Establishment of a Plan of Action within Hetha

It feels interestingly nostalgic to be in a fine dress again, Alessari can’t help but think as the trio who managed to avoid the curses of that last battle await the return of their friend and their captain. The priest that they met on the way in returned to the front. “Apologies, but we try to avoid overcrowding in the ward,” this Brother Garrilen says.

“It is no trouble, Brother Garrilen,” Renalt replies for his two less friendly compatriots.

Alessari sighs as she looks around. Not to be outdone by the musician, Alessari falls back on her youth growing up in court functions. “Might there be a place we could sit while we wait?” she asks, before adding, “If it is not too much trouble, of course.”

Brother Garrilen smiles, lets out what sounds almost like a soft chuckle, and replies, “Of course.” Then he adds, “The only seats we have open to the public are in the halls of worship. If you and your companions do not mind, and are willing to be respectful of those in prayer, I can show the way.”

Alessari looks at the pair. Ren would not mind, while she does not know what he believes, she does know he would not mind any environ. But, he has a habit of disturbing the peace of those around him. Den only seems to disturb people when he decides to commit gruesome acts of retaliatory violence, but he is the sort to be unsettled by a place of belief. “You good?” she asks the pair.

Den shrugs. Ren smiles, nods, and says, “Always.” Both fairly noncommittal responses, but not denial. That is about as good as she can expect from either.

She turns back to the holy man. He nods, and leads them into the next room. There are, in fact, people actively in prayer, some dressed in the same manner as this Brother Garrilen, others in normal clothing, others still more like them in adventuring garb. The monk leaves them in a set of benches near a statue of a thousand faces. Den closes his eyes briefly, then looks at Alessari. “Why?” he asks quietly, but firmly, as to only disturb the elfish noble.

“Perhaps our hunting friend has finally grown tired on her legs,” Renalt jokes softly.

The noble huntress glares at the musician. “No, but we need to talk about needs. And I prefer some privacy.”

“Healing and strengthening,” Den says.

“We likely must sell some of the true-gotten gains of our travels here before we shall be able to afford anything of the sort, but yes, boiled down to the simplest of forms we need items of healing like potions or salves, and improved gear,” Ren elaborates on his traveling companion’s statement. Having known the two of them for all of a few weeks, Alessari can tell this is not an uncommon occurrence.

“How long will we need to stay here to sell everything without issue?” she asks Ren.

“That, dear friend, depends on what is meant by everything,” he looks at the massive man with a curious intent.

Den furrows his brow and says, “No.”

Ren turns right back to Alessari. “In that case,” he adds, “A day at most to get in touch with people. Do you believe you can convince our dear captain to delay his glorious fun for another day?”

The elf woman thinks about it. Felazo hates to be delayed, so she will have to make it a productive waste of time. He does feel the need to be prepared, hence the books he is constantly reading. Perhaps implying we need the time to be ready, and asking if he can determine anything else about this isle we’ll be travelling to. Just in case there is a situation like the pirate tomb that they could take advantage of. “I believe we can. Just in case, you should start sooner than later.” Someone needs to help them stay on task in town.

Ren nods. “Do you need anything, Den?” he asks as he gets up.

The killer shakes his head silently. Ren smiles. “Then I shall see you this eve, by the docks,” he replies, “Just after sundown.”

“Just after sundown,” Alessari repeats back to him as recognition of the meeting. And the bard walks back out the front door, almost dancing his way to the street.

Den looks at her, and speaks slowly. “So,” he begins, “How’re you going to convince him to wait?”

“A need for preparation,” she states, “Not just that we nearly died last time, but we also gained so much from knowing of the tomb nearby. Knowing everything we can about this new island may prove useful.”

Den pauses, again his brow furrowing. “Might work.”

“Should work,” she counters.

Denlo shakes his head. “So, Sari, do you think we need anything else?”

“We need something to deal with that scream, beyond just healing after the fact,” she says, “Not sure if such a thing is available here, but assuming Ren does his job, we can find out.”

Den nods. “He will. Making friends, and enemies, is one of the few non-music things that Ren truly loves to do.”

“You two seem to know each other well,” the elf woman says, implying the question of how and how long.

“Well enough,” Den says, avoiding the question.

“Can we trust him?”

Denlo laughs, a reaction that from all her experience with the massive man would unsettle Alessari normally. And in response to a reasonable, non humorous question is all the more unsettling. Then, he shakes his head. “Never. But he will follow through.”

“Why do you think that, if you don’t trust him?” Alessari presses.

Denlo grins. “Haven’t you noticed? He’s writing a song.”

“And?”

“Nothing will stop him from finishing it. And it will never be enough. If a single delve with us inspired a single song, he won’t stop pushing us into these rising structures until he’s found perfection.”

It’s Alessari’s turn to furrow her brow. “But it’s art? Is there even such a thing as perfection.”

Den shrugs, growing quiet once more. “And?”

“So, he will never stop,” she realizes the real point of it. The musician will keep on striving until he no longer can, or is forced not to. So as long as they are working towards being successful in these adventures into the past, he will not actively betray the crew. And so it does not matter that even his closest friend refrains from trusting him. “Thank you for the insight.”

Den looks through Sari. “Can we trust you?” he asks, bluntly.

She starts to be offended, but as she thinks about it, she realizes. Hilan and Renalt are obsessed with a goal that requires them to go into these ruins and, after nearly dying last time, they will not risk going in without the others. Felazo may be fickle, but he is far too curious not to want to understand what was up with that magical lock. Which leaves herself and Den as the odd ones out. She sighs, accepting the question, and thinks about how to explain it. She needs to be more powerful. Powerful enough to survive. No, powerful enough to strike back. Because she will take it all back. And she can’t do that yet. She needs to be better. To be ready. “For the moment,” she tries to be honest with him, “I’m not strong enough to return home yet. Ideally, by the time we get to the point that I am strong enough, we’ll be able to earnestly trust one another.”

“Fair,” he says coldly.

“Speaking of fair,” she replies, “What about you?”

Den begins cocking his head as he asks, “What about me?”

“Can we trust you?” she asks.

He looks into the middle distance, taking the question as seriously as she had. Unfortunately, without his translator here, she hopes he elaborates more than his usual amount when speaking about himself.

It takes even longer for him than it did her. Then, finally, the Elfi’ika speaks. “I do not know. I am not ready to do anything else yet. But I cannot ask others to trust me.”

Interesting. Why would one be unable to ask others to trust them, the huntress wonders. If they were actually untrustworthy, they would be more than happy to ask people to trust them. Same if they were trustworthy. No, that’s not quite true. The same if they believed themselves trustworthy. But what if he wanted to be trustworthy to the crew, but did not trust himself. Then he might be concerned about asking them to trust him. “Any specific reason you do not trust yourself?” she asks, to gauge his reaction.

He barely reacts, in fact from just his voice, it might be difficult. She sees why he wears that mask to battle. “What do you mean?” he asks coldly, but from the haunted look behind his eyes, she knows her guess was spot on.

“Very well,” she replies, “You’ll tell me in time, once we’ve learned to trust each other more.”

He smiles. “I thought we could trust you?” he half jokes. That wasn’t what she’d said, and he knew it. He was just trying to push focus away from himself. She wasn’t going to let him, until she heard some approaching footsteps. Gesturing towards her left ear, she tapped her lower lip a single time.

Den understood instantly, rolling his finger in a silent circle around them, then tapped his palm with sequentially one, two, then three fingers. He’s wondering the direction and how many. She focuses. Three footsteps, coming from deeper in the structure. Taking her lower three fingers sticking out together, while her forefinger and thumb are curled into her palm, she gestures in the sound’s direction. Behind a banner that obscures a simple door. Much like the one that covers the door they entered this place through. Not hiding it per se, just keeping the room feeling isolated, like its own world. Den nods and has his hand fall to rest by his blade. The huntress holds up a finger to tell him to wait. After all, this isn’t so much a violent concern as it is an avoiding revealing unnecessary information to unknown entities situation. Den nods, but does not move.

The door creaks open and a relatively attractive raven-haired human woman wearing the same style of robes as Brother Garrilen enters, followed by a pair Alessari recognizes. Her friend and the captain. They take note of the seated pair and walk over, though the woman follows. The woman asks Sister Hilan, “So, which of these is the fabled Ren you spoke of?”

Den’s head turns to look curiously at Hilan. Alessari speaks up, replying, “I’m afraid Ren headed off to get preparations underway. And you are?”

Sister Hilan steps forward. “Apologies. This is Sister Palline. She’s a healer under the Privellien Order. Sister Palline, these are the enigmatic Den and the beautiful Sari.”

Den smirks. “I’m an open book.”

“And I would hardly call myself beautiful,” Alessari completes the thought.

Sister Palline jumps on the former. “Really,” she muses, “Then I would love to read it.”

The elf woman looks at her captain, who laughs. Den leans in and replies in a somewhat hushed tone, “I never said it was legible, just open.”

Felazo walks over to the huntress’s side and tries his best to distract Alessari from losing the contest. “So, what sort of preparations?” he asks her.

She shakes herself out of it. “Just getting in touch with people, to help us sell our goods.”

“That’s helpful, though we can’t afford it taking too long,” their captain replies.

Sari shrugs. “He says it should take a day, and in the meantime, I figure we should get ourselves some gear and you should find some more information on this rock.”

He pauses a moment, and a grin crosses onto his face, even larger than his grin before. “We might find something even more interesting.” Then, a moment later, it grows bigger, “And I could use a book to help with our guest in glass.”

“Excellent,” she says, “Then it’s decided.”

“So,” Den says, “Are you joining us for lunch? Palline has a great place nearby.”

The captain shakes his head. “I’m afraid I need to visit an insane, retired pirate about a couple books he stole from a different insane, retired pirate. Do have fun though.”

The huntress looks at her captain, then at her friend, sighs, and says, “I suppose, though we also need to find a place to sleep.”

“Well, my beautiful friend of my Sister, I believe I may have some recommendations in that regard as well,” Sister Palline offers with a smile, turning her attention to Alessari.