Mind Over Matter - Myths of Two

[parsnip]

"Enemies, Friends and Character Growth," Excerpts, Quotes and Memories from Faolan (Professor of Emotional Stuntedness)
Entry form for mote 116 TheScarletWillow's form
Unfamiliar faces, old places drawn back, again and again growing pains from the ashes, bloom to brighter days.

[Faolan] - (Faoláin/Fáelán) irish gaelic meaning Wolf/little wolf
Identifies as Male, prefers he/him but doesn't mind they/them.
Eventually queerplatonic relationship with Hawyse (on the aro/ace spectrum)

Passerby's would describe Faolan as deceptively docile at first glance, his mask of ice paired with his small size lends to the unpleasant surprise strangers experience when met with his aloof and careless personality. Under the chill of his distant demeanour lies a burning rage, at his lot in life, at the world. His anger is deeply intertwined with passion and it flares with short notice. He is prone to reacting aggressively in response to any percieved aggression, and often comes across as tempermental.

Relationships, to Faolan, are consider to be unnecessary and a burden. His philosophy is that they can't hurt him if he turns his back on them first. Any bridges he did have are burnt and the few that survived were deemed unimportant, taking up minimal space in the back of his mind.

Faolan can't stand feeling weak and vulnerable, he always brings as many weapons as he can feasibly carry in order to mentally relax even slightly. (picture that one cartoon scene where people are shaken down and Faolan just keeps pulling out weapons despite having Zero Reasonable places to store them)

Faolan is small in stature and knows how to shrink into the shadows of the room, his build is lean and well muscled (in the sort of way you see in a street dog that has learnt how to merely survive not thrive). His only natural weapons are his smarts, fangs and sharp hooves. Faolan's horn is the result of one of his supply runs gone wrong in an awful potions mishaps meet cursed weapon. It may not be his natural horn but with time it has truly become part of himself. His "Horn" not only gives him an extra layer of physical protection but also grants him the social protection of blending in with the general population more, he is less likely to be seen as weak when people do a double take at his horn, fangs and hooves after dismissing him based purely on his size and "cute" features.

[skill sets]
Faolan, despite his frosty front is a remarkably decent teacher, as long as he's able to quickly understand the topic he can reword it in a way that is easy to follow along with. He doesn't quite soften around motelings but he does treat them with respect not like children which in turn causes them to be eager and willing to learn, Faolan doesn't mind these types as long as they keep it reasonably quiet (though he'd never admit it). To add to it, he has a great memory, but just because he can remember something doesn't mean he can physically do it.

Faolan excels at sleight of hand (or so he says), it's part of how he has managed to get by, his circumstances called for his morals to relax in order to get through the days, months, years. Occasionally his new tuned instincts get the best of him and some things go missing in his vicinity, while he attempts to be subtle he hasn't always succeeded.

He has a situation specific silver tongue which never fails to work when he is actually Emotional involved in said conversation, this is normally never an issue for him with how most of his interactions are low emotional stakes.

[sub category]
His magical affinity is so low it barely registers at all. (zero, nada, nope). Faolan has very little magic and struggled to learn the most basic of spells BUT he is a pretty decent teacher so long as he understands the concept, he's a crafty little thing and is able to pass off his lack of magic as talent by doing things like sleight of hand and "fake magic", he's not quite sure how he hasn't been found out yet but by god is he going to take this as far as it'll go.

[minor passive magic - enhanced hearing]
Faolan's only claims to magic are that he can Just Hear Better than anyone else, it's constantly turned on so he never realizes other people Can't Hear like that and just assumes its normal? (in his mind it has to be otherwise why would people be talking so loud about secrets like that they're whispering?) When Faolan was born, he had an even weaker version of it but being targeted by a few of the older motelings made his tiny reserves of magic explode and transform under stress into the slightly stronger version it is in order to protect himself, essentially his body desperately needed to figure out how to avoid this traumatic thing and went into overdrive with creating a built in warning system. He subconsciously (and then consciously) uses this to avoid detection from the childhood bullying which later translated into something he keeps up in his adult life to get by in his trade. He uses it to get a heads up when people are coming so he can then hide to overhear snippets of information he Really Shouldn't, this helps with blackmail/general information gathering while also tipping him off when mote are looking at him funny, suspect him or he needs to answer questions. The cost to using it is that to really focus in one something specific instead of just automatically filtering information means he opens himself up to being distracted and vulnerable. Though if he's concentrating he can hear somebody's heartbeat, which can help give an idea of if someone is lying, it isn't foolproof as so many circumstances can cause elevated or erratic heartbeats (and vice versa) so he takes it with a grain of salt and only uses it in a pinch because of the pros/cons cost but this skill can come in handy as a last resort.

born and raised in a small (and he means Small) town where everyone knows everyone and gossip spreads quicker than you can say Wait! So when Faolan was born with his ridiculously oversized ears and small structure, he was inevitably destined to be made fun of.

Faolan's parents are doing a solid b- job, his Ma is out of the picture, [left or dead?] and his Da, his soft and gentle Da, just tells (begs) him to stick to the status quo and doesn't want to rock the boat despite loving their child, so tells them to keep his head down and not cause a fuss. He grows up being nagged at about how he needs to keep his rage and passion constantly tempered ("Bunny, you just need to be soft and sweet, kind and palatable, don't antagonize them Bunny" (he didn't, he just existed))

As soon as he comes of age Faolan bolts for the first opening to leave this forsaken town he can get to. He uses the trade routes to get there, pretty much doing unpaid labour to get a free ride/food until he makes it to The City, where he decides to stay instead of continuing on with the merchant. He spends his next few years trying to establish himself there but so far nothing really sticks, he's mainly doing odd jobs around, currently working part-time at this slightly rundown tavern, as much as he hates doing this as his main occupation (he really, really hates "retail/customer service work") it does offer opportunities to listen in to the comings and goings of the shaded corners of the markets. Faolan also uses the odd hours of his job to sneak out and moonlights in one of the more shady vendor stalls at night to (steal) pick up skills and trinkets.

[parsnip]

Faolan was tired, his exhaustion felt deep in his aching bones. A shoving of shoulders, careless, prompts him to keep moving as the patrons around him merge into the crowd lingering near the bar. Right. Work. Steadying himself against the wall pointedly ignoring the sticky mess he narrowly avoided Faolan sets course for those looming oak doors, ducking and dodging the waving arms and shouts. God. Has Faolan mentioned how much he hates this job? It just barely pays the bills sure, but some days.... That first gasp Faolan takes outside the clingy, stuffy tavern air are always the best seconds of his life, the early morning light is just starting to glow as the chatter of night-owls and early-risers just starts to soften. Squinting, Faolan doesn't give himself a second to his eyes adjust to the light, instead letting his body go into autopilot as he winds through narrow, forgotten alleys. He carefully steps over kicked bins and general junk left behind by party-goers-long-gone, rolling his eyes at the mess, slobs. The mouth of the alley widens ahead of Faolan, the sounds of cheerful chattering rebound of the walls as he gets closer until the heart of the market come into his eyeline, good, it sounds like it's time to go hunting.

Vendors were really starting to bring out their best wares, their stalls that were bare a mere week ago now gleam with enticing products, their displays fit for the annual markets indeed. Faolan snorted, yeah, worthy alright. Worthy of a scam, those naïve fools would be so enticed by the glitter that they wouldn't see what's happening right before their eyes. Anyone worth their salt knows that the central most stalls were full of cheap materials priced exorbitantly high for the influx of travellers, instead the best quality are the stalls carefully tucked away and cloaked in shadows hidden from the eyes of the common mote. Sharp eyes glanced around the plaza, taking note of who walks with a little too much false confidences, who gets too drawn in by friendly faces and practically hands over their wallet, each mental note creating a map of who would be the easiest target this morning. He takes a moment to assess the direction of the light so that it highlights his soft features just right, amplifying his manufactured "innocent, nothing to see here" vibes.

The mulling bodies around Faolan had thinned as the stragglers had finally cleared out and the new wave of motes poured in, his footsteps that had once been purposely slowed now sped up into a brisk pace as he skitters around the bodies lining the side-street he had just turned into. Briefly, Faolan takes note of the fresh produce, it looks like this year's harvest was plentiful. The sharp tang of a wide variety of herbs and spices drift appealingly on the gentle breeze floating by, Faolan adds another mark on his mental map to circle back around at a later date, he might need to take another "shopping trip". His eyes light up as he spots a rather distracted mote engaged eagerly in negotiations with a stall vendor, perfect.

Faolan gears himself up mentally, ready and bracing for impact as he speeds up to meet the approaching crowd, making sure his face is crafted into the perfect mix of distracted, worried and just generally stressed. An unholy glee wells up in his chest as the sun hits the soft pouch his chosen victim has just pulled out mere seconds before he collides bodily with said mote. Faolan let's his eyes well up with tears of "panic", he knows that to make this work he'll have to be slick with his movements and gone just as quick.

"Oh my mote, I'm so sorry about that, I- I really gotta go. I'm late to work, oh I'm so sorry but I really must go, I hope you're alright!" he says while waving at them as he books it, (he isn't late for work, he literally just clocked out) Maybe it was a little over the top but the eyes have that soulless look of a retail worker so it sells it. Just gotta keep it cool while also rushing them along! can't figure I'm scamming them if I tornado through the whole interaction leaving them very confused!

He can feel the pouch's solid weight slapping firmly against him as he sprints away, the sounds of outraged shouting follows behind him. Ohhh, we have a rich one today, I'm going to be eating good! his eyes track his normal routes as he starts plotting the best way to lose his newly acquired tail. The footsteps get louder as Faolan pales, a headstart is all well and good but these short legs really disadvantage him somedays. His head frantically swivels as he consciously holds onto his rational mind, Where to go. Where to go. Where to g- THERE! "Wow, you really are slow on the uptake, huh? Catch me if you can!" he calls out, taking a second to lock eyes with it now that he has a plan in place. Picking up speed, he launches himself over boxes, under tables and laughs breathlessly as the exhilaration of crashing through a market at high speeds with consequences on his tail hits him all at once, hollering a triumphant "See you never!"

His hooves skid across the uneven cobblestone as he veers sharply down a series of sidestreets, knocking produce off as he goes and tripping unsuspecting passerbys. Nearly there, I'm so close to- he cuts himself off as one of the livestock pens comes into view, yeah, his grin sharpens, this'll do quite nicely. If asked to describe the next minute, witnesses would be unable to tell you anything else aside from an explosion of feathers, a wave of poultry set to create havoc and an angry stampede, the little thief seemed to have disappeared in cloud of birds.

Holding his breath, Faolan presses deep into a shadowed crevice that only just has enough room for his small frame to contort into. Most of the crowd had trickled off and only the main pursuer is still following behind him, persistent despite the fowl distraction. He closes his eyes and shrinks even deeper, rough stones digging into his ribs before finally going still. He hears hooves thundering past and waits. One second, two, and finally a third. As he slinks out of his hiding spot his chest heaves as he takes a second before a feral grin stretches across his face. Another successful hunt. Faolan whistles a victorious little tune as he takes a few backalley turns to get back to the tavern, only taking his new pouch out once he's safely sequestered away in his attic room, the only witness to his quiet laughter are the spiders sitting in the corner.

you won't believe the luck I had today, some poor fool wasn't prepared for the thieving motes take advantage of every year and just had their whole wallet out in the open! you best believe i took that, a shame that it ended up being on the lighter side but money's money. I might be able to get my hands on that dagger I had my eyes on later this month, normally I'd pinch it but burning bridges with this guy would be poorly thought out, sigh.

i heard through the grapevine that the markets were on high alert this evening, I guess that was a bit too high profile for me to hope it would be brushed under the rug, I'll need to keep my head down and lay low for a while, I can probably get away with sticking to the "dark alley" stalls.

[parsnip]

i can feel Eyes glaring daggers. into me. not someone having a bad day. intentionally picking me out in a crowd. that's unsettling.

today marks another day where I've yet to set sights on the Eyes, perhaps that's for the best.

Faolan had stayed in hiding for a few days, letting the public cool their heads, if he wasn't stuck to his job then he was holed up in his room. He had only just started leaving the house when an itching sensation crawled up his spine, somethin- no someone was staring at him. He keeps his head low but takes a moment to glance around from behind his ears, nothing.

it's concerning how the Eyes are becoming normal. that glare is still as prominent as the day it started. not that that's unusual in this line of work, but the venom behind this set is unusual hostile.

the Eyes keeping their distance, keeping just out of my eyesight despite purposely looking for the Eyes. it's starting to get on my nerves.

Despite keeping his awareness on high alert, Faolan has still yet to spot his little stalker. His lips have been taking the brunt of his rising frustration, sharp fangs sinking absent-mindedly into the skin. It's been so long since he had been bested by someone. Bags under his eyes have appeared. lately his dreams have been featuring memories he'd really have rather stayed locked away.

they're back again. I can feel my fur standing on end, they're really getting on my nerves.

i've started expanding my range of tricks, if i hit enough mote then surely i'll hit Eyes eventually.

With no visible outlet, Faolan has started taking it out on the market-goers, it started as little tricks, simply moving stalls slightly to the left or dyeing the fountains yellow but as the days go on and he hasn't spotted hide nor hair of the culprit, Faolan decides it's time to ramp it up.

haha! i felt Eyes increase in intensity, i must have gotten them yesterday, good to know they were there.

Faolan's latest tricks have rewarded him greatly, he's caught Eyes! He very much enjoyed the slow circling as he gets a step closer each encounter, still very much out of grabbing distance but the look of frustration on the mote's face as he slips into stealthy swap tickets and make off with his prize (the last cut of meat) ((sure it may have cost the last of his funds that week but that expression was priceless, he'd happily stick to stealing leftovers twice over to see it again.)) It's when the mote figured out (Faolan swears it was by accident but perhaps his twitching whenever a distant voice dares to speak the word gave him away) that calling him "Bunny" gets to him in a way he can barely begin to describe. He thought about going back to their game of long distance contact-less hide and seek but giving in felt like letting this, this, Faolan can't even properly name the evil hiding in mote-form, win. No, he'll just get this terrible thing back three times over. He won't let this go. This isn't this most fun he's had in, gods, forever, no. This game of taunts wasn't turning into banter, into something... softer. No way was he growing fond of this mote...

-

The tavern's fire flickers from it's hearth coating the room in uncertain shadows, bodies lounge around the room and a low grade murmuring echos off the stone walls. Tonight is unusually busy, most patrons had figured out that while the meals here are cheap, they certainly aren't good and had moved off to greener pastures. Instead, the night seems to have let even the more unsavoury characters out to celebrate. Faolan had been running around doing odd jobs, ferrying drinks to tables, jumping in to help get plates to the pass and just generally making sure the tavern didn't stumble. Did that useless waiter have to call out sick with no notice?! And the cook, why is he needing to step out so often? I wasn't even supposed to be on. I swear, when my shift's over I'm going to sleep for a week. No. A month. He groans and lets his head tip back to knock on the wall behind him, eyes slipping shut. Faolan has grown used to the creaking of the great oak, opening to welcome and bid goodbye to it's visitors, his eyes roved across faces, ears halfheartedly tuned in for snippets of gossip or useful information. Just a few more minutes until he can clock out and become one of the masses.

He's sat at a table, tipping his weight backwards when he spots it, firelight streaked across it's face. Ah, oh dear. He closes an eye and squints out of the other, desperately chanting turn around, turn around, for the love of all things holy turn right back around. One night of peace is all I ask. Unfortunately it is not Faolan's lucky night? day. Eyes wanders further into the room, freezing as they lock eyes across the expanse of room. Is it too late to run? He hesitates, his short tail twitching under weight of the stare, before the trance is broken by his nervous laughter. "ahah... fancy seeing you here... would you like to sit?" Faolan gestures a bit uselessly to the seat beside him. He watches it pick it's way through the crowd after accepting his offer, damn. He mentally grumbles but it has an undertone of fondness, startling a little as it goes to speak again "my name's hawyse, by the way. we keep running into eachother. i guess you should at least have my name." Right, so Eyes' name is Hawyse... good to know... "Faolan" he grunts back, getting the strangest feeling that it's already aware. He slowly relaxes into his seat as the two fall into idle, awkward conversation, the words coming out stilted but there until they both finally give up and letting the background noise of the tavern fill the silence between them.

The silence is broken by a burly mote barging in, voice reverbing as he yells something about "That punk thief thinks he's got everyone fooled", Faolan only starts to click that perhaps this guy is talking about him as the figure storms over to their table, fuming about "petty tricks can't give you magic" or the like. This stream of vitriol and the topic of magic, or well, the lack of, is starting to ring a bell. Oh no. Dread stirs in his gut and he can taste something sour in the back of his throat, fear perhaps? It isn't the first time someone had gotten close to catching onto his schemes but it is the first time someone had dared to call it out, especially in public. This could ruin me, oh god, my reputation will never recover. A cold sweat slides down the fur of his back and he chances a glance at his new companion, trying to read it's expression to gleam it's thoughts on this revelation. The mote's words seem to barely be registering through a layer of ice, the room slowly reaching the chill of the weather outside. Faolan can feel his face smooth out and his features sharpen.

"I think that's enough." Those flat, evenly spoken words seem to have come from next to him, but surely Faolan is imagining it, mote always care about magic. But no, the strange mote keeps snarling ignorance. This is it, Faolan thinks, jaw clenched tight, this is the end, she'll walk away now. Hawyse continues to surprise him with it's outburst and despite himself Faolan feels his spark of respect for it grow. That is until the stranger turns head on towards it, roaring in a blind rage at the perceived slight. The ice around his mind shatters, he can't afford to mentally step away from this situation, not when this mote that has done the unimaginable for him.

A little nagging thought slips to the forefront of his mind, what was it Hawyse had said? that's what rabbits do best, they run away huh? Faolan decides that there is no better time to run away than right this second, there is no place for pride when your life is on the line. He sends out a quick mental apology for what he's about to do before using the table to gather momentum and crash into Hawyse. His knees lock but he ignores the pain to keep moving, dragging a stunned Hawyse along behind him. Sharp eyes pick up on an exit, desperately hoping Hawyse's taller frame won't backfire on them There. A crowd. Elbows and shoulders crash into the pair as they shove past them, Faolan quickly leading the way two, three steps at a time, spiralling up staircases until they reach the safe haven of his room little attic.

The door slamming and the sounds of several locks clicking into place give Faolan a second to relax before his fur puffs on end and he whirls around to face Hawyse. "THIS. This is why you need to know when to pick your battles." His voice pitching higher as worry is overtaken by anger, "YOU COULD HAVE BEEN INJURED! OR, or worse." his sigh is heavy and trembles as he paces on the spot. Faolan collects himself before softening slightly, "you should really learn to hold your temper, this could have ended badly, I can't always be here to help you." His voice trails off, he knows that it can protect itself if needed but that was simply too close of a call and he refuses to just let someone get hurt in front of him.

Stupid Hawyse. Stupid me. How could I could I just let down my guard like that? I should know better by now.

"So it's true. You can't perform magic." The room seems so small as the statement was spoken, the elephant in the room now finally addressed. His jaw has dropped open, tongue tied but before he can even get a word in, it has continued speaking. He sees himself a little in those tears that seemed to well up but never fall, bitten back like the words he wished he could say, the words Hawyse was brave enough to speak into existence. Out of all the reactions he could have expected, finding someone in a situation similar but oh so very different to his own was not on his list. He had expected fury at being dragged along or irritation at Faolan sticking his giant ears into it's business. Instead it's quiet words spoke of something greater than the fate Faolan had been given, the fate Faolan had chosen. He can't help but look away now, that fire burning brightly from the depths of it's soul, it's determination and desire to actually do something cause a sort of bitter emotion he can't dare to name well up in his chest, cowing him as he thinks on how very different they are. He knows he chose a cowards way out, and looking at her now he sees just how true that is. Maybe, just maybe he could stand to be a little more like it. For so long his only way out was through laying low when needed and stealing, and sure, he's gotten stronger since then but there is only so much one can do to defend oneself when he's physically outnumbered. He isn't sure if it'd take him up on it but surely he has something to offer, connections, weapons, knowledge, anything at all to use as an excuse to meet this strange creature again, anything to bring him back into it's orbit so he can figure out what exactly he might become if he takes that damn leap for once in his life. No, Faolan is sick of standing still.

He mulls on the right words to say, it obviously isn't an easy topic to speak on for it and while he may be an insensitive jerk sometimes, even he knows not to touch that topic with a stick. "What do you say about a little company on your quest, hmm? I'm sure someone knows something about what happened to..." he trails off, looking a little guilty at bringing them up but powers through "them or at least their works? if they were great then surely some academic out there knows about them or their work...?" Gods, Faolan hopes he hasn't mistepped, any retaliation would be expected of course but as his eyes wince shut he can only hope it'll be swift.

"I met Eyes Hawyse today, that glare sure is something up close and personal. I guess I'll be seeing it around a hell of a lot more now."

[parsnip]

Faolan has had enough of Hawyse just, wandering around town aimlessly, completely ignoring perfectly good passageways and less populated streets. It had been here for just under a year now and it still had yet to figure out pathways that certainly could get it to it's locations quicker. Today Faolan would educate it on his routes even if it killed him.

"Alright listen here you, I've had it up to here with you and your senseless wanderings, just today we have passed four shortcuts that would have cut our time in half while keeping us away from the hoards of people!" His grumbled words may have been rough but the tone carried an almost lighthearted air. "You better be thankful I'm showing you these, do you know how much money people would pay me to show them these tricks?"

They stumble through Faolan's most common routes as he points out the best paths to use if you need to get out of there quickly, the best places to hide and the alleys that take you from one end of the city to the other in half the time. His shoulders slowly roll into a more relaxed position as he provides a steady stream of quiet anecdotes and commentary the whole time, only slipping into silence when he finds a natural lull. He ends the trip by showing her an abandoned roof access just as the sun starts to set, the wind rustles their manes as they take in the sight of their city tiny, distant and bathed in red. The chill of the early spring breeze is a little less lonely when they're together after all, they don't notice the way they sit just that little bit closer to the other than normal.

-

Faolan was dozing off in his favourite corner booth, tucked neatly away in a corner directly facing the door, Yse was late again and he absently wondered if it had gotten lost in a book again, it wouldn't be the first time. Just as he thinks of getting up to go track her down, a body slides into the seat across from him, a leg jostling him as it goes. Groaning, Faolan cracks open a single, unimpressed eye to stare down the unrepentant (awfully amused) mote in front of him. "Well hello to you too, good book I'd take it?" he mumbles, voice quiet amidst the lulling chatter of the busy cafe, still half asleep despite the interuption. (Something about the long summer days makes Faolan want to curl up in front of a warm window and sleep for eons.)

He closes his eyes for just a second, his shoulders slumping now that Yse is finally here. He jolts awake as it nudges his legs hard, sitting up his fangs glint in the light as his jaw cracks through a yawn, "alright, alright, I'm up! Jeez, can't a guy take a nap in peace around here?!" He shoots her a knowing grin (something less sharp, less guarded then the one he shows the world) as he scrubs at his eyes. "Lay it on me, my fine partner in crime-" Yse cuts him off with the same practiced "I told you not to call me that." "-what have you ordered for us today?" A laugh sneaks out as the look on it's face, mouthing along to it's next words. "Why are you so confident I even ordered you something?" Faolan lets out a little contented sigh, the familiar routine of their banter now a welcome permanent presence in his everyday life.

The universe, as if hearing their little game, decides to mess with Hawyse. A waiter turns up and places down their order before disappearing. "Now lets see, what would you know there's one plate, oh lookie here, two plates! and two glasses, what was that about not ordering for me my dearest Yse." He glances down at the plate that's slid across to him, oh, delicious, that's the hot ham croissant I was eyeing the other day. Did it see me eyeing it? Faolan digs in, letting their booth lapse into silence.

Faolan clears his plate in record time, only a few buttery flakes left behind. He bumps her leg, "psst. Psssssst, Yse, oi look over there," he nods his head towards the door, a pair of motes walking through as the bell above jingles a happy little tune, "do you think they're here on a date? I haven't seen them around so they're probably here for the markets, do they know about the visitor fee this place does? Remember the first time you found out, hahaha, I can't believe that was so long ago!" His voice comes out muffled halfway through as Yse slaps a hoof over his mouth, "Yeah, yeah, I know... Only whispering if I'm going be speculating about everyone" In a last attempt to free his face, he shoots her the most deviously devastating, pathetic wet eyes. It resolutely avoids eye contact. He leans back and snickers, gingerly pushing it's hand away, "pftt you know you enjoy it. Now, look at that mote over there, doesn't he look like he's here to dramtically break up with his partner, I bet they had a terrible row just before coming here." Faolan takes a second to peer at them harder, "No doubt about that awful haircut he got, wait wait, is that bleach?! he dyed it blonde, homedone of course, oh no! He probably ended up bleaching their best shirt! You see it too don't you Yse?" Giggling Faolan turns to face Yse, eagerly waiting for it's input, knowing that resistance is futile. The rest of the lazy summer afternoon is spent much the same, quiet shushing whenever Faolan's nonsense gets just a bit too loud, and a warmth blooming in his chest as they jostle each other in jest. Just another day

-

-

Leaves crunched underfoot as a small mote made his way to the city centre, rumour had it a stall had gotten their hands on some fancy imported fruit. It's all everyone could talk about, Faolan quite frankly was getting sick of it but curiosity was a tricky beast. He spent most of his shifts that week sniffing around for more information of the new It Thing, as luck would have everyone in there tavern were chattering away about how to get their hands on it. He'd picked up more shifts in preparation for future splurging. Faolan does spend a bit of time apologizing for being busy (while dodging the reason for why exactly he's so busy like a pro) but justifies it for the very reason being that Yse likes to try new food and Faolan likes to indulge it (even if it means having to cough up money the legal way).

He turns up at her room, not through the window this time, carrying a dainty velvet box with exquisite embroidery. Faolan ignores her pointed stare as he hands it over to her. "Did you want to try one? They're new." Still suspicious, Hawyse lifts the lid to reveal a bundle of purple-yellow berries. "And what exactly are these? They look expensive, Faolan. Is this why you picked up so many shifts recently?" One long ear twitches, "noooo of course not! Anyways I think the guy said these were from a different city? Continent? They're an autumn exclusive product. Motes were say that they're supposed to have a sour-tart and tangy taste that sweetens up like lemonade at the back of the tastebuds."

The flesh of the fruit gives way with a satisfying crunch beneath their teeth, Faolan chews, mulling on the flavour "it's pretty good, what d'you think Yse? I kinda like them-" "Lan, does your mouth feel itchy, too?" Faolan's head whips towards Hawyse in a wild panic, "NO! no, it's NOT supposed to itch!"

After Faolan finds a potion (directed by Hawyse) to help reduce the swelling, he swears to never buy another box of these berries, ever. What a way to discover a (mild) allergy.

-

-

Faolan swings open the door to the attic, this year's winter is already gearing up to be frigid one, the freezing winds outside already starting to howl. Faolan shivered at the change in temperature set in, this is why he still stayed in this dingy attic, it may be small but it kept the heat inside. His bones creak as he stretches out his back, more than ready to tuck himself into his nice warm bed, instead he's pulled up short at a figure laid across it. It looks like Yse had stopped in the visit him after his shift but fell asleep before he arrived. Faolan's lips curl up ever so slightly, before turning around to pull a few spare blankets down, meticulously smoothing and tucking it over Yse. One night in a chair won't hurt. Sleep well Yse.

-

Summer had come around again and brought with it long awaited vendors. The lesser known cornerstreets of the marketsquare were in full swing and (in)conveniently not actually held near the square. As Faolan picked his way through backalleys and over roofs of older buildings, the structures kept getting more dilapidated and underdeveloped compared to the sparkling townhouses and elabourate fountains. He stumbles as a rotting wood panel gives way beneath his feet, Damn it, Yse will have my head if this swells. It made me promise not to hurt myself again, something something too expensive to keep buying herbs for healing potions. Whatever. It's only expensive if you have MoRaLs. his eyes roll as he imagines it's fuming face glaring at him, I'm on thin ice with being able to keep going on solo trips, she'll never let this go... Faolan continues on his trek, albeit a little slower and twice as cautious.

Quiet mutterings flutter along on the warm evening breeze, dancing around moving bodies. Doing the errand runs at night were a comfort that just couldn't be compared, and recently it gave him an excuse to go hunt little trinkets down to leave on Hawyse's bed.

Candlelight flickers off the glinting metal, vendors exact in their placement to best attract eyes but Faolan only has his sights set on one stall in particular. He'd scouted out this area a few nights ago on a routine wander and had noticed something that caught his eye, a trail of delicate, dim glow, not something he sees very often but something about it is just so familiar yet the exact memory remained just out of his reach. Faolan subtly stalked the shimmering past stalls he normally would have stopped at, one eye on the trail and one eye on avoiding suspicion. The trail abruptly stops at a humble popup, it's shelves upon shelves containing a few ancient looking trinkets and bound books. Huh... Odd. Just before he's about to enter he catches a glimpse of the time, his shift is about to start. He makes a mental note of it's location before booking it back to the tavern.

Now standing in the same place he hesitates at the threshold before stepping through. The shelves seem taller inside than they had outside, stretching out in a maze of objects. Now, what was giving off that glow? He peers into the darkness hoping it will spark back up but it's just his luck that it stayed gloomy, welp, guess I have to do it the old fashioned way. Faolan amuses himself with trawling through each nook and cranny until all that's left is a lone table in the back corner, it had escaped his notice until now. At first it looks like nothing impressive and just as he's about to turn away he sees it. The glow is back, faint but undeniably there. He creeps carefully towards the table taking in a dust covered box of some sort, jewellery perhaps?, a few ornamental daggers and a small stack of hardcover books. Leaning close, Faolan peers at the items, he can't quite make out what's written on them. He blows a gentle stream of air and coughs (quietly) as the cloud of dust erupts in his face, there, a symbol repeated on every item. He knows he's seen and felt this somewhere before but irritatingly, for the life of him Faolan can't remember. There's an almost gentle "warmth" radiating off them, they're just begging to be taken. Faolan closes his eyes for a second, concentrating on his surroundings all he can heat are hushed whispers drifting in from the street, he hadn't seen a vendor manning the stall when he walked in and from what he can hear they haven't returned either. From within his thin, dark cloak he pulls down his fur trim hood masking his face from view and swings a satchel out from under it before darting a quick swipe across the table sending the items tumbling into it. It's not my fault! If they didn't want their things to be stolen then they shouldn't leave stall unattended!

Faolan feels the satisfaction of another hunt gone well, he got what he came for and now he's going to get back to Hawyse. He looks up at the sky noting that the darkness had started to give way to dawn, how long was I even in there for? Yse should be waking up soon. Faolan isn't sure how he kept to a controlled walk until he was out of sight but as soon as he rounded that corner he broke out into a sprint, following the increasingly familiar route to Hawyse's place. When he reaches her door he checks the handle, giving it a wiggle, Locked again? Rude! The lock is no match for Faolan though and he's quickly inside, disappointed at the empty room that had been hidden behind a single lock. Oh. I guess it's out then... his ears seem to sag before he perks up, a sly, toothy grin breaking out, time to do some snooping then! Faolan drops his coat on her bed, satchel tipping unsteadily before it crashes to the floor and collides with Hawyse's own belongings. Whoops... Faolan watches the disaster happen like one watches a train wreck I know I said snooping but this really wasn't what I meant! Casting a worried glance towards the door, Faolan quickly crouches down and tries to clean up the mess as best as he can, once he has two vaguely different piles sorted he goes to put them away before a quick mental count shows that he has one book too many. He lurches up and spreads them gently across her bed, symbol, symbol, symbol, symb- huh? Faolan's head tilts, that can't be right, start again, surely they'll feel different? He repeats the counting several times over and still comes up confused, he knows that he hadn't stolen purchased that last book but here it was giving off the same warmth as the others, a weathered symbol embossed on it's binding. He knows he shouldn't but he can't resist opening the cover, just to confirm, and sees a faded writing 'To my dearest Yse-' Faolan's stomach drops and he (gently) slams the book shut, repacks up the rest of her belongings while stewing over what to do with the objects he'd poached. He wavers before leaving them laid out intentionally on her bed. He can't bear to see it's face if he made the wrong choice. He casts one last uncertain look over his shoulder before slipping out of the room, the click of a lock is all he leaves behind him.

[parsnip]

Faolan basks in the soft warmth, eyes half closed as he lounges in silence with his best frien-, partne-, Yse at his side. Her finally agreeing to moving in together had been one of the best things to happen to him in forever, nights spent in comfortable quiet, no words, just gentle breathing, just trust. Tonight, though, feels different, charged.

So it comes with little surprise as it's words breach the silence, hushed as they are. He listens as it walks him through it's home, it's past. He has a sicking feeling that he knows how this, it's, story ends. "-I was out practicing with an old book my parents gave me- you've seen it. It's the one with the unreadable cover-" He does know the one, Faolan remembers the heavy weight of the guilt as he choked out a confession weeks after he'd stumbled across it accidentally. He doesn't make any dramatic movements, Faolan chooses to sits quietly, patiently, with his eyes fixed on the soft glow of the embers in the hearth. He would not pressure it to speak but if it wanted someone to listen, to try to understand, then he would. Faolan would be here for it no matter what.

Faolan feels his heart ache at the pained grief in Hawyse's words, he can picture the younger face of the mote beside him aghast in horror as an inferno of flames lick up the sides of her home tree, casting it's firelight over her face as it erases every memory Hawyse had ever known. Faolan doesn't think he will ever be able to grasp the sheer depths of desperation it felt in that moment, the knowledge that trying is futile but still acting regardless because 'what if?' The breath catches in Faolans lungs as it recounts that awful, awful interaction. The tale of it's tail now exposed, sure, he had wondered but knowing is almost worse than wondering.

A realisation seems to slip over Hawyse's face, abruptly changing the topc "A-anyway! Th-that's enough for tonight. I-I-I'm gonna get some sleep now. G'night, Faolan!" He lets it escape the heavy conversation when he normally would pester it, poking and prodding as much as he can before she blows up (temporarily) at him. "Goodnight Hawyse, sleep well," Faolan mutters, soft, fond and horrified all in one.

(In the quiet when they are both in their own beds, Faolan is unable to say anything else for a long while, his famed "silver tongue" fails him, he no longer feels the pull of what words are the right ones, instead he blurts out a whispered "does, does it still hurt?" The words are not borne out of ignorance but rather a bone-deep concern, there is nothing Faolan can do to change the past (Gods, how he would change it if he could, even if it means that they'd never meet in any other timeline. For the privilege of knowing her, he would give up that exact thing just to give it a chance of happiness) but he can try and fix the hurt it feels in the now.
-

Faolan lay awake, it was set to be another sleepless night as his brain recalled every detail of Yse's story. A sharp pain struck his heart at the tragedy of it's past. His thoughts wander as he inadvertently reminiscences on his own, admittedly much less tragic, history. He tosses and turns, fur feeling static with restless energy until enough is enough and he leans over to yank up his satchel. Faolan wheezes softly as it lands heavily on his chest, sharp edges digging in. He pulls out his journals before passing them over, he picks through his other books but nothing catches his eye, not even the little trinkets are enough to keep his mind off her. Frustrated, Faolan dumps the rest of the bag out with a growl. He stops short as there, laying perfectly preserved, is his own reminder of his childhood turned physical. A little wooden carved wolf that has clearly seen better days, scratches and chunks missing from a rough childhood and if he squints just right, his name is carved into it's hindquarters. Something bittersweet rises in his throat, he can still hear his Ma and Da calling him their "little wolf" with that endeared tone of theirs, long before he learnt the world isn't kind, especially to those different. He refuses to dwell on it though and instead Faolan wonders.

A block of wood isn't hard to source but the tools (and the skills he'd need) are a bit harder to come across. It takes a few weeks to get all the materials together but it's worth it when he's able to spend those sleepless nights carving instead of staring at ceiling counting cracks, the repeated movement soothing. At the start, Faolan has no plan, just chipping away at the block but time passes and out pops the vague form of a rabbit, fitting given his interactions with Yse. Some nights Faolan is too iritated for the patience needed to get the little details and shaping just right, it all comes to head when he digs too hard with his whittling knife on the fragile ear and it snaps off, Faolan freezes, staring at the little one-eared rabbit before mechanically putting things away for the night.

Morning comes, and still the rabbit stands proud in it's imperfect glory, scratched and chipped and missing an ear. He considers tossing it but when he thinks about how Yse accepted his flawed self, the lack of expectations it had for him, he wonders if it would accept this too. (And maybe, just maybe, he seems himself in that damaged piece of wood.)

He leaves it on her bed the next day, feeling a little too raw to do it face to face.


-

Faolan could tell something was wrong the second he woke up. The soft breathing of Yse gave him something to drown the worry out with as he attempted to fall back asleep. Instead he lays there, gazed pinned to the ceiling, mindlessly thinking about anything and everything at all. He paused mid-thought, the nagging in his gut now too strong to ignore. The yelling downstairs had increased in volume, more than usual and pitched higher with a desperate sort of urgency. Faolan's heart lurches to his throat as the thick, unmistakable scent of ash slips under the doorway, his eyes flicker back to where Yse sleeps unaware. He grabs the first thing he sees, his journal, and rips a page straight from it's binding and pens a quick note, his handwriting shaky 'Gone to check downstairs, be back soon - F' and lays it on the small bedside table. The slam of the door behind him causes a small draught towards the paper, sending it fluttering to the floor.

Faolan takes two steps at a time, the smog getting denser the closer to the ground floor he gets. He's starting to choke on smoke as he slams through the heavy doors, bursting into the main room. "What's going on. Hey. HEY!? Where's this smoke coming from?! Where's the source?!" His voice can barely be heard over the sounds of the panicking crowd, someone points a trembling hoof and the wall that boarders the neighbouring business, and sure enough there's flames licking up the wall, leaving a blaze of embers in it's wake. How'd this even start? There's nothing to even sta..rt.... a fire....? The torches. Someone knocked over the torches. Faolan races to the kitchens checking the fire-extinguishing supplies. DAMNIT. He collapses against the benchtop, no-one replaced the expired potion. You're kidding me. Faolan's eyes dart around before noticing a pile of heavy buckets, it'll be hard but it's better than nothing, and starts shoving as many as he can under the taps. He sticks a head out the doorway and yells for motes to come help him carry these to douse the fire.

-

It takes far too much effort to organise an efficient system to try keep the fire under control until it's doused, Faolan is able to get something that looks like it may be working together with it's fair bit of shouting but the stress of the situation gets to him. His mental mantra of 'the quicker this is over, the quicker I can get back to Yse' is the only thing keeping him relatively sane. Gods I hope it doesn't wake up alone, not like this. Flames leap up the ceiling until it too is overtaken, the world blazing red as wood creaks above him. The wood beams splint, dropping like dead weight, Faolan who was too busy focusing in on how the fire control is going is caught off guard. Pinned against the stone floor by it's crushing weight he tries to wiggle out from under it. He struggles, pushes off the floor before slumping in a defeated heave, air too thick as it's pushed out of his lungs. He can feel his promise to Hawyse break, I'm sorry Yse... forgive me... he thinks mournfully. He takes a moment beneath the blistering heat to reflect on how much his life changed since that fateful first meeting and feels the anger rise at how unjust this whole situation is, how unfair it is. No. Faolan refuses to just accept it, to roll over and let this happen, he'll make it back to Hawyse no matter what. Adreneline surges through his veins just as bright-hot as the inferno around him, he digs deep, just one last time, and slowly lifts the burning beam just enough to drag himself out of, trembling the whole while.

Faolan, now much worse for wear, feeling the tingling of skin pulled taunt by burns and wrapped in the scent of charred fur, stumbles across the room, gait lame but determined as he he staggers through the winding hallway that leads to the main room. Finally, hold on Yse, I'm coming back. His gaze travels frantically towards the direction of the stairs, except, it's gone. Completely gone. NO. Nononono HAWYSE, it was, it was still asleep up there... Faolan can feel his limbs protests as he races towards the empty space, collapsing to the floor as he sees that, no, there really isn't a way to get up (or down). He thinks he can vaguely hear the sounds of yelling through the dulled haze but it doesn't matter. Nothing does. He jolts as something grabs him roughly, yanking him halfway across the room and out of the way as a flaming meteor of debris lands right where he sat. Faolan can feel himself come to his senses, just a little, and hurries his pace towards the door, the dragging less rough now that he's nearly out.

The night air is cold, sending spikes of pain through Faolan's nerves, he only gets a second to turn around as the foundation of the tavern groans, once, twice, before collapsing in on it's self with a whine. Distantly Faolan is aware that he's in shock. He watches the remains burn, his whole life was there. Rain starts to splatter down as if fate has a sick sense of humour, the drops pick up speed until it's a full blown storm. Eventually, the fire sizzles under the onslaught of water until it is naught but a pile of ash and fear.

A rough hoof shakes his shoulder drawing Faolan back into reality, it was the mote that had dragged him (unwillingly) out. They keep trying to herd him over towards the group of motes gathered nearby while shouting for medical attention. Faolan wonders why they bother, he's not hurt (aside from the gaping hole in his heart where Hawyse's presence sits). He stuggles against the hoof trying to pull away but it seems this mote is particularly stubborn and just gets firmer with him, tugging him down into a makeshift medic's arms. Faolan goes with it, the fight draining out of him (what even is the point anymore.) He can feel the rain soaking his coat to the bone but something about it feels different this time, blinking slowly, he looks down, his fur (is spinning?) coated in soot, grim and charred bits, burns peek out from under his coat, oh, maybe thats why they were so persistent. The rain is a quiet buzz amongst the white noise of shouting motes, faintly, he hears the sound of someone calling his name, he swears it sounds like Hawyse, but Hawyse is gone. Gone forever. ahhh, this is it, her ghost is here to haunt me as punishment for my sins.

He looks up anyways, hoping despite knowing it is in vain. Faolan's head wobbles as his vision swims but his gaze catches the movement of people until his eyes catch onto that painfully familiar figure, no way. It cant be. Fate isn't this kind. He blinks, again, and there it stands desperately looking for something (him?). He can feel the world around him slow as he shakily stands on numb legs, it's an out of body experience as he shoves the medics off him, lurching towards that spectre, "Yse? YSE! HAWYSE, OVER HERE!"

His lungs burn, he can barely breath but she's here. He crashes into her, the pair tumbling to the floor. She's here and that's all that matters, he presses tight against it, wet fur to wet fur, soot spreading like mould. He can feel his eyes burn as tears (and snot) stream down his cheeks, "I thought I lost you-" his voice hoarse, breaking into a coughing fit.

Faolan feels hooves reach out to guide him back towards the medic tent, desperate to keep Hawyse in his line of sight if not by contact, it's chattering in his ear a comfort. He's directed to sit tight while they go through their checks and treat what they can, Hawyse faithfully by his side, he doesn't quite know what to do with himself as the fatigue finally sets in. He slumps against her, just breathing, before he whispers a barely audible "Yse? 'm glad you're here." Hoof stretched out towards it's own.

[parsnip]

They had spent a few days recouping, gathering immediate necessities and irreplaceable sentimentals. The scent of stale musk clung to fabric of Faolan's cloak, it, like the rest of the room held the tell-tale damp smell. It isn't great but it's all he could find with such short notice and high demand. It's not his home but really, has anything ever truly been home? (home is where-ever Yse is) Despite this, Faolan slept soundly, soothed by the warmth of the body next to him, his ears picking up it's steady heartbeat proving that she's still there beside him. Not lost to him forever. Completely emotionally and physically beat after the harrowing events of the past few days.

One night, sat next to each other under the mock pretence of saving warmth (when really it's just to make sure this isn't a dream where they'll wake up alone.) Faolan hesitantly brings up the topic of the future. His whispers are stuttered and fumbling at first, almost ashamed of bearing his soul to the person who knows him best. "I never had any ideas for my future, I didn't really think I make it this far, or that I wouldn't have been caught for lying. But recently I've been able to ever so gently imagine, far from now, long after our bones are weary, that we could retire away from this harsh world, into a peaceful paradise of our own to live out the rest of our elderly years" Faolan's eyes have grown misty with a longing he himself never expected. "I'm sure if it will ever be real but man is it nice to dream" He chuckles wetly, head hanging low enough that his ears flop into his range of vision, blocking off his view of Hawyse.

"Honestly," Faolan's head tilts up "I always imagined myself quietly passing away in my study. surrounded by books and my own works. I would leave fame, and apprentices who were training students of their own. My works would go into libraries and schools to teach endlessly. But honestly? I think i'd like to rewrite that a little." Faolan hums at her words, it devastates him to hear that once upon a time, that she thought she'd go alone. "I still want the fame and the students, but it wouldn't be the same without my partner in crime there with me." He sniffles at that, "Yeah, I think I'd really like that, Yse, to rewrite our ending as partners in crime." Faolan wipes his nose before turning around to elbow it lightly, "we still have time, there's a whole world out there to see. Maybe we should look into travelling so you can get that head-start on getting some achievements under your belt for that fame and to attract future students aye? Who knows what's out there for us to find."