Smuggler's Vale: Honest Conversation

[opius]

The days following their trial at the mine had been shaky. Too much action and too many thoughts made the several days long march feel more like weeks, and by the time they party had hit the Refuge it was a welcome sight. The party set about to eat a communal meal and decompress among the safety and lodgings provided by the Travelers and their Refuge- all while under the watchful gaze of Ferrovax high upon his nest of scrap and stone.

It was shortly after this meal that Alastair sought out Alain. In a town full of green-cloak clad people, how hard could it be to spot him?

[Ancelas]

Alain had a habit of disappearing when he did not want to be seen, but when he wanted to be seen, he seemed to be everywhere. Tonight, it was a little of both. He had seen the column to the town center, flitted amongst the people as they ate and secured some finger food for himself, but then slipped out of the hall once everyone was settled and enjoying a well-earned meal.

He hadn't gone far, though. Simply going outside would be enough to find him, sitting on stone steps that led up to the wall encircling the town square, nibbling at meat pie while he studied the enormous form of Ferrovax, the dragon half-lying atop the wall nearby, eyes turned upon the lower city.

[opius]

Hermes flitted about here and there among the Refuge, scouting the area, while Emmett remained closer to the entryway to keep watch.

Despite being alone, Alastair wasn't quiet when he approached Alain. In fact, he was somewhat noisy in general- what with the gear and prototypes he carried on his person at any given time. Taking a seat on the steps a comfortable distance from Alain, Alastair squinted somewhat. "... Sun's almost gone completely. Can you actually see in the dark, or is it- y'know... Nikatos helping?"

[Ancelas]

Alain watched Alastair approach as he finished his apple, but said nothing as the boy sat down nearby. When Alastair spoke, though, Alain answered.

"It is part of our pact. One of the gifts he has provided me. To better see the world around me, and those I would protect."

[opius]

"...You've been on night watch for a while then, I take it." Alastair eventually gave up staring into the dusky sky. Though he could make out the fine differences between black and gray and... that other gray, it was more focus and processing power than he was willing to devote. He placed his fingerless-gloved hands on his knees and started looking for stars instead.

"A pact... Like a magical agreement, right? Sealed with blood and all that? It's... odd. He seems to not like you very much. Or... anyone, for that matter. How'd that become a thing?"

[Ancelas]

"Mm, you're right, we don't like each very much. We respect each other... but...hm. Maybe we're friends, after a fashion. But... a different kind of friendship." Alain nibbled at the meat pie. "He had a pact with someone else, once. Their arrangement... it wasn't good for my friend. He wanted Nikatos' power, and Nikatos fed on his desire. So I took his burden to try and save him. It was too late, but... I was able to keep Nikatos from enjoying what he took."

Alain chuckled softly. "He has never forgiven me, even as he respects what I did to him."

[opius]

Alastair blinked softly before slowly nodding. "That sounds... Difficult." He pursed his lips and looked to the sky, muddling over the concept. "Making deals for power- even for the right reasons, it seems like it's a precarious thing." He paused for a few moments as Alain ate the pie.

"Sorry. For your friend, I mean. There are some things you can't fix, I guess." With a roll of the shoulder, he glanced back to Alain. "...It must be kind of satisfying, though. Playing the whole... 'I might lose, but you can't win' thing."

[Ancelas]

"Mm... Spite can be a hell of a motivator, but... When you're in the moment of struggle, yes, it is satisfying to know that your own sacrifice is not in vane - that even in defeat, you can attain some measure of success. But once you come out the other side... you cannot help but wonder if there was another way. If you could have done things differently. Perhaps it would have been better to be more cautious. Perhaps it would have been better to have been less."

Alain shrugged and looked down at Alastair. "Sometimes, we make a decision, thinking it to be the best decision we could make. Sometimes it is even true, at the time. But that doesn't mean we will be free from repercussions. When I was younger, I was certain of my righteousness. Now that I am older, I can see just how foolish I really was.

"My hindsight is even clearer than my darkvision. That is the curse of getting older."

[opius]

Somewhere in Alain's statement Alastair had begun cupping and scratching the back of his head. As silence lapsed, he was staring at the steps below- contemplating. Frowning only slightly. "...Topical." His response was quiet, distant. And after some moments, he shook his head to rouse himself from overthinking yet again.

"...I can't say I'm not familiar with the idea. A lot of my choices in the Lyceum were based around being told what I couldn't do. Or rather, because of who said what I couldn't do." He chuckled. "...I suppose I grew to become a bit of a self righteous brat. A productive one, but a brat none the less." His hands again found their way to his knees.

"You're getting vague again. You uh... Seem to get more vague around the hard stuff. So..." He pursed his lips and shrugged. "...So what about the good times? The people in that tiny picture seemed like they enjoyed eachother's company. Can you... tell me a little about them?"

[Ancelas]

The thought of Alastair being a self-righteous brat brought a smile to Alain's face. "Of course. What would you like to know?"

[opius]

Alastair tapped his chin and thought for a few moments. "Alchemists have this concept called Quintessence. It's what's left after you've boiled away all the other impurities in a concoction. Simplified, pure - the essence of the material you're trying to isolate." He tilted his head and cupped his hands as if looking through the view-finder of his pictobox- imagining an image.

"I know nothing about the people in that image. Even Fenderberrin had a whole other side of himself I never got to meet. But you spent years with them, yeah? Off the top of your head, just a few words, try and convey who they were. Identify their Quintessence."

[Ancelas]

"Ahh, I see. You still have it with you, yes? Pull it out... I'd like to take a look again."

Alain rose and shifted down a few steps to be closer to Alastair. "Fenderberrin was not as different as you imagine. He was true to himself, no matter the situation. He was... awestruck by the world. Eager to explore, and to learn. Cautious, but inquisitive. He once braved an owlbear's den because he wanted a sketch of the mother and her cubs at rest. He took several precautions, of course, but he was enamored with the idea and could not be discouraged."

[opius]

Alastair cocked a brow as he began searching through his bag of holding. He retrieved the orange notebook and flipped to the back page, retrieving the old, tiny painting. "... I want to say I'm surprised that he'd do something like that, but at the same time he did have this kind of... Head-in-the-clouds mentality. Self preservation is counterintuitive to discovery, I suppose." He looked the painting over. "...Still, I would never in a hundred years have thought he was an adventurer. Bumping shoulders with sailors and sages alike.."

[Ancelas]

Alain leaned over to look at the tiny painting. "More like bumping kneecaps. He was so unobtrusive most of the time..." He trailed off with a chuckle.

Reaching down, he pointed down at the yellow dragonborn in the platemail. "You would have liked Ramah. He was an artificer as well... largely self-taught. He preferred working with weapons and armor over constructs, though. He and Fenderberrin would often argue of the finer points of practical magic."

[opius]

He nodded some and looked over the dragonborn, tilting his head. "Dragonborn are an uncommon sight. I never got close up and personal with the few back home. I think Drummond and Vada are the only ones I've spoken to, and even then it's only been a few words. Back home the few at the Lyceum always seemed to be doing their own thing in their own micro-clan." He tilted his head. "Self-taught Artifice, I can see why he and fenderberrin would be at odds. How'd he end up in a group like yours?"