Chapter XVIII: Party Camp (Part II)
"Blackberry and a Memory"
The company packed up quickly that morning, most were unable to catch much sleep on account of recent events. Bodahn's wagon was stocked and ready to continue on, and so they did, Redcliffe awaited, and Connor would likely be in dire straits. It had been a week and a day, now, Jowan was likely tiring of keeping the possessed boy tame. Jade and Alistair sat chatting with one another in the back of the wagon, While Sten and Adrian flanked the sides, Leliana and Morrigan trailing behind it.
Leliana watched-on at Adrian's back, the events of the night before echoing in her mind—despite her best efforts to dispel them, they carried on, and left only self-doubt in their wake.
Unaware to her, Morrigan was regarding her with a mixture of displeasure, astonishment, and disgust. "The way you look at him so intently, so hungrily… one would think you've never seen a man before."
Shaken from her stupor of thought, and perturbed it had to be Morrigan doing the talking, "Where I look is not your concern."
Morrigan turned her vision from the lay sister to the leather-encrusted mage. "True enough. There is no way I can deny you this… but why would he choose you, when he could have me?"
"Excuse me?" Leliana asked, with both unexpected venom and confusion in equal measure.
"Oh yes, I heard your little spat last night. I can't say he sounded too pleased by the end of it." She explained, taking more joy in it than Leliana found tolerable. "Quite the fortuitus event if I do say so myself."
Leliana had had enough, shooting a glare like daggers at the witch. "You're confident for a woman raised in a swamp, far from anything resembling civilization."
She scoffed at that, as if the attempt was wholly below her. "And maybe that is my appeal? A woman like you, why, he could find in any city in Thedas. You think you are cultured? Worldly?" She sneered. "Powdered, perfumed, you ooze elegance, but what man wants a woman who lies limp beneath him, frozen in place by the thought that she might ruin her hair?"
"I've had enough of this."
Morrigan seemed to take offense to her walking away, her face scrunching. "So, you think you're beyond me?" She mocked.
"I mean… don't you?" Leliana finished, walking up to join Sten on the left flank.
#
Adrian felt prickling on the back of his neck as they made for the road again. As if the very winds wanted him to remark. "Does anybody else feel it's been peaceful for too long?"
"Adrian, it's been less than a day since we left a tower full of demons, abominations and blood mages," Alistair replied.
Adrian nodded emphatically. "Exactly. It's been almost a day, and nobody's tried to kill us. Astonishing. "
As if on cue, a harried-looking woman sprinted towards them from further down the road. "Oh, thank the Maker! We need help! They attacked the wagon, please help us! Follow me, I'll take you to them!" She turned and ran back the way she had come, and Adrian sighed while Jade's expression told the group that she was entirely ready to bound to the rescue.
"This is a trap," Leliana said softly, halting Jade with as much effectiveness as a wall of stone.
"Agreed," Alistair added. "No sounds of battle, no screams, nothing. We're being lured in."
Jade sobered, and let the more rational minds convene before making an impulsive decision "Should we... turn around?" Jade asked, unsure.
"We don't really have another option," Alistair sighed. "Spring the trap, I suppose."
"Weapons drawn, but don't get separated or bunched up," Leliana said, checking a handful of arrows and shifting her quiver. Adrian readied his mind, keeping close to Alistair as they headed down the road.
"Oh, Maker, this is so a trap," Alistair said as the caravan came into view. "No bodies, no blood, high ground on both sides."
As an elf stepped out from behind one of the wagons to greet the woman, Adrian spotted several men emerging from behind the other wagons and running out along the high ground to the left and right. Adrian heard a creaking from behind them and glanced up, before shoving Morrigan and Jade forward, diving forward as a tree fell across the path behind them. "Sod it, take 'em," Adrian rasped, pushing himself to his feet.
"The Warden dies she-" the elf broke off as a lump of conjured stone from Wynne slammed into his face, sending him flopping back across the wagon. As he slumped to the ground, the witch began weaving magic, only to stagger back as the mana evaporated.
Morrigan smiled as her spell took effect, and Adrian shot her a confused glance before ducking as an arrow streaked by his ear, pinging off the rocks behind him. Leliana snarled, aiming carefully and spearing the enemy archer through the neck. Drawing and firing again, she dropped another archer, and Jade stepped into the path of another arrow aimed at her, her shield now at the ready, bracing for impact.
Alistair yanked his sword back out of the chest of a dying assassin as Sten shattered another's skull with the pommel of his greatsword, the two warriors flowing from strike to counter-strike to killing blow with deceptive ease. Leliana dodged another arrow that pinged off of Jade's battered shield.
Adrian felt to his belt, and was met with a jolt of sadness at the sudden realization that his whip was destroyed back at the tower. He grunted to himself as he drew from the shadow-energy and manifested his black-bladed sword aptly named, 'Umbra'. It was not long before he was charged by an agile-looking elf with a long-knife held tightly. Adrian sidestepped the first thrust, and countered it with a blow to the back of the head with the pommel of his sword. However, the elf was too quick for Adrian to follow up with a second strike of his own. Turning around sharply, the elf swept his long-knife around in a horizontal motion, only to be met halfway as Adrian was barely able to shift his stance from offensive to defensive. The elf pushed against him with as much force as he could muster, but his much smaller body was not enough to win this war of attrition and shift Adrian to the backfoot. Knowing he needed to end this quickly, Adrian slid his much longer blade up and over the elf's own knife with a screech that could make your teeth itch. With a graceful shifting of weight, Adrian spun past the elf and lopped off his head cleanly, all in one motion. After the body had spewed its fair share of blood about, Adrian simply stood smiling dumbly to himself, gloating at his handiwork.
"Adrian!" he heard Leliana call to him, saying his name for the first time today.
Instinctively, the mage looked to where her eyes pointed. And he saw another assassin rushing quickly to Morrigan's flank… and she was entirely unawares, occupied with another assassin at the moment. As fast as he's going? It's gonna be damn close… Damn close… The mage thought, before mentally sighing to himself as he threw into a rush of his own to intercept the elf, not even checking to see if it would be even more advantageous for any of the others to do the job… for once, he was throwing himself into the maelstrom. About halfway through his sprint, Adrian tossed aside his sword, relieving himself of the cumbersome thing, hoping he would be able to tackle the smaller man with ease, using his superior weight. And from there… He hadn't thought that far ahead yet…
Morrigan commanded the roots of the trees from under the fresh, powdery snow, through which the elves seemed to maneuver surprisingly easily. With no possible warning, the elf was tripped up, and went face-first into the snow, his ankle snapped by the roots now entangling it. He yelled in pain as Morrigan approached with a delighted smile as the elf looked to her standing above him. Before she summoned a ball of fire into her hand, letting it fall onto and engulf the elven assassin as he screamed in bloody terror, until he was nothing more than black, charred husk, with the immediate snow melted around him. Out of her periphery, she spotted what she thought was flowing fabric in the wind… a cloak. She turned to meet it with not-so-righteous fury, but it was too late, the next elf had already closed in on her, his sword lifted above his head, ready to cleave her in two. There was no incantation that could be recited or even thought of quickly enough to counter him. This was it… She shut her eyes harshly, awaiting the inevitable surge of pain that would make her beg for death. But no such feeling came to her. Her eyes squinted open cautiously, and she saw it… blood, dripping onto her shoulder. And then she took notice of the assassin, still right in front of her, a strained expression on his face, as if he was pushing a boulder. She glanced ever-so-slightly above her, and there it was, the assassin's curved blade suspended above her by hands. Bare hands, blood flowing from them. She recognized one of them as Adrian's, firstly by the rings on his right fingers, ironically all of which had rings except for his ring finger. And then she noticed the bandaged left hand. She was sure then, it was him, and he'd stopped a blade with his bare hands. But she knew he couldn't keep this up forever. He was relying on the shock value of the act, hoping that the elf would be so caught off-guard by it that it would give her enough of a chance to kill him. And so, she did, summoning ice to her hand and grabbing the elf's exposed throat, chilling the skin and bone solid, knocking aside the head with a rough movement of her wooden staff.
After the sword dropped, Adrian yelped. The adrenaline just barely keeping him from passing out from the pain. And Morrigan elected to return the favor, transforming into a wolf, as black as the night sky, she stood above him, baring her fangs and snarling at any who would dare test her patience, all the while, Adrian looking for anything to stop the bleeding.
Alistair was engaging the last rogue, a gaunt man carrying a sword and dagger as the others waited for a clear shot. The assassin attempted to feint around his shield, and Alistair scoffed, parrying the sword strike with his own and slamming the rogue in the chest twice with the front of his targe, before ramming his sword through the man's stomach and twisting the blade.
"Everyone all right?" Jade asked, rubbing a bruise where she had been struck. A chorus of affirmative replies came back, all except for Adrian and Morrigan.
There was a pained yelp, and the party turned to find a battered and bleeding assassin wrenching Morrigan into an arm lock, the point of his dagger against her neck. "Almost got me… Almost…" The assassin huffed out, smiling weakly to himself as she wrenched against him. "Can't even begin to guess how you change like that but…" he trailed. "A second later and you would've had my throat. I'm sure your little boyfriend there would've been proud… maybe even grateful."
"Who missed one?" Alistair snapped.
"Drop your weapons!" the man ordered.
"Not going to happen," Alistair growled.
"I swear, I'll kill her!" the man shouted, his knife to Morrigan's pale throat.
He seemed very confused when Alistair began to laugh loudly.
"Oh, boy," Alistair said, wiping a tear from his eye. "You really don't want to do that. In fact, if I were you, I would just start running."
"I've got the hostage," the man spat. "I'm holding her."
"No, you're holding a giant angry spider," Jade added calmly.
The man looked over to see Morrigan finish shapeshifting, and screamed as she leapt upon him, her fangs ripping into soft tissue.
"Well, that's appetizing," Alistair remarked, wincing as Morrigan finished ripping the man apart and shapeshifted back, panting as she jogged over to Adrian's weak body. She bent down and administered a strong health poultice to him, remarking that he should be back on his feet in no more than a couple of minutes, no one else privy to what he'd just done—only her.
"Got another live one here," Leliana announced. "The elf. Their leader, I think."
"Is he awake?" Jade asked.
Leliana checked him over. "Unconscious and bleeding, but alive."
"Disarm him, search him, then wake him up," Jade ordered. "I want answers."
A brief jolt of lightning from Wynne had the elf's eyes fluttering open, she watched the elf roll over, wiping at the blood trickling from his nose and ear as he did. "Mm, what?" His eyes focused, and he blinked hard. "Oh. I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet."
"That could be easily rectified, if you'd like," Leliana offered.
"Of that, I have no doubt," the elf said. "You are most skilled. If you haven't killed me, however, you must have kept me alive for some purpose, yes?"
"Awfully glib for a prisoner, aren't you?" Alistair remarked. "Especially one who just had his entire group of assassins wiped out and took a rock to the face before landing a single strike."
The elf chuckled and shrugged. "It is my way, or so I am told. Let's see, then. I assume you kept me alive to ask me some questions, yes?" Jade nodded, and the elf cleared his throat before continuing. "Let me save you time and get right to the point. My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly."
Adrian hissed out a breath, hobbling over with Morrigan to check the scene of things. "The Crows. Shit."
"You know them?" Alistair asked.
"Not personally, no," Adrian admitted. "But word gets around—stories mostly. They're a group of assassins, thieves, spies, known throughout Thedas." The mage looked back to Zevran. "Why are you telling me all this?"
"Why not?" The elf shrugged. "I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely."
"Yeah? So were you paid to give up information this easily?" Adrian asked, looking around to see if the elf was buying time for another assassin to get into position.
"Consider it something I'm throwing in for free."
"Who hired you?" Alistair asked.
"A rather taciturn fellow in the capital. Loghain, I believe his name was."
Jade's head snapped around, looking back at Zevran. "You said Loghain hired you?"
Zevran nodded. "An associate of his handled the initial contact, but yes."
Jade's eye twitched, looking very nearly maddened by the mention of his name. "I guess sending a paid assassin is the next step for him. That's it. We're going to Denerim once we bring Connor back."
"Why Denerim?" Alistair asked.
"Because I realized something today. Loghain will just keep sending new obstacles at us, the longer we keep distracting ourselves. And one day… one of us won't be quick enough to react." She said, looking painfully at Alistair. "And I won't have it." She replied firmly, before pointing at Zevran. "You're coming with us."
"The fuck what now?" Adrian cursed incredulously.
"What?" Alistair yelped. "You're taking the assassin along?"
Zevran looked at her curiously. "Why bring me along?"
"Because you would know the security in the city, and I think it would be smart to use an assassin when I'm going to assassinate someone," Jade argued as if it were obvious.
"Really?" Zevran asked. "I...really?"
"You can come along," Jade shrugged. "If it comes to it… You're going to assassinate Loghain for us."
The elf blinked. "What."
"I need information," Jade said. "When were you to see Loghain next?"
"I wasn't. If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results. If he didn't already know. If I failed, I would be dead. Or I should be, as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then."
"If you had failed?" Adrian echoed.
"What can I say?" Zevran said brightly. "I am an eternal optimist. Although the chances of succeeding at this point seem a bit slim, don't they?" The elf chuckled nervously, the laughter dying under Adrian's stony stare. "No, I don't suppose you'd find that funny, would you." Adrian continued his best impression of a wall, and Zevran shrugged. "Look, I cannot help you with Loghain. He knows that there would be no further contact with me, and my presence would warn him an attempt on his life was coming. So, unless you're quite stuck on cutting my throat or something equally gruesome, perhaps you'd care to hear a proposal?"
Jade nodded. "Go on…"
Zevran burst out laughing, before coughing. "Well, here's the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you are obviously the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead."
Adrian crouched low, looking the assassin in the eyes. Behind the carefully guarded expression, He saw the same eyes he had seen in numerous mages facing Tranquility. The eyes of a man headed for the gallows.
"What do you want in return?" Jade asked, only adding to Adrian's utter confusion of the situation, and he thought that perhaps he had missed something while he was occupied with Morrigan.
"Being allowed to live would be nice, and would make me marginally more useful to you," Zevran admitted. "And somewhere down the line, if you should decide you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?"
Jade grunted noncommittally. "Sell us on the idea, Zevran. Why would I want your service?"
"Oh my god…" Adrian groaned into his tired, injured hand.
"Why?" The elf echoed. "Because I am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth to picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more...sophisticated, now that my attempts have failed. I also know a great many jokes. Twelve massage techniques, six different card games? I do wonderful at parties, no?"
Jade sighed. "All right then. I accept."
Zevran nodded, standing up. "I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation. This I swear."
"You have officially gone over and into new lands of snake-fuckingly crazy, Jade." Adrian cursed at her, completely in disbelief that such basic leadership skills as, 'take no prisoners' had gone right over her head.
"That's a bit uncalled for don't you think?" Jade countered.
"You allow him to come with us and you'll just be inviting more trouble in… maybe more than you know what to do with…" Adrian trailed, his eyes turning down to the elf who stood a fair few inches beneath him.
"The decision is final, Adrian. He's coming with us." Jade once more retorted, standing her ground on the issue, only adding to Adrian's dumbfounded demeanor.
"Fine, but when your hearts all explode and you are all shitting out your own intestines from poison, I hope the memory of this conversation will bring you solace." Adrian paused, leaving having gotten-in the last word and satisfied with that if nothing else. Only until he felt he'd forgotten something. "Oh, and if he's coming with us, I want him in shackles—and preferably gagged, too. Wouldn't want you all to get the shits too fast, now would we?"
Jade sighed and shook her head as the Magician walked away from the group. She looked over at Leliana and Sten. "Let's collect the weapons, armor, and any coin or items we can salvage. We'll need the funds to get to Denerim."
#
As the sun set on the horizon, Adrian was called over from his leaned position on a tree looking out to the horizon. Beckoning him was none other than Wynne, being followed by two templars, sharing a hold on something between the two of them.
"What's this then?" Adrian asked, approaching the triumvirate before him, gesturing to what looked to be a chest of some kind that was being held between the two templars.
"This." Wynne gestured behind her. "Is all of things that Azra willed to you… in the event you ever returned. Irving had it procured from Owain's storage and transported by these boys behind me."
The two templars hadn't yet even made a noise of acknowledgement of him. If one didn't look too closely, one could've mistaken them for statues. Disgustingly disciplined, Adrian thought on impulse. "You two lugged that thing all the way from the tower just to deliver it to me?"
One shook his helmed head. "No. Irving's camp is roughly a mile from here, he and the rest of the mages are on-track to arrive in Redcliffe only a few hours after your own party." The man paused, setting down the large chest, synchronized with his partner. "Irving ordered that this be brought to you tonight." He looked to Wynne. "If that will be all… We'll be taking our leave." Without any further response, the two armored fellows turned to walk out of the camp, leaving Wynne and Adrian to their devices. Before the two could continue their previous subject, Alistair happened to stroll on by.
"Oh, hello there, Adrian. What've you got there? Can't say I recognize it as one of Bodahn's storage boxes."
"It's not—and it's mine." Adrian said, barely even listening to the former templar, crouching down to get on-level with the chest.
"…Okay… So what is it?" Alistiar continued to pry, passing off Adrian's passive-aggressiveness as a lack of hearing.
Wynne sighed heavily and looked to Alistair with tired eyes. "A chest that contains all of the things his former mas—mentor, Azra, wanted him to have."
"And something I didn't even know existed until just yesterday…"
A thought of Duncan pinged into Alistair's mind in that moment, almost without even thinking. "Oh…"
Adrian touched the chest and encountered a magical shield that reacted with a flash of deep purple light, blocking his fiddling. Right then, the hard way… He concluded standing back up straight. The mage closed his eyes, focusing-in on what he recognized to be a magical enchantment whose energy was certainly derived from shadow-energy. Two circular runes appeared on his hands and he began to rotate his them in a seemingly senseless manner to any but the uninitiated.
"Adrian… what are you doing?" Alistair questioned, concern at this unrecognized magic clear in his voice. The scuff of what was most certainly Alistair's backfoot only confirmed the matter in Adrian's head.
"It's a lock. And it requires a special touch. Delicate magic, it is." The magician answered, back turned to the two that counted themselves among his audience. "It's like taking an exam you haven't studied for…" He trailed the enchantment on the chest beginning to emit an audible crackling sound. "Luckily, I cheat."
A burst of similar mauve energy told Adrian that the job was complete. He walked over once more and lifted the lid to the chest that stood up to his thighs, entirely made of wood. He had no real expectations of what he'd find. Until yesterday, he didn't even know the thing existed—hell, he didn't even know Azra was dead three days ago. It was hard to wrap his head around—it had only been three days since they had first stumbled into that nightmare back at the tower—it had felt like and eternity and more had gone by for him. And all this because Loghain instigated Uldred's reckless desire for power. Oh, it was Uldred's fault, there could be no doubt of that. But Loghain… this was twice he'd caught Loghain's hand in the sweeties jar—and somewhere it shouldn't be. After all that happened there, in the tower… all that needless suffering… Loghain had gone and pissed him off properly, now.
The first thing his eyes met were books, lots of them… But as soon as he began to rifle through the contents, he realized the vast majority of these volumes were not educational in nature at all. They were novels, comedies, plays, horrors… entertainment books. His favorites. Half of which he wouldn't have let another soul on the face of the planet know about—which, given his rare knowledge of his late mentor, did a number to pique his suspicion.
Noticing the brief spark of joy in Adrian's eyes, despite his best efforts to conceal them away, Wynne couldn't help commenting. "Those look like quite the read."
"You'd be right, some of these are educational, spellcraft instructions and the like. But most are merely entertainment—most I've read… some I haven't… seems the old man got a hold on my tastes, then." Adrian looked back to reply, before turning his attention back to the box before him, that still held quite a few treasures. "Now… what've we here?" He said, carefully wrapping his hands around what seemed to be some sort of pole, covered with a soft cotton cloth. He slowly, tantalizingly let the cloth spill over the thin frame of the thing, floating to the ground once it had finished doing so. And then he gazed upon the trinket with wide eyes.
"No… no, it-it couldn't be…" He trailed in sheer amazement, something even rarer than actual joy for him.
"What? What is it?" Alistair piped from the back. Seeing that both Wynne and Adrian's posture changed at the sight of the object in the mage's hands.
"Is that what I think it is?" Wynne asked, dumbfounded at its presence here.
"Damn right, Wynnie." Adrian lifted the object so that it may be better admired by he and his two onlookers. "This is the Balac-haine, the Staff of Chaos, and the Scepter of Remorseless Dream, and the Sandman's Cane." Adrian caught himself, realizing his excitement had let his words walk away with his chain of thought. "…Many titles, as I'm sure you can see."
"…And all that to say…?" Alistair asked again, not quite feeling the impact he felt something of those titles should inspire.
"All that to say… I've got a new toy." He smiled, admiring the staff cradled in his hands with a cunning smile.
"I can't believe Azra gave that to you… We decided it was too dangerous to warrant continued use… after…" Wynne trailed off, not bothering to finish her thought.
"After what?" Alistair asked.
"The last man to twiddle with this staff had half his brain liquified." Adrian blanched, looking back at Alistair with a deadpan stare.
"Oh…" Alistair responded, not able to summon the proper words to respond to that at first. "Wait. If the staff is so dangerous—why would your mentor have it in his possession?"
"Two reasons." Adrian responded, holding up the proper number of fingers to better illustrate his point. "One. Those experiments I mentioned? They weren't entirely fruitless, costly though. Yeah, they were able to discern that the staff has a special reaction to shadow-energy, and thereby my mentor was charged with protecting it. Second. He had a particular affinity for staves. Started a collection long before I was even his pupil."
After a few more minutes of back and forth between the three, Adrian set down the staff and set himself back to work, rifling through the rest of what the chest had to offer. After coming to the last of what was left for him, including a generously heavy purse of silvers, he felt an odd shifting of the board that sat at the bottom of the box, as if it was out of place. He fiddled around with the angles a bit, jigging the base board back and forth until it loosened, then, he lifted up.
Wynne peeked her head over to see the reason for the scraping commotion. "A false bottom." She quickly concluded.
"Indeed, Wynnie… Indeed."
Two books.
The first, one wrapped again in cotton cloth, this time secured by strings.
The mage unwraps it slowly, staring more intently at the object than he ever had done to anything before.
The cloth falls and reveals a fabric red velvet book cover, with an opal skull at a profile angle and three interconnected rings in the cavity where the brain would usually sit, bound to the cover.
The second, a large book with no cloth wrapping it.
A tome, bound in black leather, with a most peculiar silver emblem adorning its face, one of a leafless tree.
"Damn it, Azra. You promised you'd never do that to me." Adrian said under his breath, or maybe only in his imagination. Either way, the end was the same—a promise had been broken here tonight.
#
Song Choice: Demons – Hayley Kiyoko
It was nearly an hour more before Adrian located Morrigan. He'd gone to every place he'd seen her before around camp, which didn't amount to many apart from of her own personal miniature camp she'd set up some meters from the rest. Back and forth. Left and right. Nothing. After his patience had drained, he concluded that he'd simply have to give her the book some other time. He began his trek back to his tent, as a gust of wind drove his own stench into his nose. He cringed at the smell, and lifted his long coat and shirt over his nose to confirm the smell as his own and not just some stray animal shit. Almost shocked, he reeled away from himself and scrunched his face, making the executive decision to bathe himself, the smell of demon blood becoming quite pungent. He came to the river Sten scouted out a few hours earlier, swishing his fingers though the water to test it's temperature. He did so calmly, pleased that there was no one else in sight. He pulled at the sleeves of his long-coat, hanging it up on a tree branch close by, marking it as the first article of clothing to be placed there. Next, he tugged at the buttons of his red leather quilted vest that sat atop his shirt, undoing them. Followed by the buttons on his white cloth shirt, and then his trousers and undergarments. And after a few moments of observation of the mage's crest that he'd once ripped away from his own robes with tearful eyes, the very same crest Leandra had sewn back into his shirt. She insisted that it was a part of his identity—that he couldn't simply discard it. Said that doing so would only spur on the haunting thoughts even further. He didn't believe it in the slightest.
Naked, he began to lower himself into the water, realizing that his hands had told him a lie—the water was nearly freezing and his hands were too damn warm to tell the difference. He almost thought to leave it at that for the night, but on remembrance of his smell, it was likely that he'd be too bothered by his own scent to get any sleep worth talking about. Even so, he always enjoyed bathing in slow-moving rivers as opposed to lakes, feeling that the moving water cleaned better. After washing away the majority of the grime from his body with soap he'd bought from Redcliffe's market, he threw the bar back to the general area where he'd hung his clothes, hoping that the breeze would carry away some of the scent. Leaned up against the stony banks, clearing away the soft river stones, crafting a makeshift underwater chair. Leaning his head back to relax he took in the light of the stars and moon, in his mind, remarking at the clarity of the night sky. And then his he closed his eyes, using the quiet moment to try meditation. In the eleven months since his escape there had barely been a quiet moment in-between the bouncing from place to place, reacting to every little issue that he came across. Most with the incentive of pay involved, but some… just because that little tosser in his head called a 'conscience' forced his hand into, often times, the shittiest situations to date, including the very one he found himself in now. And now he got time to rest. Just to lean back, and shut his eyes, for the precious little moments he could count on one hand. Letting his thoughts flow away from him, he let the sounds of nature become unspecific—unassigned. The sounds of the creaking trees became the same as the wind, and it with the flowing water.
It's not quite like the monks do, but good enough, I hope. Adrian thought to himself. To him, there was no change in the sound, as it was only one sound now—that of his consciousness becoming one with the world around him. As his mind went deaf, the feeling in his skin was all that seemed keen. And though he could not hear or immediately see its source… there was a shift in the water. Not under him, the tension of the surface had been broken. Something had entered his house of peace. His eyes lifted open slowly only to be met with… nothing. Nothing in sight, and determined to let nothing disturb his relaxation, he leaned his had back again, closing his eyes once more. Mere seconds later he felt something once more. Under the water, he reasoned. It was like a fish tail, forcing the water onto his thigh, its force repulsing through the undercurrent. And then it moved—circling him. At that moment, the relationship changed—this was predator and prey. Completely on guard now, summoning his mind from the depths of his consciousness, he was aware. He kept his eyes closed so as to retain the element of surprise—turning the tables on the would-be intruder, should it come to that. He felt the tension of the water's surface break again, much closer this time, feeling the ripples clash with his chest. And then he felt hands on his chest. Then, they slid upwards to his neck, not once leaving the company of his skin. By the thinness of the fingers, he knew it was likely a woman. But the softness of the hands was far more perplexing to him. Whomever this female invader was, she was no warrior, no farmer, not even an assassin. Which, up until this point, was the most likely scenario. But these hands… he concluded, were those of a mage. Warriors, worksmen, and assassins all develop calluses in training or labor. Mages, on the whole, don't.
"'Tis most unwise to be unawares in the wild." A voice like velvet broke though the silent air. My eyes slid open, revealing the intruder to be Morrigan, her bright yellow eyes gazing down at my neck, where her hands yet stayed.
"Not so. I felt you enter the river—felt you in the water—"
"And what is it you feel now?" Morrigan intercepted, turning her eyes to his own rapidly.
She gave him pause. Rare though it was, her forwardness was almost as appreciated as it was dumbfounding.
"Water" Adrian deadpanned in misdirection as he began to shift his posture, Morrigan removing her arms from him, as he did the opposite. His right hand found its way to her toned back, pulling her closer just slightly, as he began to shift his left upwards. "Skin." His left hand came to her wet hair, on which the light of the moon played in gently. "Hair." He let the hair flow out in the gaps of his fingers, moving his hands to her lower back once more. "All you."
She huffed a long, winded sigh, half frustration at his inaction, half enjoyment of what he'd already done. Leaning closer to him, her inky lips just on the cusp of his ear, her body entirely pressed against his own. "Is there anything else you'd like to feel…?" She trailed, leaving the lightest of kisses on his jawbone before speaking again. "If you dare…"
He chuckled to himself, taking hold of her shoulders and putting her at arm's length. "Just how long have you been watching me?"
"I came here to get away from the commotion of the campsite some hours ago." Morrigan admitted. "You only arrived some thirty minutes ago. It was only mere coincidence that I happened upon you in the river."
Adrian nodded in acknowledgement, looking around the area to see her makeshift clothing scattered just where he'd placed his, even the undergarments. "Ah."
Morrigan seemed confused, one of the few times her true emotion was pasted clear on her face. "What?"
"The book. I assume you saw it among my clothes. That why you're being so pleasant?"
"You mean to say my mother's grimoire? Yes, I noticed it. My only wonder was when you were going to tell me you had it in your possession." She said with a steely glare.
Adrian smiled, Morrigan's suave guise peeling away. She'd been angry at him. "I meant to bring it to you, in fact. Couldn't find you—now I know why."
She huffed, releasing her annoyance to the best of her ability. "Nonetheless…" She trailed to a stop, as if she didn't know how to continue, certainly a first for the magician to see in the witch. "Thank you… for that. I will begin study of the tome immediately. And for earlier… with the assassin…" She said, with as much seriousness as she could pull together. Seemingly looking everywhere but to Adrian's eyes. She began swimming away and towards to the river bank, seeing as there wasn't much need for her to be here, her advances rejected.
Stowing away his concern for how the book appeared to him for the moment, he spoke up before she lifted herself above the water. "Aw, I don't even get a kiss for all the hard work?" He said, lying straight through his teeth, and not at all remorseful for it.
She chuckled, turned around, and lowered herself back into the water her pale white body engulfed once again by the moonlit waters, smiling slyly. "Oh, I don't know. That sounds like a steep reward to ask for."
She approached close to him, standing still only after she stood less than an arm's length away. "Oh, I think I very much deserve it." He smiled. She took a few slow, tantalizing steps closer, taking his face in her wet hands, brushing her lips against his, for a few seconds as he lied in wait. "Perhaps later." She teased breathily, already swimming away from him.
Before he could protest, she was already out of the water, her form a more-than-pleasant silhouette to his eyes, the moon at her profile. Soon, she was gone, any trace of her being there nonexistent, including the tome she requested.
In the end, as he dressed himself, he licked his lips, left only with the faint taste of blackberry… and a memory.