On Broken Glass[Corwynn]

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Anaxas' main trade port; it is also the nation's criminal headquarters, home to the Bad Brothers and Silas Hawke, King of the Underworld. The small town of Plugit is nearby.

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Xonia
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: Xonia the Nomad
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Sat Jan 12, 2019 1:36 am

Time for Bed yet?
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Her brows rose at his words about broken things and tinkering and she gave a soft snort as opposed to replying for that moment. She knew very little about the ways of how innuendo worked so she didn’t exactly pick up on the subtle dirtiness that may or may not have accompanied those words. Xonia finally replied, “I am a boring, broken trinket to tinker with, I am afraid… I doubt I am worth the time to do so. Nobody ever offered to before anyways.” Oh, the poor thing did not know what her words would sound like to a man like him. She was showing her innocence big time in that moment and cementing her vulnerability.

And then to his reply about not being bothered, she tilted her head, “If you are not bothered, then why did you bring it up? It’s not like I care what others think. Lorent kept me away from most people anyway. Besides, I can’t see my own face, so I don’t even know what you see.” In truth, she never really paid attention to her reflection when bathing in streams, and had never really looked in a mirror since those were scarce in the wilderness.

His next words caused her to shake her head in exasperation. “Firstly, I was not waving that stupid knife. I was only showing you that I am not completely defenseless as you seem to think I am, and it wasn’t even a threat to you. I don’t stick knives in people who are trying to help me.” She actually sounded insulted. “I happen to have something much more effective on my person at all times… I do have to eat, you know? I carry a crossbow. Those can kill a lot easier than some tiny ass knife.” Her insulted tone had gone away by that point and she yawned.

The man started to throw names around. She was nonplussed. Her eyes were steady on his face, no recognition of whom he spoke of. “Well, here is the thing. I live in the damn woods. I don’t talk to a lot of people. Think about it… Do you honestly think I have a clue as to what you are talking about? Bad brother? Silas Hawke? Even if someone told me about these people, I have cheese for brains when it comes to remembering shit that has no real significance to me.”

When he replied to her words about Lorent, she shrugged, “Whatever he did or did not do when not in my presence, he did keep me safe. He was the only father I knew but I am not stupid to believe his flatulence smelled of roses. If he did wrong, he did wrong. Simple as that. Whatever he did does not diminish the fact that I am alone and overwhelmed. Believe it or not, I do look at a bigger picture.”

Xonia tilted her head at his saying how he protected what was his. She wasn’t sure what he was talking about that was his to protect. She didn’t address it, she simply went on to his next words about starting over. Gracious but the man was exhausting.

“I can handle a knife… You kinda need to know how to do so when you hunt your own food.” She wanted to hit his forehead as if to expel his weirdness. She shook her head instead and dismissed the rest of her thoughts. It was like he was trying to mansplain. She didn’t need someone to hold her hand, and she was starting to give him wtf looks. The dude was really weird, she concluded, and really confusing. Talking of shit she didn’t know, implying she was some helpless little lamb in a wolf’s den, questioning abilities when he didn’t even know her to know she was fine on her own. Her next thought was to just walk out and not look back… But she didn’t. She would have to ride out whatever storm she had just entered into by associating herself with a complete stranger who annoyed the shit out of her, yet at the same time gave her some things to think about.

Not knowing how he was perceiving what her meaning was about her feeling drawn to him, she finally sighed and just said in a quiet tone… “Listen… I don’t want trouble. I don’t want to be a burden… You didn’t have to stop and come my way, but you did. I followed you because I didn’t feel him like I felt you… Like you were right behind me when you weren’t. I have never been around your kind to know what that feeling is. I am a Wick, or at least that is how I was raised. I didn’t have to follow you but I did. I just want to sleep without worrying that some asshole is going to jump out at me the way someone did to Lorent. I want to know who I am… I want to belong. You probably don’t get it, so maybe it was stupid of me to follow you, and even dumber to ask you to stay in a room with me while I sleep… But I am tired and I have never been on my own for this long, so maybe I am scared. For the record, I was drawing a map when I was at the beach. I don’t have daddy issues. I talk to myself to remember things or to try and figure things out. I can wait for sleep, food is fine by me.” She looked up at the ceiling, and despite her best efforts, a few, annoying drops of saline swam in her eyes and she angrily swiped them away before they could dribble down her cheeks. She was not about to start crying in front of him or anyone else.

How is it that one could feel so utterly alone when in the presence of others? It was giving her that headache… the one that preceded the stolen moments. Damn it… That was what shut her up; what caused her to rub at the back of her head like it was going to stop the inevitable. She gritted her teeth and beads of sweat appeared above her lip as she fought an episode. That foul taste filtered into her mouth. Fuck it, let him think she was tuning him out. She stopped fighting it and stared at nothing.


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Corwynn
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: The Taxman
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Mon Jan 28, 2019 2:05 pm

23rd of Dentis, 2718
SHERRY'S PENINSULA | AFTERNOON-ISH
The blond galdor deflated, riled, combative stance relaxing, crackling field softening as he exhaled slowly through his teeth. Xonia's ignorance about herself and her strange mannerisms so completely disarmed and confused the Bad Brother that he felt as though attempting to have any semblance of a normal conversation with the alluringly mysterious creature was not only impossible but perhaps, moreover, completely undesirable.

He'd been sailing against the wind.

Forced to jibe, scrambling to change direction with the young blonde's words, Corwynn couldn't help but smirk when she spoke more of knives and crossbows. Chewing the inside of his cheek, his left hand had strayed instinctually to the double-barreled pistol slung low at his hip, resisting the urge to draw it between them and give her a thorough lesson about what was deadly,

"I think you underestimate a tinyerse'd knife, to be fair." He offered instead of pointing out how he obviously was armed.

Xonia then admitted her ignorance, completely unconcerned and unaware of who Silas Hawke was and what the Bad Brothers mattered to the Harbor, let alone Anaxas as a whole. He blinked, crystalline gaze holding her own as she spoke of Lorent and her ardent hope in his genuine care and concern for her person, if nothing else. Since he hadn't sold her into prostitution when he had the chance, Corwynn had to conclude this guardian of hers was at least a halfway decent fellow.

To what end, however, since he died perhaps protecting her?

"Felt me? My field? Oh. You have one, too—" The older galdor blinked, the aura laden with Physical mona he spoke of flexing in involuntary response to him drawing attention to it, sentient particles moving to wash over the woman's own field as if to remind her that she, too, had something, "—do you not feel it? Your field doesn't feel like a mere glamour, not unless you were taught some very intense magic."

Hawke's field was powerful for a wick. As was Yulina's. Corwynn had in his time caprised the monic compositions of both wicks and galdori and found that sometimes, very rarely, they were almost indistinguishable. Perhaps this was just another example of such a confounding and theoretically impossible but undeniable example. Not that Xonia could tell him either way, he concluded. She clearly had no memory or recollection of her magical origins, if she had any at all.

"You don't have to defend yourself. I'm a bit confused, thrown off-course myself here. These aren't familiar waters, whatever you're swimming in, woman, but that doesn't mean I'm going to take advantage or change my mind. I'm not usually this trusting or this generous, so I'm going to hope that doesn't come back and stab me in the erse, eh?"

His smile was genuine but cautious and he sighed, broad shoulders sagging. The blond gunman disliked the sight of tears, "Nah, I don't understand a thing, but we'll have some lunch and some wine and keep at it because I'm still a persistent, curious old bastard when I want to be. Come on, leave your things, Xonia. They're safe here, as are you—"

The Bad Brother stepped to offer his arm, but something seemed strange, different, off. Instead of moving to respond to his words, the young blonde seemed to be looking off into space, lost in herself or otherwise gone out of her head. Unsure of whether she was simply angrier at his person or whether something was actually wrong, Corwynn leaned closer still and reached for her shoulders, arching a slim fair brow and letting his sharp blue gaze wander over her face,

"Oi, Xonia. Are you alright?"
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Xonia
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: Xonia the Nomad
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Thu Jan 31, 2019 4:50 pm

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There was a strange dynamic going between the two of them… He thrust, and she parried. For every parry, there was a thrust. He was starting to seem like a know-it-all to her, but not in a bad way. It was just overwhelming more than anything, and she was worn out just doing the fencing match. With thrust number… whatever… about the knife, she stared at him. Why? Why did he make fun of it if he was going to say that she underestimated? She nearly threw her hands up. Instead, she gave a grunt and muttered, “Sure.”

With the next thrust, she was feeling the throb worsen and her ears ringing. Damn it, but the man was exhausting! She was about to open her mouth when she could feel… something so vaguely familiar. She didn’t reply to that or the next words he spoke because of her lapsing. But it was different this time; she didn’t black out. Instead, there was a blurry image playing in her head. After he tried to get her attention, she began to mutter words in Monite, things a Wick should not know. Her middle fingers tapped almost twitchingly against the middle of each palm, then clenched painfully, only for her to snap to attention in a sudden fashion as one would when waking from a nightmare.

Xonia stared at him with puckered brows, eyes watering from the throb that stayed strong for the first time out of all of her episodes. The girl pressed trembling and curiously wet fingers to the back of her head whilst she tried to make sense of the blurry vision she’d just had in her thoughts. It took her some time to realize his hands were on her shoulders, hands that probably felt the trembling she couldn’t help.

Had it been exhaustion that brought her to the state she was in? No… No, she thought, this had never happened in such a way; Xonia had NEVER had memories come to her, blurred or otherwise. It was the way he projected his field and how it clashed against hers strongly, hers responding in kind to contradict her upbringing as Wick. She was clearly no Wick.

Her mind opened up more as she focused again on the memory. Child like screams filled her thoughts, the sight of a dark face and her own hands lifting in defense. She gave an intake of breath and forced her mind back to the present. It wasn’t hard to see that something had disturbed her.

His words finally registered, she rocked out of his grasp and she turned her back to tend to wounded palms she had just taken note of, blood smeared in her hair where she had touched her head, causing hair to clump up and show part of that nasty dent of a scar that surely should have given her a death sentence. “I’m fine,” she said over her shoulder, voice rough with fatigue. The girl jerked cloths out of her pocket to clench into her palms.

The memory hit again, stronger. She heard the words of a spell, not realizing she was saying them out loud, and suddenly cut off at the sickening, wet sound of flesh being mauled and the sudden burst of pain that caused her to drop to her knees. Just as quickly as it came, it was over. She dropped the cloths and her hands went to the floor. She had recognized the feild of the one in front of her, as dominant as Cor’s, one of her own kind who leered at her.

Her shallow breaths were the only thing she could hear for that moment in time. The blond shifted to her butt, things of the past fading away into nothing while the present came back to her fully. The pain receded, ambient sound drifted back into her ears as reality wrapped around her. Confusion replaced memory, causing her to move quickly to her feet. Slowly, she turned to face him. The question she asked had an answer she already knew, “Am I one of your kind? One of your kind feels like one of mine and one of my kind was there when…” her voice cracked, “I don’t understand.”
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Corwynn
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: The Taxman
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Fri Mar 01, 2019 12:07 pm

23rd of Dentis, 2718
SHERRY'S PENINSULA | AFTERNOON-ISH
The blond gunman had seen a lot of things. Had one a lot of things. He'd been places. He wasn't a good man, nor was he apologetic for most of it. All of it. Any of it. Corwynn was who he was and he'd made choices to become what he was now, standing in front of a delirious and strange woman who didn't know who she was and perhaps was even sure of where she was going. Crystalline gaze studied what—details unseen—passed over the expressions on her face, willing to reach and support her physical self that now seemed just as unstable as the rest of her.

Was he sure it wasn't drugs?

Who had he welcomed into his home?

"You're not fine." The older galdor barked, the deep baritone of his voice not protective so much as honest, "This isn't fine."

His field softened at the edges along with his sea-worn expression, an invisible, steadying motion that curled with his fingers until Xonia wrenched free of him and Monite slipped from her lips. Corwynn flinched, instinctual, paranoid, prepared, trying very hard not to reach for his weapon. The mona thick and real between both galdors seemed to contract, tightening around the young woman as she spoke, but not moving to her will because the phrases on her lips were more nonsense than actual spellwork.

Like the tide washing out from the beach just in view of his home, the sentient particles fled, filtering away from the room as if they were sediments in the chilled waves. The brail had thankfully not caused either of them injury, but the strange sensation of an absence of magic was one that was uncomfortable to those used to feeling its presence all of the time.

Corwynn scowled at the woman's confusion, unsure whether to be concerned or clocking pissed off (at himself, really). Exhaling a slow breath through his straight, white teeth, the blond eased his way into a squat to bring himself to the young woman's level, elbows on his knees and fingers curling together,

"I don't have a clocking clue what you're talking about. Are you a galdor? Yes, it seems so. Could you be a wick who learned formal magic? Highly unlikely but not unheard of. From the sound of your phrasing, however misguided and incomplete, you've had a bit of the same education at Brunnhold or elsewhere. You're not a wick, judging by the weight of your field, however doetoed it may be. Now," His remaining index finger on his left hand reached up to tuck a bit of blonde hair behind her ear in a gesture of unexpectedness, blue eyes darting from her face to the scar she'd revealed without any shyness about the looking. He didn't touch, though, simply hiding it beneath her hair again with the motion of his fingers, thumb smudging some of the blood away, aware that his lingering touch bordered on the seriously rude but far too comfortable with himself to care,

"I need a drink before I sift through any more of this clocking baggage of yours. Come sit, eat a little something, and then we'll get you cleaned up and go from there. Clearly, there's a lot of confusion to wade through and I don't even know where to start—except with some wine, honestly."
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Xonia
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: Xonia the Nomad
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Wed Mar 06, 2019 2:09 pm

She felt tired… drained, really, and it felt like she had lost her damn mind. Her eyes were wary as they watched him. Xonia bit her lip as he seemed to chide her for her baggage without being a dick about it. When his fingers tucked away at the strand, gooseflesh prickled up her arms and she gave an involuntary shudder as awareness started to settle in. “Phrasing?” she asked, genuinely perplexed because she didn’t remember speaking out loud what had been spoken in her waking nightmare.

He was answering her question and it left he as confused as she was before even asking. Confound it, but everything was a mess. “I see,” she said lamely. Then his fingers moved to tuck some hair away and she felt gooseflesh pimple her skin. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or didn’t like it, then decided it wasn’t a bad gesture but a comforting one. The girl wanted to lean in and rest her head on his shoulder but refrained from doing so…

“I suppose you are right… But don’t… fret over my baggage. I didn’t come here for you to unravel all of these mysteries… I only wanted to ask a few questions. I can assure you that what just happened isn’t something that did so before.” The girl’s words were very soft by that point. The fact that his touch lingered as it did was making it hard to focus on things otherwise.

She almost lifted her hand but it stayed where it was. Her eyes dropped and she murmured, “No wine for me, but thank you.” She wasn’t about to explain that she could not handle her drink as well as others. It was bad enough that she was thoroughly embarrassed about the fact that she had spazzed out in front of him without even meaning to. One could see it in her face that she was chagrined to have done so.

Her belly, however, had no such notions. It finally vocalized the fact that she was hungry and more reticent at the moment after having accidentally revealing as much as she had. She would go wherever it was that the food was.
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Corwynn
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Thu Apr 11, 2019 12:30 pm

23rd of Dentis, 2718
SHERRY'S PENINSULA | AFTERNOON-ISH
"There's the proper way to use magic—the galdori way—and then there's the improper way to use magic—the wick's bastardization of Monite, which is, in my opinion, clocking impressive don't get me wrong, but still not the same." Words the older galdor would never have said out loud in front of Silas Hawke himself slipped so easily from his lips with a smile, his own far more organized and focused sort of field moving beyond simple caprision of her own to mingle curiously with the almost feral collection of mona that lingered around her magical person,

"I'm not fretting." Corwynn quipped, quieter and without any particular harshness to his rich baritone. He reached to curl her arm around his bicep as if it was the most natural thing to do, turning to lead them both from the sitting room full of books and a warm fire toward the dining room instead.

The lonely old mansion on the very edge of Sherry's Peninsula that the blond gunman had claimed as his own was lit sparingly by a smattering of phosphor lamps and a few old, dribbling candles. It was a cavernous, hardly furnished place that whispered with the sea breeze and echoed with footsteps. He steered them through the main foyer with its grand staircase and crystal chandelier and peeling wallpaper into a hallway with fading paintings of galdori strangers and long-gone landscapes washed away by the tide and the growth of Old Rose Harbor.

"So, you've never cast a spell before that you can remember? You don't normally mutter Monite you don't recall being taught? Interesting. Do you ever remember other things instead?" Corwynn was curious, perhaps overly inquisitive now that magic was involved, unable to help the mix of concern and danger that came from the idea of a galdor so wild and untrained.

He'd lead them into an impressive dining hall with gilded details, more crystal lighting, and more peeling wallpaper, sweeping the young blonde woman into a seat with gentlemanly flair before he made his way toward the ridiculously well-stocked liquor cabinet,

"You sure you don't want anything?" Hummed the Bad Brother, back turned while he made his selection from some of the many bottles of various wines that had been brought up from the salty old cellar. Something Bastian and dark, rich and barrel-aged. Pausing to uncork the bottle and smirking at its loud noise, he nearly forgot himself and skipped snatching a glass from the shelf, bringing the dusky violet rim of the wine toward his face for a lingering, appreciative sniff, "Wavorly should serve something shortly."

Corwynn settled at the head of the table with Xonia on his right, pouring his wine before he sat and leaving the bottle on the table because obviously he'd be needing more. The sounds of dishes and clattering cookware could be heard from the not so distant kitchen,

"That you, Cor?"

"Aye. And a guest!"

"Oh, har. A'ight."

Their loud exchange was clearly conversation between friends, the gunman smiling while he relaxed into his seat and rested his elbows on the table, remaining index finger tracing the circle of his wine glass' edge,

"Tell me about the death of your caretaker—Lorent. Was there anything suspicious before his demise? Did you find his body?"

Food was brought out before Xonia had an opportunity to answer, a lanky, red-headed wick no younger than his galdor friend emerging with a flourish from a swinging door, pushing a cart full of fruits and cheeses, preserved meats and bread. There was also a pot of stew, the scents of Mugrobi spices wafting in the steam. Wavorly's green eyes took in the young woman seated with Corwynn without even a hint of surprise, and he offered her a gold-toothed grin,

"Junta, rosh. Help yerself. Don't be shy." Plates were set before both of them and he offered with a gesture of a ladle to serve her some soup before serving the old pirate he only jokingly called his employer.
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Xonia
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: Xonia the Nomad
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Thu Apr 11, 2019 10:13 pm

Xonia peered at him in a perplexed manner as he continued to speak about casting the proper way. “I don’t know what I was muttering that you heard… I only know I was trying to stop those who were hurting me. At least in what I saw in my mind if that makes any sense at all,” she heaved a sigh. He stated then that he was not fretting but she didn’t quite believe him since he kept bringing things up. She was not going to try and figure him out, the confusing bastard.

He put her hand on his bicep and escorted her from room to room. When asked about spell casting, she frowned, a line forming between her brows as they knit with thought, not anger. She slowly shook her head, “I can do the things that the Wicks do, of course… but I don’t recall spells that you are talking about, no.”

When he led her to sit down, she did so while watching him act the part of the gentleman. Her eyes followed him as he moved to get some liquor and she turned her gaze to her hands. “I can’t… Especially not after…” she caught herself when she realized what was coming from her mouth… “No… No, thank you,” she said instead.

Lorent was brought up again and she didn’t say anything yet because of the interruption of the one who was in the kitchen. She cocked her head in acknowledgement to him, her eyes going first to him, then the food he was setting down. Fruit… How long had it been since she had tasted the sweet flesh of fruit? Her fingers curled and uncurled for a moment whilst her bowl was being filled, hunger distracting her from the question for the moment. The moment the man moved away, she snaked a hand out to grab a piece of fruit like she was afraid to get caught, even though it was free to her…

She had it gone quickly, fingers visibly shaking when she put more food into her mouth. It wasn’t as if she had gone hungry much before, but she was not in the forest where she could hunt and gather as she normally did and dried venison only did so much for hunger. The act of eating caused some clarity to part the clouds of fog in her mind, her color even looked slightly better as she ate. At some point she slowed down and his query came back to her mind, curled talons around her and sank deeply and painfully in.

“I found him, yes… With an arrow stuck deep into his flesh about an hour away. I wasn’t supposed to have left camp like that, but whenever he left me alone it was only for a day at most, but he didn’t come back. When he didn’t return, I went looking for him. I saw him in a clearing about four hours walk from camp. The fucked up part is that he looked posed, like…” She paused and looked to Cor with eyes that proved she was at least partly feral, there was such ferocity in her gaze and even a slight crackle of energy that may or may not be felt.

“Like someone was leaving a message. The arrow was protruding from his eye, the head of it pointing away from his face and not the back of his head. His head was pointed toward our camp, his feet and arms spread. If he had been shot from behind as the arrow indicated, he would have either fallen forward or to the side, but not backwards… especially if the velocity of the arrow was high enough to pierce through that much flesh. He would have at least jerked forward, which means he could not have fallen backwards. I shoot my crossbow enough to know how a bolt impacts a living thing, how if I were to hit the lung of a deer on the right side, he would buckle toward the left and not once have I seen a beast fall onto the side where the bolt protruded from. I buried him in the clearing and then went back toward camp…” She paused and pushed her, thankfully empty by that point, bowl from her and eyed the alcohol like she could really use the drink.

“The smell of smoke hit me within a mile, and I returned to a great majority of the camp scorched… everything that was on the ground including the hides we were collecting to sell. I didn’t have time to fucking grieve, I got what shit there was left to get that we had in the trees and whatever wasn’t ruined, and I fucking left.” It was the first time she told that part of her story and it bothered her to no end, which was clear from the way she was still looking at the bottle.

Xonia soon leveled her gaze on her host. While one could see the remorse if they looked hard enough, there was mostly just anger and exhaustion etched into her face, and raw honesty that could not even be duplicated by a skilled actor, it was that deeply inset within her.
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Corwynn
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: The Taxman
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Thu May 09, 2019 3:27 pm

23rd of Dentis, 2718
SHERRY'S PENINSULA | AFTERNOON-ISH
"Interesting." Corwynn grunted almost thoughtfully, crystalline gaze regarding Xonia carefully as she spoke about an almost instinctual use of magic in the form of self-defense. Clearly, whatever kind of amnesia she was suffering from or whatever kind of brainwashing childhood she was subjected to couldn't entirely erase some form of galdori upbringing. Had she attended Brunnhold at all? Or was she entirely self-taught. The fact that she didn't even appear to understand how magic worked at all was just so clocking confusing that the older galdor was forced to sigh, shaking his head, "Wick magic is a totally different subject, honestly, and your phrasing wasn't anything out of the Spokes' Almanac, that's for damn sure."

Once he settled the younger blonde in a seat in the expansive dining room, he seemed to have no qualms about serving himself with or without her, pouring a drink and shrugging at her dismissal. Did he care that she grabbed for fruit as though she'd been starved? Hardly. If anything, the edges of his eyes wrinkled in amusement, sea-weathered face warming just so before he smirked at Wavorly, dismissing the wick he called a friend as quickly as the wiry old pirate had brought them their meal.

The ginger wick bobbed some mockery of a bow and disappeared back toward the kitchens.

Corwynn sighed, listening while he drank and filled his plate with his free hand, blue eyes focused on the meal at hand though his attention was clearly on Xonia none the less, "Someone shoved an arrow butt-end first into the man's skull and arranged him like a work of art? Well. Listen, I'm not above using a body to make a point, but that's just not my style." He grumbled, the Taxman far more violent when necessary than he appeared to be in this moment, a lifelong criminal and not just a wealthy do-nothing lazing about on the shores of Old Rose Harbor, "Then whoever had murdered Lorent set fire to your camp while you found his body? That's quite a near miss on your part. But they didn't want you? No one showed their face to you—"

Crystalline gaze swept over her fair features, her expression, and the gunman paused to lick his thin lips in thought, turning over her words in his mind. Reaching for another glass, he simply poured her some of the fine Bastian wine and set it in front of her without bothering to ask a second time. He paused to poke at his food, hungry but far too distracted, nibbling but not really in any hurry to devoir what he'd made as a meal,

"—and you two were nomads? Living like tekaa in the wilderness? Coming to town only for supplies? Did Lorent ever leave you for very long before then? Did you frequent any other cities or towns here in Anaxas other than the Harbor?" He didn't linger on the death or the way in which the man had been murdered. He didn't linger on the fire. He didn't linger on her escape. These were all tactics he wasn't above using, and if anything, he simply filed them away as part of the bigger picture, carefully constructing an image of what kind of person her so-called caretaker had been and what kind of business he could have possibly been involved in to garner enemies that would have done such things.

The question was, apparently, why they'd leave Xonia alive. What was her place in the whole thing? If Lorent had owed money to someone like Silas, she'd be in the Mad Queen by now. If Lorent had crossed someone like Corwynn, he probably wouldn't have hesitated to shoot them both. This was unusual behavior and he couldn't entirely paint a picture of possible directions to consider, of possible suspects, or even of possible scenarios just yet,

"You never went back for his body?"
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Xonia
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: Xonia the Nomad
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Wed May 22, 2019 12:44 pm

“I know some Wick things,” she murmured in reply, “But I wouldn’t call myself proficient at them. I surprised myself the other day when I managed to get away with the money from a dick of an old man who disgusted me. I don’t normally do it, but he pissed me off and I wanted him to know I wasn’t ashamed of being raised by a wick. Vile, nasty old fuck.” She furrowed her brows about that one. “Waiting until he is long gone and then I am gonna buy a horse.”

She shoveled fruit into her mouth and rolled her eyes upward in near ecstasy since she hadn’t had any in quite some time. As he talked, she listened, also chipmunking food into her cheek since she had been sparing with money to buy food with. When it was her turn to talk again, she swallowed and said, “I think it was a warning.” Her eyes met Cor’s and she continued, “Whoever did it took their sweet time. I don’t know who wanted him dead, but they probably do want me dead as well. I have a feeling it has something to do with… with what I saw just now. Maybe I am not supposed to be alive still, maybe Lorent was supposed to have killed me. There are a lot of questions and no answers.”

Xon slowed her eating, a sign she was getting full. She sighed at his next question, “Yes, I said that already.” And then, “No, I buried him… I couldn’t leave him and I couldn’t drag him either,” she said. “I am no weakling, but Lorent was a tall and broad man, it would have taken two of me to get him back to camp. It’s all so fucked up. I don’t… He wouldn’t take me into town unless there was no choice. He never told me why. I suppose it was because he was hiding me. But...”

Her lips flattened into a line, and then she peered at him. She suddenly looked like she just couldn’t do it anymore, like she was about to stand up and walk away, and who could blame her? It was all so much for her to handle; loss, pent up grief, anger, flashbacks, foggy little memories… So, so much to deal with. “It isn’t fair,” she said so very softly, her voice thick, “I don’t understand what I did that I am being punished for. I don’t even know who my parents are, and the only one who I thought of as a father just gets ripped away from me. And for what? What the fuck did I do?” She thought it was her fault, even as it really wasn’t at all. Blaming herself was the only thing that made sense to her at the moment.

She didn’t cry though, refused to even as her eyes were wet.
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