30th of Tarsakh, 1352 DR
Loss.We were sat in the Cutthroat's hideout, huddled together under a dirty blanket, in a corner in the sleeping quarters. Tired. It had been a hard week for both of us.
"I hate Freddo," Jonah muttered and I pinched his arm.
"Shh."
There was no chance of them hearing us anyway, as loud as they were. Troy and Bette were arguing about Bette cheating in cards. People had taken sides. Two camps. Freddo was supposed to lead us all but he spent most on drink and other illicit things. Disorganization and greed ruled everyone.
Jonah and I were used to this. Sometimes, it ended with drawn blades and Jonah would always tense, reaching for his too. Sometimes, he had been called for, to take a side, which he did. He had to.
No one called for him this time. Others were either sleeping or lying awake, just as we were. Tense. Waiting for things to explode.
There it was. Panicked sounds. Someone cried out in pain.
"Draw blades! Intruders!" I heard someone shout and I sat up, in panic myself.
"Stay here, Tel... stay here..."
Jonah had leapt up, gesturing for me to stay while he drew his knife and tried to creep towards the entrance to the main room.
I remember standing up and a shadow filling the doorway. Jonah ducked and I saw his knife move a couple of times. A man grunted in pain. Then Jonah slipped out.
I could not see Jonah but I was more or less trapped in the room and it scared me. I shuffled closer, to see what was going on. People still screamed.
It became apparent why. There were several other men and women I did not recognize. There was blood everywhere. Freddo was lifeless on the floor, as was Bette.
"Tel, run.. just... run!" The voice was panicked, sounding overwhelmed.
Instead of running, I froze for some reason. I looked at Jonah and I could not move. There was a bad cut on his left arm and he had blood on his face. His, someone else's? I would never find out.
"RUN! Don't look, run!"
Jonah was too concerned about me. He did not see the blade coming, I did. And I did not want to see.
I turned my back, to run.
Someone grabbed me.
"Where do you think you're going lass, eh?!" There was an amused chuckle by a big dark haired man who wielded an ugly looking short sword.
I do not remember much. Or maybe I do and I just try to forget. But I screamed. And things happened. A strange unnatural crackle, something being released from my hand. The man screamed too, in pain. His face was a mess.
I ran for real this time. No one else tried to grab me.
I ran until I got to the docks, because there was just water ahead of me. Then I stopped. I was shivering and I thought that everyone would be able to hear my teeth chatter so I kept clenching my jaw tightly.
I found hideouts the next few days in the buildings in the docks. The days afterwards were a blur. I tried to sleep but kept waking up. I saw Jonah. I saw Jonah twitching and covered in blood, his face twisted into an expression of pain and agony. I felt like I was being grabbed and often called out, waking up to the echo of my voice.
And I could not do anything about the magic.
Each time I woke up from a nightmare, either fire or acid lashed out at an unseen foe or some other strange things happened.
I was dozing off on the third or fourth day when I heard light footsteps. They had stopped somewhere near me, in the warehouse I hid in.
I looked up, thinking it was a child who was also looking for some place to stay but it was a man even shorter than me. A rough stubble covered his cheeks and he was clad in old but well oiled leathers.
"Hello Telia." He gave me a friendly smile.
I stared at him. He knew my name, somehow.
"I mean you no harm, truly." He held out his hands, to show he had no weapon. There was a dagger hanging from his belt however, and another hilt sticking up from one of his boots.
"You've been attracting some attention."
I stiffened, afraid. Maybe it was the people who had killed Jonah, maybe it was someone who saw me use magic.
"Not all attention is with good intention, however." The halfling sighed, studying me.
"We should leave before they find you. You're not safe here. I know a safe place, they'd not find you there."
He stepped closer, holding out a hand to help me stand up.
I took it, with only some hesitation. His smile was so inviting and his voice was so soothing.
"We'll need to walk carefully. I'll walk ahead and sign back to you, when its safe. Then you follow..."
We weaved through buildings. Sometimes people almost found us. Later, I wondered if they had been planted. It seemed like something Fornan Quickwit would do.
We came to his abode, his hideout. I was feverish for days, screamed and tried to blast anyone who came close. I remember some vile liquids being forced down my throat, to calm me, to get down the fever. My hands were bound, as my wrists were all raw when the fever broke.
When I was better, Fornan would come with news as I lied in bed. He would not speak about anything odd but simply who had opened a new shop, who married, who had a new child, what festivities had occurred and so on. I was still in my own mind much of the time. But I wanted to know things after a while. Other things.
"Did... did Jonah die, Fornan?" I used to look at him like a trusted friend, someone to rely on. Just as he had wanted.
Fornan's brow furrowed in a frown for just a moment before it became smooth again. "Yes."
My shoulders sagged. I had known of course. His words made it real however. It was not just a bad dream.
Fornan got down from the small stool he was sat on, a child sized hand placed on my arm as I began to sniffle.
"I still need to keep you safe. They are looking for you. We need a new name for you..."
I nodded, I believed. I thought Fornan knew best.
It would take a while until I questioned why he came for me. And a while longer, before I understood.
[Reaction RP - not a journal entry from here]
Telia put down the quill and rubbed her face, reaching for the goblet of wine once more. She was not even sure if it helped but it was a familiar thing. Something she could cling to and it dulled an ache inside of her.
"You never came to look for me." The adolescent boy's voice came from a chair near her.
She turned her head to look at Jonah, saying nothing. He was just as she had known him as. Not an adult yet but on his way there. A light fuzz covering his cheeks, wild light brown hair sticking up from his head and grey alert eyes which were watching her right now. He still wore his old dirty clothes but there was no smell in the air as she knew there should be from living in the poor conditions they used to.
"You just left. Leaving me behind."
After a deep breath, the sorceress looked away from Jonah. She had already had this conversation. There was nothing more she could do but to bear his words.
She thought she felt a warm breath near her ear and paused her hand mid-motion, on her way to pick up her wine again. "I cared about you. Did you not care about me..?" The voice was sad but also accusing.
Her head turned, slowly, to face him. He had moved away, looking out of the window instead. "I did... I did care about you..." Her lips parted, the words leaving her mouth in barely a whisper.
She turned away once more, bringing the wine to her lips and drank deeply.