This chapter has undergone some revisions since it was first put up on AO3
Beneath her cloak of feathers
lies a body soft and fine
eyes of hazel green
flowing hair as dark as wine.
―Cloak of Feathers, The Sword
There was little left of the small village when the Demon Hunters arrived, the renegade pack of demons had come some weeks before and left a smoking, blackened collection of ruins and rotting death in their wake. Nothing they had not seen many times before, but it was always hard when they arrived too late. While they were saddened by the deaths of so many innocents, they felt it would be useful to investigate and determine where the demons might have gone.
The thought that anyone might have survived such a slaughter did not even occur to them.
That is why they had been so surprised to find the boy.
He had lain limply in the center of town, sprawled before three burial crosses that towered over him, casting their long, crooked shadows over the dirtied cobblestone. At first glance, they assumed him dead, he lay so quiet and still, but strangely, he was untouched by decay or carrion birds. If he had died in the attack, he would have been picked apart long ago. When one of Josen's officers touched him, the boy had jumped up and attacked him. He had snarled and bit and kicked with such ferocity that it took three strong hunters to wrestle the child into submission. He was so maddened by grief that he could not be calmed for some time, yet there had been no fear in his eyes.
Just hate and despair.
Where the others saw a broken soul too far gone, a lost cause, the leader of the Demon Hunters saw great potential.
Hours later, Josen regarded the boy steadily, Jack, his name was. He was wrapped in a cloak, seated before him, looking much different, better now that he had been fed and washed. Less beyond hope and more the young man he would grow into. Josen's tent had been carefully erected and a small camp had been made in the ruined town. The other hunters itched to move on, but respected their leader's wishes. They had learned from tracks they had found and Jack's halted speech when questioned, that he and his sister had survived the initial attack and fled into the forest where they had lived for some weeks, until the sister (younger than the boy, he assumed) had perished. Jack had apparently taken her body back to town and buried her, along with what he could find that remained of his parents.
A grim task for one so young. The poor boy appeared to have already given up, he had lain in the center of town before the graves of his family, waiting for death.
"How did your sister die?" Josen asked him gently.
Jack stared at him, or rather through him, for some moments before speaking. "Is this a test?" The boy asked him, stone faced. Josen smiled. The boy was sharp, he liked that. "Everything is a test, even life itself." He replied. Jack went quiet, then spoke again. "She awoke in the night during a storm and ran from me, thinking that I was a demon. She fell into the river and drowned." He answered hollowly.
Josen nodded, more as a confirmation to himself than in acknowledgment of what Jack had told him.
"I have a proposition for you my boy." He began seriously.
"I am the leader of an order of sorts who's base lies far to the north in the Dreadlands. We recruit ones such as yourself who have survived when all others have not. You have been here alone for some time and have not fallen to the corruption that rots this place or the madness of what you have seen."
Jack opened his mouth to speak but Josen held up a hand to quiet him. "Should you choose to join us, the life you led before, your intended profession and everything you have ever known will be left behind. However, do not mistake this as a demand to forget the life you had, because when the fighting is done, your memories and your humanity will be all you have left."
The boy blinked at him and furrowed his brow in confusion, questions appearing to form in his mind.
"I will not ask you to forsake the pleasures of the flesh, friendship or love. This is not a religious order. Perhaps it would be better to use the word organization or... calling." Josen continued with a smile. "We only ask for determination, dedication and discipline, not to mention strength of character. I understand that the person you were before has been slain. But here you sit, though, as someone new." Josen said conversationally while Jack watched his every movement. "Your new self was born from the spilled blood of your parents and the people you knew and loved, then baptized in the river that took your sister. You were given a second life, it is yours to do with as you wish. Say the word and we will leave you to die at the feet of the graves of your family, if that is what you truly want. But if you wish to join us, you are welcome to join the hunt." Josen offered calmly, "I believe that children are often wiser than we give them credit for, you are almost a young man, more than capable of making your own choices."
"I'm sorry sir." Jack interrupted quietly, voice raw from screaming after a period of disuse, "But I'm not quite sure what you are asking, what kind of organization is this? What hunt? What do you want from me?" He questioned, suspicion and confusion present in his blue-green eyes.
Josen stared at him, despite what this youth had experienced, how long he had been left alone with the horrors he had seen, he was clear minded and bore a wisdom beyond his years. Where other children might have screamed hysterically or cried, this boy sat up straight before him and did not shed a tear.
"You hate demons don't you?" The master Hunter asked evenly.
"Yes." Jack answered, rage flaring in his eyes, burning away the earlier despair.
"Your hatred for those that have done this to you burns within you brighter than any sun. I only ask that you temper your hatred with discipline. If it will not go away, and trust me, it will not, turn it into something useful. Give it a direction, a target." Josen explained carefully, steepling his fingers. "This we can teach you." He looked Jack directly in the eye. "I will ask you this once and only once my son; Do you wish to hunt demons?"
There was no hesitation.
"Yes." Jack replied fiercely.
Josen smiled.
Lyndon's slumbering desires had long been unknown to him. This was unusual. He tended know exactly what he wanted at all times, be it person, item, or edible. But he had not been made aware of how badly he wanted the Demon Hunter until it was actually happening. He'd known he'd crossed the threshold between ignoring Jack and caring about him long ago, he valued the hunter's companionship more than any other person he had come into contact with, but he had not quite appreciated just how close to the precipice of the chasm of desire he had come until just this very moment.
And oh, how he wanted.
Jack smelled like smoke, wet dirt and leather, mixed with the ever familiar coppery odor of fresh blood. There was no trace of the overpowering perfumes of flowers and lavender that he was so used to. The difference was at once intoxicating and lit his nerves on fire. It had been far too long since last he'd been with someone.
The Demon Hunter went still and tense, hands curled into claws, jumping up reflexively. Lyndon expected him to pull back immediately and curse him, strike him, shove him away, but he didn't. Instead, Jack's hands found their way to Lyndon's shoulders and he twisted them tightly into the fabric there. His mouth opened slightly (probably in surprise) and Lyndon wasted no time in swiping his tongue inside, testing, wondering just how far he was going to take this.
Sense and self preservation eventually won out and he reluctantly pulled away, though not before nipping at Jack's bottom lip with his teeth, pulling a startled, but quickly stifled noise from him.
Lyndon was immediately aware he was half hard already and they were both panting. Jack stared wide eyed at him with a look like he'd taken a serious blow to the head from a Colossal Golgor. The scoundrel felt a little guilty, despite how much he had enjoyed it.
"Hahaha. What can I say? I couldn't help myself." He said a bit sheepishly with a weak grin.
The dark haired hunter continued to stare at him with a bizarre expression that looked like a mixture of shock, confusion and the barest trace of fear. He still had not released Lyndon's shoulders from the death grip he held them in. In any other situation, Lyndon would have found this hilarious, but he couldn't muster the will to laugh at him. He was too busy coming to grips with the rush of dumb animal lust that had rolled over him from just one daft kiss. He sighed softly and rolled his eyes, "Alright, I'm sorry. You look like you've just been tortured or something. I won't do it again. Promise."
Jack didn't say anything, but pulled at his shoulders slightly while staring at his mouth. Lyndon couldn't ignore such an obvious cue and he wasn't exactly known for keeping his promises anyway. He suddenly thought of Itherael saying that the pair of them were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen, well, if he was still watching them... he'd give that peeping tom something to look at alright! He leaned forward slowly and kissed Jack again, and this time Jack's mouth opened immediately with a soft sound. Lyndon grabbed his head and pulled him in, and their kiss deepened.
Lyndon moaned into the other man's mouth, he had missed this. He normally went after women, but he had been with a few men before, though they had been few and far between. They had also been considerably more... feminine than Jack was, but still. Even though he had preferences, he didn't really care. He never had, just about anyone was fair game, if they were pretty enough and said yes. It had been a while, months even and Jack was- well, he was the dashing war hero wasn't he?
And damn if he didn't want him.
Despite his considerable skills in combat, Jack was terrible at kissing. Lyndon should have guessed, he seemed rather naive about the many social graces of flirting and fornication. He'd obviously never been with a girl before. Jack had actually believed that Lyndon was going to get married to that miller's daughter he'd been with when they'd first met! Sarah? Susan? It didn't matter. It was almost endearing how loyal the man was to such old fashioned romantic ways.
Jack's bottom jaw trembled slightly and he didn't seem to know what to do with Lyndon's tongue in his mouth. He was a fast learner though, and soon they were going at it like eager kids, stopping only to suck mouthfuls of each others exhalations.
Lyndon pushed the hunter back against the headboard and pillows with some difficulty. Jack seemed unwilling to let go of him and Lyndon wanted to be careful of his wounded arm. He knelt over him and went to kiss him again, but moved to attack the pale column of Jack's throat instead, making him groan and shiver.
"Lyndon..." Jack gasped. "Please." Lyndon hummed against his throat, dragging his mustache over sensitive skin. The scoundrel paused to search Jack's eyes, finding them unfocussed and heavy lidded. Please what? Please ravish me? Please help me forget? Please let me escape? Please stop? From his voice, it sounded like it could have been any of those. Maybe all of them. Jack had practically given him permission to do whatever he wanted, which made a hot pool of arousal uncurl in his gut like a wakening beast. Jack released his shoulders and curled his arms around the scoundrel's neck, holding him there tightly as Lyndon brought the flat of his tongue to where neck met shoulder and lapped and kissed at his skin, making the hunter shudder and growl from the sensation. The arms around his neck tightened and he had a sudden thought that Jack was probably strong enough to tear his head off, but he decided not to let that bother him.
He managed to get in between the hunter's long legs and wrapped an arm around his lower back, grinding their hips together. His efforts were rewarded with a low cry, then another, and another still as Lyndon rocked against him slowly.
The thief let his free hand skim over Jack's chest, working quickly to undo the ties of his tunic, string so worn it was barely holding the shirt together. He grit his teeth a bit in frustration as he fumbled with the fastenings in his eagerness. He wanted skin damn it! He finally got the shirt open without ruining it, then off with a bit more difficulty with Jack's aching arm and his unwillingness to be anything that was slightly more flexible than a statue. Then it was warm chestnut skin, and- alright, no, there weren't any curves here, just slightly bony hips and hard planes of sinewy muscle. It had admittedly been a while since he'd had another man in his bed, but it wasn't like he'd just forget there wouldn't be any tits right? Right. The temptation to have his way with the Demon Hunter was nearly overwhelming and from the way Jack was tense as a bowstring, and as unmoving as a corpse, he must have expected Lyndon to take him up on what he had so subtly offered. Gods Lyndon wanted to, he wanted to do more, harder, faster.
Feeling shaking hands hesitantly slide up his arms while Jack averted his eyes and chewed on his bottom lip nervously, made Lyndon feel a little ashamed and he reigned himself in. "It's alright." He breathed, forcing his touch to become light and soothing. "We don't- We can... stop. If you want." Lyndon didn't often think things through and had a tendency to rush headfirst into most situations, but Jack definitely required a careful hand. Truthfully, the temptation to push the other man down, tear his infuriating black trousers off and bury himself in his body, was almost too much. Lyndon had never been one to deny himself pleasure in any part of his life, but if he made a mistake, pushed too far, and acted purely on his base desires, Jack might pull away, withdraw, and never want to do this ever again. With anyone.
Damn it all, it was supposed to be fun.
There would be plenty of time for more later. Lyndon couldn't quite be sure where that confident thought had come from and didn't much care. He'd think more on it... well, later.
"No. I-I want-" Jack was able to insist before his face turned impossibly redder. Lyndon offered him a disarming smile.
"Then relax. It's supposed to be fun." Lyndon said, and kissed him again.
What Jack was, who he was, demanded a certain degree of patience from Lyndon. He'd been known to be able to scrape some together from time to time, despite what most people may have thought. Sometimes he could focus rather intensely for long periods of time. Really, he was alright at being patient if the situation called for it, and if Jack needed to forget for a while, Lyndon could do that very well. He would make him forget his own name in a couple of minutes.
Lyndon waited until the trembling stopped before he resumed the fluid movements of his hips and slowly ran his tongue up the side of Jack's neck again. The Demon Hunter dragged air through his teeth and shook minutely, his hands clenching impossibly tighter, threatening to tear fabric. Jack had no business making pretty noises like that. Lyndon smiled a little, his mind racing with possibilities. He licked the skin a few more times, just to feel him shake. He was flooded with a surge of confidence, this was familiar territory, something he was very good at. He sucked briefly on the fluttering pulse point, producing a choked whimper.
"Lyndon!" Jack growled, panting harshly.
"What?" Lyndon pulled back and grinned, the more Jack tried to stifle himself, the harder the scoundrel worked to pull sounds from him. An amusing game. He kissed him again while he untangled Jack's fingers from his shirt so he could finally take the damned thing off and fling it across the room. He tightened his grip around Jack's waist, theirs chests moving together, skin to skin. He snaked his fingers lower, trying to distract the hunter with kisses, but it was only a partial success.
"Wha-what are you doing?" Jack asked with a quiet desperation. Lyndon smiled mischievously. "Never you mind." He said slyly, then added, "Don't breathe so fast. You'll make yourself dizzy," when Jack started to suck air like a fish flopping on a dock. Lyndon assumed it was because he just managed to get the man's pants open and dipped his hand inside. If they were face to face, close like this, it might be less embarrassing? Lyndon wasn't sure. It had never really been a problem for him. "I won't hurt you, relax." Lyndon breathed a little more seriously, but it was laughable really, bloody hilarious just suggesting that Lyndon could even attempt to hurt him, but there was more than one way to damage someone, the thief knew all too well.
The scoundrel stroked the hot flesh in his fingers slowly, making sure it was not too much, that he had not overstepped, but Jack's hips started to rock into his hand, moaning as he unconsciously spread his legs wider. The hunter's eyes fluttered, dark lashes brushing his cheeks and he almost appeared to be in pain if not for the telling sounds that tumbled out of him. He kept throwing his head back and gasping. Jack's fingers scrambled for purchase and they settled into the skin of Lyndon's back, short nails starting to claw into him. Lyndon thought that he had never looked more fetching.
Gods, he wanted to do everything to him.
The thief had to content his lust by laying soft bites and licks into Jack's mouth, neck, shoulders, collarbone, nipples, anything he could reach to touch. He used both hands now to tease and stroke him. Jack's body moved without his consent, lost to the sensations. Lyndon loved this part, undoing the other person, making them lose themselves. He may have been selfish in many ways, but not in this. No one could ever say he was not a generous lover. It was important to be liked, and what easier way was there to get someone to like you?
He slowed his hands down, drawing the pleasure out and making it good. Jack was half sitting up, long legs wrapped around Lyndon's waist, pulling him closer. His muscles squeezed and flexed while they moved together. Lyndon imagined how nice it would be to get the other man naked. He was so achingly hard he thought he might just die if he didn't touch himself soon.
Jack tipped his head forward to rest Lyndon's shoulder as his nails drew pink, stinging lines into the scoundrel's shoulder blades. Lyndon sped up the movements of his hand on the hunter's cock, stroking him quickly, free hand around himself now, easing the ache and narrowing his awareness down to the sensations shared between them. Jack started to make lovely, pitched breathy noises. He was close. Gods. They both were.
The Demon Hunter suddenly went silent in his orgasm, shuddering as he came undone. His eyes went distant for long seconds, then he sunk his teeth into Lyndon's shoulder suddenly and his nails drew blood as he finally moaned, long and agonizing. The pain was pleasantly sharp at first, but then he bit down hard, eliciting a yelp from the scoundrel then a deep groan as the pain bled into pleasure and dragged him over the edge.
He came back to himself in stages as the haze of lust cleared. With the pleasurable fog ebbing he could start to feel pulsing welts in his back, his left shoulder felt particularly sore. He spared a glance at it and saw that he was actually bleeding from teeth marks. "Owww." Lyndon mouthed, hissing.
Well, no one could say that Jack wasn't a fierce one. He'd seen what the man was capable of first hand, he supposed it could have always been worse. He could have torn his damned head off for instance.
The man in question was draped over him in a weak embrace, panting and twitching from aftershocks. Jack finally sat up a bit and locked eyes with him. His gaze half lidded, pupils blown wide from arousal, making them appear mostly black with just the smallest ring of turquoise, like the color of the Great Ocean on a midsummer's afternoon. They were vulnerable and open, softer than Lyndon had ever seen them. He had just enough presence of mind to think oh, damn it all, before those eyes finally moved away from his to fix on the bite he had inflicted. Lyndon forgot about the seed all over his hands and chest, realizing it was probably all over the sheets now. He grimaced and wiped his fingers off. Oh well, it wasn't like he wasn't used to being covered in all sorts of strange fluids, this being the least strange on his depressingly long mental list.
And it wasn't like the room wasn't already a complete disaster anyway!
"I'm... sorry." Jack whispered in a raw voice, still breathing heavily. He looked exhausted. Physically and emotionally, but worse than that, humiliated.
"None of that. It's fine... are-are you alright? Here, lie down." Lyndon said worriedly, moving over and maneuvering the hunter to lie down on the bed and pulling the blankets back over him. Jack buried his head in his folded arms and took a deep breath.
"Good? Fun?" Lyndon asked hesitantly, smiling brightly to drag them both out of the awkward mess they'd found themselves in.
"I'm-" Jack began, a little unsure, "I'm sure you've had... better." He finished shyly, looking anywhere but at the scoundrel's face.
Well, he wasn't exactly wrong but- "Nonsense. You were just fine."
Jack was soaked in sweat, lying on his stomach, a little tense, head turned to the side on his folded arms, kiss swollen lips parted slightly as his breathing calmed, and watching him with those damned eyes.
"Oh."
Maybe Lyndon was in just a little bit over his head here. The man was absolutely gorgeous. It wasn't like the thief to not notice something like that right away. This little incident was beginning to feel like more of an inevitability rather than an accident. That sudden, internal revelation was a little sobering, but then again, not really, given his rather promiscuous history. And was it really any more shocking then those giant demon creatures that had their skin torn off to be used to make those roads in Hell? Probably not. Likely nothing else ever would be- Oh Gods, disgusting. Shouldn't have thought of it at all.
"Alright?" Lyndon asked again.
"Yes. Stop asking me that." Jack eventually answered, voice gravelly.
"I will when you stop lying." Lyndon responded quickly, stretching his back and moving to sit up against the headboard. "You're a terrible liar."
The Demon Hunter was quiet, and he blinked, staring into the nothing of the pillows and sheets.
"I'm alright." Jack finally said. Lyndon smirked and brought up a careful hand down to stroke the hunter's shoulder blades. He jumped when Lyndon's fingers made contact, and went very still for a few moments, as though the sensation was more foreign than pleasurable. Lyndon thought that rather sad. But Jack relaxed into it eventually, and they sat in peaceful quiet for several long minutes. Jack deserved to feel normal for once, instead of like some killing machine, or an unfathomable demigod. He deserved to feel like a person, and if Lyndon could give him that for even a moment- It was good of him right?
"Why did you come with me? It couldn't have just been for the gold." Jack asked suddenly, catching Lyndon off guard. "I mean... I mean after. Not... Not before." Jack continued awkwardly.
"You asked me to go. So I did." Lyndon said gently, letting his fingers trace soothing patterns over the hunter's spine. He missed being able to touch someone. It had been too long.
Jack stared at him, his expression rather strange. "Is it so simple?"
"Sure. Why not? We're friends aren't we?" Lyndon asked, then frowned at the man's pensive expression. "And if I'm the best you could find than I apologize." He joked, hoping to ease the tense line in Jack's shoulders.
The Demon Hunter's mouth finally curved up in a small smile of unbearable gratitude. "Yes. Thank you."
Is someone like me really worth being so grateful for?
"Anytime." Lyndon said and, damn it all, meant it but, see? A little fun never hurt anyone.
Jack closed his eyes as the sensation of being touched finally relaxed him, his shoulders loosening as he curled against Lyndon's legs, growing drowsy. Lyndon let his fingers wander, discovering that yes, that black hair was as thick and as soft as it looked, and he scratched lightly at the man's scalp. That touch earned him a sudden shudder along with a soft noise of pure contentment.
Good.
"Do you think Itherael still watches us?" Lyndon asked suddenly.
"Mm?" Jack mumbled, already half asleep.
"Never mind." Lyndon muttered, then was quiet again.
Lyndon continued to pet his hair, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. His fingertips traced down again to his back, then over the tattoo, and he remembered he wanted to know more about it.
"Jack? Are you asleep?" he asked quietly. There was only a soft snore in response. Lyndon grinned in triumph. He supposed he could always ask him tomorrow.
The sun rose to greet a cold morning. There was a thin layer of frost on the ground that would melt within hours, but that didn't change the fact that Winter (the most depressing season, ask anyone) was trying to creep up on them already. Lyndon woke to warm breath, puffing rhythmically against the top of his spine and a bare, corded arm wound firmly around his chest. There was a warm body attached to that arm, curled tightly against his back. He was bewildered for only a moment before he recalled the previous night.
History dictated that he should be hastily gathering his things and escaping through the window before his night's conquest woke. But this was an entirely different situation. Leaving was simply not an option, nor one he even considered.
Jack was still deeply asleep beside him, practically wrapped around him. It was strange that the hunter was not up before him, but Lyndon supposed he had experienced a rather... eventful night. Feeling more refreshed then he thought despite the many interruptions in his sleep, Lyndon untangled himself carefully and slipped out of bed, dragging the blankets and furs back over the hunter. He was relieved when Jack barely stirred, only sighed softly and burrowed deeper into the warm spot he'd left behind.
He looked at the sleeping Demon Hunter and tried to fully comprehend the little problem he had created for himself. His desire raged within him like a caged beast. He could barely look at the other man without getting hot and bothered. The wheels began to turn in his head for how he could possibly be able to get Jack to do this again. Do more. He had no idea how Jack was going to feel when he woke, so he decided to enjoy the moment while it lasted.
Lyndon shivered, uncomfortable in the cold room and a bit depressed by the dried blood on the floorboards. He hunted up his shirt and dressed quickly, feeling the sting of cuts in his back and the soreness of the "love bite" when he moved. He was pleased that his boots seemed to have dried well enough and he pulled them on carefully. His duster was dry as well and he pulled that on too, glad to finally be wearing something warmer than just a tunic and pants. He then tackled the problem of moving all the furniture he had piled in front of the door without disturbing the Demon Hunter.
Having somehow miraculously accomplished this with only a stubbed toe to show for it, he chanced a glance back at the hunter, noting with some satisfaction that he hadn't moved.
He'd wake Jack when he got back if he wasn't up, but for now, he'd let him sleep as much as he needed to.
He grabbed the deer skull and skin almost as an afterthought, then strapped his weighty crossbow to its familiar place on his back before he shut the door quietly, making sure it would stay closed alright despite being broken in several places. Satisfied, he made his way downstairs.
If there was one thing Lyndon appreciated about mornings it was how quiet things were. It was wretched thing to wake up to a headache and loud noises after a night of heavy drinking.
"C-can I get you anything my Lord?" The Innkeeper asked him nervously when he approached the bar, interrupting his musings.
Ooo! Lord hm? He resisted the urge to laugh. What a nice change this was. He'd always like the sound of 'Lord.'
"Why yes... yes you can. Breakfast please, for myself and my Demon Hunter friend upstairs." He stated, watching the chubby man pale at the mention of Jack. A sneaky tactic, to intimidate with the Demon Hunter's presence, but Lyndon hasn't gotten to where he was today by being fair. "I'll return in a half an hour or so. And so sorry about the room and the hall. Right mess that was!" Lyndon finished with a smile, tossing more coin onto the counter.
"Not a problem my Lord! R-right away my Lord!" The Innkeeper managed, while scrambling into the kitchen.
"You are too kind." Lyndon said on his way out the door, voice filled with mirth. He spied the three girls from last night, sprawled snoring over their table, soaked in vomit, thus reinforcing his good decision to spend his time with Jack instead. He grinned to himself, looking much like a Cheshire cat.
Ha!
The muddy streets outside weren't quite as bustling as he expected they should have been in the early morning, but it was a small town, and people were still up and about, going about their daily business.
There were no harsh words hurled in his direction today. People steered clear of him as he walked by, but stared after him, speaking to each other in hushed voices when he passed. Word, apparently, traveled fast. He expected no less. He was glad no one approached him, he didn't much feel like speaking to anyone, wanting instead to get back to the room as soon as he could and eat.
The scoundrel made his way lazily to the town square where he assumed the market would be set up. He expected that Jack would want to leave here as soon as he was up, and thought he might pick up the supplies they needed ahead of time to hasten their departure as a little favor to the hunter. He approached the stands and perused the items for sale. It was tempting to steal, but he definitely had the money and besides, Jack would know and would only be cross with him. He bought a bag of apples and a bag of potatoes, packing them away in his bag carefully. He also picked up some oats and a few longer lasting loaves of bread.
He was aware that people were watching him, so he greeted each shop stand owner with a smile and remembered his 'pleases' and 'thank you's.' He had no desire to draw any more negative attention to himself. He'd not seen hide nor hair of the surviving men from last night and was extremely grateful for that.
Thinking of the repairs they would have to make to some of their clothes, he traded in the deer skin and skull for spools of strong thread and strips of cured leather for patching. He wanted to have something new tailored for him at some point, but he would not find the quality or materials he desired in a place like Holbrook. Demon skin leather was a rather difficult material to find. Jack's cloak was made of it and it protected him very well. Lyndon wanted that same protection for himself, then Jack wouldn't have to worry about him so much.
There was a large Raven sitting on top of one of the buildings in the square. It caught his eye before it flew to a closer perch. He paid it no mind, he'd seen the black carrion birds plenty of times before. Even when most of the other animals had gone, they remained.
Struggling to think of anything else they needed, Lyndon decided that what he bought would probably be enough for now. They could always stop in Bram- No. Not Bramwell, or Havenwood Lyndon thought sadly, thinking of how upset Jack was last night.
Tristram then. They weren't too far away and they needed to meet up with Haedrig anyway. He looked forward to that! He really missed the blacksmith. Thinking back to the map, he concluded that Bramwell was closer to Westmarch than it was to Holbrook, but he wasn't quite sure.
Lyndon suddenly spied a familiar looking item that he had previously only seen in Caldeum and other cities boasting far greater wealth than little Holbrook. There was only one on display. Possibly a fluke delivery, not many in a town like this would even be able to afford an entire bag. And besides, Jack loved it.
"How much for the coffee?" He asked the young shop girl. She seemed surprised to be spoken to and swallowed nervously, a red blush creeping onto her cheeks. He noted that she had blonde hair, tied up in a bun and was rather pretty despite her obvious hand-me-down dress. He smiled at her. The blush worsened and she stammered when she spoke. "C-coffee is two thousand gold mi'Lord! All the way from Lut Gholein!"
"Ah, well then..." He said smiling gently. "One please." He handed her the equivalent value of five thousand. "Keep the change."
"A-are you sure-?" She asked, stunned, handing over the bag to him with clumsy fingers.
"Quite." He replied, winking at her. "Thank you!" He added, taking his purchase and strolling away. Leaving the girl standing with more gold in her dainty hands than she would likely see in several months.
Sometimes, it felt good to do the nice thing.
He headed back toward the Three Arrows Inn, feeling proud of himself. Then he noticed the Raven again, flying along the tops of the houses. It stopped when he stopped, and kept up with him when he continued walking.
...Strange.
Eventually, it landed on the ground in front of him and squawked. Lyndon, confused, shoo'd it away with a wave of his hands and continued on. It didn't fly away, but instead hopped after him making a bizarre collection of loud, annoying noises.
"Alright, alright? What do you want?!" He shouted at it irritably, frightening a nearby baker, pushing a cart of bread. Lyndon was expecting it might be begging for a handout of some kind, but then he noticed the letter tied to the thing's leg.
"Oh, you're Jack's Raven." He said. If you've seen one raven you've seen them all in his opinion. He approached it, assuming he could just pick it up and take the letter. The Raven started caw'ing and clicking and making a racket. Lyndon managed to grab its foot and it flapped at him angrily, hitting him in the face with its wings.
He was causing quite a scene now, but he didn't care as he struggled with the angry bird. "Just... let me!" He grunted, fingers being pecked as he painstakingly untied the letter from the thing's foot. "GIVE IT HERE!" He shouted, finally getting the parchment free. "Gods, wretched ball of feathers!" He snapped, looking around awkwardly to the people watching who had averted their eyes and hastily moved away from him. He smoothed his hair back into place and examined the parchment.
The letter was addressed to Jack, in pretty writing, but he unrolled the paper and began to read it anyways. Oh! It was from Eirena! And, he supposed, from Kormac by default. She asked how they were, spoke of how she and Kormac were getting on. He chuckled a bit at how oblivious she was to the Templar's affections. It was all very hilarious. He read on, she talked about what she learned in the library... boring, boring, more boring. He skipped through the letter quickly, stopping only when he saw his name or Jack's. She asked how Jack was doing, how he was feeling. Lyndon frowned, she was as concerned for Jack as he was. Then he read 'Kormac wants to know if Lyndon is acting tolerably. I told him that Lyndon was probably fine company. He is very cheerful most of the time and will be good for you. I hope that this is the case as Kormac was very concerned.' Lyndon grit his teeth, blood boiling.
That... rotten... Templar!
He sighed in frustration, thinking about how he could get back at Kormac, then forced himself to read the rest. Eirena asked about Tyrael and if they had heard from him or his new band of Horadrim. She also asked when she and Kormac should leave for Westmarch. As much as he wanted to send back a scathing insult to that stupid Templar, Lyndon decided he'd have to give the letter to Jack so that he could send them a reply. He tucked the letter into a pocket of his coat carefully.
The Raven was cawwing at him again, and he kicked at it in exasperation. He hated birds! "What do you want?!" He yelled. The bird rumbled and clacked. Lyndon had a thought and searched his pockets, he fished out some old, soggy deer jerky and hurled it at the creature. The Raven picked it up in its mouth and flew toward the inn.
Lyndon spent the rest of the short walk wondering how Jack was going to find the bloody thing again to send his reply. And how did it even get across the sea to and from Caldeum? Surely it didn't fly? Did it stow away on a boat? He pulled open the door to the Inn, noting that there were more people inside now chatting to the Innkeeper. They looked up at him nervously when he opened the door as if he were going to pull out his crossbow and start shooting at them. The men scattered to different parts of the room as he entered.
He approached the bar and handed the frightened Innkeeper the bag of coffee beans.
"Grind this, then brew it per the instructions on the bag. I'll wait." He said quickly, picking at the breakfast the man had brought out to him. Ham and eggs, one of his favorites! He ate contentedly while the poor innkeeper met his demand. Mouth full of food, he waved and smiled to the other individuals scattered around the tavern who looked away fearfully.
Bored, he sighed and hoped it wouldn't take too long to leave. All these people tip-toeing around him would only be amusing for so long.
The innkeeper returned with a steaming pot of coffee along with porcelain cups and containers of sugar and fresh cream. Lyndon took the bag back from him and stacked everything neatly on the tray. He grinned at the innkeeper, amused by the man's wariness toward him, if only temporarily. If everyone was this frightened of him, how would they react to seeing the Demon Hunter in the flesh? He laughed to himself and went back upstairs.