Chapter Text
The first day of many
Maria didn’t have what one might call ‘wanderlust’, a desire to always be moving and travelling, nor did she have a need to see the world and experience everything it could have to offer, which was good because, well, she couldn’t see. But she had a desire to learn and more importantly, to put her knowledge to use. With her sight lacking, she had come to the acknowledgement that there were some things that she could never fully understand (though that was no reason not to try), which was why she had resolved to stay as far out of this war as she could. She would never fully understand it and she was resigned to that, and because of that she kept her opinions and beliefs to herself and instead listened.
It was because she listened that she had agreed to join the guild that the home-grown alchemist-turned-medic had become part of, and considering that as the older lady had been giving Maria a place to stay for these past few weeks, it would only be rude to refuse. To add to that, Maria had no real reason to say no. She had her views on the world and the war, and while perhaps her initial purpose had been to stay clear, a world that was ruled by either one of the two guilds would be one full of hardship for her and her small fox companion.
She had arrived in Corodun with the alchemist medic and had been shown (metaphorically) around the guild hall and had met a few of the members, though many were apparently scattered across the world and hadn’t yet gathered in this small and new guildhouse. Maria could have stayed and met them, but already she was wary of becoming too involved with this group that she, comparatively, knew very little of. So she said her goodbyes and stepped out onto the streets of Corodun, turning her head to gain her bearings, her staff planted firmly on the ground.
The street was busy, with the noise of the crowd’s voices and footsteps and the flapping of clothes creating a confusing cacophony that Maria pondered for a second before disregarding, searching for other sounds and smells. She remembered that on the way in, there was the distinct smell of rotting fish and fresh tar and the scent of salt which could only be from a large body of water, but she couldn’t quite track that down now. She could faintly smell food and sweat, and she could feel the angle of the sun on her face and the weight of the sleeping Abra in her hood and the smoothed grains of her wooden staff, and, faintly, she could hear music.
The music was enough to tempt her natural curiosity and so, mindful of the crowds, she stepped down from the guildhouse and ventured out. Bodies brushed past her but she felt no ill-intent and so followed the sound of the music, treading carefully when she felt the sun’s warmth leaving her face, signalling a building and an alleyway she passed through. The music was steadily growing louder, full of lighter, potentially staccato notes that seemed to be easily yet randomly played. It was a method that was curious to Maria. She hadn’t had nearly as much knowledge in music as she would have liked (She felt sometimes that there was not nearly enough of it in the world. Nature itself sung and yet mortals had abandoned the practice) but even from her inexperience, she could tell that the player was practiced.
She felt the sun on her face once more and knew that she had stepped out on a second street, though judging by the quieter sounds, it was less crowded than the previous one. She heard the music suddenly become louder and accompanying it came a voice. “Enjoying the music?”
“Quite,” she replied, adjusting her head so that she was looking at the voice (Her mother had always told her that it was polite to look people in the face, even if she couldn’t see them). “I don’t recognise the song, is it one of yours?”
“Of course it is!” the musician replied instantly. His accent was a familiar one, very similar to the one that Maria herself had, though with a lilt that no doubt originated from his home town. “I am the greatest there ever was, why would I play something that everyone has heard before?”
Maria felt the smile on her face and she didn’t try to hide it. This musician, a bard perhaps given his way of speaking, appeared to like playing with words, and Maria was never one to turn down a good chat, so she promptly responded with “Why would you create your own when you can build on what others have already done?”
“Well spoken,” the bard said, a touch of jest falling from his tone, and Maria felt a very small and very brief surge of satisfaction, “I was lying to be honest. This piece is one my master taught me. May I ask your name?”
“Of course, I am Maria. What is yours?”
“The name is Bran, nice to meet you. What, if you don’t mind me asking, is the name of that adorable fox?”
Maria’s smile grew slightly softer as her hand reached up to gently stroke the large dish-like ears of Abra, feeling his familiar, coarse fur. “It’s nice to meet you too. This is Abra.” Many people were curious about Abra, which could only be expected as his species was, from what Maria had been told, rather rare. And potentially, a target. “He’s been with me for quite a while.”
She didn’t hear a response but she did hear the strumming quicken, the melody shifting and becoming filled with more lighter notes that were dramatically contrasted by lower tones. The sound made Maria’s smile only strengthen. “Whoever your master was, he taught you to play well.” She listened a little harder to the sounds. “That is a lute, is it not?”
She was guessing, to be honest, but she knew that lutes were the more common stringed instrument that could have that kind of musical range, so she was rather pleased with herself when Bran said. “Why yes it is. And thank you for the compliment.”
She didn’t catch it in the moment but later, she would look back at that comment and smile, shaking her head. A tricky bard, able to come up with an innocent passing comment that could mean something entirely different, but he didn’t yet seem to be purposefully misleading in that regard. It was a mental note that Maria was sure to remember later on.
“Where abouts are you headed, Bran?” she had asked instead. He played well, and Maria was looking for a new topic to learn and why not learn more about this music?
“Well, that is a fine story I do not think we have the time for as of now, but basically I am searching for my travelling party,” came Bran’s vague answer. “May I ask what exactly do you do in this… quaint town?”
She wasn’t sure of the reason for the pause, but if what she was hearing was anything to go by, Corodun was anything but ‘quaint’. “Shame, I quite like stories. I am…” She didn’t particularly want to mention the guild, especially since she had only just become a member, and her own personal hunt for knowledge could be taken in all too many ways, “passing through, I guess you would say? I was visiting a few friends over there.” Maria gestured to the guild building behind her, somewhere. She was pretty sure she didn’t get it right.
“Hmm, well,” Bran spoke, appearing to ignore her potential mistake, “if you want to hear stories, I might find the time to tell them to you; that is, if you don’t mind?”
If there was one thing that Maria loved to do, it was learn, and there was no more engaging way of doing that than through stories. “I would quite like that, as long as it doesn’t bother you or your travelling party.”
“Shouldn’t be much trouble but where could I find you?”
Maria hesitated, not sure how to say that she hadn’t yet found a place to stay and in fact hadn’t been intending to stay at all, but a voice louder than the crowd spoke in a furious mutter “Damn pixies”, and she heard someone spit. She glared in the direction of the voice, hoping that the male understood the warning in her eyes as her hand tightened around her staff. She heard Bran’s playing shift slightly to something a little more sharp and vicious and felt the subtle tingle of a magical sixth sense in the back of her mind, and suddenly that voice spoke again, though this time from a little farther away than Maria had expected, and with a sudden note of fury.
“Oh, so you got some magic from your elfie welfie mommy, huh? What, you too, lady? At least between the two of you, you make up one human.”
Maria wasn’t one to react sharply to insults, but something about that particular insult struck her the wrong way, and she was just about wondering how inaccurate she could risk being in this busy street when she heard Bran’s tune pick up to something furiously fast, so fast that the notes blurred and shimmered together in a blinding melody. “You better not talk of my mother in that way,” he started to say, but he paused as if reconsidering.
A hand touched her arm and Maria jumped, but the grip was gentle and more suggesting than commanding, and since it as guiding her away from the snapping voice, Maria followed it.
“Sorry about that,” Bran’s voice said, much closer to her now as he guided her way. “Being half-elf is not easy.”
Maria grinned a little. “Yeah. I haven’t yet decided whether it makes it easier or harder when you can’t see who insulted you.”
Easier because you don’t have a face to remember when the words come back to bite you later. Harder because you can’t ever be fully sure what was an insult and what was simply an ill-thought comment, and you can’t be sure who might be around to witness an act of magic.
“Speaking of that, may I ask what exactly is wrong with your eye?”
He had taken longer to notice it than most, or perhaps he was simply one of the nicer ones who didn’t want to ask in case it was a touchy topic. It never was, but the sentiment amused Maria in the same way that Abra amused her when he barked at the stars hovering so high above. “That’s eyes and I’m blind,” she said simply and calmly.
A cruel laugh came from behind them. “Keep running, knife-ears. Your woodland clan is calling with the fairies.”
A crude comment, really. Her ears (and no doubt Bran’s) weren’t anywhere near the long and pointed peaks of pure elves and Maria had lived just as much of her life on the plains as she had in the woods, and any fairies you would in the woods would have been just as likely to kill you as to take you in.
Even so, Bran’s grip on her arm tightened momentarily and she sensed the sudden stiffness in him but he relaxed as she talked. “That’s a shame. How do you get around?”
“I’m not even sure half of the time,” Maria admitted with a laugh. “I use my staff and when I really need to, Abra helps me out.” She didn’t specify how Abra helped her out, and nor did she mention locating things by sound and feel. Bran may have been showing her kindness now, and she hated having to try and keep quiet, but her ability as a sorceress could land her in trouble if she wasn’t careful.
Bran’s grip on her arm loosened slightly, and his tone was more curious and considerate as he said “Do you have a place to go, Maria?”
Before she could even figure out how to answer that question, she felt a sudden force collide into her and toss her aside and her feet slipped out from underneath her, suddenly feeling the rough cobblestones of the street, the skin on her hands being scraped from the force and a small yip coming from the startled Abra as his weight suddenly left her hood and she heard his tiny claws scrambling unevenly on the street.
“You look at me when I’m talking to you, halfie,” the same harsh voice from before spoke. The speaker must have been strong, given the low tone of the words and the strength with which Maria had been cast aside.
“I really don’t have time for this,” Bran said, his voice remarkably calm and even bored. Only a second later, his voice carried more authority as he said “I suggest you move on and think about your life decisions.”
Maria, in the process of getting back up, faintly felt that sense tingle again and this time, she felt the flicker of unfamiliar magic and Bran’s voice calling out “Amros!” but the low voice of the man only pondered “If only I had studied more for that Fantasy Maths class… Really, it just takes dedication to learn Fantasy Algebra…” and footsteps walked away as other, different footsteps hurriedly approached.
“Abra, come here boy,” Maria said, holding out her hands. A few seconds later, she felt coarse fur rub against her palms and the quivering of a small body.
“Bran! I had to pretend to a bunch of gents in a bath house that I was looking for my ex-wife in prison to rub in her face that I was having sex with a bunch of whores to find you!” a voice that was vibrant and bright but carried a tone of chaos said quickly.
“Uh, er,” said an earthier voice that Maria could easily identify as a hill dwarf, “I just woke up and came to find you. But Amros’ story is more interesting.”
“Glad to see you too bud,” Bran’s voice spoke, “but try not to cause commotion in this town.”
“Ugly fellas,” the voice of Amros spoke with disgust, “would have rather slept with the prostitutes than bathed with them. There would have been less wrinkles.” Maria could virtually hear the shiver that went through him.
Bran paused for a moment. “Glad to see yah.”
“Bran, ye don’t know how glad I am to see ya,” the dwarven voice said enthusiastically.
Maria lifted Abra up to her shoulder, letting him scramble and fall into her hood, his small weight shifting around until he settled. Bran’s hand on her arm helped to steady her as she stood and she gave him a grateful smile before taking a small step away (she appreciated the help, but she didn’t want him to believe her to be invalid). Maria gently stroked Abra’s head and sent out her connection with him, gently communicating in a way that was more primal than words, and her senses shifted as she felt his head turn towards the voices.
“So these are your travelling partners, Bran?” she asked.
"Well I'm sorry to put you in danger, Maria I…”
Bran’s voice trails off, but Maria gives a small laugh. “On the contrary, it was a welcome change.”
"Really? Well if you ever feel like going on an adventure you are welcome to accompany us.”
"You cheating on me already Bran?” Amros’ voice asks. “Who's the chick?"
With Abra’s sight aiding her, Maria can see that the speaker’s hair flows upwards like a stream and his skin is a swirl of patterns and shapes, and though Abra’s sight is not enough for her to be able to decipher his face, it is enough for her to gain an image of him. She sees a hand – Bran’s hand, presumably – slam the back of the fiery one’s neck.
"Stop being ridiculous."
"I know, you love me forever," Amros sighs jokingly.
"Bran how could you do this to Amros," the dwarven voice adds on with a chuckle. He is short and stocky, much like all dwarves are described, but his voice is merry and a bow and a quiver of arrows lie across his back.
"You are the worst of friends, have I ever told you that?"
Maria has nothing to fear from these three.