[center] [h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Shilage[/color][/h3] [h2]&[/h2] [color=#736AFF][b][h3]Ranbu no Izayoi[/h3][/b][/color] [/center] [hr] Later that night at camp, Rudolf thought to wash himself clean. The grime of the road was no stranger to him, nor was it to any of them by now— but after the expulsion of the truth from his tightly-guarded heart and the quiet dinner that had followed, the young swordsman was all but spent. He had idly gnawed on his flatbread and stared long into the flame, letting the Kirins and camp mill about around his hollow, slumped frame. Errant wind had painted his brow, long sticky with drying sweat, a dingy gray— smoke from the fire, the same that stung the edges of his eyes. But stare he did, mind empty, letting the dancing orange and cream and scarlet lick away his thoughts, chasing them cores of blue and streaks of rust. Like a mesmer. He seemed drawn to these moments, he realized— drawn to flame. Drawn to staring, when he had nothing else in him, to let it quell his mind from a tempestuous rapid to a placid lake. But all the same, eventually he roused, jolting back to awareness as if he had fallen into a snooze. With a sigh, Rudolf shook off the torpor and rose, letting his feet carry him through the quieted camp and towards a stream a few dozen yards away, one of the many uncharted soft-watered brooks that weaved across Edren’s verdant lowlands, no different here than so many they’d crossed after making landfall. Perhaps Danube in some way favored this stretch of land, long ago when she walked among mortals. Who could say? Perhaps an old king of the land had pledged good fealty. But by rights, there was one gift she had bestowed on men, regardless of if she gave it in personal charity or simple boon of domain— the gift of washing oneself anew. To clear the old grime, to lay bare one’s true complexion, to remove that which had stained you impure. Yes. He needed a damn wash, at least to take the ash off his face, to get the smoke clear from his eyes. The rest of him, he might deal with once they were closer to Skael, closer to a bath, closer to not needing travel at all speed. He would rather take true rest than go through with the trouble. But his face, at least. He knelt down at the bank, casting a hand into the cool mirror for a moment— And pausing, as a splash sounded from downstream. Turning his head, there was no trouble spotting its source: —Another splash, as Izayoi worked to clear dinner’s remains from her pot and pan. His forehead throbbed, the ghost of the scabbard’s thumping upon it. Grimacing, he wiped at the spot, the water gracing his brow and ringing around a small bruise. Ridiculous the way these things worked. It had hardly hurt the minute she’d done it, to the point where he’d believed it too light a touch for any punitive measure— but now, long after the fact, that simple bonk lingered as well as any cut, like the ringing of bells hours past, still trapped in cathedral stone. Izayoi grumbled to herself as she worked to scrub a particularly stubborn scrap of burnt food out of the bottom of the cookpot, the effort not helping her usual mood. After several more moments of concerted effort, she managed to wipe it clean and rinsed the pot out in the stream. With that finally done, she hefted both pot and pan up to bring back towards camp to store. Rudolf simply happened to be in the way of her return to camp. She approached, paused, and frowned as she saw him rub his forehead. [color=#736AFF][b]”Oh, stop being ridiculous. ‘Twas hardly a tap. You were being bludgeoned with Thunder spells not two weeks ago and moping less. But I could give you another bruise if you'd care to.”[/b][/color] She huffed, raising the frying pan she was carrying in a threatening manner. [color=c0392b]”I’m [i]washing my face[/i],”[/color] Rudolf countered, obstinately splashing more water across his brow and wiping through, scrubbing at the cheekbones and for a moment feeling the feather-light line across his cheek left by Valon’s spear. [color=c0392b]“I’ve spent mothercrystal knows how long staring at the fire, this is the first time I felt it there. That’s all. My eyes sting more than my forehead.”[/color] He shook his wrist, slinging away excess water and sending a dozen rings to bloom across the surface. A glance up towards the moon gave him an idea of where its position had changed since he’d gone silent— and then he turned his gaze towards her, rather than study it. “A couple hours” was close enough, at the end of a hard day. [color=c0392b]”Any other time before now, I may have taken you up on your offer. But for tonight, I think I’ll just be glad I got a lighter touch than I would have bargained for. I don’t care to push my luck with punitive measures.”[/color] [color=c0392b][i]Much.[/i][/color] he silently amended.[color=c0392b][i]Tonight.[/i][/color] He shuffled his frame to the side, to allow her passage if she deigned to take it with her point well made. [color=c0392b]“I expect soon enough the Thunder will be hitting me again anyway, now that you know how I’ve been keeping up.”[/color] Izayoi quirked an eyebrow at Rudolf’s retort, mentally noting that he wouldn’t have had that much cheek not even a month ago. He was improving, at least. So long as this latest bout of honesty didn’t send him into too much of a funk. Best to nip that in the bud. [color=#736AFF][b]”I should hope that spate of honesty would have helped your mood, rather than leave you more pensive. Outside of Chisato, everyone else recognizes that your situation is only a danger to yourself. And she will get over the matter sooner or later.”[/b][/color] She moved to stride past Rudolf, only stopping to poke him in the forehead at the exact spot she’d rapped him with her scabbard earlier. [color=#736AFF][b]”Am I understood? No more getting inside your own head. What’s done is done, and you’ll have to live with the consequences afterward.”[/b][/color] [color=c0392b]”Ow.”[/color] His syllable of furthered complaint came in a dull monotone, comically crossing his eyes to see her fingertip off as it returned to more pressing matters. With a blink, and his little bit over, he turned away, seeming to study his reflection as the ripples in the water stretched and shaped it. [color=c0392b]“Truthfully, that may take a while. I’ll work on it. Consequences my own, but…”[/color] A glance back over his shoulder cast searching eyes over the mystrel’s frame, freed of a vengeful shadow so recently as it was. He continued on, almost conversational. Almost, but for the contemplation inherent to his words. [color=c0392b]“What do [i]you[/i] make of ‘afterward’, Izayoi? Now that Reisa is dead?”[/color] It had been an all-consuming purpose, to the point of outranking her own life. Time and again, the Kirins had watched Izayoi stop at nothing to take the Valheimr lieutenant’s scalp, whether it meant storming straight into conflagration or diving into the void sword first. Theirs were different situations, of course. To compare her pursuit of retribution with his furtive obscuration of truth was, in many respects, to cast apples against oranges. But at the core of both of them was, as far as he knew, was that they were an unassailable priority. [color=c0392b]”Where do you stand now, without that weighing on you? Pushing you?”[/color] And neither of them were there any longer. They were drifting without those key lodestones. In Rudolf’s case, he had never really dared plan for that ‘afterward’. There was the quest, sure, but beyond that… Izayoi had been meaning to stash the cookware back into Goug’s wagon, but stopped as Rudolf questioned her. A sigh came from her lips, unbidden. This was to be one of [i]those[/i] conversations with the boy again. Gods [i]damn[/i] that ingrate Istvan Shilage for not bothering to parent his son properly. [color=#736AFF][b]”A foolish question, considering the situation we stand in now, no? The land still stands at risk, and Valheim continues to infest my home. Slaying Reisa has only served to correct my most [i]personal[/i] failure. Ask me once more when we’ve averted the blackhelms’ threat to the continent.”[/b][/color] [color=c0392b]“Oh, so it’s no different.”[/color] he noted breezily. [color=c0392b]“Heartening.”[/color] At this point, it was on him for trying with her. [color=c0392b]”Fine. You needn’t worry. My existential concerns haven’t stopped me from carving through their ranks when they’re in front of me yet. I lost my last chance at letting them when Wulfric rode north at first light, even if I cared to. I haven’t lost sight of the big picture just for not having things sorted out.”[/color] He slashed through the surface of the water, scattering the image as he smeared away the last bit of grit he felt near the eyes. [color=c0392b]”I will continue to further the cause, as I always have. Now that there’s nothing I’m trying to hide behind, I’ve all the more reason to see this through.”[/color] He rose, as a cool breeze from the south blew across the lingering moisture on his skin, the chill sinking into his head even as it dried. A shiver passed across his person at the feeling, but he didn’t begrudge the clearing of his thoughts that came with it. Picking up the pieces of whatever was beneath your protective shell was always your job and yours alone. No matter what Izayoi had given him as answer, it was always going to be his own legwork that made sense of what was man and what was mask. Only time would tell if he even could, and if it was even the source of the void that had come into him in the wake of his confession. Taking a breath, the young swordsman started forward, following in Izayoi’s wake as her quick return to camp resumed. He wouldn’t get any blood from that stone today. It was too late, they were both too set in their ways of navigating the world. This was what felt like the third or fourth time he had tried to scratch at her hard surface to no real avail, given the topic [i]wasn’t[/i] her loved ones, but there [i]was[/i] a small victory in there. [color=c0392b]”My disorganized internal world aside, if your perspective ever does change and we’re both still alive to chat, I’d be curious to hear of it. I think I’ll keep you on the hook for that, since you’re offering. In the meantime…”[/color] Drawing up alongside the samurai, he glanced to the cookware in her hands. None if it looked terribly heavy, not to trained warriors such as them, but it wouldn’t hurt… [color=c0392b]”While you’ve got me, I may as well offer some help with whatever you’ve left to do in cleaning up. It hardly looks like much, but I could be wrong.”[/color] [color=#736AFF][b]”Mouthy brat. I almost prefer when you were terrified of my shadow.”[/b][/color] Izayoi said, rolling her eyes with no real heat in her tone. She handed over a pan nonetheless. [color=#736AFF][b]”Take a rag and dry it out. I would prefer for the iron to not rust.”[/b][/color] As they returned to camp, she looked back to Rudolf following after her. [color=#736AFF][b]”You could have washed your hands of this and conscripted that annoying buffoon of a boy in your place, indeed. And yet I remain thankful that you did not. If not for my own sanity in dealing with such, then for the sake of your own progress. As ever, you think too little of yourself.”[/b][/color] She very carefully refrained from blaming Istvan once more, though she certainly thought the invectives within the confines of her head. Her summation of Wulfric drew out a smirk, then a small chuckle as he swiped a spare piece of cloth and began to wipe away, checking the finish of the iron against the firelight to monitor his work. [color=c0392b]“He’s a loud ingrate, for sure— though I daresay Galahad would have gotten fed up even sooner than you,”[/color] he quipped, tilting the pan to eye the surface as the calming rhythm of the work washed over him. Be it blades or cookware, it seemed keeping metal maintained agreed with his body and mind. [color=c0392b]”And then you’d have a [i]real[/i] problem on your hands.”[/color] A playful exaggeration of reality, of course, but he’d seen that dynamic play out all through the one afternoon he’d gotten to spend somewhere close to home. He could already imagine the vein in the dragoon’s forehead beginning to swell, even as he fought to maintain a genteel, knightly composure. Wulfric, Galahad… Otto and Imre. If he wanted to deal in hypotheticals, while they were at it, who knew how either of his brothers might have panned out in his stead. [color=c0392b]“That’s the rub. I’ve been [i]chasing[/i] long shadows all my life— It’s only natural that I get a little too comfortable with them after a while.”[/color] He joked, holding the pan out for her inspection. [color=c0392b]“I’ve always [i]been[/i] mouthy, you can ask Cadmon about it; I just wanted to be sure I never gave the ‘Limbtaker’ a reason to demonstrate herself. I’ve had the privilege of separating mystrel from myth since then.”[/color] He shrugged, closing his burnt eye and cocking his head to the side. [color=c0392b]“Not to mention: from where I stand, you’ve gotten less austere these days, too. Not by much, even compared to when we first met, but you [i]are[/i] warming up to us. It's a good change.”[/color] Said mystrel took the pan back, giving it a once-over before a crooked smirk crossed her face. [color=#736AFF][b]”More of the cheek, and the pan goes upside your head.”[/b][/color] She jibed, starting to make her way back to the wagon to stash it. [color=#736AFF][b]”A word of advice: worry less of what could be and concern yourself more with what lies in front of you. Mayhaps it ought to be easier now with your truths revealed.”[/b][/color] His hands rose in surrender, palms out and holding no weapon, a caught miscreant. [color=c0392b]“[i]Hai, hai,[/i]”[/color] he intoned, mirroring her expression. [color=c0392b]“I still know when to back down, thank the Goddess.”[/color] What was in front of him, eh? Mayhaps it would, once he washed the rest away. With any luck… well. Maybe not [i]luck[/i], in such short supply as it was— instead, his only refuge, the same as he had since the day he was born. [color=c0392b]“Maybe so. If I feel adrift, by that same measure it means I [i]am[/i] bereft a certain ball and chain, after all.”[/color] He glanced south, towards their next set of trials, past the slowly dying light of the fire. As his words left his mouth, they were of course cloaked in a musing tone— nothing of what they spoke changed overnight, after all. [color=c0392b]“To unfamiliar waters it is, then.”[/color] He rose, dusting himself off. That crooked smirk had faded, but not completely left his bearing. [color=c0392b]“Been a long day. Good night… Thank you, Izayoi.”[/color]