Nairn rolled his eyes as she declared dying wasn't allowed, but said nothing more. It'd been a joke, perhaps a poorly timed one, given their circumstances. He'd apologize later.
When she owned up to acquiring a taste for Starky Brew, he raised his eyebrows. Ruth, babysitting? He's usually the one with the babysitter, no? He teased, twisting in his seat to watch her leave. He sat half-turned, pouring some of his chosen ale into a mug.
So... Who is she? One of the dwarves leaned forward. She's cute. She like dwarves? They asked, completely serious.
Nairn sniffed, and straightened. She's my partner. Healer by trade, too kindly hearted. He'd never told them who he was following; and they figured the less they knew about the Coterie's going-ons, the quicker they might be able to leave without owing a debt or keeping a secret.
She got a heart of gold if she forgave you like that, the other said, snapping their fingers to prove their point. You sure she ain't gonna stab ya in your sleep?
Nairn's nostrils flared, and he let his gaze wander back over Meg, following her movements as she filled her plate. Nah. She might stab me, but nowhere that'll cause damage. He chuckled quietly.
She okay with your job? Nairn rolled his shoulders at that question, and drifted into silence. He took a deep swallow from his mug. Contemplating.
Ask her yourself. That was going to be the easiest way to explain it; how someone who'd heal almost anyone, could love a killer like him. They just had to ask her the question themselves.
The two dwarves grunted and grumbled at his answer, huffing as they left the table. Nairn sipped his drink again, smirking into the cup.
[color=#008e02]“I remember him babysitting you a few times..”[/color] she’d tease back. Her eyes would catch his just as she turned towards the food, frown gone, replaced by mischief.
She was searching through the spread, deciding, when Meg felt the mildest of shifts against her side. A hand snatched out, wrapping gently around a thin wrist to hold the waif next to her.[color=#008e02] “What you got there, little one, eh?”[/color] smile kind, warming and widening as she crouched to the four year olds level. On the way down to him, her plate was left to the side for gathering his pilfering one in hers.
[color=#c14700]“A shiny.”[/color] He’d shyly reply, surprised that his failure wasn’t met with a sneer. Meg chuckled, reaching up to ruffle his hair. [color=#008e02]“That it is, but I caught you, so… afraid its back to the bells?”[/color] A flash of irritation swept through the child’s face, not keen on the pickpocket training… or because he had been caught this time, but Meg was confident. It only caused her to laugh some more.
[color=#008e02]“Go on, eat your dinner and maybe next time,”[/color] she took back the object, [color=#008e02]“this might be yours.”[/color] Predictably he tried to snatch it, but Meg kept it out of reach, offering an orange instead. [color=#c14700]“I’mma get it next time, missus.”[/color] He’d declare, eventually taking the fruit and shuffling back to the rest of the group.
Meg pocketed back the reclaimed bauble and returned to her food, picking up a few pieces and a mug before returning. The dwarves would pass her, but her pace only paused to offer them a nod and grin. Though when her eyes fell back on Nairn a wave of nostalgia coursed through her. Glancing at the mug in hand she realised it hadn’t even crossed her mind, it had been automatic, much like what followed.
She’d sit next to him, pick up his ale and pour a little of it in her mug, topping it off with some water from the jug on the table.[color=#008e02] “This feels so weird… and so normal. If Bertie walks in, being raised from the dead too, I might faint.” [/color]
Nairn watched the encounter with his youngest student, mentally noting how the child had failed to pickpocket the healer. It was a bit of an unfair advantage on her part; given she'd been an active part of the Coterie for a huge chunk of her life. But it'd been a solid try. Still a failure, though. And he didn't tolerate failure. As she joined him, he chuckled.
Nah, Bertie's dead and gone. I triple-checked. He bumped shoulders with her, raising his eyebrows. You just got that little rat a dozen more hours of training. He stated, matter-of-fact, as he refilled his mug.
So... what'd the docs say, about what my heart can handle? He inquired, cheek resting against his hand.
[color=#008e02]“Still miss that peg-legged bastard.” [/color]There was a small dip in her grin when talking about their old handler. Meg owed Bertie her life and while she’d probably repaid him ten times over, he’d landed Nairn on her table. The rest had been a tale of Meg’s obliviousness to the growing softness one assassin had on her.
She returned his bump, the ease of her smile returned at his statement. [color=#008e02]“Well, I’d have let him keep it if I didn’t need it for you.”[/color] Brows shrugged, while a hand fished back out the bauble. Playing with it between finger and thumb Meg revealed a polished piece of jade, the size of a coin.
Yet his query caused her to chuckle, a smirk slowly curling to one side. Meg’s head tilted and then she mirrored him, elbow leaning on the table top. [color=#008e02]“That you can handle some excitement…,”[/color] her finger pointed, [color=#008e02]“but any weird noises, clunking or off ticks, you have to go in.”[/color] She’d stare at him, serious yet with a blink they were the soft comforting green.
[color=#008e02]“And… I can make you a Hearth stone. That way, you don’t have to follow me all the time.” [/color]Anything to lighten his worry, stress his condition further.
She presented the trinket to him, and he raised his eyebrows. A rock, for me? You shouldn't have. She didn't go into more detail, yet, he'd throw off her train of thought with his teasing.
Ooh, yeah? Guess we'll find out how much excitement I can take, hm? His grin didn't fade, boyish and cheerful despite the red color rushing across his cheeks. She was serious, and then her gaze softened, and she brought the rock back up.
What if I wanna follow you all the time? He asked, reaching to rub the piece of jade that she'd held up earlier. What's a Hearth stone? He liked following her, but he had an inkling that she worrying about him. It didn't take her long to decide to fret and worry; but that was something he loved about her. He settled back in his seat and sipped from his refilled mug, waiting patiently to hear more about the rock she wanted to give him. It must be something magic, off a guess.
She’d chuckle quietly, rolling the stone between her fingers. A light hue warmed her cheeks with the way he looked at her, hinting at and reminding her of his earlier promise of showing her something later. [color=#008e02]“Bloody rascal,”[/color] Meg mumbled, yet the grin wouldn’t be contained, fighting against her usual caution with his infectious boyish charm.
His hand joined hers in playing with the stone, the tough sending a familiar jolt down her nerves that had Meg relax completely. Grin became a thoughtful smile before Meg took his hand along with hers and the stone, drawing them towards her chest.[color=#008e02] “It’s old magic. Something Sylaise made for when June had to leave the Home Tree. He could take it anywhere and know, she was safe, happy.” [/color]
Adjusting her shirt with her free hand, Meg placed the stone against the dip of her collarbone, the pair's hands resting atop. [color=#008e02]“The practice was lost in time, but… I figured it out.” [/color]Warmth and a soft light peaked through the gaps of their hold, a faint beat of life resonated finally settling into the stone. The process was entirely simple, a repurpose of magic for another means, but it would give him some peace of mind that she was good and well.
[color=#008e02]“Now you always have my heart with you,”[/color] now it was her turn to be bashful. Reluctantly, she let their hands drop back down to the table, her own unclenching to reveal the now softly pulsing stone. [color=#008e02]“It’ll only react to you or me, so it, um, it shouldn’t, um.. Bother your work.”[/color]
Nairn watched as she pulled his hand into hers, listening as she spoke. He was quiet, watching where she placed the stone, how their hands rested against the stone. His attention was captured by the light peeking through the gaps in their hold; startled by the fact he was pretty sure the stone was beating like a heart.
He was quick to pull his hand away, as they dropped back to the table. And then she presented the stone to him, and he reached for it, brushing his thumb along it. It was definitely beating.
And as he picked it up, his lips turned down at the corners. He studied the strange trinket, critical of it, before he spoke, the frown falling away. Thank you.
He tucked the trinket into his pocket, and made a mental note to have someone good with cloth give him a little bag to wear around his neck. But I'm still going to follow you.
The mess is emptying slowly, people are finishing up and shuffling on their way. And Nairn settles in to properly eat, unwilling to be the last person in the room with John-Marc. He might not be afraid of the old wizard, but that doesn't mean he enjoys his company anymore than he has to be in it.
...besides.
He's been promised an interesting dessert. So, he spoke around a mouthful of food. I know you're still a healer, and about Arlathan—but why does Ruth live with you? It's not jealousy, but curiosity. ...After all, he'd witnessed her turn Ruth down more times than he cared to count in their younger days.
The withdrawal of his hand wasn’t unusual. Though her own cheeks warming with the presented gift, deepening as he took it. An awkward laugh fell with his thank you and admission he’d still follow. [color=#008e02]“Not every time. I can come follow you sometimes.”[/color]
With the mess beginning to slowly empty, she’d return to her plate, picking through the cured meats, cheese and crackers. His question though, caused her actions to pause. Megara reminded herself to breathe, taking a moment to collect her thoughts, leaning towards honesty.
[color=#008e02]“I’m doing what he did for me.” [/color]
Picking up a piece of bread, Meg began buttering it as she continued. [color=#008e02]“He was there when I nearly worked myself to death digging.”[/color] When she had spent who knew how many days searching the rubble, hands and knees bloody from scrambling and moving debris. [color=#008e02]“He was there when I finally broke down. He was there when I cried, when I couldn’t eat… He looked after me.” [/color]
[color=#008e02]“He lost an eye recently.”[/color] Megara began breaking up the pieces of bread, a frown tugged at her lips, her brow briefly furrowed before relaxing some. [color=#008e02]“Also a girl, some old clanmate, a few years ago. He really fell for someone and it was all a lie.”[/color]
Her eyes flickered back over to him, flashing him a hesitant grin. [color=#008e02]“...He’s going to break your nose when he sees you, by the way. I suppose the roundabout answer is... I already lost a lot of friends, people I care about. Of course I’m going to look after that idiot if I can.”[/color]
Nairn hummed, studying her as she faltered at his question. And as she spoke, he nodded slowly. I see. He finished his second mug of ale, and reached to steal a bit of bread off of her plate.
I'd expect nothing less. And it sounds like I deserve nothing less. He mused, biting into his stolen piece of bread. It was interesting, how things had changed in his absence. Ruth? Fall for someone? He wasn't going to claim it was a lie; but it was certainly strange.
He finished with his plate, and stacked it with other empty plates left at the table. Don't linger in the past on my account. He watched her for a moment, before he flashed her a smile, You're a good person, y'know? Too good, sometimes.
As he moved to stand, with his batch of empty plates, he'd pause to murmur in her ear, Whatever did I do to deserve such a kind soul? Bring it with ya, don't wanna be the last one's in the room.
As she spoke, her mind cast back but didn’t linger on the memories. Meg continued to eat, even as he stole from her plate, the typical reaction of a playful tap to his shoulder given.
[color=#008e02]“You’ll find him a bit different. Meaner. Less forgiving and even less trusting, because of her.”[/color] Again she sighed, in between bites. Ruth hadn’t been the only one fooled, Meg had even encouraged things, seeing it as a positive thing. In part, she felt responsible for Ruth’s pain even if it was a ridiculous notion.
Nairn had finished up while she nibbled away, [color=#008e02]“You’re back now. I don’t have to.”[/color] She’d glance over catching his look, shoulder bobbing. [color=#008e02]“Too soft maybe. Good is relative.”[/color] No-one was perfectly good, if they were Meg wondered what they’d been smoking to get there.
The murmur though, had her breath catching, his breath hitting the skin of her neck. Her head tucked into her shoulders and she let out a short giggle. Lowering her voice, Meg moved to stand, [color=#008e02]“I’m done anyways,”[/color] placing her plate on top. She’d dip her voice so only he could hear her, [color=#008e02]“and I’ve… something I can snack on for later. We going to your room then?”[/color]
Mmm, I think everyone's a bit meaner these days. He doesn't goof off? He inquired, as he took her plate and eye the food left on it quietly. Her whisper in his ear, though, had him moving to clear their plates, the tips of his ears flushed.
You little tease, he murmured, once he'd placed the dishes in the proper place, he moved to bump her with his shoulder, Now we've gotta go back to my room, yeah? Can't have you starvin'. His voice was low, as he led the way towards the tunnels once more.
In the dark, empty corridors, he'd slip an arm around her waist, and encourage her hands to wander. Their walk was five minutes, before they stopped in front of a ladder. Upon climbing it, they'd find themselves in an actual house, this time. He'd earned his own home, given his place in the Coterie.
Two bedrooms, a kitchen for when he felt like skipping mess, and basic utilities. Nothing super fancy, but it also wasn't the same as being bunked with the lower members. The trap door opened up into the hallway, and Nairn went up first, seating himself at the edge to pull Meg through.
Now, this one's gotta front door too. Some of the safe houses only had cellar or trap entrances, very few were street-level and within view of the world around them. He'd negotiated well for himself.
[color=#008e02]“I don’t think that’s completely true,”[/color] offering him a slight shrug. [color=#008e02]“His idea of goofing these days is being up to his eyes in drink, or something else, or likely, both.”[/color] As each month passed, she grew more and more concerned with the rogue elf’s behaviour and habits. [color=#008e02]“He could use a talking to.”[/color]
She’d snicker at his reaction to her choice of words, bumping him back and nodding. She had food in her satchel too, but Megara didn’t really have an appetite for food and in the dimly lit corridor she’d sink heavily into his side. Her hand found his hip, hooking the thumb through a loop in his breeches. The journey wasn’t long and as she found herself pulled up into a street level building, Meg let her eyes wander, head turning to take it in.
[color=#008e02]“Is this… is this old Mimi’s house?”[/color] she’d ask, grin widening. The Frior’s, Mimi and Maximillion had owned a bakery in Lowtown, but like a lot of things, it had been destroyed in the explosion. The Frior’s had both survived, but understandably decided to move to Starkhaven in the aftermath.
Pulling herself to her feet Meg began wandering around, starting with the small kitchen first of course. No matter where she was, nine times out of ten she could be found next to a stove or knee-deep in mud, gathering herbs.
She left her bag on the counter, turning to lean against it while finding Nairn again. There was a question on her tongue, but Meg wasn't quite ready to ask it yet, instead quietly offering, [color=#008e02]“You must’ve twisted John-Marc’s arm pretty far to get this…” [/color]
Nairn listened as she described Ruth's idea of fun, and sighed at the behavior she was stating. I'll talk to him, after he gets a few hits in. Because there was no doubt in his mind, that the other elf would hit him. He was still surprised his lady love hadn't.
The house was, in his mind, magnificant. It was homey, and once upon a time, this house had been his dream gift to her. She grinned and he couldn't help but preen. Yeah, the Frior's moved out, and wanted it to stay in the family. Not quite family but close enough that they'd enjoyed Nairn enough to leave the home to him.
He watched her, as she inspected the quarters. And she stopped, turned her focus onto him, and he shrugged. Wasn't much twistin'. Mimi left and she left a note, too. Said if we survived, she'd like to see us have it. Which meant, when John-Marc had sent her away, she'd had a home.
He moved towards her, reaching to tug a bit of hair, He didn't wanna gimme it. You were gone, he'd made sure of that. The words are sour in his mouth, and he scowled. But he's old, Meg. He's weak in ways he doesn't let anyone see. He paused, biting his lip.
And then he flashed her a grin. How do you think I got so high-up in the C, love? That old fuck needs someone people like. 'cause it was almost mutiny by the time I came back. After all, you can't run an organization without people. And you can't recruit to an org if nobody likes you. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and murmured, John-Marc's days are numbered, and he knows it. He's still here purely because he's more use to the Coterie alive.
Megara couldn’t help but chuckle, nodding that Ruth would likely land a few hits. [color=#008e02]“If he lands too many though he’ll find my foot firmly up his arse for a good hiding.” [/color]Still, hearing Nairn say he’d try and persuade Ruth did give her nerves some reprieve.
It was a cosy place, bigger than anything either of them had likely ever had before, and as he spoke, Meg found her unasked question being answered. Reading between his words, her head tilted curiously as her gaze roamed. [color=#008e02]“Us? This is ours?”[/color] Mimi had always been a generous soul, she had a soft spot for the runners and lookouts, sneaking them a sweet bun to see them through their jobs.
Tension rolled across her shoulders when Nairn all but confirmed John-Marc’s attempt to obtain the place. Nairn’s sour tone was mirrored by Meg’s falling expression, while a slight smile flashed as he attempted to distract her with a tug of her hair. [color=#008e02]“He never liked me. Too happy for his liking,”[/color] voice falling to an almost bitter whisper. The Coterie had been her family, or so she thought, and with one note she’d been forced out, when in reality a home had been waiting for her.
[color=#008e02]“Selfish, greedy bastard,”[/color] she’d huff, but concern gnawed at its heels, anxiety coiled in her belly. [color=#008e02]“...Are they grooming you to take over?”[/color] Was that the reason he hadn’t left the shadows?
Naturally, her eyes fluttered closed with the kiss to her head, senses left in overdrive with his proximity, how his scent filled her nose and the dance of his breath over her skin. Hands pushed away from the counter, gliding around his waist to bring herself close. [color=#008e02]“I couldn’t give two shits about John-Marc, Nairn. I love you, Vhenan, but this life… you're worth more than this, just stuck here, being a Coterie thug.”[/color] It wasn’t her life now either. Time had continued on, unfolding, much like Megara’s own growing reputation. A respected healer who treated anyone she came across with the utmost dignity, regardless of status, creed or condition.
Nairn moved to slip an arm around her, as she hugged him. Done took over, love. His voice was quiet, as he tightened his hold on her. Few years back. I don't like the attention, so I'm not the face. But the C calls me Boss now. He swayed where they stood, in the kitchen. Almost a dance, though neither of them moved. It was a peaceful movement.
Been expandin', Coterie's got safe-houses and legitimate, legal businesses throughout Thedas. He grinned, proud of the statement. And what we don't do legal, well... He clucked his tongue, ...the nobles ain't mind so much, when they hire us to cut their loose ends. Or to retrieve items that were stolen from them. The Coterie remained secretive, and their legal fronts were in no way able to be tied to the illegal operations.
He leaned away from her, to see her face. I'll always be a thug, ma vhenan. The only work I know how to do is with my hands. And he didn't mean woodwork.
