West Marches - Morning at the Manor

West Marches - Morning at the Manor

The day dawned bright with a clear blue sky indicative of the water the Whiskey Riders were so near. Silea eyed the piece of bacon she had plucked from her breakfast plate. Perhaps it was not big enough, she thought, though the time to rectify such a potential social error was decidedly past. Shaking her head Silea went over the possible options for the beginning of dialogue before, mindful of how soft her steps could potentially be, she proceeded through the front door of Gilham Manor. Sedricks was lounging on the main steps of the Manor, viola on his shoulder as he plucked idly; jotting notes down in a ragged book of tangled vellum. Silea’s eyes darted to the area nearby to find Lute: artfully stalking a butterfly.

Silea approached cautiously, holding out the bacon and taking care not to be too quiet or accidentally startle either man or kitten.

"Are you writing a song?"



The kitten cautiously approached before pouncing for the meat and absconding down the steps with it.

"Nay, just practicin',” came the reply. “Good morn to ye' Silea."

(Shit. Forgot a customary greeting.) “And to you, Sedricks."

Silea tilted her head slightly, looking fondly at the instrument. "I realize we have not had many casual conversations." (Did this situation call for small talk, or a more direct approach? Azais and Quiz made talking casually to people look so easy.)

"Aye, perhaps.” Sedricks continued to tune and strum. “Somethin' on yer mind?"

Silea looked up towards the faded tiles on the rooftops. "One of many realizations in recent weeks. I wonder perhaps if it has made those I care about question whether I do so." (Stop overthinking you numpty and say what you came here to say.)

With that, she looked back down to meet Sedricks' gaze. "I am worried about Azais. She seemed to be alright, but I distinctly saw a woman whisper something to her when we were briefly separated in the parade crowd. And then she killed a man in cold blood, a man who was not near death. There's something strange behind her eyes, but I detect no magic beyond her own skill."

"Azais? Ye mean when she killed tha’ Wailer?"

Silea shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. It wasn't so much that she killed him, but in how she did so. It seemed strange."

"I thought she just used tha dagger of hers." Sedriks shrugged, "She uses tha’ strange relic oft enough."

"True, she does. Though she brushed off my concern when I asked her what had happened. She seemed not to recall certain key details about the evening, was evasive when I asked if she felt anything strange, and her response to killing that Red Wailer was 'I haven't killed anyone in a while'. I know Azais to have a certain degree of...enthusiasm for killing, but this seemed like it could be more. Like it could be a compulsion."

"Hmmm, but ye say if it be, it is not a magical compulsion?"

"At least not one that I could detect; that is my concern. That it may be a form of compulsion that we are unfamiliar with and thereby do not know how to combat." Silea hesitated, swallowing uncomfortably at the novelty of such a prolonged verbal expression of thought. "As...different...as she and I are in method and in manner, she is my friend and was there to protect me when I needed help and did not know how to ask. I will do my best to ensure she is also safe and so I merely felt it unwise to keep my concerns to myself."

Silea closed her eyes briefly and speaking more softly, muttered: "We know how well that worked out for me last time."

Sedricks at this point had set aside his viola and was regarding Silea with a curious concentration. "Have ye spoken to Quiz about it? I admit to having much confidence in Azais, but the domains of arcane are not my purview."

"Beyond when I mentioned it briefly that night to everyone, I admittedly have not," Silea opened her eyes to meet Sedricks’ gaze again, (don't stare) then quickly lowered them slightly, reminding herself that prolonged eye contact often made others in this land uneasy. "Though as you are close, I thought it would be prudent to at least voice my concern to you.” Silea paused briefly, reminding herself what she had meant to say. “It occurred to me,” she continued quickly, “that if it is not a magical compulsion, one of the best non magical art forms with extreme sway is music. You might be better equipped to understand the events of that night."

Sedricks cocked an eyebrow, studying her face with an unreadable expression. "Fair then, I shall make not of it. I am due ta see her later this afternoon in any case. I'll keep me eyes on alert for what ye speak." He paused, reaching for and fiddling with the strings of his instrument. "I don't know that I agree with ye about the music though, I just play this 'ere viola.”

"Thank you, Sedricks. I am unaccustomed to expressing myself in this way, and am attempting to be better at learning the social norms of this land. I know I may seem overprotective, though I am merely fiercely loyal to my friends and companions and would not see you or her or any of our allies harmed. I recognize I cannot keep everyone safe alone. I am not infallible. And 'that there viola' in your hands has as much power as a drawn sword or a spell. I have long admired your ability.” Silea smiled, remembering. “We chanted and danced at the monastery, and there were some who could play instruments, though I sadly did not have the aptitude for learning one."

With that, Silea turned slowly to go, forgetting that it was customary to speak words of farewell and feeling slightly overwhelmed at the volume of verbiage she had managed to string together into a cohesive and semi graceful line of expression.

Sedriks turned slightly, once again regarding Silea closely as she made to leave. "Why, are ye loyal?"

Silea froze still half facing away. "To whom?"

"Ye said ye are loyal to your friends and companions. So ye told me to whom. I'm askin' why." There was something probing in the Bard’s voice, an inquisitive lilt to the tone.

Silea remained half turned, considering, then spun sharply to face Sedricks, her voice low and quick, eyes flashing and her subtle body postures and expressions full of the magical somatic energy with which she would normally communicate much of her intention and emotions with the fellow acolytes of her order.

"Because we have been through much together and while we may occasionally disagree, You have always been reliable. Because I respect You. Because You did not leave me to die when it would have been easier and less risky to simply kill me. Because being part of a team is so much more than mere membership and I have seen and noted who is part of that team, and who are simply here for their personal gain or pleasure or own amusement. Because I have grown fond of You all. There are variations of why, but don't mistake me: I do not feel particularly loyal to EVERYONE in our guild. I feel allegiance towards those who are truly companions and friends. Those who have earned my trust."

Sedriks remained silent for several moments regarding Silea appraisingly. “That is the most ye have ever spoke to me in one sitting. Interestin'"

Silea spoke softly, a wry smile growing on her face. “It is the most I have said in one sitting to many people. I am practicing."

"Indeed, and it shows."

"Thank you. Nettle is a good practice partner."

"What, the horse?"

"Yes,” she said seriously. “He listens without judgement at my attempts to make unawkward conversation."

Sedriks laughed dryly, which caused Lute, who had long finished eating both bacon and butterfly to leap up and settle contentedly in his hood.

A mischievous twinkle that had been absent since the Wytchstone fever had held her in its grasp flared briefly in Silea's eyes. “He, unfortunately, cannot respond though, so I am starting to move on to more active partners."

"Makes sense. Tell me, what do ye make of Sou'Brook?"

Silea leaned against the railing on the steps, her momentary glory at having a joke land overshadowed by the mention of their unsettling surroundings.

"Truthfully, my skin has been on edge since we arrived. It feels wrong here, somehow. But I cannot describe it accurately as anything more specific than 'wrong'."

"There is a madness here, I dinnae like it."

"Agreed. Something or things afflict this town. It seems to have many sources. Perhaps it would be wise not to travel anywhere alone?”

"We'll keep our eyes open I suppose. I'm waiting to hear from Trunk with what they've been up to."

Sedriks shrugged, and began toying with the viola again.

"Of course." Silea hesitated, gauging whether his actions warranted that the conversation was finished before making her decision. She turned to go again, then remembered: "Thank you for the conversation."

"Anytime.”