[ He looks thoughtful for a second, as he casts back to that particular memory. ]
No, I'm pretty sure we used the pot to bribe the local guard so he wouldn't call in back-up to arrest us. I think the pot ended up being something like 50 or 60 silver, so honestly, he made out like a bandit.
It’s not always about the taste. ‘Sides, this is what I’m used to, and it’s cheap.
[ But he takes a quick sip from Yan’s tankard; it’s a decent enough cider, and while he normally has a sweet tooth, the drink is a little sweeter than he prefers.
[ He lets out a quiet hum, as if to say, That's not too surprising. ]
Makes sense. I mean, you don't wander into civilization too often, right? And I don't think I've ever seen pastries or candy growing on trees or bushes.
They put them deep in the forest, because they assume if someone is lost out there, they must be starving. I've seen some sweet rolls, a couple of cakes.
[ See, he was expecting her to tell him how ridiculous he's being, that, no, of course the fae don't just leave cakes sitting atop bushes, that surely they were more subtle than that.
But, apparently not. Though the explanation she provides is a little more sinister than he expects. ]
... Huh.
I've never heard that before.
[ Which is somehow both a surprise and not a surprise. He's heard about the big stuff, the stuff that gets whispered in bars, the stuff that gets whispered from wizened adventurers to fresh ones, but it's a big, weird world out there, and it's impossible to know everything there is.
Sometimes, it's just because they think it's funny. The spells aren't very dangerous – like they might give them hiccups for a week or turn their skin green.
But some put them in a deep sleep or make them go blind. My mother taught me about them when I was very young, so I wouldn't accidentally take something.
[ At least her mother helped with her more basic survival needs – how not to stumble into the wrong place at the wrong time. ]
[ They were tricky bastards at the best of times, even when one managed to catch them in a charitable mood.
He takes another slow pull from his tankard – he's trying to take his time, because even if he had mentioned he was trying to get a nice buzz on, he'd also rather not risk tipping too far in the wrong direction. They have work to do in the morning, after all. ]
Can I...
[ An awkward pause, then he presses on carefully, ]
[ The question catches her off guard (because it makes her realize that she's never told anyone before; the only reason the exorcist's boy knew was because he was there). Her chin rests on the edge of her tankard again, propped up on the large drink, and she looks down at the woodgrain of the table by Peter's mug and his hands. She watches his fingers, rather than his face, when she speaks. ]
People will hire exorcists, sometimes, when they think a huli jiing has taken hold of a man's heart. They think we've used part of our own spirit in our magic to steal their vitality, like they have to cast us out to break the spell.
[ She glares at his hands, holding her own tankard a little tighter.
But—
Right, her mother. ]
It was... fifteen years ago, I think. We were staying near a village, in this old temple, and a merchant's son saw my mother when she was trying to catch one of his family's chickens. She got caught in a trap, and she had to transform to escape. Like that knight, he fixated on her, and even though she ran, she kept hearing him every night. But after a few days, she said something changed about what she could hear – like he was feverish or delirious – so she went to see him.
His parents called for a healer, and the healer gave him medicine to try and make him forget my mother, but it was only making him sick. She tried to go back a second night, because she thought her magic could keep him alive, but an exorcist was waiting for her.
He chased her back to the temple where we were hiding, and he took her head while she was trying to find me, to tell me to run.
[ He listens silently, thankfully knowing well enough that his color commentary is absolutely not welcome at this point. He doesn't expect her to offer as much information as she does – mostly because he's accustomed to dealing with cagey people, who would only offer up the bare minimum or would summarily tell him to fuck off, if they felt he was prying too much.
So he sits and listens, elbows on the table and a hand curled loosely around his tankard, his thumb running along the tankard's lip. He grimaces as she describes her mother's murder, and he's quiet for a second, digesting this information. ]
[ She lifts her head, sitting up to take a longer drink from her cider.
When she sets her tankard down, she's speaking again. ]
The exorcist had a boy with him – his son. He was trying to teach him how to hunt us, but the boy found me before his father did.
He actually... he listened to me. [ Her voice is softer, a little wistful. ] He believed me, that we didn't hurt anyone. So when his father asked if he found any pups, he lied. He let me run.
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Did you at least get your silver back?
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No, I'm pretty sure we used the pot to bribe the local guard so he wouldn't call in back-up to arrest us. I think the pot ended up being something like 50 or 60 silver, so honestly, he made out like a bandit.
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[ So... win?
She keeps sipping at the cider, nursing it contentedly, before she nudges the tankard over towards Peter. ]
Do you want to try it?
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Yeah, sure, why not?
[ He pulls the tankard toward him before lifting his own again. ]
I’m gonna guess you don’t wanna give this another shot, huh?
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If it tastes the same as before, no. Why didn't you get something tastier?
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[ But he takes a quick sip from Yan’s tankard; it’s a decent enough cider, and while he normally has a sweet tooth, the drink is a little sweeter than he prefers.
He slides it back to her. ]
Not bad.
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[ She draws her drink back, sipping contentedly at it, seeming pleased by what she's been given. ]
I don't usually have a lot of sweet things.
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Makes sense. I mean, you don't wander into civilization too often, right? And I don't think I've ever seen pastries or candy growing on trees or bushes.
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And if you find any, you shouldn't eat it. Fae sometimes set traps by enchanting things like that.
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Seriously? What, do they just leave sweet rolls hanging from a tree branch, hoping someone will find that totally normal?
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They put them deep in the forest, because they assume if someone is lost out there, they must be starving. I've seen some sweet rolls, a couple of cakes.
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But, apparently not. Though the explanation she provides is a little more sinister than he expects. ]
... Huh.
I've never heard that before.
[ Which is somehow both a surprise and not a surprise. He's heard about the big stuff, the stuff that gets whispered in bars, the stuff that gets whispered from wizened adventurers to fresh ones, but it's a big, weird world out there, and it's impossible to know everything there is.
If it were, then he'd probably be out of a job. ]
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But some put them in a deep sleep or make them go blind. My mother taught me about them when I was very young, so I wouldn't accidentally take something.
[ At least her mother helped with her more basic survival needs – how not to stumble into the wrong place at the wrong time. ]
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Sounds about right for fae.
[ They were tricky bastards at the best of times, even when one managed to catch them in a charitable mood.
He takes another slow pull from his tankard – he's trying to take his time, because even if he had mentioned he was trying to get a nice buzz on, he'd also rather not risk tipping too far in the wrong direction. They have work to do in the morning, after all. ]
Can I...
[ An awkward pause, then he presses on carefully, ]
Can I ask how you lost your mother?
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People will hire exorcists, sometimes, when they think a huli jiing has taken hold of a man's heart. They think we've used part of our own spirit in our magic to steal their vitality, like they have to cast us out to break the spell.
[ She glares at his hands, holding her own tankard a little tighter.
But—
Right, her mother. ]
It was... fifteen years ago, I think. We were staying near a village, in this old temple, and a merchant's son saw my mother when she was trying to catch one of his family's chickens. She got caught in a trap, and she had to transform to escape. Like that knight, he fixated on her, and even though she ran, she kept hearing him every night. But after a few days, she said something changed about what she could hear – like he was feverish or delirious – so she went to see him.
His parents called for a healer, and the healer gave him medicine to try and make him forget my mother, but it was only making him sick. She tried to go back a second night, because she thought her magic could keep him alive, but an exorcist was waiting for her.
He chased her back to the temple where we were hiding, and he took her head while she was trying to find me, to tell me to run.
no subject
So he sits and listens, elbows on the table and a hand curled loosely around his tankard, his thumb running along the tankard's lip. He grimaces as she describes her mother's murder, and he's quiet for a second, digesting this information. ]
How did you manage to get away?
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When she sets her tankard down, she's speaking again. ]
The exorcist had a boy with him – his son. He was trying to teach him how to hunt us, but the boy found me before his father did.
He actually... he listened to me. [ Her voice is softer, a little wistful. ] He believed me, that we didn't hurt anyone. So when his father asked if he found any pups, he lied. He let me run.
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Have you seen the exorcist's son since?
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[ Thankfully. ]
I hope he's living a good life now.
[ She takes a longer drink from her tankard, draining it, and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. ]
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He seems like he must've been a decent guy.
[ Though Peter wisely refrains from offering any assurances that his decency would probably lead to a comfortable life.
He's cynical like that. ]
Maybe you'll cross paths with him again some day.
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He moved away, the last time I went to the village.
[ So— the likelihood feels painfully – a shame, but the nature of life.
Shifting in her seat, Yan nudges away her tankard, licking her lips. ]
I can see why people drink this one.
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It's a good beginner's drink.
[ And he offers it a little teasingly, trying to lighten the mood, at least a little. ]
You wanna be careful with those, though. The sweeter they are, the easier they are to drink, and before you know it—
[ He points at the ceiling. ]
Rafters.
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I wouldn't fall out of the rafters.
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[ In that flat, even way that expresses every ounce of his doubt. ]
It doesn't count if you go all— [ A vague wave of his hand. ] —foxy, you know. That's just cheating.
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[ But, apparently, since she's finished her cider, she reaches over, a little curious as she wraps her hand around his tankard. ]
Can I try it again?
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