Ksenia Thirri's Story

“Please.” The voice was strained. “Can’t you see he’s suffering?”

A hand, a little too thin from malnutrition, gripped firmly around Ksenia’s wrist. It was less than iron-clad, something proved as she broke the hold with little more than a shake. The pleading persisted, much to her distaste. The desperation was leaving a bitter taste in her mouth and she contemplated helping by putting the pair out of their misery.

“Piss off.” She all but spat, adjusting the sleeves of the robe that had just been disheveled.

The woman was aghast, gripping her boy as if to protect him from some invisible assailant. Still, she moved to block Ksenia’s way as she took a step, ready to leave the uncomfortable encounter far behind. Eyes, a brilliant blue, turned back to the frail frame that blocked her way with a look akin to storm clouds gathering right before a storm. It was that look that struck fear in others, not her small five-foot-four stature or slender frame. It was that look and what usually followed.

“B-but you’re a healer, you can’t fool me. You are marked.” The woman’s eyes shifted from Ksenia’s to the three white lines forever burnt into the flesh beneath her left eye.

Sen’s fingertips instinctively brushed her cheek, feeling the lines that hadn’t faded in time. Her demeanor softened a little and the storm raged inwards. It was true, she had been branded a Child of the Light; it was a fact that she could never forget. Still… “That was a life time ago.” Her voice was soft, eyes on the ground as she tugged her hood a little further down.

When her vision rose there was a shadow of a smile on her face that didn’t reach those eyes. Her hand darted out, firmly gripping the child’s arm directly on top of the burn in question. She heard him cry out in pain, though she spoke over it. “I am Magica, now.”

A word, not quite heard, was mumbled under breath and the child’s crying stop. Goosebumps rose across the boy, testament to the coolness that spread across his skin. It was a simple ice spell but it was doing the trick. Ksenia knew that try as she might, there was no way she could access the power to heal that should have been passed down inherently.

When she dropped her hand she was already walking away, not pausing to look back at the confused thank-you’s of a protective albeit annoying mother. Her mind wasn’t on the alley, or the lower class citizens. They were far away, lingering between nostalgia and failed self-expectations; a place no respectable Magica should be. Xavport’s lower levels had that effect. You could find anything you wanted in the city, and plenty of things you didn’t. If you weren’t careful one could find themselves tangled in the dangers that lurked just below Xav.

“Fucking bring it.” She sighed, steeling herself and raising her chin as she rounded a corner and headed towards the busier area of bustling seaside town. She didn’t have time to wallow in ancient history when there was business at hand.

The scene playing out before her wasn’t one she expected. While fighting was commonplace, more so as of late, it usually was between merchants and customers or in a barroom brawl. Here was a man picking on a child. By picking, she of course meant beating. To further the surprise, the stranger was clearly a traveller and the child a face she recognized well. Ksenia grimaced as an exceptionally large fist collided with the youth’s back, dropping him to the street. Her eyes rolled as the outsider vocalized some lesson, instilled by physical pain, before walking away- in her direction.

Sen stilled a moment as she took the time to size up the man. Her eyes lingered on the bare flesh that proclaimed years of refining and training. She tried to place the skill of the leatherwork he wore, though came up blank. It was apparent he was from elsewhere, though it troubled her she couldn’t place it where. Although, it wasn’t just the clothing or lack thereof that placed him outside Xav, but the target of his aggression spoke volumes for ignorance.

Decidedly, her hands knocked the oversized hood from her head and revealed her own identity. Long, dark tresses tumbled in natural waves over the black cloak. Her features were fair and spoke of youth, though something older and hardened glinted behind stormy eyes. Her movements were sure, posture confident as she took a step to the left to block the path of the man who’d just attacked a boy in the streets. Ksneia was all to aware of their weight and size difference, standing at five-foot-four and easily less than half his weight. Still, she had her own advantages.

“What, run out of men your own size to fight?”

Ksneia willed herself not to look at the large axe at the man’s hip, nor think about how many others he had felled with it. She could feel the eyes of the merchants and customers around staring at them; she could hear their whispers. Yes, she was perhaps biting off more than she could chew. Yes, she was sticking her nose in places it perhaps didn’t belong. But for all the crime that Matvei couldn’t control she wouldn’t stand for a grown (or overgrown) man picking on a near-child.

“I’m not going to say that boy doesn’t need a good spanking, but who are you to play parent or police? Keep your hands to yourself, stranger.”

She was letting him know that she knew he was from elsewhere. Ksenia herself hadn’t originated in Xav, though attendance to Facultas has wordlessly adopted the port to her home. Her birthplace was elsewhere in Arakin, and a place she cared not to return to. Sen’s hand gripped a pendant at her neck. It was an absent movement, though one she’d made over and over again.

“That boy you lectured is nephew to the King and the repercussions will likely not just effect you, but resound here in this friendly marketplace. If you’d like I can give you a lesson on how to appropriately meet friends- your own age.”

Sen couldn’t help it, she could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“The great thing about Xav is that it doesn’t matter where you’re from or where you’re headed, as long as you don’t cause trouble.” She replied, though the rest she left unanswered.

Ksenia hadn’t assumed anything. She’d seen him nearly beat a boy less than half his size and with the power to detain or imprison the entire district; she’d didn’t want to be prosecuted for stupid actions that weren’t her own. Apparently others felt the same. She could see a few of those that had gathered nodding their head and murmuring their agreement to her words, which held true by just a glance around; the skin colour varied as much as the clothing. Xavport was a cultural hub and melting pot for the entirety of the country. People were magnetically drawn to the rich commercial opportunities.

Years does not wisdom or maturity make… She thought.

She could already see that talk would do no good. Her words weren’t penetrating the thick skull of the brute. His defenses were up and he was reading things that didn’t exist in her words.

Sen absently reached for the medallion she wore around her neck. It was the seal of Facultas, a sign that she had graduated from the prestigious magic school both feared and revered.

“Look, she’s Magica.” Ksenia heard a woman whisper nearby.

“I bet she could take him.” Her comrade nodded, eyebrows rising in surprise.

Despite the fact that Arakin housed Facultas, the majority of the students and professors kept to themselves on their islands. Those that did venture out into the mainland cities were generally unmarked. It avoided awkward circumstances of requests for spells, or unwarranted attacks from others that felt threatened by power. She, too, was often one that liked to remain anonymous and tucked the coin into the bodice of her tunic.

It wasn’t long before she could hear the rhythmic drum of heavy boots on cobblestone streets that announced soldiers long before they could be seen. Somewhere in the back of the crowd someone began to yell that the guards were headed in numbers towards the gathering. People began to disperse.

“Unless you want to be thrown in a dungeon for the night, I suggest you flee.” She said, turning to take her own advice. Ksenia paused, glancing back at him with almost a look of pity. “Come, I know a place.”

And with that she was off, pulling her head over her hair once more.

Thinking about the cause of all the madness that had ensued since his casual stroll down a dirt road, to the rather fear striking escape he was about to undergo, he followed the woman who said she had a safe place to stay. He could feel soldiers close in with each step, and quickened his pace. Countless possible horrific outcomes flooded his mind as he considered what options he had.

"I didn't know just looking at some guy would cause this much trouble," he spoke up, more to himself than anyone else. Concentrating on what was happening around him, and especially the soldiers, if Ksenia were to look back at him she'd see some worry upon the foreigner's face. He gulped, having a deeper and more serious tone now, and steeled himself for the next moments.

"I'm not sure you know how much a safe place would mean to me right now, that is if you aren't pulling my leg. But before you go too far, I'm warning you that I have no money," Talmar told her, looking shiftily too the sides of the street. "I can explain more things later if you like, but..." he paused a moment, choosing his words carefully. "It's crowded."

As the two continued along their path, people looked confusedly at them. One moment, it was as if they were at each other's throats, and now they're walking away almost friends. However, their glances were interrupted as soldiers came to the intersection where Talmar had turned. The royal nephew was not late to tell everyone what went on.

"This man, he carried an axe and a sword," the boy began, dusting himself off as he stood before the soldiers. "After he quickly beat some brute around the corner, I offered him a job as a gladiator and he beat me for it, trying to say 'gladiator arenas are bad' and all that-"

"Which way did he go?" a soldier asked, going straight to the point.

"Down the street, that way," the adolescent pointed.

Ksenia couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she wound her way through the crowd. The disdain was clearly audible as she replied, calling back to the man that was barely a foot behind her. Her quick strides were almost matched by his long ones, mentally noting that if push came to shove she wouldn’t be able to out run him.

“I don’t think it was the look so much as the boot to the face that caught attention.”

Her lithe form abruptly turned around a corner and down a narrow alley. It was a risk; if the soldiers caught up to them their it’d be impossible to escape, but the side street cut the distance in half and it was will worth the gamble. Sen didn’t bother to see if the stranger followed, though she could feel his shadow on her skin even as the sun faded from the sky. Another turn and they were back out on a busy road.

His next comment made her laugh, albeit mockingly. “Listen, hun. If I wanted to make coin it wouldn’t be for harboring illegals. And trust me, you want the crowds right now… the more people, the harder you’ll be to spot.”

The change in his tone wasn’t missed. The suspicion and secrecy to his words made Ksenia question the gravity of the situation. Was there more going on than harshly scolding a nobleborn? Had she bitten off more than she could chew? The magica pushed the thoughts from her mind, steeling herself to the path she’d decided on. She’d gotten herself out of bad situations before, this one would be no different.

Direction changed and halted. A wooden sign hung over a red door with letters spelling out ‘The Gilded Fox’. The entrance was low, though she passed in through it just fine. Those that were exceptional in height, like Talmar, would need to duck a little. Inside, however, had vaulted ceilings complete with rafters. Long wooden tables filled the establishment that was little more than a tavern, all of the stools of which were filled with patrons most of whom were too drunk to notice the new arrivals. Ksenia headed straight to the bar.

“Kens! Long time to see!” A blonde greeted cheerily.

“Sorry to cut this reunion short, Bec, but we need in the back.” Ksenia replied, sounding apologetic.

The blond wench allowed her eyes to shift to the large man that had accompanied her friend before returning to Ksenia. She frowned a moment before nodding, following Sen to a door on a back wall. Once the pair had ducked inside, a curtain was pulled across the wall to hide the entrance and it blended in like the rest of the booths and décor.

Ksenia side, resting against the wall, suddenly aware she was stuck in a room with a stranger that had just nearly beat a boy. Her chin raised a fraction of an inch, staring at the stranger with bright blue eyes.

"I know it'd be easier to blend in, but that also means more people might get hurt."

As the two came to what was a tavern titled "The Gilded Fox," Talmar listened to the words his new found companion had to offer. His height a bit of an extraordinary trait of his, he leaned down so that he could walk into the building, and into the room Ksenia had secured for them in the back. For a moment, it seemed he could actually relax; taking his weapons of his hip, he let them lay on the floor away from him as he sat down with his back against the wall, his knees propped up and his arms resting on them.

Sitting down, Ksenia stared as if trying to figure out what exactly was going on. His aggression, swiftly followed by seriousness, complimented with remarks of needing a safe place for no money. Thinking about it, he could say that it was a bit confusing who are what he was and was doing. Talmar looked back, his azure eyes deepened and eye lids darkened from lack of sleep. His overall figure was rugged, but Ksenia could see now it wasn't that he was rugged, it was that he was worn down from his travels and all that have come along with it.

"So I'm sure you want to barrage me with questions," Talmar began, "ask me who are you? What's your name? Why are you beating children? Why are you being suddenly so serious? Why are you making things sound more serious than they seem to be? Where are you from? How old are you, and why was that a bigger deal earlier? And I'm sure the list goes on."

His voice was mundane, carrying on as if he anticipated this, or was even too tired to care. His eyes shifted away for a moment, pondering.

"But what's your name?"

He was wrong. He was all wrong. The assumption caused Sen to roll her eyes; clearly he didn’t listen.

“None of that really matters. The less you know the easier it is around here.” She said, offering one more final lecture. And perhaps it was a warning too. Ksenia had a few secrets of her own of course, though those were rare to spill across her lips and rarer still were those that knew “This isn’t some epic the bards will sing about; you assaulted a highborn, I seriously doubt your age will matter.”

Her lips, plump, tugged into a smile. A soft laugh escaped. It was in that moment that the situation became all the more comical to her. Even her harsh words, though truthful, seemed funny to her somehow. Her head bent back, resting against the door that was hidden from the other side. She closed her eyes.

How do I always seem to get myself into these situations? She pondered. Life as a healer would have been all the more easy, and the curtsey she was awarded just for bearing the scar was testament enough to that. But that wasn’t her, that wasn’t her life. She had already accepted this and learned to play the cards that were dealt to her.

“Sen.” She replied, eyes snapping open and settling on the man. “Ksenia, that is.”

A name. What harm could a name do?

Outside she heard some noise; the sound of boots over the drunken crowd. The soldiers were searching the bar. Her finger rose, pressing to her lips in a sign for silence. Still, the crowd seemed to pay the guards no heed. She knew they were safe.