[i]with [@fetzen]

Before the Keep…[/i]

[hr]



Having made her quick introduction to Balidvar, Avery set about the camp - basket still slung over the crook of her elbow, the smell of baked goods still wafting from underneath the soft cotton draped over the top. Her eyes scanned the area, making note of any people of interest. Nothing particularly hummed out to her from behind the faces of the people she passed by, none but one. The mysterious rider with the beastly trophy slung over the saddle - the antlers brittle and snapped, carrying still forsworn secrets of ancient ways - a primitive life. She shuddered in response, a grim tickle across the nape of her neck was the glimpse into perhaps a rough battle between the slain beast and the rider. 

[i]A witcher,[/i] she thought to herself, a looming shadow followed him and she felt that more than anything else around her. He had more secrets than anyone, she thought. The air around her grew thick and she found that she didn’t want to make eye contact with him. Instead choosing to retreat into a tent. 

As she stepped in, she found it to be empty - save for a few tools, and a cot set up in the corner. There was a sterile scent in the air that suggested that this particular spot had been reserved for some kind of medical practitioner. It had been something that had always interested Avery, and she wasted no time in looking over the equipment with a curious glint in her eye. She hadn’t seen a doctor arrive, nor heard of one being here. “I [i]was[/i] early,” she reminded herself under her breath. 

Still, it seemed as quiet a spot as any to wait for a while. 

Tyrvariél had spent roughly about the last hour on inspecting the camp and found it to be in acceptable condition. Anything like a real anvil was still to be found of course, but it would not have come as a surprise to him if this expedition had been planned with the thought of finding many resources  in the fortress itself in mind. The elf pondered about whether he should dare to speak up about this matter, maybe even point out that finding and securing the basic tools for everyday maintenance should be made a priority for the fighting troops ? But there was the fact that... well... he was he. A man with pointed ears who had not been in the real frontline of any of the battles of this war. An easy target for anyone with a soldier’s background who was in the need to let go of some frustration, he thought. So it would remain the thing it was: a thought in his mind.

The quietness in the tent Avery was in was disrupted by the noise of metal shifting on metal closing in from behind her. The very bulked up elf had not yet undone any part of the armor he was wearing, but simply for the lack of time and need to do so. He reached for the flysheet and gently shoved it out of the way so he could enter, but stopped dead in his tracks just a moment later: the sorceress! Had he just entered the wrong tent ? Was this hers ? With the thought of just having caused a major disturbance his heart started to go slightly faster while he searched for any proof of being wrong. Seldomly the sight of one of those curved amputation knives resting on a table had had any satisfying component, but now it had. So unless he had judged her entirely wrong this was not her place...

[color=ff9900]"Erm... hello ?"[/color] The elf's voice was pretty much as dark and chesty as one could expect given his stature, but the sign of uncertainty in it was clearly audible as well. [color=ff9900]"May I introduce myself ? Tyrvariél. I've been assigned to be this expedition's doctor."[/color]

Avery’s head turned, and she smirked - sensing the minor apprehension in the elf. Not one to leave him dangling on that string, she lifted both hands into the air and shrugged her shoulders. “My apologies. I stepped in for a spot of quiet,” she sidestepped from where she had been, leaving the table of tools behind her. “Wanted to be away from the prying eyes, mostly,” she admitted candidly. “Quite a number of judgemental stares outside…” 

As she moved, she gave a look to the elf, acknowledging who he was, or morso, [i]what[/i] he was. The sorceress eyed him from head to toe - tucking a fist under her chin as she did so. Still, she had a way about her that made it seem far less intrusive and examining in nature, and more innocently curious. “I’m Avery, I’ve been assigned as a mage to our expedition. I’m pleased to meet you, doctor,” she smiled, holding out her  hand for Tyrvariél.

Tyrvariél noticed that she was looking at him, but didn’t feel like being inspected and tried to avoid doing so himself. After all he had had the advantage of spotting her upon his arrival without her seeing him. [color=ff9900]”I guess this might be a good place to avoid prying eyes. According to my experience people rarely care about this kind of tents as long as they are empty. And once they are no longer they don’t want to know or see what’s happening inside.”[/color] In front of his mental eye the ground below his feet slowly turned from green grass to beaten soil. Not just brown and not only drenched in water, but with reddish pools of life having leaked out filling the depressions no matter how small. A surface one didn’t even use to dispose of hands and feet cut off as those cutting them would stumble upon them once they started to pile up.

For a moment it seemed as if Tyrvariél was not looking at the sorceress, but as if his eyes had focused on infinity. Suddenly the Aen Seidhe turned his head towards the tent’s exit so abruptly that his long hair was pulled away from the centrifugal force, the metal bracers then banging onto his armor as they dropped into their original position. None to be seen outside. They were still alone… Slowly, and seemingly a little confused, he subsequently returned his attention towards Avery and reached for her hand with his own.

[color=ff9900]”I apologize. Sometimes I’m a little distracted, but only when I’m idling around. I thought there had been somebody…  I promise I’ll try my best if things should start to come down. However I hope that I can help preventing that from happening in the first place as I’ve also been assigned as a blacksmith. It seems like both jobs were particularly difficult to find so they gave them to me.”[/color]

[color=ff9900]”So… you’ll be one of those in the front line ?”[/color] He really had not much of an idea about what a mage’s doings could be. However he silently hoped that her answer would be a no. The thought of having to perform a surgery on her somewhat pristine and curvaceous body was not exactly pleasurable.

“Well, I myself will not be on the frontline, but my defenses will be… Illusions, shielding, some weather control…” she Avery said, waving a hand as she explained. “I hope that it will be enough to keep us safe for the majority of this expedition,” she finished, drawing the hand back to her side. The way that Tyrvariéls gaze had shifted around the tent had not gone unnoticed, and it only served to further pique her interest. She herself had not sensed a presence - well, not an exactly present one. Still, the ghosts and echoes of the past moved with the breeze, and with time.

After a little hesitation, the Sorceress took a seat - having found no real sense of urgency in Tyrvariél that suggested he wanted her to leave. It was an uncomfortable stool, the kind that was easy to transport and simply ‘there’, still, it was a seat. She crossed one leg over the other, and placed an elbow on her knee - resting her chin against the knuckles of a closed fist. “A blacksmith and a doctor then? You’ve been blessed with good hands. I have respect for craftsmanship of any kind, and well, I have respect for those who know how to save a life. I’ll be reassured to have you around. Did you happen to-”

Without warning, the woman’s satchel began to squirm and move - the material bulging this way and that, it immediately caught the witch’s attention and she rolled her eyes as whatever fidgeted inside of the bag shoved out a slender leg, grey and hairless - ending with a vicious looking paw, claws protruding until they met the fabric of Avery’s trousers. “Ah,” she cursed, assumedly used to the sensation. She flipped open the cover of the satchel, revealing the cat inside. “Someone’s awake,” she mumbled down as the cat shuffled and wriggled, relenting her grip on her owner before sneezing. 

“Apologies, Tyrvariél, I hope you don’t mind cats - although I liken this one to having all the rage and hatred of a basilisk… Simply trapped in a tiny body…” she smirked, trailing off with a giggle. As if on cue, Winifred hissed out at Avery, before the woman tossed in a piece of crust broken from the pie. It placated the abomination for the time being.

“As I was saying,” she offered out, chuckling again, “I was curious as to whether you had travelled far to be here? A man of your skill must be well sought after in all corners of the Continent, and still you’ve ended up here…”

Tyrvariél couldn’t help but look at Winifred intensively. Cats.. the most of them he had seen in the past had been roaming around in the streets, caring for themselves and probably abandoned. This one obviously wasn’t and one could see it. The elf would have liked to put off his gauntlets so he could stroke Winifred, but if the latter would use these claws he probably would have wished to have those on again.

 [color=ff9900]”I come from Vallweir, so yeah, it has been a long journey for me. I didn’t count the miles though, I just went south. I’ve been working in that town for at least the last two decades or so, so this actually is one of my first long-term assignments far away. And you ? Is it true that a sorceress can just use some kind of portal ? That must be amazing!”[/color] Tyrvariél came closer a little, slowly and carefully. He didn’t want Avery’s cat to make a run for it just because of him. [color=ff9900]”Aren’t you afraid that he might just run away at some point ?”[/color]

“Mm,” Avery murmured, blinking slowly. “Yes, we can travel with a portal but it’s not so glamourous as it sounds… Fast, yes. A little harsh on the body and expends quite a lot of energy….” She glanced up into the corner of the tent and her eyes narrowed as she thought of how best to explain the process. “Like trying to fit something large through a very small space… One has to split it into tiny pieces first to…. Squeeze it through the funnel…. Then before the end, piece it all back together correctly again. Without losing a piece along the way, you see?” The sorceress sighed, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “Truthfully I’m about ready to sleep it off now… Not that Balidvar will let us rest just now,” she said with a wink.

“As for the cat, well. I rather hope one day she will scuttle off. She’s a terrible nuisance, violent, unpredictable… But, despite all that she is my dearest companion. She’s free to leave whenever, but still remains at my side.” Avery’s eyes lingered on Tyrvariél’s. Clear, storm-like eyes. She wondered what secrets lay within him, and her countenance warmed mischievously at the thought. “I wonder, Tyrvariél, what you think may be waiting for us on this mission of ours? What the future holds for this band of would-be heroes…”

Tyrvariél was dangerously close to arching his eyebrows in a provocative way. She wanted her cat to scuttle off ? That was interesting… a love-hate relationship it almost seemed. Silently, the hope for Winifred coming to him should the cat ever decide to leave her was born. Upon Avery’s question the Aen Seidhe had to think a little with his lips already having separated from each other before noticing that his mind had not yet formulated an answer.

[color=ff9900]“Well, it’s an abandoned castle it seems. However ‘abandoned’ might very well only be true from our point of view. Another faction might have taken a hold of it long ago -- and be it merely monsters seeking for a dark and damp place to dwell in. I’m wondering how much research about this place our bastard leader has done before calling out for this endeavour. Maybe there is some old, dusted history book that could have given a hint about why this place has been abandoned… A curse, perhaps ? Or maybe in the end we’ll find out that the place is pretty much unusable because its builders have found it later on that the ground is unstable. In any case I’m wondering why, during the war in particular, Nilfgaard hasn’t cared about it. I mean… it’s not that extremely small and easy to overlook, is it ? I sense danger, but on the other hand I might also be just chicken-hearted. And it won’t even be me who’s going to stand in the front line.”[/color]

Tyrvariél rubbed his neck, separating a few strands of hair that had attached itself to a patch of wet skin. A little unconfident he looked at Avery again. [color=ff9900]”Erm… would you mind helping me getting out of this ?”[/color] The elf knocked one of his gauntlets against his armor. [color=ff9900]”I must have been most of the day I’ve been wearing it.”[/color]

In response, the sorceress quirked a brow, tapping her fingers against the edge of the table she was sat against. It was not something she’d ever been asked to do, nor would she ever have thought to have been asked it. Even so, she did not pass comment on it, and merely shrugged her shoulders lightly. She was no longer in the courts of Lyria, she was no longer in charge of her own men and women - she was simply one of the many on this expedition, and so not as to risk being branded a diva, she agreed.

But that agreement was not without its own strings of course.

Carefully she ran her thumb across the tips of her fingers, muttering something in Elder Speech as an energy coalesced into her palm that flowed peacefully towards the Aen Seidhe, as non-threatening as anything. The quick spell found its way to the fastenings of the man’s armour and began unfastening and lifting it from him, piece by piece, as if it were indeed a squire doing it. “That should relieve you some,” Avery commented with a smirk.

Tyrvariél was left in awe. His armor… parts of it floating in the air like feathers, yet moved around like the limbs of a puppet by invisible strings. The elf started to smile, but internally he was filled with respect. [color=ff9900]”Well it does, but it also burdens me with envy.[/color] His hands picked out the metal plates out of the air one by one, gently putting them down onto the adjacent table. [color=ff9900]”I’m sure that you will be of great help out there.”[/color]

Tyrvariél looked at Avery and did notice her facial expression. [color=ff9900]”Why are you smirking ?”[/color]

“Why wouldn’t I be? Undressing a man from his armour in the privacy of his own tent?” Avery replied, frankly with another nonchalant shrug. “Of course, it could also just [i]be my face[/i].

And the gift of magic is nothing to be envious of, it comes with a heavy price.” No sooner had the words left her mouth, she was standing again, arms folded across her chest as she inspected the Aen Seidhe without his armour. He certainly did have the musculature of a smith, that was to be sure. Before she said anything else, she sauntered to the opening to the tent and peeped outside. “Hmm, I think there is some food being prepared,” the Sorceress held the flap of material open as if to waft in the scent of the meal as it was cooking. “Smells like a stew, don’t you think?”

Tyrvariél’s eyes struggled as they were forced to see bright sunlight all of a sudden again, but he joined Avery at the tent’s opening anyway since he too could smell the scent of fresh air and stew. “Hmm… sounds about right. I hope the cooks Balidvar has brought with him know what they’re doing…” The Aen Seidhe grinned, then made a gesture with his head indicating that he planned to go there. “If you feel as hungry as I am I’d be happy to have you as my company.”

"It just so happens I brought a freshly baked pie," Avery remarked with a grin, pointing her finger to the basket on the table. "I should think by now our new comrades are quite tired of gawping…" She said with a raised brow. "Let's be off though. Let's introduce ourselves to the rest of this motley crew, hmm?"