybe he could become a vampire like her, but doesn't voice it. Her reasoning is purely selfish she knows, and it isn't that easy. As Odh pulls away she frowns, reluctantly letting him go. Wiping at her eyes, she tries to think of something worthwhile to say. Nothing comes, so she turns to begin their trek back to the inn, only to feel herself be whipped back around, swept up in Odhranos' kiss. Too stunned and slow to latch onto the terramancer and hold him close like before, she is left breathless, doubly so when he steps back and speaks. Her hand lifts to touch her cheek, trembling fingers tracing where his just were. She wants to say something, but can't. Instead she takes his hand in hers back to the inn, planting a kiss on his cheek this time before leaving the garden. “We'll have to...repeat that again? Later. For memory.” The way the words stumble out of her mouth embarrass her. “...After we visit Kas.”

Odh laughs gently at her suggestion, his cheeks colouring at the thought. He bumps her shoulder with his, like he has come to do regularly during their stay in Cenril. “For memory’s sake, of course.” The pair leave the Winterberry Garden, a little wiser and a little more sad than they had entered, but closer for it. Evening has fallen on Frostmaw and the lamp lighters have done their rounds, bathing the city in the dim rosy glow of lanterns, which mixes with the ever-present snowfall to cast an orange haze in the streets. Soon, they reach the inn once more, now busy with the bustle of evening guests and merriment. Odh pulls Inks over to the side of the street, where the dusky glow of the lanterns doesn’t reach, enveloping them in deep blue-tinged shadow. “His room is on the second floor. Third from the left.” Odh points towards the window in question; a heavy sash window, timber framed and encrusted with rime. “I can get you up there but I wouldn’t have a good enough footing to haul that window up. That’s on you.” Odh nods to his accomplice, waiting for her go ahead before he splays his hand flat against the stone wall of the inn. With a raspy grinding noise, a series of stone blocks in the wall soften, then grow protrusions that are barely large enough to host a foot. “Once you have the window open, I’ll follow.”

Inks nudges Odh back with her shoulder and laughs softly. This bit of hope helped lighten her mood considerably. They had time. It's difficult for her to refocus on what they had ran to Frostmaw for. She just wants to stroll down the lantern-lit street with him. The thought fades quickly when Odhranos pulls her into shadow, her eyes squinting at the inn as he points out what window led to Kasyr's room. “Gotcha,” whispers the seamstress. She is willing to bet the thing is frozen shut, but she could yank it open. “I'll take care of it.” The sound of the blocks of the building shifting enough for her to start climbing fascinate her, but also cause Inks to frown. She had to part from him again. She'll be quick. After giving the terramancer a quick peck on his cheek, she's climbing up the wall, slower than she would like to prevent herself from slipping. Once she finally does reach the second floor of the inn, it takes her some time to slip past the first two windows, narrowly avoiding being seen if the curtains are drawn. Her hands grip the window sill of Kasyr's room. Pressing an ear to the glass, she listens for him and the noise of patrons below. She frowns at the dead silence of his room, but the noise at the ground floor just might be enough to drown out the horrible screeching this window would surely make when she starts pulling it up. Using what little magic she could conjure up, she tries coaxing heat to her palms to help melt a bit of the ice to ease the window up, but it isn't enough. The noise cuts through the wintery night air unpleasantly, heralding her and Odhranos' arrival for Kasyr as she tumbles in. The room itself is dark. Empty, save for the jacket Odhranos identified thrown across the bed. There's hardly a trace of the link she usually felt when her sire was near. Sadness begins to well up within Inks for a second time, this time mingled with anger. She slumps, not against the wall but sits cross-legged on the floor, silent. This cannot be happening…

Odh watches Inks’ footsteps climbing the improvised steps with ease, pausing at the top where Kasyr’s room is.. Holding his breath with anticipation, Odh flinches at the shriek of the window frame. He can’t even look around to see if any passersby notice their breaking and entering. Thankfully, the Frostmaw street is bare of the telltale footprints that pedestrians would leave and Odhranos seizes the moment to climb the facade. While Inks has her superhuman capabilities to help her, Odhranos has to secure himself with tethers of stone as he climbs, which is slow and laborious. Thankfully, the climb is relatively simple and within a minute, he is through the window. Once inside, he is immediately hit by the metallic stink of blood. "Oh bollocks." He curses, covering his nose with a sleeve. The floor here is timber, as are most of the furnishings, so Odh is largely useless. "I take it he's not here then." He puts plainly, turning about as he seeks out Inks. "Inks, I know that right now this is the last place you want to be, but I'm going to need you to be my eyes. Can you do that for me?" The terramancer's tone is calming but commanding, whatever happened here is a crucial clue to Kasyr's whereabouts and they need all the pieces to the puzzle if they are to find the missing vampire.

Inks can't bring herself to get up. Her head shakes once she hears Odhranos climb in and swear. “Not here,” she sounds detached, monotone. There are all the tell-tale signs of death in the empty room. The blood, the smells, the scorched wood outlining of her sire's frame illuminated by the dim lantern light and moon outside. She leans a bit sideways, nudging her head against the terramancer's leg so he knows where she is. First the bittersweet confession between them earlier, and now Kasyr is just gone? This is too much to take in. The unbearable sense of loss twists with anger within her, but she knows she has to act. Odh is depending on her. To keep herself from bursting into tears again, the seamstress keeps still and tries to detach herself from the situation. ...It doesn't work well. While describing the room before them, tears are streaming down her face. “He is...was,” Inks stammers. “...Was. Sick. I can smell it. His clothes are in a pile by the door. There's dried blood on the floor,” another pause, in which her head turns just a fraction to look at the bed. “On bed. His jacket is there too.” Her movements feel forced and mechanical, but she finally does stand up to retrieve the jacket and hold it loosely in her hands. “There are burn marks on the floor.” she walks the rough outline of them, stepping just a little bit louder than necessary so Odh has a rough idea of where Kasyr's body once was. “...This is where he...where he...” Unable to utter the words, she crumbles, lowering yet again to the floor beside the blackened wood. “...I'm the last one left. He was supposed to be here. We- I...” She buries her head in her hands, dropping the jacket to the floor along the way, and weeps.

Odh can hear the shock, anger and despair in Inks' voice and he wants nothing more than to tell her she can stop, that she can leave and take a breather, but as her explanation of the room goes on, Odh finds himself more and more confused. "No, that can't be." His face is one of incredulity, this makes absolutely no sense. "Kas' letter said he was going on a trip, not that he was dying. There must be something more, this can't be it!" Odhranos casts about fruitlessly, as if seeking to pluck the answers from the air, but he is stopped by the sound of Inks crying. His heart goes out to her and navigating by sound alone, he finds her, dropping to his knees beside her and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "Inks, I'm so sorry." All the while, Odh's mind is racing. What in Sven's name did Kasyr's letter mean? Forcible trip? Cracking a hole in the Mages defences? Was it all just some sick joke; Kasyr Azakhaer's parting laugh at the world that conspired to end him in such a quiet and lonely way? There's no way something so mundane could be the end of the Kensai. Odhranos holds Inks' as she shudders with each sob and a lonely sad thought comes to mind. "He never even said goodbye." That notion, of saying goodbye, of the finality of death rings a bell to the terramancer. Reminding him if a conversation shared recently with an old friend. A conversation about death and beginnings. "Death is not the end. A lot of the time, it’s a beginning…" Khitt's words resound in Odhranos' memory and a sudden jolt of lightning strikes through him. "He never said goodbye! Inks!" Odhranos shakes Inks shoulders to get his attention. "The letter! Kasyr's one that he sent to me, do you have it?!" Odh is frantic, but there is a hopeful fever in his panic. "He never said goodbye, Inks, he said "until then". This isn't an ending, Xalious bless the conniving bas***d, he would never let something like death hold him back! This is Kasyr's new beginning!"

Normally, even without the help of Sacred's boost to her confidence, she could take bad news in stride and not let it bother her at all. But this – just...the sheer amount of loss and future, potential loss? It's too much. The Coterie is gone. She is the only one in their House left. Inks can't -lead-. She doesn't know how. That is something she knows with certainty that she lacks skill in. She can't make...what, replacements for their House? Their faces flash through her head. Satie, Kiri, Svil, Dami. Kas. Dami and Kas particularly. She ran with them the most. And Odh might be gone soon. Her parents? If they leave the house and walk down the wrong path in Cenril, they could fall ill and be gone too. These were the consequences of not holding people at arms' length and straying away from business talk only. But before her mind can dive too far into this dark and edgy deep end, she feels Odhranos near her, holding her, and she leans into his touch. The terramancer's words echo in her head. Kas didn't say bye. She wants to wail, but quietly sobs more instead, clinging to him. Then he repeats it, and the sensation of being jostled by her shoulders makes her want to snap. “Yeah, I heard the first fu-” she swears, then bites her tongue. The letter? Didn't the scarab have it? She looks around the room, rubbing her eyes with her forearm while trying to locate it. Conveniently, it stopped walking right in the midst of the scorched wooden outline of Kasyr's body. How did she miss it? “I don't know how to get the letter out of it...” But she lifts the scarab up anyway, assuming it'll either break apart or have some kind of means to open it without her having to damage it. She presses it into Odhranos' hands. Hope hesitantly returning, she tries to remember what exactly the letter said until it is in her hands once more to read it. “Are you sure you remember it saying that?” She hates how wary she sounds. “If...if he did, when he comes back I am punching him.” Inks tries to laugh, but it's hoarse. This entire day has been nothing but emotional whiplash for both of them. “You have to stick around to deck him too, mo ghrá .”

Odhranos cradles Inks as she cries, doing his best to offer a calming comforting presence, but every racking sob that shakes her body cuts into him like a dagger; As much as it pains him to seeing someone he cares about hurting, what hurts even more is the insight into how Inks will feel once Odhranos is no longer around. He clamps down on that thought, burying it deep within him before turning back to the matter at hand. When Inks presents him with the scarab, Odh takes it in his hand, prompting the small metal bug to gently crack in half. Within, the letter lies crumpled in a little ball, which Odhranos flattens out as best he can, handing it across to Inks. “I remember he said something about cracking a hole in the Mage Tower’s defense, which made no sense to me at the time. But what if he had…” Odhranos grasps at thin air for the words - “Some kind of failsafe, like a vessel that would bring him back if he died? He’s been around long enough, I wouldn’t be surprised if he took the time to make one.” Odh faces Inks, with a hopeful expression on his face. “You know him better than anyone, is that something he would do? What else does the letter say?” He laughs weakly at Inks suggestion, imagining how the cat-eared swordsman would react to a smack from the bookish academic. “I’m sure you’ll get in a hit big enough for the both of us, I’ve heard you have a mean right hook.”

Once the letter is in her hands, Inks smooths it out a bit more with the heel of her palm to read it. She wants to recoil when her hand crosses Kasyr's blood on the paper, but through teary eyes she rereads it, out loud. “He has definitely had more near-death and probably actual death experiences than I have. I've only died once. To become a vampire. But I chose to do it, so...it doesn't count.” It's a joke that the seamstress doesn't think she had ever explained to Odhranos; Her very ridiculous but strongly-held belief that she simply can't die and is just ridiculously lucky. Rereading the message again while listening to Odh helps calm her enough so she doesn't start swearing more. “He might have something like that.” She muses, uncertain. But with every other strange thing the lost members of the Coterie could do, she wouldn't be surprised. “Two punches from me then,” she tries grinning, but there is still a fair amount of sadness lingering in her tone. “Not his sword arm, though. We'll need that.” Falling silent, she lowers the letter to the floor and leans against Odh, resting her head at a funky angle on his shoulder. He must be more exhausted than she is.“What do we do now?”

“I still can’t get over the notion that death is something to be gotten over like a bad cold.” Odhranos shakes his head with disbelief; in Oilean death was something that could be stalled perhaps, but never beaten. “I’d like to think one death would be enough for anyone.” Odh reaches for the letter, guided by the stone ring still on Inks’ finger and he gently takes the crumpled paper from her. “He said that he’ll punch a hole in the Towers defence; I assume that means that whatever his...reliquary is, he expects to find himself in the Tower after he returns.” Odh breathes out a long breath, as he considers how this will impact things now. “We’ll need to time it perfectly…” His words die off into murmurs and Odh slumps to sit on the floor beside Inks. He rests his head against hers and sighs wearily. “I don’t know. Everything is just colliding all at once and I honestly don’t have a clue what to do.” He rubs at his face tiredly, turning to nudge Inks his nose. “I honestly want to sleep right now. I need to think and try figuring this all out. Preferably somewhere that I won’t be harassed by a half dozen Magisters looking for direction at 5 in the morning.” Odh stares into the middle distance then smiles against Inks’ hair. “What would you say to tea? I remember there was at least half a case left in the cabin last time I was there.”

“It definitely isn't normal or natural, arguably,” Inks murmurs. “I never thought I would want to be a vampire, but one night Kas and Satie offered so...here I am, in all my fanged glory. It's better than being bitten by one and kept alive after the fact,” she grimaces, recalling her encounters with Shen. That might be a story for another time. She wonders what exactly Kasyr has in mind whenever he does come back. Knocking the tower down seemed his style, or at least part of it. Hopefully not anywhere near the library. That would upset Odh. It's her turn to support him, shifting herself on the floor so he can lean against her. “We'll figure it out. Or not. It's fun to work on the fly.” When you don't have to worry about dying, Inks realizes, frowning at her recklessness. She was like this when mortal too though. Risks led to rewards and an occasional broken limb. Hugging Odhranos close, she sighs. She didn't want to throw him into danger like that. “Cabin, then?” Letting him go, Inks gets back onto her feet, retrieves Kasyr's jacket to drape over a shoulder, then bends to scoop up her sleepy love. She'd just carry him out the door of the inn, innkeeper and Aletta be damned. She didn't care too much. “Tea sounds good, and if any Magisters come knocking, they'll have me to deal with. I'm hungry anyway.” This is meant to be a joke, but she realizes that carrying a human to a secluded place with that threatening phrase as her last words is a bad look. “You aren't on the menu,” she quickly adds, lowering her head to peck his cheek again. She's probably going to do this a lot when they return home. “I'd like to keep you with me as long as I can, my love."

Odhranos smushes his cheek against Inks' hair as he listens, pondering the notion of vampirism. "I wonder if we would have met had you not taken them up on their offer?" Odh's tiredness is making him mellow and MellOdh has a tendency to hypothesize. "It's just curious to think about. I find the eternity of vampirism both intrigues and terrifies me; how it both creates and quashes possibilities in one's life." Odh smirks as Inks gets up from beside him and starts bustling around the room. "On the one hand, you could spend an eternity studying and learning. The great scholars of every generation could sit with you and together you can build a monument of knowledge." Odh is about to protest when he is unceremoniously scooped up from the floor, but after a moments consideration, he realises he is far to weary to argue and instead just rests his head against Inks' collar, continuing to pontificate quietly. "On the other hand, you freeze yourself in time. Stepping outside the natural order means you spend an eternity looking in, observing the cycles of life from a distance. While others grow, live, procreate, grow old and die, you just… are. Eternally. After enough time, I fear one would lose touch with the world, as it outpaces them." Odh pauses then looks up at Inks, wincing apologetically. "That was insensitive, I'm sorry." He settles his head back against her as they pass through the main hall of the inn. Thankfully, the raucous merriment of the patrons has enough of a chaos to mask their passing. Once out into the street, Odh clears his throat quietly. "I've thought about it more than most would expect, y'know? The...uh…" He lifts his head and bares his teeth, where his small human canines show in the dim lamplight. "I suppose thinking about Kasyr brought the thoughts back up."

“I don't know, honestly. I think I still would have, even with all of its hangups.” Inks had never really divulged her opinions on what she had become with anybody, but a stroll through Frostmaw to the cabin seemed like a decent enough time to get the rant out of her system. “Drinking blood is disgusting, but at the same time the best,” she admits. “Just – Okay. Imagine your favorite food. Now liquefy it, then make it so even the tiniest whiff of it puts you in a frenzy. It's horrible, but you want to drink it all the time.” She pauses once they reach the door of the inn, turning herself so she doesn't accidentally bonk Odh's head against the doorframe. Once they're outside, she continues. “Like just now. If you had scraped your arm or anything against that door and drew blood, that's it. I'm going to try to eat you, even if I don't want to. Kasyr can keep me in check and I have my own ways of resisting, but if I don't have those with me and I can't take myself out of a situation like that, I'm a problem. And I'm -durable-. I forget constantly how strong or fast I am, and that I don't need to breathe or sleep, really. It's why I avoid eating people when I can...Or bite them and let them live. I was someone's dinner a few times and he made it unpleasant. I don't like that he kept me alive, but at the same time I do. I wouldn't be here now.”

They're down the street now, and she readjusts her arms while carrying Odh to hold him closer to keep him warm and to prevent herself from slipping on any ice. “But there's convenience to that, only needing to survive off of one thing that's readily available. The thought of living forever has its downsides. You're absolutely right. One day I'm going to just...not really matter, I guess. I'll just be around, but I don't think that would bother me. As much as I like making flashy clothes, I prefer being in the background.” Sacred disagrees with this. “I'm...” Pausing, she grimaces at herself. She hates the way this might make her sound like she's on some moral high ground when it comes to vampires when that really isn't the case. “My reasons for accepting to be turned are purely selfish,” she begins. “When I was mortal, I...I wanted to constantly feel safe. Untouchable. Like nothing could ever hurt me or take what control I had away from me. That and I've always felt like I owe my folks, and the orphanage that took me in before them. Work was my life then, and it still is. Living forever means I can keep Mother and Father comfortable with all the work I do until they croak, and I can keep the orphanage as nice as possible, so they can give other kids they pull off the street a chance. Maybe find my real parents if they're still alive. Cenril is kind of a dump in some places, so why not try fixing those parts of the city up too? I bet I could do little things like that until the end of time. Just making pretty stuff for others. Learning things. Getting into whatever mess Kasyr gets his hands into that I can tag along with. I know that I'm reckless, but I like to try making other people's lives a little less ugly. For balance. It sounds -really- dumb, I know.”

Again, Inks readjusts how she is holding Odhranos once they've made it to the woods, with the cabin not too far off. “I can manage the downsides, though there are some things I really don't like. I'm stuck looking like a twig and can never...I guess fill out? I was sired when I was twenty-two. I'm always going to look like this. I think I look like some sort of gaunt, lanky stick. ...But I guess I've always felt that way, so...” How did she go from talking about being a vampire to this? Her poor self-image? This isn't fun to talk about, but we're just getting into all of our feelings today. “I guess that's why I like dressing other people so much. I want to make 'em feel good in their own skin. It's difficult when your mom's a pretty elf that you're compared to at the dinner parties she used to drag me to as a kid.” She shrugs. “I'll never be able to change my hair. Mother found that one out when she tried to cut it for me and it all grew back. Kids are off the table unless I adopt, which I would do in a heartbeat,” she snorts at her joke. “Once I stop doing dangerous things. Just buy out a whole orphanage and raise them all.” Having finally reached the cabin, she kicks the door open. Inside it looks as if the entire incident with Hal stealing Odhranos away and Valrae's resurrection had never happened. She must have come back at some time during the tournament to tidy the place up. Carefully, she lowers the terramancer down. “Sorry for talking your ear off,” she mutters. “But we're home. I'll get a fire going.”

Odh settles in as they leave the city, feeling somewhat guilty for being such an awkward lug to carry about, but the advantage of Inks’ vampiric strength was that he may as well have been a light as a child for all it mattered. Instead, he rests his head against her, listening to the comforting buzz of her voice through her chest as she talks. Her description of how blood is an ambrosia to vampires elicits an initial grimace from him; the notion of hungering after another person’s vital fluids is an off-putting thought, until Inks elaborates on the experience. “So, what you’re saying blood is to you what tea is to me?” The comparison is made more in jest than anything, but it is an intriguing, albeit darkly humorous analogy. “I wonder; if the cost of tea were the discomfort or death of another being, would I be so quick to drink it? If I had nothing else that would sate me or sustain me… I can’t say that I wouldn’t. If you look from the plant’s perspective, I suppose I do that already. Tsuola might have something interesting to say about that.” Odh lapses back into silence, just listening as Inks continues, tucking himself further in as the shelter of the city recedes and the cold blustery winds of the wildlands enfolds them.

Inks’ recollection about her prior experience with being fed upon by a vampire causes something to clench in the terramancer. The thought burns him within and he tenses in Inks’ arms, yet her comment on being glad to be alive eases the tension somewhat. “I am glad also, though the thought of what happened makes me angry.” He shakes his head and nudges her collar with his cheek. “It’s part of the past though, don’t let me interrupt you.” When Iintahquohae shares her reasoning for accepting her siring, Odh is saddened at first, but heartened as she elaborates. “There seems to be a lot of that mentality around. Seeking safety.” When she rounds off her sentence, Odh shakes his head. “It’s not dumb if its important to you. It’s your passion and purpose. The fact that you dedicate your life to helping others, it's what I… y’know… feel strongly about.” Odh’s words tail off, but when he buries his face in her shoulder to try hide his embarrassment, the heat from his cheeks can likely be felt through her shirt. What our shy terramancer is trying to convey is that’s one of the reasons he fell for the seamstress; her kindness to others.

Odh reemerges from his hiding spot once his cheeks have cooled down and while he is initially surprised by Inks thoughts on someday raising a family, remembering that she herself came from such a background goes someway to explaining, along with her connection to the orphanage. “I’d be fascinated to see you as a mother.” Odh chuckles, before nearly biting his own tongue. Did he just say what he thinks he said? Oh Sven and all the Holies above, let that comment slide without notice. “What I mean is… ehm...I’ve found working in the Guild sometimes feels like being the parent to a horde of unruly apprentices. I’d like to see how you manage it.” Disaster averted, Odh’s heartbeat commences once more. Odh’s return to the cabin is heralded by the unceremonious kicking in of the door, and though he can no longer see the cabin, there is enough of his paraphernalia lying around that he immediately recognises where he is. Once set down, he wobbles on his feet slightly before catching his balance. As Inks apologises for her chattiness, Odh reaches out to catch her sleeve, taking a step towards her. “No, I like listening to you.” For once, Odhranos manages to say something heartfelt without immediately wanting to bury his head in the sand. A momentous occasion, soon spoiled by Odhranos nearly tripping over an unfortunately placed book. “Ah! Sven blast it!” Odh wobbles, reaching out to Inks as he stumbles, before managing to find her shoulder and catch himself. “Phew. Close one.” He laughs breathlessly, grinning up at her.

“I guess it is a bit like tea for you,” Iintahquohae jokes. “You just have to kill something to get it every time you want it, unless you don't mind blood wine. I don't like it because it isn't fres- Sven, that's disgusting to say out loud.” Grimacing, she adds, “I try to avoid eating people, unless I'm with Rilla. It's a sort of bonding thing between us, I guess. Up here I just track down frostmares. I like to think I'm helping control their population.” Another joke. She snickers, blowing air out the side of her mouth when a stray curl falls in her face. Her tone shifts a bit when she recalls her encounters with Shen. Talking about her past wasn't a tough thing for her to do usually, but this particular period of time was extremely stupid and she knows it. “I was a lot more reckless when I was mortal, believe it or not. That whole situation was my fault. His name was Shen. House Trintus. Absolute monster of a man. Creepiest blue eyes I've ever seen.” The seamstress almost starts pantomiming how beefy the vampire was but catches herself, remembering that Odh wouldn't be able to see and that she is still holding him. “This was after the war in Vailkrin. I was walking to the Black Library I think? There's a graveyard you have to cut through to get there. He followed me and did the whole,” she lowers her head enough to whisper in Odhranos' ear while trying to keep her face straight. Lowering her voice, she whispers and tries to make her voice sound masculine while feigning something that she guesses was Shen's idea of seductive? Her voice gets really breathy, and she hopes the result is comical. “Oh my, what's a human like you doing all alone in a place like this? It'd be a shame if something bad happened...” She wants to gag.

Switching back to her normal voice, she continues. “So I pricked my thumb on the battle axe he had strapped to his back and shoved it in his mouth. And it gets dumber,” she keeps her eyes on Odh's face to try gauging his reaction. “I told him, he has three days to try to find me, and he gets more. He cheated and broke into my shop after two. I was cornered so he just bit me right on my desk and came back two more times after that.” Shivering involuntarily, Inks recalls the mixed feelings that his bite caused. “We sort of had an arrangement. He'd keep me safe whenever I went to Vailkrin without the Coterie nearby, and in return he'd get a bite. He saved me from being mauled by wolves, so I guess it balances out.” She didn't think it did, but the thought made her feel better. “But...yeah. That was to feel safe. Now that I am what I am now, I can...maybe help other people feel safe too? You primarily.” If she were in Odhranos' position, she would try hiding her face as well from the embarrassment of her words. Unfortunately (fortunately, really) she is still carrying him, so she can't really hide the affectionate look in her eyes when she peers down at the terramancer. “I really admire that about you too. Your willingness to just teach apprentices or nudge them in the right direction. You have to be the most intelligent person that I know,” she stammers. “And you're so generous about it. Most just keep whatever knowledge they have to themselves for some sense of superiority, but you aren't really cagey unless it's to protect someone. Like when I wanted to touch S'erok's cage when we first met.” Grinning, she adds, “I'm selfish with some things that I know how to do. You'll have to pry how I weave sea silk from my cold...undead fingers?” Worried that her hands are actually really cold to Odh, she frowns. “I'm not too cold to you, am I?”

The seamstress is blindsided by Odh's comments on her being a mother. “I..I mean...Wh-who wouldn't want to have a little army of hellraisers running around the house? Oh, you meant apprentices.” Thank Sven for the swerve out of that conversation. “If I were good at magic, I think it would be fun to try teaching a few one day, when I'm not an apprentice myself.” Her hands latch onto Odhranos when he trips, holding him by either shoulder to keep him upright. “You're okay, it's okay! This is what happens when you have two bookworms living in the same space. I think I'll need to put in bookshelves.” Laughing softly, she leads Odh to one of the couches near the fireplace so he can sit down and she can get to work lighting the fire itself. With her magic as unreliable as ever, she lights it the normal, mundane way and it takes a bit of time. “What kind of tea did you want, mo ghr- I mean...Odh?”

Odh nods when Inks describes the Black Library. “Aye, Quintessa brought me there before. Could do with some lights around it, but I suppose the “Bright but Dusty Library” doesn’t have the same allure to it.” When Inks switches to her impersonation of Shen, Odhranos contorts his face and laughs. “Bleeeegh, where did he get that from, an old smutty novel? Who even speaks like that anymore!?” Odhranos shudders at the thought. As Inks goes on to explain her experience with Shen further, Odhranos' face settles into a balanced mixture of concern and amusement. "Well… I'm glad you're as robust as you are. Because that was pretty dumb and I worry for you." Odh lessens the seriousness of that comment with a smirk. "For what it's worth, your safety is important to me, but you can have my protection without needing to be bitten on your desk. I think your mother would have some objections." A pair of raised eyebrows and a grin are enough to clarify that sentence.

He leans into her grasp to steady himself when she catches him, finding his feet and straightening with a mollified look on his face. "Maybe I'll start having to be neat for the first time in my life. Sven knows that'll be a challenge." Once safely ensconced in his armchair, Odh listens as Inks bustles around the small cabin. With nothing much to do, he settles back into the deep cushions, letting his senses diffuse throughout the room like sugar in hot water. Surprisingly, a lot of the cabin can be picked out through the traces of stone and metal, the large fireplace now slowly starting to glow as the heat bleeds into it, the shiny collection of cutlery gleaming from within their drawer. Odh tilts his head back and looks upwards, where something catches his attention. He smiles and reaches his hands up into the air. From the loft, a familiar stone circlet gently glides through the air in a graceful arc towards Odh's hands. He makes a soft happy noise once it lands in his open palms and he turns to where he heard Inks last. Wordlessly, he offers the circlet with a soft smile, holding it like an archbishop waiting to crown a monarch.

“You've been to Vailkrin?! What did you think? I miiight be buying a place over there to set up another shop, but I haven't settled on a place yet. Probably somewhere along Hemlock Way...” There was a building she remembered scoping out with Serrure there years ago, but that boy was long gone like it seemed most people she knew were. Stifling a frown, she blanches at the thought of her mother walking in on her alone with anybody. “My mother would have killed him if she walked in on that. And me,” Inks laughs, grimacing. “Mother is much more protective of me than Father.” She can hear her mother's incessant line of questioning now, shrieked in a mix of Elvish and Common while she waves a whisk around in the kitchen. “She about gave me the third degree when I brought you in, but I can tell she adores you. You're her favorite by far.”

“I can help keep you neat – clothes-wise. Livingspace-wise...Uh...” she looks around the cluttered, cozy space, adding sheepishly. “I'm kind of a mess too. Mother would also kill me for this. They have never traveled up this way.” And Inks intended to keep it that way. Once Odhranos is comfortable, she busies herself with making two cups of tea, and returns to sit next to him. She stops midway at happy noise she hears and the sight of him holding the circlet, lowering into a crouch just low enough so he can place it upon her head. It's an awkward coronation, but amusing. Snickering, she offers him one of the warm teacups and uses her freed hand make sure it isn't resting at an odd angle. “I never thought I'd be able to wear one of these with my hair the curly mane that it is, but I like it.” Without a mirror nearby, she wonders how it looks. “...Did it look okay when you saw me wearing it before?”

Odh grimaces. "It's the first time in a while that I'd visited. I'm not that fond of Vailkrin, I'll be honest." Untying his bun, Odhranos lets his hair flop in an untidy bundle over the back of the chair. "I ended up there when I first washed up in Lithrydel. Was almost preyed upon by a suggestive vampire. I expressed my disinterest in a rather… sharp way." Even remembering how he was back then is enough to make the terramancer shudder. "I wasn't a nice person back then and Vailkrin reminds me of less happy times, so I tend to avoid it when I can." Mention of Ma O brings some warmth back into Odh's expressions. "I'm glad I've been accepted. Honestly it felt like I was going to be nothing but a pain in the ass when I landed in on your family, but both your mother and father have made me feel more at home than I have done in a long time."

Odh laughs brightly when Inks comments on the mess around them. "There's something cosy about a nice bit of mess. Makes a place feel lived in, like a proper home" Odh smiles when he feels Inks hair tickling his palm, guiding him to place the circlet on the crown of her head. He beams when it is in place and as Inks passes him his mug, he tilts his head aside quizzically at Inks' question. "I think it suits you. It's an Oileanian design and as a rule, we have quite curly or wavy hair." That said, Odh sits up in the chair and holds out his hand. Guided by the circlet, he is able to find Inks' cheek. He leans over the arm of the chair and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Aha! I can aim now." Even as his cheeks bloom a warm pink, Odhranos smiles at Inks. "To answer your earlier question, no. You're not too cold." Odh's voice is quiet and gentle, as his thumb grazes Inks' cheekbone. "I've never once thought you were cold."

“You have to come over whenever I buy up a place, then. Or to see the castle...I'm sure Kas will let us stay there, and I'll keep you safe from suggestive vampires. Promise. No...blood pact required for your protection.” We're just glossing over the bit where Odhranos might die very soon. It's there in her tone, though. Inks is trying to sound hopeful, like everything will be okay, but there's sadness lingering beneath her words that is easy to pick up on. She takes a drink from her cup then sets it down on the floor well away from her feet so she doesn't accidentally tip it over. “I can't imagine you being mean...” She wouldn't consider the fight they had as him being mean. Her behavior then was mean. And stupid, but the seamstress bit her lip. The last thing she wanted to do was kill the mood. “They adore you,” she cheerfully says, referring to her parents. “Just as much as I do.” How she wished she had the teacup back in her hands as the words came out of her mouth, for something to hide her face behind. Whether he can see or not, Inks can't help feeling shy voicing these things. She looks up at him, taking in details of his smile, his hair, his posture. The warmth he seems to constantly emanate. How could she possibly lose this? The sensation of his hand on her cheek elicits a smile of her own, her hand reaching up to rest atop his. Inks can't believe the giggle that leaves her when he kisses her forehead. When had she ever sounded so giddy? Relieved that she doesn't feel cold, she softly replies, “I'm glad. I haven't ever thought you were either.”

"I'll look forward to it then, safe under the watchful eye of the Little Kraken" Odh sticks out his tongue as he uses the fond nickname the smugglers had coined for Inks, being the daughter of Cenril's legendary smuggler, The Kraken. When Inks covers her hand with his, Odhranos feels his heart leap. Missing all the cues one would normally pick up from body language such as a smile or the softness of one's expression, he finds it hard to judge Inks reaction. However, her gentle touch and the bubbly giggle in response to his kiss goes a long way in settling his nerves about being so open with his emotions. While in the back of his mind a nagging fear persists, reminding him of the impending end of these happy moments, Odhranos refuses to listen right now. "I'm happy." Such a simple phrase, but so truthful in its plain honesty. Gesturing with his mug of tea, Odh waves at the cabin around them, strewn with the trappings of their lives. "This, all of this, makes me happy. This home." Odh interlaces his fingers with Inks' and holds their hands up as if for proof. "This makes me happy. You do, Iintahquohae." Odhranos' smile is shy, but he refuses to hide it now. Odh squeezes Inks hand gently before continuing in a sadder tone. "I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, or the days after. I can't know. Right now, I don't want to. Tomorrow is for the gods to know. Today is for us and I want you to know, come what may, today I was happy because of you."

Inks flushes at the nickname. It's too sweet. Forgetting her tea entirely, she focuses on Odhranos. She is fairly certain this is all she could ever possibly want. Her smile broadens, and she scoots closer, mimicking him just a bit. “This makes me happy too,” she whispers, squeezing her twined hand with his. “And this,” copying the terramancer, she plants a kiss on his forehead, “And this,” two more, one on either cheek. “And heeere,” she presses an index finger against his chest, right over his heart. This is excessively cutesy and more affectionate than she can recall ever behaving around anybody, but she likes it. Her hands reach up to cup his face. “And you. You make me happy too, Odhranos.” His suggestion that tomorrow is for the gods to know elicits a slight quirk of her brow, dull eyes casting a sidelong glance at one of the far, book-strewn corners of the cabin. “...Hold that thought.” There and back again in a blink, Inks resettles into her seat, an old journal in hand. She turns the pages and stops at one, with tomorrow's date scrawled at the top in familiar handwriting. “'There's a celebration outside. ...Why don't you look out the window?'” That's...positive, though she doesn't fully understand. Looking to Odhranos, she guides his hands down to the journal so he knows what she's doing. “I never showed these to you, but I have had them for years.” A pause follows. How did she explain this? She frankly didn't understand it much herself, until after venturing into Kasyr's dreams, and even then she felt uncertain. “So...I told you about how I sewed the sky together, right? Years ago. Well...I forgot this until Kasyr and I did some digging,” her words feel disjointed and uncertain of how to really explain. “-My memory has only really made sense recently...The day he had me sew the sky together, he threw me a rock. I spun it into thread. I think I gave you a piece when I first wrote to you.. It was a temporal fragment. Solidified time. And...I've had these ever since I could remember.” Well aware that Inks very likely sounds insane, she fidgets with a few of the pages, gaze cast downward with a frown. “They're in my handwriting, but they don't really make sense. Just little notes on random days. Suggestions. So...I suppose I know tomorrow for us, if I look out the window.” Her tone is doubtful. She thumbs through the remaining pages following tomorrow's page. Innocuous passages, more suggestions or odd words of encouragement. It went out about a week. “I left the others at home in Cenril, but...I guess we won't be going back for them anytime soon?” Guessing that since they were closer to Xalious, she and Odh would stay here for a while sounded logical.

Odhranos melts under Inks' words and gentle kisses. He didn't know it was possible to feel this buoyant and giddy, to the point that he wants to laugh and dance and throw his arms around Inks all at once. When she cups his cheeks, his lips part as he begins to form the words to something that a more reserved Odhranos would never have been brave enough to say, but thankfully, Inks' train of thought interrupts him before the words are fully formed. Flushing with the realisation of what he was about to say, Odh composes himself as the slipstream of Inks' dash breezes across his warm cheeks. His hand is guided to the dry texture of old paper, which he presses the pads of his fingers against, appreciating the slightly worn feeling. "It's… ah! One of yours!" Odhranos' fingers explore the cover, and the particular style of the binding is immediately as recognisable as a signature. "Though this is a bit different. But familiar…" Odh's eyebrows vault skyward and he throws his hand out to his left. The crate Karasu had brought all those months ago rattles slightly and a silvery grey glint shoots out and into Odhranos deft clutches. "I knew I recognised this." Odhranos holds the miniscule clipping of thread up for inspection, a thread she had given him many many months ago. "So that's what it is, a thread of time." Odh absentmindedly winds the thread around his finger as Inks explains what the journals are and his interest only grows deeper. "Fascinating." He whispers, running his thumb along the edge of the page, the pad of his index finger tracing the neat binding of the cover. "Snippets of the future, written in your own hand. How intriguing." Though she can't see the twinkle in his eye, Inks can no doubt hear it in his voice. All the these years later and still Odhranos is filled with wonder by magic. "Have you been able to confirm the veracity of these journals? Have they told you anything significant?" Odhranos suddenly freezes.

"Do you… know what's going to happen? With the war?"

Inks beams at how quickly Odhranos recognizes her work by touch. To her, it's a sign that she's improved. Bookbinding was more of a side hobby for her, so the handful of books she had created were lackluster to her compared to the clothes she made. She jumps at his sudden movement and summoning of the length of time thread she sent to him before ever meeting him in person. The memory causes another fond smile, her hand reaching to rest atop his free hand.“I have more of it here, I'm pretty sure. There should be a handful of the fragment pieces I freed from Kasyr's dreams,” she blinks at the sentence, with the full realization that her words sounded incredibly bizarre. “- Somewhere around here.” Her eyes travel to the mammoth pelt spread out on the floor, and the storage space beneath it. Probably there to keep them out of the way, should they cause more problems, though she had no way of knowing for sure how they worked. This was something to delve into after the war... The seamstress frowns at the thought. This was something she wanted to explore with Odhranos by her side. “The spool of thread is in Cenril, but I bet I could re-spin the little bits of fragment that are here. They're oddly malleable when I touch them, but keeping it close to me paired with Sacred just made me forgetful and feel sick.” The sickness was mostly Sacred's doing, but she doesn't know that. As for significance, the seamstress turns several pages back in the journal, stopping on a worn page she secretly stole glances at when they were in the cabin and she happened to be awake while he slept. “This is the most significant one to me,” she can't help the timid tone her voice takes on. “You learn an important name today if you listen. Take heed of the changeling's words. Write to him.' I read it the morning Quintessa told me about you and insisted I reach out to you about magic.” Her expression saddens shortly after, but she flicks through the final pages of the journal again with her thumb, head shaking slowly. “No. I've noticed that that each journal is roughly a year's worth of messages -from one birthday to the next, not exactly the calendar year, but not every day is covered. Sometimes whole months are missing. It's frustratingly inconsistent..” Wondering if one of the journals hidden away at home might have answers, she shifts uncomfortably in her seat. The thought of parting from Odh to run back and retrieve it when they're this close now is too much to bear. "I wish I knew. I wish I could tell you that we win," she whispers, leaning into kiss his cheek, "and I want to know this won't ever fade away."

Odhranos' attention isn't on the journal, even if he could read it wouldn't be. As Inks explains her history with the fragments of time and the thread she soun from them, his focus is on her voice, the way that she chooses to speak, the words that she picks to convey herself. Never before has Odhranos taken the time to really absorb himself in someone else's speaking, but when he feels that he might not get the chance again, he wants to take in everything he can of her. So wrapped up in her voice and her way of speech that Odhranos almost missed the meaning of the words themselves until Inks' voice grows shy and quiet. "So I have this journal to thank then." Odhranos' voice and expression are gentle, as his thumb traces the edge of the journal. He doesn't interrupt as Inks divulges further on the patchwork nature of the journal's predictions, but when she mumbles her frustrations to his cheek, he turns to face her, the tips of their noses almost brushing. "Then we'll win." His statement is as quiet as it is bold as he speaks in feathery breaths against her lips. "So this doesn't have to fade." With that, he leans over the arm of his chair and kisses Inks, a more lingering kiss than those that had come before.

At a loss for what to say, Inks starts rambling about the journals to avoid thinking about the coming war and potentially losing Odhranos. Those are the last two things she wants to dwell on. “My parents don't know where they came from. I remember finding them under my bed when I was a kid, cleaning my room one day and...” She falls silent. This all sounds so absurd. Why won't she stop talking? “They're sort of why I think I'm lucky.” Didn't she already say that before? Why is she repeating herself? Flustered, the seamstress rambles more. “I mean I...Yes.” Her head tilts down to look at the journal, watching Odh's hands. “...I have it to thank too, for leading me to you.” She didn't notice how close they were before until she lifts her gaze to his face again, brown eyes widening with alarm. They soften in an instant as she inches even closer, letting the journal slip from her grasp to fall on the floor between them, hands reaching to twine with his. “We will,” she agrees, hushed. Before she can even think up words to reply to him, she's lost all thought, eyes fluttering shut with her lips pressed against his. It won't fade, she wants to say back, but this was enough. Her heart swells. They would find a way.