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Snippet #2403658

located in Albion, a part of Avalon's Dawn, one of the many universes on RPG.

Albion

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kethyrian Tor Character Portrait: Diomache Castillo
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Well. This entire operation grew more complicated by the hour, didn’t it? Kethyrian was not one to indulge overmuch in the deeply-rooted superstitions of her people, but her mother had been an ardent believer in the Lady, and perhaps something subconscious about the whole affair had stuck in her mind. Whatever the case, hearing what was at stake had made everything they were doing seem so much more
 purposive. The favisae was quite sure she’d given up her personal ambitions a long time ago, and the promise of glory, of being a hero, didn’t entice her
 much. It would certainly be nice to have something to throw in the faces of certain relatives, even if she never actually took the chance to do it.

Surprisingly more compelling was the entreaty to save Her. It was initially a strange and jarring concept, she decided, forking another bite of whatever the cook was serving into her mouth and chewing pensively. She was too absorbed in her thinking to really taste it, though as a rule, it wasn’t as bad as she’d expected of airship fare. The Lady was accorded such a level of reverence that it was hard to imagine anything being able to threaten Her, let alone to the point that She needed saving. The Guardian had spoken so casually, taking her existence as simple fact, no question about it. She might have been skeptical of that, but after what she’d seen, what she’d been shown, she wasn’t sure skepticism was the smart response here.

Was a fallible goddess still a goddess, or something else? Kethyrian frowned, the question making her discontent, partly because she didn’t know the answer, and partly because it was not the kind of thing that she really desired to be relevant to her life. Appealing or not, the notion of grand adventure and heroic action produced more disdain in her than anything. It wasn’t something she really wanted anything to do with
 right?

Dio was not really interested in the rewards of heroic action, but rather the heroic action itself. The way she'd joined this group had been almost on a whim, as it had been an opportunity that had just seemingly randomly been presented to her, and she took it up because nothing else was required of her, and because it seemed like a worthy cause, saving the world and all that. But after venturing into the heart of the desert, and standing on a platform with her eight companions, where there had clearly been nine spaces laid out for them, she couldn't help but feel strangely right, sitting at the bow of the airship as she was. She was supposed to be here now, she didn't just want to be here now. She didn't particularly like the idea that her course had somehow already been set for her, but the Guardian implied that there were choices ahead. Whatever they were, Dio would strive to make sure she made the right ones. She wondered if she'd have to sway any of her companions on that front.

Her stomach rumbling reminded her of what she was supposed to be doing, and that was eating. The fight back down on the surface hadn't been the easiest she'd ever been through, and the use of her powers had left her a little drained. A hot meal would do her good, no doubt. To that end, she cheerily got up and made her way down to the mess hall, saying hello to a few of the crew as she passed. Most of them didn't say much back, but that was okay.

Dio had traded combat gear for loose fitting garb, and her sandals flapped against the soles of her feet as she strode into the mess hall. The hat she wore over her hair was a dark, royal purple, but the simple fashion in which it had been crocheted implied anything but royalty. She went and poured herself a bowl of beef stew before taking a look around and searching for somewhere to sit. A good meal was never eaten alone, and some of the best friends the thief had around the world were made over breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

She spied Kethyrian, the quiet Favisae woman, sitting all by her lonesome, seemingly deep in thought, and Dio certainly couldn't blame her, what with the revelations of the day. She was no follower of the Lady herself, though she was as close to that religion as any other. Spending a year underground, she had learned much about the Favisae people, and the idea that they were to save such a revered being was no doubt hard for her to wrap her head around. It occurred to Dio, as friendly as she was, that she might want to talk about it to someone, because talking about things that bothered her seemed to be a good way to figure out a way around them.

"It's good to be back in the air, don't you think?" she asked pleasantly, with a warm smile to match, as she took a seat across from Kethyrian. "I've never really been comfortable with the desert, even less so recently." That brought up that other thing Dio meant to ask her about. She'd been hoping the Favisae woman would explain how she knew about the Zar'Thrak saving her life, but so far she'd said nothing. She was certain she'd have remembered her if Kethyrian had been there. With that hair of hers...

Kethyrian looked up from her meal with the faintest hint of surprise upon being talked to. She’d rather thought she’d successfully convinced everyone but Vivian that she wasn’t at all pleasant to speak with, but
 ah. The girl. That explained it. There were people in the world who could take hints, and there were those who could not. The question that remained was whether Dio was here because she could, and had picked up on the fact that they were previously acquainted (after a fashion), or because she couldn’t, and was like Vivian too energetic and friendly to care that Kethy would rather not partake in conversation.

“I would expect you are not,” she confirmed bluntly, then took another bite before continuing. “Nor am I. It is bright, it is dry, and it is hot. Caves are much the opposite.” And it was rather obvious that Kethyrian had been made for caves. Photosensitivity and skin that dried out in miserable heat were not a comfortable combination, and she had not been oblivious to the fact that she fared worse than most of them out there, going so far as to stand in Sven’s shadow in an attempt to stave off the worst of it. Something humiliating enough that she would not have normally contemplated it.

"On the bright side," Dio said, after taking a spoonful of soup, "I do believe it'll be much cooler where we're going. No sand at all." Leave it to Dio to find the bright side in that. They were likely to freeze their tails off at the Source of the World, she expected. Perhaps it would be a nice change of pace.

"I've actually been curious... how you knew me, and how you knew what I'd gone through," she said, preferring just to cut to it. She suspected that was how Kethyrian preferred to converse by now, judging by what she'd heard her say (or how little she'd heard her say) previously. She lowered her voice, as she did consider this somewhat a private matter. The Favisae were private people, and did not have all that much contact with the other species. The Zar'Thrak's choosing to not only save her life but allow her to stay for an entire year was not usual.

"The Zar'Thrak let me stay for a year after I woke," she said, scratching at the back of her neck. "I'm certain I would have at least met you in that time, and that I'd have remembered you. None of the others had hair like yours..." She spoke the last sentence more quietly than the others, as she had learned enough of the Favisae to know what Kethyrian being striped meant. Until she knew the woman's opinion on her own birth, she'd try to tread lightly around it.

There was a silence from the favisae for a while after that, the downturn of her mouth growing slightly more pronounced at the delicate mention of her rather obvious bastard status, but then she shrugged. “I’m the reason the Zar’Thrak were there in the first place,” she said, meeting the other woman’s eyes for the first time during the conversation. “As I am sure you learned, they are the most accomplished scouts among our people. An exit was required, one that led out into the desert. For you, it became an entrance.”

She had no intention of giving the reason the exit had been sought for her, but she figured that Dio had as much right to her own story as anyone else, and Kethyrian happened to have a part of it that the thief would not remember. “You were dehydrated and unconscious when they found you. Zar’Thraki scouts do not often travel with healers.” She raised a clawed hand, folding in every finger but the index, and used it to point to herself.

“They let me stick around long enough to make sure you didn’t die. After that, it was off to the surface for me. I expect they wanted to make sure you weren’t a spy before they released you, but a year is irregular, yes.” She shook her head dismissively. Whatever reasons they’d had were none of her concern, anyway.

So she saved her life? Dio probably should have been expecting that, considering that the woman was a skilled healer and all, but... this changed everything, didn't it? Didn't it? It seemed like it should. She truly remembered nothing of that day beyond a few hours of stumbling in the desert. Heatstroke and dehydration had taken care of the rest. She couldn't help but wonder why they had never told her of Kethyrian, but if she'd had to leave, it was probably for good reason.

"You saved my life," Dio said after swallowing, as though Kethyrian hadn't just made that obvious. "I-- thank you, you certainly didn't have to do that, you had no reason to trust me. I'll make this up to you. I don't know if anything I could do would be sufficient, but I will definitely try. I'm good at making hats, I suppose. If you want one, I could make one, it'll get cold up north, a hat would keep your ears warm..." She was rambling a bit, but it wasn't every day that someone saved her life out of the goodness of their hearts, and Dio did her best to reward goodness in hearts when she could.

Kethyrian blinked, fixing Dio with a flat golden stare. Cocking her head to one side, she scrutinized the younger woman, as though trying to figure something out. When she had concluded her examination, however, she shook her head. “That will not be necessary,” she said brusquely. The thief’s intentions seemed honest enough, but suspicion was not the reason she was refusing anything in return. “I do not accept payment for healing. Even what the guild pays me is for the other applications of my magic.” Namely, the ones that involved killing with it.

She wasn’t sure how best to explain that, or even if she should, but something told her that unless the reasons were sufficiently clear, Dio wouldn’t simply let the matter drop and abide by her wishes. Humans were like that, sometimes, unable to see the practical around their notions of things like reciprocity and honor. Useless, all of them, but then perhaps not fatally so in a society where excess was possible. So Kethyrian sighed through her nose and gave it her best shot. “Healing is done because it is necessary. Death is a waste, and favisae waste nothing. We cannot afford to kill even our criminals. These labor, or, if their crimes are grave enough, are sent away, for even then there is a chance that they might contribute something, somewhere. That I healed you was only proof that they are correct.” After all, if they’d killed her, Dio probably would have died as well, another waste that need not have been.

“Unless you would repay a fish for swimming or a river for flowing, do not repay me for healing. It is what I am, not what I do.”

"What's your favorite color, Kethyrian?" she asked, smiling expectantly.

The favisae’s lips compressed into a thin line. It would appear that she had been thoroughly ignored. This was a road she had tread many a time with Vivian, however, and she had learned that relenting was the best way to make it stop. “
purple,” she replied in a monotone. “But I swear before the Lady, if the hat has bells or puffy anything, I’ll undo everything I did to help you.”

"Oh, if only I had bells..." Dio sighed wistfully, before realizing something. "Oh! You know who would have bells? Gwen. I bet Gwen would give me some. You'd jingle with every step!" She looked to be struggling to keep a straight face, and soon failed altogether, snickering a little to herself. "I kid, I kid. How's this one?" she flicked her eyes up, to the hat currently on her head, of plain design and a rich, dark purple in color. "I could make one just like it for you. We could match. Think of it as a gift, not payment. I like giving gifts. I do it all the time."

Really, she understood where Kethyrian was coming from, and she wholly approved of the ideal. It was one of the things she'd found so compelling about the people, that they were willing to give even their criminals a chance to make use of themselves, to contribute in some way. If people weren't allowed to show the best in themselves, there really wasn't a point. And honestly, this had really become more just about her wanting to make a hat for someone than anything. She had dozens for herself already, and really hadn't had cause to make any more lately. But she'd really have to make a neat one with some of Gwen's accessories sometime...

Rolling her eyes, Kethyrian leaned forwards and propped her chin on the heel of a hand. “I doubt very much I could stop you,” she said bluntly, raising a snow colored brow. “So do what you like. The color is quite
 satisfactory.” It was, actually, being rather a favorite shade of hers, right after the slightly lighter, redder amethyst. She doubted very much that yarn came in quite that color, besides. A thought struck her, then, and she almost smiled.

“I suggest, however, that if you ever make one for our resident scholar, you include holes for the antlers.” The mental image lit a spark of amusement somewhere behind her eyes, present enough to even be observable. It seemed she was feeling rather personable today, at least compared to her usual self. Dio laughed once, imagining how that would look. "I'll keep that in mind."

She found herself quite pleased with how that had gone. Great things were often begun over breakfast, lunch, and dinner indeed.

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