RP:Whom He May Devour
Part of the Through A Glass, Darkly Arc
Summary: Valrae finds Talyara in Frostmaw and they have a much needed catch up. They both express fondness for the other and a desire to mobilize against the witch hunters. A dangerous man listens from across the tavern without the witches knowledge.
Frostmaw Tavern
It was weird being back in Frostmaw. Talyara had visited plenty of times since moving out of the war city, but to feel like she was back (even on a temporary basis) was going to take some adjusting. She missed the more temperate climate of Sage, missed the sounds of various animals at the sanctuary next door to the cottage. She even missed Lanara and her various pranks and the rambunctious raccoon Scoundrel who lived in the walls of their home. The witch had taken up residence in Lharast cottage despite the damage sustained when Lana blew up part of it many years ago and she was confined to the main living space—a single room. Sure, she could rent a room at the tavern but she didn’t want to be surrounded by people all the time. Still, she couldn’t recluse herself for the entirety of her stay so she thought she might head out to grab and drink and a bite to eat. As Taly got ready she thought about her last conversation with Lanara—her warning that they needed to leave Sage. That there was some man named Cramer who wrote a book admonishing witches and was gaining a following. That not only were they against witches and blaming them for all the pain and suffering in the world, but there was a hit list and the sisters were on it. A anxious shiver ran down Taly’s spine as she pulled a sweater over her head and watched it fall against the thighs of her leggings, tugged on her boots, and affixed a cloak around her shoulders. Taking up a single crutch, she would amble out of the cottage and through the snow to the tavern. Her injuries were healing slowly, but she was getting better. Her face barely showed the marks of the volleyball and even her ankle and ribs were almost all better after her fall from the tree while hunting the frost boar. Only the dislocation of her hip still lingered and so the witch relied on the crutch to help her walk longer distances. The trek to the tavern took longer than usual, but the witch pushed open the door in a flurry of wind and snow, eager to leech the warmth of the establishment. She quickly crossed the threshold, snapping the door shut, and depositing her cloak on a hook near the door. After waving at Drargon behind the bar, Taly limped over to the hearth and lowered herself into a large, plush armchair, sighing as she adjusted her leg into a more comfortable position and extended her cold hands towards the flames.
In a rush of frigid snow spotted wind Valrae entered the tavern. Her soft velvet cloak, a delicate shade of rose, was snow dusted. The powdery white was particularly heavy on her shoulders and the top of her hooded head. Underneath the soft, faux fur lining of her cloak the witch has dressed in conservative, warm layers. She taps the collected snow, now more of a clinging ice, off of her tall lace boots before sliding out of her cloak and the long peacoat beneath it. Her cable knit sweater was lilac and cream, underneath yet another thick shirt to protect her from Frostmaw’s harsh elements. Her pants were dark, padded thick with wool and tucked into her boots. Her purse was large, peach dyed and cumbersome. She situated the thick strap more than twice before she managed to cross the tavern and reach the bar. It wasn’t yet noon and circumstances would have it that ordering a drink to warm her bones was out of the question, so she settled for hot tea instead. Glamoured, her small and slightly upturned nose was bright red from the cold. Her eyes were long and wide, made to look an unremarkable shade of watery blue. Her skin was pale and dotted with freckles, her hair ebon and chopped in a trendy pixie cut that swung over her shoulders.
Fat curls of steam trailed behind her as she crossed the tavern again, mug of tea in tow. “Could I join you?” Valrae asks Talyara. Glamoured, she may seem like a stranger at first glance. But Val has intentionally worn her power like another cloak around her. It was risky, considering the threat Cramer and his men posed, but she’d followed her intuition and made the gamble. “I hope you don’t mind that I used my crystal,” The witch refrains from further detailing which one, assuming it is implied, “To find you but.. I wanted to speak to you,” Setting her mug aside, she curls into a seat near Talyara and smiles. “How are you?” If the bruises and the cast were any indication, perhaps her fellow craft sister could have been better.
A giantess had bustled over to Talyara once she had settled more comfortably and took the witch’s order which consisted of a hearty bowl of stew and warming ale, the witch having no qualms about enjoying a nip despite it being so early in the day. Her emerald eyes focus on hearth, the dancing flames reflecting there, as the witch idly twirls a curled strand around her finger. Valrae’s presence is noted when she enters the establishment but it’s not enough to break her from her thoughts. It’s not until she approaches the armchair does Taly break out of her trance and fully recognize her fellow witch for who she is, despite the glamor. A friendly smile twitches on her lips as she gestures towards a neighboring chair. “Of course, you don’t need to ask.” Talyara shifts slightly and winces in the process but doesn’t comment audibly. The mention of the crystal is met with a chuckle and Taly shakes her head, sending her mess of curls spilling across her shoulders. “Nah, I don’t mind. But I’m sorry you had to trek all the way up here and brave the cold and snow.” When Valerie poses her question about her well being she merely shrugs. “Injured, but alright overall. I’m healing and that’s all I can ask.” She pauses here as a tray is delivered bearing the food and drink and it’s not until the giantess has returned to the kitchen does Taly level a probing gaze in Valrae’s direction. “More importantly, how are you? It’s been entirely too long since we last talked, but you’re always in my thoughts.” In these dark times, Talyara’s mind often wandered to her fellow witches, sending her love and light energy to them as if it could envelope them in safety.
Valrae watches Talyara through hooded eyes as she brings her mug to her lips to blow across the hot surface of the tea. She rests it on her thigh and waits to feel the warmth seep through her thick pants while she shakes her head. “I’d lie if I said it wasn’t trouble to travel here but please don’t apologize. If I kept myself behind that barrier any longer I might have gone mad,” A smile tugs at the corner of her lips, humor lighting behind her blue glamoured eyes. “And it’s the first time I’ve visited Frostmaw alive,” She muses aloud. It sounded odd even to her own ears. “I’m not sure Cenrili women were made for this cold,” The witch jokes. She takes a long drink from her finally cooled tea. It was spicy and aromatic but she was unsure of the blend. Valrae is nodding again when Talyara tells her she’s healing. “Blessings,” She replies. The other witch’s next question was met first with a thoughtful pause. “I’m well, considering. I’ve thought of you too.” Emotion crosses her face like a cloud, her vulnerability in abrupt display before she can arrange her features away from it. “I owe you, and the others, my life.” And now the life of the child growing in her belly. Fingers still pink from the cold press to her stomach. “I wanted to thank you, your sister too…” A frown bows her lips.
“When I ran into Lanara in the market we spoke,” And Tanner had been murdered. Her dark brows wing in question. “I told her what I knew of Cramer, I guessed she’d have told you but I wanted to be sure?” Across the tavern, a man dressed in warm finery is drinking his ale with his wolfish eyes trained on the witches. A scowl pulls his lips away from his teeth at the mention of Cramer. He orders another drink. When Valrae leans nearer to Talyara, dark hair swinging over her shoulders, the man across the room leans too. As if her thoughts had paralleled the other witches she whispers, “Times are growing darker, Taly,” The glamour masking her face wavers. Suddenly, her eyes are the color of forest shadows and filled with fire. “There is storm rising and we’ll not survive being hunted again. We must unite.”
Talyara dips her spoon into the steaming stew and blows across it before tentatively raising it to her lips as Valrae speaks. The witch chuckles when her counterpart mentions Cenrili woman not being built for the Frostmaw snow and cold. “From where I’m from, it’s nearly always autumnal year round. So while cold days are not a stranger, Frostmaw is a completely different beast. Hell, I used to live here full-time and I’m still not used to it.” As the conversation sobers, and Valrae talks about owing her (and the other witches) Taly shakes her head emphatically, reaching out to place a gentle hand on her fellow witch’s arm. “Please, speak nothing of it. It was honor, truly, to be apart of the group that brought you back, to right the wrong that was done to you. You would have done it for any one of us.” Talyara allows the brief silence to fall between the pair of them, her stew and ale momentarily forgotten in favor of focusing solely on Valrae and her words. When the inquiry about Cramer comes in, Taly releases a heavy sigh, one which sends an errant lock of hair floating across her face. “Aye…” comes her singular answer before she finally takes a sip of her ale, although the witch finds it does nothing to warm her from this (necessary) conversation. “She told me what you told her,” she explains, dropping her voice to barely above a whisper. “That’s why I’m up here, she said we needed to leave Sage because they knew where we lived. She thought I would be safer elsewhere.” Taly places her spoon back down on the tray and looks more completely into Valrae’s face, finding the glamour has lifted slightly and she’s staring into that fiery green gaze—and she would find that Taly’s held their own intensity as well as she gives a curt nod. “Then we unite. And we win.”
Valrae smiles, “I’m a ‘sand witch’ through and through,” She laughs at her own bad pun. “I enjoyed Larket and I love the colors of autumn but my veins are filled with sunlight and saltwater.” Her brows quirk at Taly having lived in Frostmaw and she takes a long drink from her warm tea. When Talyara places a hand on her arm Valrae feels a fondness and kinship bloom in her chest. Despite the grim topic, Valrae is smiling brightly again. “You and your sister have been such allies. The honor is mine, truly. The goddess has blessed me in many ways but to call you both craft sisters is one of the greatest.” When the moment passes and turns to fierceness, Valrae is glad to find her passion and sense of purpose reflected in the other witch’s eyes. While she is humbled by these blessings, the man watching undetected from across the tavern is seething with hatred. He scowls behind his ale, disgusted at the magic and warm conversation passing between the women. Behind his hatred, the man was pleased to have caught snippets of such conversation. He’d been lucky to have stumbled across Talyara so far North and luckier still to have witnessed this conversation. Cramer would be pleased that he’d managed to find a keeper and have intel of apparent plans to make some sort of unified front against them. In front of the fire, Valrae is blissfully unaware of the dangerous man sitting so near. She’s smiling at Talyara again. “So many blessings,” She repeats. “We’re always stronger together.”
Talyara can appreciate a good pun as much as the next person so Valrae’s comment about being a “sand witch” is met with a barrage of giggles that seem out of place during their more somber conversation. Eventually, the druidic witch is able to temper them enough to grant her fellow witch a more genuine and kind smile. “We are blessed to have you a craft sister as well. I haven’t felt a sense of community within people like us since I was growing up. It’s…refreshing.” Talyara is, of course, oblivious to the fact that there is a man within the establishment who not only hates everything that she is, but is formulating malevolent plans. Taly believes herself to be free from harm here in Frostmaw, having escaped to her former cottage on Lanara’s insistence that being in Sage wasn’t safe. “We are stronger together than we are alone,” Talyara agrees with Valrae, sharing in that smile. “Is there anything I can do for you? For the cause? Of course I want to help in anyway I can!” she offers eagerly.
The fierceness that had crossed Valrae’s illusioned features yields to the softer lines of appreciation. “There will be much I’ll ask of you,” She admits, her tone apologetic. “But not here…” Though she’d been almost carelessly unaware of the surrounding tavern and it’s patrons throughout their hushed conversation, the Red Witch was not so green as to give all her secrets away without the safety of insured privacy. “When we meet, I’ll ask it.” It was vague, as circumstances demanded it be, but Taly would have already been granted some awareness of the situation through Lanara, and Valrae could trust Talyara to understand the need for secrecy. They would meet on the night of full moons, there they would speak. Beyond them, the man who waited felt his blood turn sour with the newness of the witch’s caution. Cramer would be less than pleased that they had not revealed more. He watched as the glamoured witch sat aside her unfinished tea and shrugged on her various layers of clothing. He waited as she said her goodbyes to Talyara and trekked back into the cold of Frostmaw. The man sat with his ale and his black beating heart until Taly took leave of the tavern. Only then did he follow, tracking the little witch’s steps as he went.