A thousand fleeting thoughts darting through his mind, stumbling through the longer grasses that threatened to trip him up, Evander whipped his head up as a sudden woman's voice tore his musings away. He was startled that she had come so close to him before he had noticed her, and his face showed it. “Who-” he blurted out as she spoke, then looked over his shoulder back when he realized she was asking about the obelisks he had left behind. He frowned in momentary confusion, scrambling for a way to explain the rocky formations that wouldn't pin the cause on him. They were the work of a mage, obviously. Perhaps he could say he was merely a farmer running away from them? The weight of the sword at his side immediately forced him to discard that idea. A farmer would not carry a sword, but perhaps he could pretend he was someone who did... Looking back at Alanna, Evander straightened up. “Mage done it. I was about to get her, but she started all that before I could get close,” he explained, tapping the sword hilt. “Damn near got me killed. I wouldn't-” He cut himself short, having suddenly become aware of Adolin on the road, and more importantly the twin swords. Witcher swords. With a sinking feeling he realized that the Witcher would have a medallion, one that would be vibrating right now, identifying him as something not human. Much as it irritated him, at this point he figured telling the truth would be the most likely way for him to keep his skin intact. He wasn't in any state to start a fight with anyone right now. He sighed, and pointed over Alanna's shoulder at Adolin. “That's a fucking Witcher, isn't it?” He shrugged in defeat. “So I may have lied just then. My name is Evander the – earth mage,” he finished, stopping himself from giving his full title. Hell, now wished he hadn't used his real name. William in Novigrad had known too much for his liking, enough to know who Evander was. For all he knew these two would know who was right away as well. Fuck. Regardless of what he was thinking, he gave Alanna a deep, mocking bow. “I was the one who made all that.” He waved a hand over his shoulder. “Now, has your curiosity been satisfied? I hope so, because I have a few questions of my own.” He pointed at Adolin again. “You travel with what is obviously a Witcher, who with his medallion will have sensed that I'm not just a random farmer. That much I'm certain of.” At first glance, the Witcher would easily be considered the more dangerous of the two, and in fact Evander had first assumed that. He was now quickly reevaluating his assessment of them however. His finger suddenly swung to point directly at Alanna. “And yet it is you that comes up to me, a woman armed with just a dagger. Perhaps you have more on you, but even so I somehow doubt that you're simply relegated to defending yourself.” Evander eyed her closely. Assassin, doppler, mage, or something more exotic? He couldn't even begin to guess, but regardless he prepared himself. His fingers twitched on his sword-hilt, and a trickle of Power meandered through his body. He wouldn't make the first move in a fight, but he'd be damned if he'd go down easy. Ellyn regarded the soldiers with a haughty stare, perfectly imitating the look of someone who was used to subordinates doing as they said. Not a look she liked to assume very often, but it was necessary at times. “One of your soldiers has taken her here, corporal,” she said laying emphasis on his rank, and implying that she was much, much higher up the chain of command than he. She jerked a thumb back at Gordon. “She's this young lad's sister, and I have good reasons for bringing her back safely.” Ellyn urged Oak onward towards the gates, the stallion eager to acquiesce and bully his way past the soldiers, show these small metal-clad beings how much stronger he was. Ellyn for her part didn't seem to expect them to resist her demands. “Open the gates, and if you have any information on the girl, spit it out before I lose my patience!” she told the corporal in a tone of barely restrained expectancy.
His heaving chest struggled seemed to struggle to take in enough air, his robes clung to his back from the dampness of the sweat running down his body, gashed hands gripped his knees in a claw-like grip as he knelt on the ground. His face only showed desperation. A circle of five hundred meters of ripped and scourged earth now devoid of any vegetation surrounded Evander, marked by stone obelisks of varying sizes, the lowest eight feet tall, straight and smooth as a nobleman's tombstone, obviously the product of technique and skill, the tallest a towering mass of rock almost a hundred feet tall, rough and crumbling as a storm-wracked mountainside. It had been born of anger and desperation, a brutish work. And yet, none of it helped. Evander gritted his teeth. No, it hadn't worked. Not one bit. He'd always been told, always believed that if he just focused his mind and power enough, he could fend off the voice, wall it in, keep it away. It had always worked before, ever since he had been an apprentice to Ethal. It had been her that had found the solution to his problem. Ah, but she didn't really know, did she? Just a theory, wasn't it? And one you both thought confirmed. But what if, just what if, it had never been true? If I was just leading you on until the moment, eh? Evander squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his fists against his eyes forcefully. Oh gods, why wouldn't they just shut it up? I don't really like 'what if's' though, so I'll tell you the truth. Ethal lied to you. Oh, she found that she could keep me away for a time, for long enough for her and her masters to use you, but all along - Something in Evander snapped. “SHUT UP!” The voice simply laughed, and with a sinking feeling Evander realized that he had made a mistake, addressing it directly. For some reason, it seemed to have left him be, for now, but he was sure it would be back even stronger before long. Fuck. Struggling to his feet, he began walking, leaving the circle of obelisks behind. The tallest of the huge slabs of stone could be seen for miles around, and his display of the Power would be visible to those watching for such things at a much greater distance. Evander wasn't inclined to talk to anyone right now. He simply wanted to curl up on the nearest soft patch of grass and sleep, but as much as he was exhausted he knew he had to get away from this place, before someone with less than a little bit of common sense came to see who had made the obelisks. He began to trudge through the long grass.
At the sight of the wooden walls of the camp Ellyn pulled on the reigns, slowing Oak to a trot. The beast was breathing heavily, tired out from the pace he had set carrying heavy armor and two riders. A short rest would sort him out in no time, but they wouldn't be able to gallop any amount of distance should they have to make a quick escape. However, Ellyn was fairly certain that it wouldn't come to that. In any case, she wasn't going to leave without Matilda. They reached the camp gates, outside of which stood two(?) guards who once they noticed the riders straightened up and gripped their weapons in readiness. A few feet away from them Ellyn stopped Oak, and spoke to the guards. “Greetings, soldiers,” she called out to them. “I am Ellyn of Greenwood, searching for a girl I believe was brought here by one of yours. Matilda is her name, of Pontarsfork. Tell me what you know of her, or allow me into the camp to make my own inquiries.” Stumbling up a rise and half falling down the other side, Evander was running. Dawn was just breaking, and the city of Novigrad was many long night hours behind him. He had left by the northern gate, but he had a vague sense that he was now heading west. Or was it east? He didn't know, and it didn't matter, he had to run. What was he running from? Not from It, no. It was always present, looming up behind him, like a hand about to latch onto his shoulder only vaguely seen from the periphery of his vision. Only he couldn't anticipate when that hand would land. He knew that it should never had got to this point. He crashed through some bushes into a tree ringed hollow, and finally collapsed to his knees, exhausted and alone. Thank god he was alone. Only you aren't really alone. Evander shuddered. No, not alone, but far enough away from everyone else. It laughed a low, mocking laugh.
"Wh-What should I do?" The boys nervous tone drew a mixture of amusement and sympathy from Ellyn. She smiled, and simply told him, "Hold on tight!" With a gentle but firm tug on the reigns, Oak suddenly wheeled around on a dime, and almost galloped out of the yard. Turning his head to the western road, Ellyn reasoned that if the Nilfgaardian camp lay to the west, then this would be the best road to start off following. After that though, Gordon's guidance would be invaluable; the boy would know all the shortest roads, paths, and tracks, cutting their travel time down significantly. Hopefully. Time was of the essence right now. Not for the first time over the last few days, she wished she still had her pack-horse with her to carry both her armor and Oak's barding. She would have to get another soon... As they passed by the last few buildings in the village, Ellyn addressed Gordon again. "I need you to take me the fastest route possible," Ellyn told him over her shoulder. "No matter how muddy the track or deep the stream. Just yell and point when we need to turn." With those final instructions, she tapped her heels into Oak's sides, murmured a few words, and the stallion increased his speed to a canter, only held back from a dead gallop by his mistresses firm hold. Below the palace in Novigrad, mingling in the local's celebrations, Evander drank the health of Princess Annabelle Dragoncrest. He drank to it so much, that in all probability he had consumed an entire barrels worth of drink. Much more, and he would probably die. He didn't care. Seated on a large empty barrel, his feet dangling a few inches above the ground, the mage raised a mug of ale high above his head. "Here's to the Princess! Here's to her glorious father, the fucking king!" he roared. "And may the royal Dragoncrest's go on to have many more heirs, with which they may continue to oppress the people's of this stinking shithole of a city!" He stood up on his barrel, oblivious the angry glares some nearby people were giving him for his comments. "To the royal wench!" He raised his mug again, took a long swig, lost his balance, and fell down onto his back with a heavy thud. Some people laughed at the drunk, others shook their heads and glanced nervously at the nearest guard. Evander simply lay there, staring up into the sky. The truth was, the sudden elevation of this young girl to such a position of power awakened old memories. He remembered how he had suddenly gone from a humble masonry workshop to the royal courts of Aedirn to be trained by the resident mage during his initial years, how Evander himself had been appointed the King's Councillor Mage after the former passed away. His power and prestige had only increased from then, earning respect and authority in the Council of Mages, distinguishing himself in the fight against Nilfgaard, and to top it all off, marrying - STOP. He let the memories go. He was simply Evander now, a drunk, with no hope, no prospects, no power. "I want to die," he whispered to the sky fervently. Helloooo Evander.
Ellyn nodded firmly, her face showing her determination to keep the farmer's remaining child safe. “I shall do that, Farmer Dave, I promise. Your son will be as safe as if he was still here by your side.” She spoke slowly and clearly, looking him hard in the eye. “And your daughter as well, if- your daughter as well,” she muttered. I shouldn't have said 'if'. Wheeling around on her heel, Ellyn marched back across the field, motioning with her hand for Gordon to follow. “You're to follow me for now,” she said in response to his question. “Afterwards you will guide me to this Nilfgaardian camp, and then find your sister.” She smiled at him encouragingly. “If you're doubtful about your safety, don't be. I intend to bring both of you back unharmed.” Without another word she marched to the stable where Oak was kept, the horse raising his head at her entrance and whinnying in greeting, before laying his eyes flat at the sight of Gordon. Ellyn patted his head and led him out of the stables into the yard, checking to see that the saddle and heavy barding were secure. “This is Oak,” Ellyn told Gordon as she stroked the massive beast, admiration shining in her eyes. “He's a war horse you know, trained to kick and bite our enemies. I'll make sure he doesn't do that to you of course,” she grinned. “He'll also be protecting you and your sister.” Oak stamped his foot at his. Suddenly Ellyn swung up into the saddle and grasped the reigns with a hand, the other reaching down towards Gordon. “We'll be faster if you ride behind me” she explained, “and Oak won't mind. Up.” Oak snorted disdainfully. Evander is just gonna derp around Novigrad for a while.
With a determined nod Gordon agreed to accompany Ellyn, and she returned the nod in a sign of respect for the boy. “Thank you Gordon, you are right in saying that Matilda will be more inclined to come home if you're there to talk to her. And don't worry, this isn't so much a rescue mission as it is a...” she searched for the right words to finish her sentence, but couldn't find them. “Well, won't be a difficult mission. I just want to avoid having to bundle your sister in a sack if she refuses to come.” The gentle but serious tone in which she said this last part didn't seem to give the impression that she was being humorous. “Before we ride off into the sunset, however,” she continued, “I'll speak to your father first, and make sure he is alright with me taking you along. I wouldn't want him to be worrying about both his children being abducted.” Without waiting for a response from Gordon, Ellyn set off across the field, striding resolutely towards Dave. “Good morning sir, my name is Ellyn,” she began abruptly, getting straight to the point. She didn't want to spend more time than was necessary before setting off to find Matilda before... anything bad happened, but she forced herself to be polite. She was partially doing this for Dave anyway. “Gordon has told me about Matilda, and I've decided to go find her, but I'd like to take Gordon with me, to show me the way and identify your daughter, as well as help convince her to come with me.” She looked the farmer hard in the eyes, wordlessly conveying the idea that she seriously recommended that he acquiesced. “Please say yes,” she added gently but pointedly, in the event that this subtlety was lost on him.
Evander looked at Will with blank eyes, emotionless as the other mage carried on his rant. When he had finally finished, and expressed his patronizing sympathy with his apparent insight into Evander's well being, the earth mage finally responded. “Shut the fuck up, kid,” Evander sighed, and launched into a long, monotone monologue. “You really do not know shit about who I am, or why I do what I do. I have absolutely no reason or inclination to help you in anything. I could be rebuilding the Council this very moment, and I would still lie through my teeth, because I don't know you, and I don't trust you, and frankly I have no desire to either. Your vain ignorance and your juvenile display or arrogance disgust me, and as far as I am concerned you are not worth the effort of arguing with.” “As for your helping me,” Evander continued, anger suddenly flashing forth, “how could a fucking twerp like you who has been frozen these last one hundred and fifty years possibly have any inkling of what other people suffer? You are a child, William, and you have only the knowledge and experience of one." His anger mounted and his fist clenched savagely, the ground around his feet began to shudder slightly, and hairline cracks spread through the wall beside him. "You can't help anyone." Suddenly he swept around, his robes twirling dramatically, and be stomped down the alleyway away from Will, cutting off all further converstation. The earth pulsed beneath each footstep, but the tangible pressure in the atmosphere eased as Evander forced himself to calm down. “Go to hell kid,” he called out in parting. Fucking prick. The barracks to the west. Ellyn pursed her lips thoughtfully. It couldn't be too far away seeing as the soldiers made their way to and from regularly, and as such Ellyn was sure that she could find Matilda before anything bad happened. She hoped so anyway. Getting into the camp, and convincing the occupants to cooperate would be the difficult part, but she couldn't let something as trivial as that stop her. She'd faced worse dangers than a camp full of underpaid soldiers. Gordon interrupted her thoughts, and she looked down at him with a reassuring smile. “Yes Gordon, I will find her, and bring her back safely to you and your family.” A thought occurred to her. While it would probably be simple enough to find a track to the camp, and the young girl inside it, perhaps bringing a guide would make things easier. She eyed Gordon with an appraising look, and found him acceptable. “Gordon, would you like to come with me? It would be much handier if someone could identify Matilda for me,” Ellyn explained, and added with a humorous tone, “I wouldn't want to bring back the wrong Matilda now, would I?”
At the mention that he and Alastar had apparently been 'best friends', it took all of Evander's will to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. A better description of their relationship would have been that they hated each others guts. He certainly wasn't in any mood to own to being this particular Stonemason, he hardly needed this kid attaching himself to him as a form of replacement mentor. As for there being a large number of paintings of Evander out and about for this young mage to see by chance, the idea was preposterous. Evander himself had only seen two... although come to think of it, he hadn't exactly commissioned or even sat for those particular paintings. The troubling thought that perhaps he had been some sort of mage pin up boy back in his heyday flitted through his mind, but he angrily brushed it away and turned his thoughts to something else. “Well, I always heard that they never got on too well,” Evander grunted, “but I guess it doesn't really matter anymore, they're both dead. At least Alastar a funeral anyway, and I don't doubt that the Stonemason died in some other way.” Not entirely a lie. “As for the council, perhaps it can be reformed in time, but that will be long after I and probably even you are dead. For now, the majority of mages live in some sort of hiding, or were born years after the Council was forgotten. The ones that do gather together are... not the sort I like to associate with.” Dismissing the thought of there being a Council again any time soon, he looked strangely in response to Will's request that he tell his name before the other mage showed him 'something'. “I'm not sure what this 'something' is your so eager to show me, or why it requires my name,” Evander muttered, “but fuck it.” He still wasn't in any way inclined to tell Will his real name, so Evander started to think of all the names he had been called in the past. After a moment of this, it occurred to him that for the most part the vast majority of names hurled towards him had been 'son of a bitch. Seeing as this was not a particularly appropriate first name, he decided to take on the name of a pastry chef he had known. “M-Melvin,” Evander grunted. “Name's Melvin.” Melvin? Why the fuck would you say Melvin? Fuck sake... “Not a huge fan of the name though, so try not to say it too often,” Evander sighed in finishing. “Anyway, what was this you wanted to show me? I'll assume it's something interesting.” The growing amusement at Gordon's opposition to being called sir, and his wonderfully vague description of his sister, was suddenly cut short by a shiver of apprehension shooting up Ellyn's spine at the thought that the young girl had run off in the hopes of being married. In her time among the battlefields she had all too often heard of young women being lured by promises of marriage and adventure by dashingly handsome soldiers, only to be cast aside once they and their companions had had their way with them. It was an all too common occurrence. “Well, Gordon, it seems that it would be best that I found your sister as soon as possible,” Ellyn told him, her smile becoming a little strained. “I'm sure you and your father would like to be at this wedding. Now tell me, do you know this man's name? Or even what he looks like, or where he could be going? What unit he reports to? Anything at all, it will make things much easier.” Asking the questions with as much calmness and as light a tone as she could muster, a flurry of possible scenarios flashed through her mind, settling on something positive. Perhaps Matilda and her young man really were going to marry? Being a soldier didn't necessarily mean he was morally deficient. She clung to this thought. Even if she couldn't find them before it was too late, if the worst that happened was that the two had tied the knot in some less that ideal circumstances, things would be alright. For the sake of the girl, her father and Gordon, she hoped this was what was really happening.
A young man's voice pierced the morning air, immediately grabbing Ellyn's attention. She turned to face the man, smiling with amusement at the title 'sir lady knight'. It warmed her heart to see such honesty and simplicity in a person. Once he had closed to a reasonable speaking distance, Ellyn addressed him with a chuckle. "And good morning to you, Sir Farmer. I'd be happy to help you in anyway way I can, of course. That's how I make my living, after all," she smiled. "Now, I'll need you to tell me a little more of this sister of yours if I'm to find her, but perhaps we should start at the basics," Ellyn suggested. "My name is Ellyn, and you should address me in that manner. I'm a knight of sorts, and my faithful horse is named Oak. Now, what's your name young man?" Evander decided to simply give up the charade of pretending not to be a mage. Will was obviously aware of what he was, and perhaps that didn't matter as long as he didn't know who Evander was. Aside from that, the young man, if a chap who had apparently been frozen for over 150 years could be called 'young', was merely asking about the fate of the Council of Mages, and that of a long dead man, a name that Evander had not heard for... well, almost as long as the mage in question had been dead. It reminded him of happier, more stable times. "Yes, I know the name Alaster Cloud," Evander admitted gruffly, still reluctant to drop the facade of deceit. "I spoke to him a few times. He was a good man. And powerful. Very powerful..." And perhaps had the strength to keep the Council from disintegrating as it did. Perhaps. In fact, Evander had known Alaster quite well, as their time in the Chamber of Mages had overlapped by quite a few decades. They had confronted each other furiously on critical issues more than once, and had occasionally supported each other in a grudging manner. In essence, they had had perhaps as great a respect for each other that anyone could have. That was all in the past however, as was the Council. "As for the Council of Mages," Evander continued, "it destroyed itself. That old dispute about accepting Nilfgaardian Mages into our ranks errupted, I'm not sure how, and before the smoke had cleared and the earth had ceased it's heaving, most of those present were dead." Evander shrugged angrily. "I wasn't there at the time unfortunately, so I'm sketchy on the details. But it was hell, I can tell you that. Fucking hell." "Those like myself who had been absent at the time, stayed absent. Those who somehow survived ran into hiding. And since then, there has never been an official regathering of the Council. There probably never will be." With that Evander's voice trailed off, and he was left staring at Will with a hard look. "So, William, does that answer your questions? The Council is dead. Some would say for the better. And now we're left hiding in alleyways, speaking furtively of what once would have been a proud station." He glanced around their grimy surroundings with a grimace, and muttered, "I hate this place."
Listening to Will, Evander concluded that, while the guy might not give off any negative vibes and probably wasn't out to get him, Evander still didn't have even a remotely good reason to trust this person. Nothing personal if it came down to it, just a matter of habit. "If you're not gonna talk about 'it', whatever that may be, then there's not really any incentive for me to talk either." Evander shrugged, the motion indicating his dismissal of the matter. "But hey, not really of any interest to me anyway. I'm just a guy with a sword who really can't help you with this mage business, and you're probably mixing me up with someone else." He smirked good humouredly, and said, "perhaps being frozen has addled your head a tad." Patting Will on the shoulder, and then stretching his arms as if to indicate that he considered the conversation over, he prepared to leave Will behind. "Like I said, be careful about who you ask these questions of, and who can hear them, but good luck anyway. You'll need it if you're going to find anyway who's prepared to speak with you." Now, will he be so easily fobbed off? Having spent a few moments in companionship with Oak, Ellyn had decided to take a stroll around the town before returning to the inn for breakfast. Even though it was still extremely early in the morning, the air carried the clatter of tools and the calls of farmers who had risen early as was their habit, and the smell of fresh bread and the occasional rasher gave the dewy air a deliciously smokey smell. Pausing at a short wooden fence, her attention was drawn by what perhaps was a young man and his father. They had their backs turned to her, preparing for the days work ahead, and she watched them curiously despite having absolutely no idea what exactly it was they were doing. Her previous life experience did not extend to farmwork.
From what Evander could tell, Will didn't seem hostile or deceptive. It was a bit worrying that the guy had fixated upon the idea that Evander was a mage, he couldn't possibly know that unless he was either a practitioner of some very specific magics, or had witnessed Evander practicing his own magic. Neither seemed particularly likely though, and as such the earth mage wasn't prepared to entirely trust this Will. First he would have to prod deeper. Looking up and down the alley with a final furtive glance, he leaned in slightly towards Will, talking in a low, quiet voice. "Listen, William, I'm not sure who you think I am or why you think I know anything about mages, but you should probably keep such questions to private spots where the only ears present are the ones you want to listen." Evander sighed, rubbing his forehead roughly. "Right, so I don't know much about this Coucil of Mages of thing other than it was disbanded a long time ago. Mostly just a story old men tell the young ones," he said dismissively, before darting a surreptitious glance at Will. "'Used to be a sight to see', eh? So am I to take it you were alive to see it over a hundred and fifty years ago?" Evander slowly stretched a finger to point directly into Will's face. "Who exactly are you?"
My characters will just be derping around not taking part in the fight, but they'll be sending positive thoughts to the dopplers! And probably cake. Assuming it will keep fresh long enough by the time it arrives there via snail mail.
Trudging aimlessly down the street, glancing around every now and then for a suitable place to get blind drunk, and with vague questions of what the hell he was doing with his life floating through his mind, a sudden word crashed through his thoughts like a thunderbolt. “Mage." Whipping his head around to face the person who had said this, he was confronted by the young man he had encountered earlier, the one who had made such a show in the tavern. Furthermore, this guy was asking questions about the council of mages for some reason. Given his recent conversation with Henry, Evander couldn't discard the possibility that Will was someone looking for the mage who had helped Tatiana 'escape', so while he didn't want to make a scene, he had to ascertain who exactly Will was and what the hell he was after. Glancing furtively around to makes sure that no one else's attention had been caught by the mention of mages, Evander darted towards a nearby alleyway, motioning for Will to follow him. “Follow me, we'll talk over here.” Leading the way to the halfway point of the alley, Evander was certain that at this point they could talk without being overheard by unseen ears. “Ok, so who are you?” he demanded of Will, folding his arms with a thoughtful frown. The sun was just rising over the horizon when Ellyn awoke. Remembering that she had mistakenly fallen asleep before tending to her horse the night before, she sat climbed out of the bed groaning, reluctant to leave the soft comforts that the bed afforded. Patting down her sleep crumpled blouse and strapping her sword to her side as a matter of habit, she stepped lightly and quietly through the inn, anxious not to wake anyone or in particular disturb Delain and her husband, whatever they may be doing at the time. Making her way outside she soon found the stables, and inside the huge mass of her muscular warhorse. “Hello Oak,” she murmured into his ear, “how are you?” The horse responded with a quiet nicker and nuzzled her ear affectionately. She patted him absentmindedly, looking carefully around his stall, making sure that Corwyn had taken good care of her steed. After a few moments of careful scrutiny, she decided she was satisfied with the man's work. “Well, they're honest and hard workers,” she told Oak with a smile. “Not often you find that.”
Delaine brought Ellyn to her room, and the warrior nodded her thanks with a bright smile. It wasn't long before Ellyn was left in the small, cozy, quiet room. The murmur of voices could be heard through the door, but overall this was a private enough spot to spend the night. The first step in getting comfortable was doffing her armor. Releasing the straps that held her armor together with some difficulty, the heavy plates soon began to clunk to the ground, and Ellyn was finally able to move freely. She stretched her muscles to their full extent for the first time in a few days, her limbs free to move unrestricted. After this short ritual, Ellyn let out a sigh, and plopped back onto her bed, eyes closed and a look of satisfaction glowing on her face. She couldn't go to sleep just yet though. She needed to go check on her horse one more time before bed, and she was still wearing her traveling clothes, the smell of which was wafting up her nostrils. She'd get up now, after a moment, just a moment to indulge in the softness of the bed and the warmth. Just for a moment... Ellyn's figure lay softly breathing in the dim glow of the candlelight, her armor and muddy boots bundled over to the side. In her hand thought he gripped her sword. She rarely left it out of hand, and even now passing out from exhaustion kept her grip on it. And the spirit of the sword was vigilant.
Evander sat on the edge of a bed in an empty room somewhere in the brothel. The girl who had serviced him a left a short while ago, and he was lest in a stifled silence, staring vacantly at the floor, something like regret shimmering in his eyes. The visit had managed to still the restlessness that usually drove him to this establishment, but as always he was left... unsatisfied. Not with the sex or the girl, both were as good as they came. It wasn't something he wanted to think too deeply about. He was sure that it would drive him mad to face the truth. His musing was interrupted by the door opening and the entrance of a tall man with strangely white hair. It wasn't white with age, the man's face indicated he was somewhere in his thirties, so Evander could only assume it was dyed. Probably a fashion statement, a lot of the wealthier denizens of Novigrad adorned themselves in bizarre manners. Evander watched the man curiously, wondering what he had come for. He knew who it was already; this was the man known as Henry Holden, at least within these walls, and Evander had had a few dealings with him before. After a few moments of the two men simply staring at each other, Henry broke the silence. "Hello my man," and stepped towards Evander. "I'm guessing you want something," Evander stated somewhat suspiciously. Henry smiled thinly at this. "The correct response would have been something along the lines of, "Why, hello! How good it is to see you! And how are you?" Don't you think?" Stopping in front of Evander, Henry handed him one of two glasses of whiskey he held in his hands, which the other mechanically took. "But I suppose you never were one for niceties," he sighed. Evander chuckled mirthlessly in response. "Neither are you. I doubt you came here to say hello and have a drink with me," he said pointedly before sipping at his drink. "Very astute," Henry remarked, tapping his glass thoughtfully. Silence once again descended on the room, one wrapped in his own thoughts and the other trying to guess what the other was at. Henry suddenly perked up, and began talking about something that seemingly had just popped into his head. "Novigrad is nice this time of year, isn't it? What with the festival coming up, there's stalls up all over the place, and so many people coming in from the surrounding towns. Don't you like it?" Evander ignored the question, instead glaring at Henry. Get the fuck on with what you have to say. Henry in turn ignored Evander's pointed silence, and continued on. "Of course, with more people, there's inevitably more crime. In fact, I recently heard about a young woman's home that was broken into, and when the neighbors went to see what was going on, both the man entering and the woman had, well, vanished. An impossibility, of course," he smiled at Evander, beginning to pace around the bed. Evander nodded slowly in return, now glaring at the floor, an uneasy feeling creeping in the pit of his stomach. "A child claiming to have seen the man break in said that he used the earth to break in, but of course she was dismissed as talking a load of shit. Curious how we never listen to childre- " "Cut the crap out," Evander roared, still glowering at the floorboards. "It was me, you know that. Why the hell does any of that interest you?" Henry had now reached the other side of the bed, and was behind Evander. Evander couldn't see it, but he could hear the smirk on Henry's face. "It just so happens that the girl in question was a prostitute, and owed a lot of money to some nasty people. Not quite my competitors, of course, but I keep tabs on them all the same. They're looking for information on both the girl and the man." "Did you give them any?" "Course not. I didn't know where you were, and certainly not the whereabouts of the girl. But I thought I'd mention it to you." "Why?" Evander asked flatly. It wasn't for his benefit, he was sure. "There's a reward for bringing her back, as well as for information. Perhaps you and I could figure something out?" Evander spat on the ground. "Yeah, you'd like that. Well fine then. I heard some noise and broke into the house. Nothing of interest there. Inside I found the girl, a young man, and... a Witcher." He said this last bit with a vague tone of triumph in his voice. "And?" Henry demanded through clenched teeth. "And then I teleported them to Kaer Morhen at the Witcher's request." The sound of shattering glass ripped through the air. Looking over his shoulder, Evander could see Henry looking down curiously at his now bloodied hand, cut by the fragments of the glass he had crushed. "Interesting," Henry said softly. Sensing that he had for once won against the brothel owner, Evander decided that now would be the time to leave. He tightened his robes and went to the door. "I'll be going then." Still examining his hand with complete interest, Henry called after the mage. "Like I said, they pay for information. I... don't want to be involved, but... perhaps you could pay off some of your own debts." Evander grinned back at him. "Don't tell anybody shit about me. I know secrets of yours as well." The sickly yellow eyes of the man known as Henry flashed dangerously at Evander. "You should go." With that, Evander left the room, and quickly made his way down through the building and out onto the street before Henry changed his mind. "Pay off my own debts, eh?" Evander muttered quietly as he started to plod down the street. "Not at a young girls cost though."
After consuming at a ravenous pace the warm and hearty meal that had been provided to her, Ellyn finally leaned back contentedly cradling a mug of ale. A small smile glowed made her face glow as she took in the sounds and smells around her; the small strands of woody smoke that escaped the chimney place creeping among the rafters above accented the crackling of the actual fire, the smell mingling with that of the food cooking in the kitchen. The low murmur of each individual table was calm and friendly, occasionally interrupted with a short bark of laughter or the scraping of a chair on the floor as a semi-drunk farmer went to order more drinks for himself and his comrades. It was a peaceful, homely place, and Ellyn relished the atmosphere of the tavern. It was so different from what she was used to. The muddy slosh of a horses hooves along a sodden path, crashing trees in the middle of a stormy night, the smell of oozing green wounds, the ringing of steel in the scabbard and of swords on shields, the battle-cry of charging enemies, streams of blood winding among cobblestones, comrades cries of death strangled short, the stench of dragon's-breath – Ellyn. With a jerk Ellyn snapped out of her reverie, and slammed her mug down onto the table. Staying very still for a few moments to make sure she had composed herself, she got suddenly got up and approached Delaine, smiling somewhat stiffly. “Well, that was a wonderful meal you provided,” Ellyn complimented her, “but I am... quite tired from my recent travels. Perhaps you could show me where my bed is?” On cue, a massive yawn threatened to break out, which she only partially managed to stifle. “Pardon me, perhaps exhausted is the more correct term,” she smiled apologetically. Working on an Evander post, will post it later when I can finish it...
The tavern had crowded around to watch the drunk man and Will in anticipation of a fight, cheering and jostling, placing hurried bets on their preferred fighter. This continued even when the drunk took out a knife and started stabbing. It was a common enough occurrence in a bar brawl, and most likely no one would die. Most likely. The jubilant atmosphere immediately turned frosty however as Will let out an arcane blast of wind, what had once been a rowdy crowd turning dead silent. They backed away, suddenly anxious to get away from what they now knew was a mage of some sort, fully expecting the poor fool who had attacked Will to be slaughtered. Their expectations didn't come to reality, however, and their hostile eyes followed Will as he went to the bar counter, deposited a few coins in front of the visibly anxious bar tender as payment, and then turned to give yet more money to a shabby looking man that from the number of tankards in front of him appeared to be doing his best to get dead drunk. Then the mage turned away and left, all the while being followed by aggressive and suspicious eyes. Once Will had left, the eyes suddenly turned to Evander. He was now glaring darkly at the door by which Will had left, fully aware at the obvious stare of the barkeeper and the patrons seated nearest to him. They weren't entirely sure if Evander had anything to do with the mage, but if Will was going to pay him particular attention then they wanted Evander out before he could disturb their evening further. Evander made a point of finishing his third pint before he suddenly stood up with a muttered curse, sweeping away the coins Will had left across the counter, a few clattering to the floor. He grabbed his final mug of ale, and stormed out of the tavern, staring down anyone who dared to meet his eyes for too long. “Goddamn kid,” Evander growled as he continued down the street, chugging down his drink. What the hell did the guy want with him anyway? He was a mage, that much was clear... A faint apprehension floated through his mind. Had the kid tracked him down here? And for what purpose? Now Evander was a bit annoyed that he hadn't reacted sooner and chased Will down as soon as he left the tavern. He wanted answers as to what was going on. ...Eh, not that badly actually. If the other mage turned up, then Evander would question him, but if not then that would probably indicate that Will was not actually after Evander. In the meantime, Evander had made his way to another establishment where he could get drunk, and on top of that, enjoy the services of several very fine young ladies. He entered the front door to Henry Holden's business, and was instantly greeted with the warm welcome that only their their most frequent patrons enjoyed. Ellyn listened with interest to Delaine's short overview of the taverns status. Evidently the ravages of war had not touched this place too harshly, and the opposing armies had refrained from scouring the land for what food they could pillage. That gave Ellyn a little bit of warmth, knowing that some places would escape the worst of the war, but at the back of her mind she was all too aware that that could all change within a few short days. She sincerely hoped it wouldn't “I'm journeying up from Cintra to Novigrad,” Ellyn explained in response to Delaine's question. “And along the way I had business in the area, heard about your small village here, and decided I would find a comfortable bed for once. I've been camping out for quite a while now,” she confided to her host. Her attention was then briefly distracted by the entrance of a young man who immediately asked for a bed, evidently exhausted. Another traveler it seemed. Ellyn turned back to Delaine. “If you need to attend to that young man that just entered, don't hesitate to just leave me,” Ellyn offered. “You don't need to pander to me just because I'm the wealthiest patron you have in tonight,” she added with a knowing smile.
"I don't think it's too terrible a surname," Ellyn chuckled. "And my name is Ellyn," she told her host as she sat down at the somewhat rough, but perfectly adequate table. Her stomached rumbled slightly as she did so, but she ignored it, reminding herself that food would come shortly. "So, how's business nowadays?" she asked politely to continue the conversation. Evander vaguely heard some confrontation going on behind him, but he ignored it. He was busy working on his second pint. So, this is rushed. Like, so rushed.
As he was passing through the door to the tavern someone called out to Evander. He quickly glanced over his shoulder and took in the sight of the young kid with the stupid hair color. Then he promptly dismissed him from his mind. The kid was looking for someone apparently, and for some reason thought Evander would actually do him a favor and help. “Fuck off.” Evander pushed on into the dimly lit tavern, ignoring the stench of alcohol, smoke, and piss that suddenly hit his nostrils. He grabbed an almost empty tankard from a dozing patron seated near the door, and chugged back the contents rapidly. Tossing the now empty container to the side as he made his way to the bar, Evander slapped a coin onto the counter with a clacking sound. “As many pints of the strongest you have that this can buy,” Evander growled at the bartender, who after ignoring Evander's request for a long enough moment to make it clear he didn't appreciate his tone of voice, then moved to deposit four empty tankards in front of the mage. “I'll be back in a minute,” the bartender grunted. Evander nodded and took a seat at the counter, keeping to himself as he stared grimly down at the smooth woodwork etched with the initials of former patrons here and there. He wondered how many of them were dead by now.
With a flick of of his fingers, a portal opened with a loud crash and various books fell from the nearby bookshelves. Whoops. Evander stepped through the swirly green vortex, hearing Veceslav behind him giving out to him once again about something. It sounded like an attempt at a threat. There was a flash of light, then darkness, and then light again as Evander stumbled out onto an alleyway somewhere in what he assumed was Novigrad. He glanced back at the portal behind him curiously. To his surprise no grasping hand had grabbed at his shoulder; the Witchers had apparently allowed him to simply leave. Evander shut down the portal quickly though. There was no point in tempting them. With a slight smirk and a confidant step, Evander sauntered out of the alleyway and into a busier main street, and then suddenly stopped. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself now. Not that he had ever had anything in particular planned, but the afternoons events, the sudden chance to use his abilities and magic for something more meaningful than a convenient way to get around... It reminded him of the good days. He glared grimly at his shoes. The good days. He didn't want to think about them. With a renewed but destructive purpose, Evander turned towards the nearest tavern and entered in. Ellyn smiled gratefully at the woman's prompt and helpful answers. She knew that her appearance indicated wealth, which as merchants the tavern keepers would certainly want to partake of, but she had a sense that these were honest folk who would have been just as helpful to her if she had been a lowly peasant girl struggling to find shelter, albeit not so awed by her. “That would be perfect,” Ellyn told the woman, “and if you can provide an honest man to guard my horse and belongings while I'm here, then we'll leave the bill at thirty crowns. As for bedding, the lodgings will be sufficient. I don't want to turn you out of your own bed,” she added in a humorous tone. She glanced over at an empty table nearby to the side, and waved a hand over to it. “Is that table free? I'll have that dinner as soon as you can cook it. I'm famished,” she confessed to them with a grin. “Whenever you're not busy of course, Miss...?”
