Snippet #2627433

Tallyho let her foot drop back to the ground and huffed slightly, a breath peppered with mild amusement and faux frustration.
“Well I’ll try not to think so hard,” she perked her head to the side with a soft snort, “eh?”

Tallyho took a few steps backward, initiating their adventure. However she felt a new presence over her shoulder. It was Kyle. While she wanted to try and practice kindness toward the other warrior, she didn’t waste much time speaking to him.
“We don’t have time to bumble about, we’re on our way outside of the wall. But if you’re down for adventure you’re welcome to follow along.”

She then started down the walkway, hardly even alerting Falke with a quick nudge at his leg.

The walk wasn’t so terribly long. While the RK was large and expansive, the many alleyways made travel pretty direct and citizens didn’t have to waste much time following the main streets. Tallyho navigated the crowds like a wispy, cloud. Moving in a way that not so much as caught two seconds of attention. She kept her eyes on her shoes. Her shoulders folded into herself and were not so square, so she never bumped shoulders with random shmucks. At some point she had haphazardly tied her hair back tight and secured it in a bun. From roots to knot her hair seemed straight and her curls, which tangled freely about her bun were secured under the sheath of a red silk scarf.

Tallyho didn’t particularly like the way red (especially bright red) looked on her. She found it too striking and often defaulted to emeralds, mauves and crème colors. But even with this red silk knotted in her hair she felt comfortable beneath the light of attention. It was silly of her, really, to feel so secretive. Especially since, if anyone in the kingdom had taken the time out of their busy lives to look any of the warriors square in the face, they’d know exactly who she was.

It had only taken a week for the kingdom to be adorned with banners and textiles and handmade posters with the warriors’ likenesses plastered on them. On some liquor stall was a wooden sign with the cartoonish depiction of a woman, blonde and petite, slathered onto it in acrylic. The woman was posed with a shower of small golden stones tumbling about her next to the crudely written (and pretty generic) collection of words, “SPIRITS--FORTUNE--GOODNIGHT”.

Maybe it would have been presumptuous for Tallyho to assume that the woman was supposed to be Autumn, but if the other warrior paraphernalia scattered around the markets taught her anything, it was that she would be right to assume so anyway.

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Haru kept his eyes on the table as Lillian spoke but when Ryou finally inserted himself, with a brash and sudden entrance, the redhead stared. He was listening to the guardian, sure, but he wasn’t really. He was too distracted by the obvious anger oozing from every exhale and Haru’s eyes narrowed as he tried to dissect exactly what he could have done to get such a response.

Arms crossed, he sat back in his chair and suddenly his clothes felt a little too tight. Collar just a little too itchy. He felt an instantaneous urge to leave the meeting.

“Right,” he grunted, struggling to sit up again. He spoke quickly. “Well it seems that the majority of us would prefer going after the book then. I’ll contact the council… Let them know that we are going to be doing some investigation on oblivion. Worst case scenario they send us with Trent and his men. Depending on what they say, be prepared to leave between a week and a month from now. Hopefully sooner than later. If any of you have any changes of heart or additional input we can reconvene…”

And then Haru got up and left, turning corners quickly and gone soon enough. But it was not his own room to where he retreated, instead he parked himself in Ryou’s. Seated on the foot of his bed, hunched over and visibly frustrated.

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As they approached the edges of the walls the crowds became less dense. And maybe it was the extra space, or the sloppy purr of horses, or the sound of the thick curtains of a caravan wagon flapping in the wind that made her so comfortable.

“We’re here,” he rasped, voice cracking slightly. But she did not take off running.

It wasn’t easy going home when you hadn’t been there in such a long time and you weren’t sure if it would be the same way you left it. She felt exposed approaching the cluster of wagons, firewood, and clothes lines and she longed for the safety of the crowd.

There were no sun people in sight and Tallyho felt pretty foolish. She’d definately feel like a creeper if the caravan wasn’t there and came back to find the month warrior sulking around the settlement.

“Maaa!” A small exclamation came from behind a wagon and a tiny moon-faced girl peeked from behind the wagon’s sheets. Her curly yellow hair was short as a cherub’s or a newborn’s even though she looked to be at least 5 years old. She was a chubby girl too, wearing her weight on her face and feet as much as she did on her belly.

A woman, slender and quite common looking poked her head out from inside the back of the wagon. Her hair was wild from a long nap and glowed like wheat. She looked first at her daughter, with sunken eyes and reached for her, as if to pull her back into the wagon.

But then she followed her daughter’s bewildered gaze and her face flashed with a sense of surprise, like she was caught off guard and she looked around, probably trying to find other caravan members and ensure that there was safety in numbers. And then she looked again and her hand rose up, and pointing at Tallyho she let go of her daughter’s shoulder. She bared her teeth in a gasping smile and looked around again this time calling out.

“Dene! Dene, Dene come quick,” she said.

And quickly a man came, potbellied and silver bearded, hustling through the laundry on the clothesline. Emerging with a sense of urgency from behind a thick carpet hanging to dry.

And more faces emerged from the backs of wagons and gasping overtook the field.

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“Alright warrior, good spar!” Trent laughed as he chucked his empty goblet in a bush, “I swear the more we do this the better you get. I might have to give you a spot on my special task force.”

And no, Trent wasn’t joking. And was beaming at Dorian as the servant ran to retrieve Trent’s tossed goblet in the background.
The dark-haired general swaggered his way over to the nearest bench and plopped down.

“So uh… What in Goddesses’ name is wrong with your team?” The subject change seemed quite sudden. “I’m a General, I was trained on how to make men work together and I definitely see the strain. I heard about that wreck of a scene at the banquet, actually. A lot of people did. Heh, I pray those fools don’t get you maimed in battle.”

He nodded at Dorian’s hand and snickered.

“I would have let that plebe gut himself.”

He then proceeded to laugh at his own joke.

“Say… If you don’t want to think about them so much, how about we go out on the town tonight? You and me this time, none of those hooligan knights. I mean, they start fights like haggard beasts!”

Apparently Trent was always too wasted to remember that he was usually the main instigator during his nights of debauchery.

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“Get Yagi,” the original woman swooned. And handfuls of children, slightly older than the very first scattered with excitement.
And as the children ran, another woman came with open hands and framed Tallyho’s face.

“Sister, why are you hiding this?” And she slid the silk from her hair and let the curls fall. And the woman hugged her. And the others followed and they came upon her. And those who could not latch onto Tallyho herself held someone who could, and others held someone who could hold someone who was holding Tallyho.

And Tallyho was straight up crying.