makinglies | Respite

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faerun

Respite

The lake is dark and calm with a small breeze by the time they arrive at its shores. The stars above reflect perfectly in the still waters before them, and a small copse of trees lines one side, starting on their side of the river and jumping along the other side.

Chris takes a moment to re-prepare the spell he hadn't been able to cast in five years and gestures vaguely to the area around them as a suggestion for what the others can do. Gathering in the forest, sitting on a nearby over-turned log, it didn't matter to him. What he needed was an hour without interruption.

He settles down on the ground and presses his hands together as he closes his eyes to focus on the image in his mind. Within minutes, the white, shimmering outline of a large building forms in thin air. The gentle glow of its light barely spreads from the growing structure.

As promised, it takes the full hour before the slowly filling-in form is complete and finishes with a jaunty, echoing click.

Chris takes a breath, now sitting in front of the stoop that looks annoyingly like the one he'd passed earlier in the night, and gets back onto stiff legs as the glow fades away, leaving smooth, but otherwise unremarkable, white stone behind.

"Here we are. Home for the next however long we need. I'll start working on food and water next." Once they're inside, anyway, which is why he takes back his things from where he'd left them and leads them into the temple, marked only with the carving of ravens on the black wood of the double doors.

Inside is something just shy of opulence. The same polished white stone makes the walls, though black and gold veins course through the marble. The floor is the inverse, a black stone with white, shimmering speckles like a night sky if looked at for long enough. A single window faced East high up on the wall. The temple was alight with sconces at regular intervals along the walls, illuminating an open area that held all the offerings of comfort Chris could think of.

A large hot-springs-like bath, complete with a miniature waterfall, took up the left side of the room and ran into a smaller, similar bath at dog-height. Next to it, covered by a retractable screen, was a shower. Along the back wall, a raven's head emblazoned the white wall in black and watched out over a set of tables, chairs, and a couple of sofas. The majority of the center was clear for walking, but the right edge and right side of the room held a deeply inset pit of pillows, cushions, and blankets in various soft (black and purple) fabrics.

Finally, in the middle of the right-hand wall, there were two closed doors that, when inspected, revealed one room with a large, soft chair and rug, while the other room was made of nothing but stone with jars, pitchers, and plates on shelves along two walls and a cork wall perfect for catching daggers on the other side.

"I hope it works for everyone. I didn't...I didn't make separate bedrooms this time. I didn't figure we would need them tonight."

♥

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The snag to his pocket has Wolfe startling slightly. Not unpleasantly, but more because he isn't sure where the boundaries are with Chris right now. He's not exactly sure where the boundaries are with anyone right now, including his own, but those sharp green eyes looking into him and the dangerous vibrato underlying Chris' words are decidedly positive.

"Apologies, My Siren. I thought I might still be too offensive having only rinsed in lake water," Wolfe replies in kind, with a grin and a cocked eyebrow. It's a little put on to cover what remains of his envy, but mostly genuine otherwise. He leans over the side of the spring again, this time bracing himself on the rock instead of Jon's shoulder, to plant a proper if relatively chaste kiss on Chris' lips. He's not sure how fire would be welcome right now in general, but sticking his tongue down Chris' throat directly in front of Jon's face would probably not be welcome, at least by Jon himself, even if Wolfe petulantly wants to. There's enough drama from the things they can't control, he doesn't need to add something he can.

He accepts the kiss, and a pleased ruffle ripples through his feathers, but he lets go of Wolfe soon after. Asked and provided, he wouldn't ask more when part of him was still mad about earlier.

"Good boy." He murmurs with that same voice the request had come in. When he speaks next, his voice is lighter, more gentle. "I'll not keep you longer from your shower. I'll help with the food when we're done here. Then you should look at the books I made, too."

And he'd need to grab his clothing he left outside, and look at that lighter once food was started.

The quiet apology for earlier doesn't get past Wolfe's lips when Chris calls him a Good boy. Instead, he feels a shudder roll down his back, as if someone had run the tip of their fingernail down his spine. His face feels warm and he scowls at Chris, though it has very little bite in it. Wolfe's really not sure what to make of that, but whatever apology he's going to make will definitely be later.

"Right. Yes. Well. I'll do that," Wolfe withdraws, flustered, and very glad he's still wearing pants as he retreats to the shower.

Starting the tap in the separate stall without thinking much other than needing to take care of a problem similar to last night, Wolfe does peek around into Amelia's before getting in the hot water, only allowing his head and shoulder to be in view. "I want you to know that were this literally any other time, I would join you in there, but I'm trying to be good and keep my hands on myself so, please, don't think it's because I don't want you."

That said, he disappears back around the stall divider. Then reappears again a moment later, much redder.

"To myself. Keep my hands to myself."

The Maker never struck him down but he kind of hopes these Gods do.

It's hard not to feel a little rejected when Wolfe doesn't even attempt to join her in the shower. She understands why and she would choose the same, but at least she'd have said something about it before disappearing into the other stall. He does after the fact and that helps, but not when she notices how flushed he is.

Again he won't take help. She pushes down her feelings about it and flashes him a brief smile before he disappears.

"I know it's not that, love. We have a lot to talk about before we're together again." She keeps her tone calm and light as she possibly can. "I'll be done in here in a moment. Can you hold out for a minute longer? I can get started on our clothes and distract the others once I'm out."

She can wait. Her feelings and worries can wait. She can choose to believe everything is fine between them, at least where sex is concerned, until he says otherwise.

Chris is certainly on a tear at the moment, and Jon can read the tension when the mage leans in for his kiss. He's a bit confused as to the why of it. Jealousy is a thing he knows it exists where Wolfe is concerned, but that doesn't appear to be the whole of it. He has siren tails wending around his feet as he fumbles a bit with the soap.

Wolfe looks to be as flustered as Jon feels when he departs, though, which is a small blessing. It means he's not the only one vulnerable to Chris and his wiles.

"It may be easier to clean you as a human. If that... matters. I can keep preening you, my hands are just... There's soap now. And that." He gestures with a soapy hand at the bottle of shampoo.

He flusters Wolfe more than he actually plans to and that’s…an interesting little thing. Something to discuss later, when they were ready.

His mage leaves for the showers where his siren ears can hear a little of the conversation even over the water, or perhaps because of…and he shifts back to just himself. His naked self.

“No you have a point. Besides, I don’t think my songs are helping right now. I tried to ease them outside too and it…didn’t work.” Or worked too well, possibly. It just felt like another tangle he didn’t want to deal with right now.

He moves back to Jon to lean into his space and against his side so his hair is within his Archivist’s reach.

“I don’t know what to do with them. We keep…stepping oddly around each other, I feel. Thank you for being the least complicated of my relationships for now.”

Jon will get a peck on some part of him for it.

Oh Gods that's right, they can probably hear.

"Thank you, Love. I'll do my level best," Wolfe agrees, still flushed to the neck, then disappears onto his side again. Everything feels so off now with everyone, and he's not used to having very little grasp of social nuance, especially with he knows and loves so well, but the throbbing between his legs is intensely urgent and it's all he can do to concentrate on holding on until he hears Amelia leave the shower. Thinking more deeply with the head actually on his shoulders is going to have to wait.

Fuck LIEs for making him second guess these urges. Even if they were still in Duplicity he wouldn't question if he was experiencing this through conditioning or not, but because of what they put him through...

Even that depressing thought isn't enough to sober him up. Frustrated and hating himself, he bites his lip and leans against the shower wall to wait.

She exhales a breath she'd been trying not to hold, grateful he doesn't press or ask anything. If he had... She shakes her head and turns off the water. Best not to think about how difficult a conversation that would be when she's still not recovered from the last.

"You're welcome. Don't rush for us - we'll all be here when you're ready to rejoin us." She doesn't attempt to touch him, see him, or speak to him any further before scooping up her clothes, finding a towel to wrap around herself, and step out to give Wolfe a little peace. Things are so wrong in so many ways that she can't choose and hold onto one long enough to get upset by it before the next vies for a chance at the top spot. Once again she finds herself wishing for things as a result: to not need so many heavy conversations, for the truth of what they are to not be real, to be through the worst of it so they can enjoy their freedom, to be stronger so she wouldn't look as rough on the outside as she feels inside.

Useless things, wishes, at least in the ways she needs them. She's so tired of wishing being the path she wants to take.

As she steps out of the shower and past the springs to the space for laundry, she grabs Wolfe's pants from the floor. His shirt is still outside, as are all of Chris' clothes and--

"Fuck." She sighs as she drops the clothes in her hands into the wash bin, then finally look at the other pair with an apologetic frown. Chris has... changed back. Was he still a siren when she came in? How didn't she notice? Something to worry about later.

Her eyes shift to Jon's briefly before she respectfully looks just over his head. "You'll want to avert your eyes for a few minutes. I'll need to step outside to grab our packs and everything else we left there before I start on the washing." The chore can be done while wrapped in a towel, thankfully. It's getting to it that's the trouble.

The crushing weight of guilt returns, constricting Jon's throat as Chris pecks him so sweetly. He should tell him about what happened with Amelia. But then what would that accomplish right now? It would upset Chris and Wolfe, it would almost certainly cause a row, and it would lead to both men fussing over Amelia when she's trying desperately to pull herself together under their combined onslaught of emotional turmoil.

No. No, the kinder thing, the more sensible thing, is to let it be for now, swallow his guilt and grab the shampoo to massage into Chris' scalp. "You say that while I'm scrubbing ink off my skin. But point taken." Play it off, act normally. He doesn't need to know right now.

When Amelia emerges from the shower, Jon has his fingers buried in Chris' curls as he takes care to both clean and soothe his boyfriend. She might see the remaining writing on his arms, though there's not as much of it now, and his tattoos on one arm likely obscure it. Thankfully, she doesn't hold eye contact for long.

"Sure. I should be finished with Chris soon. Uh... While you're out there, could you fetch Chris' clothes, please? You don't... I can wash my own things, as well."

He keeps his eyes closed as Jon works his hair and he tries to keep his mind focused on the pleasant touch instead of letting his frustration sink back in when Amelia returns. What would it help? She’d just do as she always did and break down and blame herself and not do anything to work towards being better but self-deprecating and making promises she wouldn’t actually honor when the time came.

A vision of a different rogue with lighter hair and eyes comes to mind with the thought and he quickly buries it. He’s in no mood to compare his- who he’d thought was his previous fiancé with his shadow mistress.

“There’s temporary clothes you can change into in the last smaller room when you come back in, that way all the real clothes can be washed and kept clean while we’re here. I’ll start cooking what’s been caught once I’m dressed myself. Thank you, love.”

He can offer that much at least. She was still that, even with everything.

When he’s rinsed, he turns to do the same for Jon and to help by scrubbing the remaining ink himself with gentle, quiet, and carefully unreflective diligence.

Its been a long time since Wolfe has worried about being quiet when taking himself in hand. Actually, its been a long time before yesterday that he'd needed to do so at all given the drive of his partners, but he does a decent job of silence even when he comes. The shower may not be the most comfortable place for it but its certainly easier to clean up.

He's calmer when he steps out of the shower, a little less distracted and a little more ready to handle whatever comes next. He'd not really been cognizant of how worked up he'd gotten but now that its out of his system, his thoughts turn to what he can do for his people. He's been wretched this whole morning other than preparing the meat, letting his emotional mess bleed out on Chris and Amelia alike. Chris had asked for it, to be fair, but Amelia hadn't and Chris' annoyance at Wolfe's actions at the lake didn't help matters either. So once he's dressed in a billowing shirt and tightwr trousers from the wardrobe, he takes his penance in chores.

Cooking, cleaning, laundry, whatever of that his partners will let him help with at any rate. There's still less to do than he'd like but there's more than what little was required for daily life in Duplicity. No washing machine so clothes had to be agitated by hand. No dryer so they wrung them out and hung them up. The cooking is more like Duplicity though, with a sink for water and the fire magically maintained, so the work does run out eventually.

"Is there anything else I can help with?" Wolfe asks again for what's probably the fourth time. He has some ideas of other things of use he can do, but he wants to make double sure he's not needed otherwise first. And he has under no circumstances asked any prying or otherwise difficult emotional questions.

Chores feel like the only useful thing Amelia's been able to do today. Between hunting game and doing as much laundry as had been allowed, it's basically nothing, but it's still better than the way she's thrown every bit of emotion and messy thought onto the others. She hates that there's nothing else to do, but her weapons are ready for the Shadowfell and she can't cook. She didn't bring anything to embroider, either, so she sits at one of the tables with her pack, checking each of her knives for the dozenth time.

Rather than chastise Wolfe for asking again if there's something to do, she gestures to the seat beside her. "We could talk battle plans for tomorrow, if everyone is willing. You can choose a few of my knives for yourself, if you'd like." Although, as she thinks on it and looks over the bunch...

Her lips pull downward. "What did they confiscate from you when they took you? Any weapons we'll need to replace when we have the coin?" If her search of Shadows' Rest before leaving Duplicity told her anything, she already has one knife to replace something he lost. Unless the feather dagger ended up at Marzipan Terrace somehow? She doubts it, and if her hunch is true, he can have the second one she has. It's not as if 'her' Aloïs still exists to take it back.

With Amelia and Wolfe both eager to help with chores and Chris cooking, Jon is left at something of a loose end once Chris has finished with his hair and he's rinsed off. He does avail himself of the wardrobe for the clothes the cleric has created, and he spends far more time than he should working up the nerve to snag some of the lingerie to wear beneath the loose breeches and shirt he picks out. Jon knows he's the only one who's gone through all the clothes. No one else will be the wiser. Except Poppet, perhaps, and she's happily rolling about in the shreds of scarf that remain from her personal feast.

Once out, he heads to the books and pulls one down. While the rest are cleaning and cooking, Jon studies. For the moment, he can read Common, but he tries to hone in on the letters and the words, themselves, committing them to memory as he sounds the words out under his breath in a tongue that feels both natural and foreign thanks to Duplicity's odd translation effect.

By the time Amelia suggests battle plans and asks about weapons, Jon is hyper-focused. He has enough awareness to glance over at her and shrug. "I have the cane Wolfe gave to me, but it's..." He glances down at the text, and tries to respond the rest of the way in Common, feeling foolish and extremely stilted as he knows what he's saying and that it's not entirely right. "It is one. It is not more than one."

Once he’s out of the springs and dressed in far more loose clothing than he’s usually worn the last few years -something more befitting a modest cleric- he sets to collecting and preparing the food. Red meat for the flame, fish set to dry and stew, both. He still lacks for the vast array of spices he’d gotten used to having at hand in Duplicity, but this would taste better than the bland, conjured, food.

By the time questions of tactics arise, he’s plated some of all but the drying fish for his family and sets the plates near each of them in turn.

Whatever thoughts he was going to offer, pause for Jon’s stumbled attempt at Common. Despite the rough execution, Chris smiles.

“Needs polish, but not bad for a first attempt! I know what you’re getting at, anyway.”

He returns to the kitchen to fetch everyone water as he continues.

“I intended to leave a Guardian with Jon and Wolfe, it will attack anything that comes near them. Light might also dissuade them, depending on what type of undead they are. I don’t…actually know. I’ve never dealt with something that comes out of a Darkland.”

He settles in to join them once everything has been handed out and runs the backs of his fingers along his chin in thought.

“Topher said we don’t have to kill them all, just enough, so planting ourselves somewhere and luring the undead to us might work for a time.”

Edited 2025-11-02 17:13 (UTC)

"Just my boot knife and my device, though the knife was the one you gifted me. I had a mind to find it once I broke out but I found you first and escape seemed the more prudent option," Wolfe answers Amelia, plopping into the seat beside her and planting an affectionate kiss to her shoulder, then looking at Jon to try and parse what he said.

"Once we've eaten, we should study together." Or Jon should help him, is probably what he should ask. He'd gotten somewhat better about it at the Sanctuary but he's usually best with someone to bounce off of and Jon so likes to feel superior. Might as well give him that.

"For battle plans, I don't know what we can really plan until we know what the situation looks like. I have my staff, which is at least range if anything gets past Chris' Guardian, and I do have my magic if its between that or death." He puts his hand up before anyone protests. "I'm not keen on running my well dry without dire reason so I promise I won't use it unless its to save our lives."

That stated, whether he still gets disbelieving protests or not, Wolfe tucks into his meal. Still maybe a little bland for lack of spices but its a far cry richer than the food from the day before. He'll take it.

"What sort of zombies are we going to be facing? Mindless shambling undead or something else?" There are a lot of different kinds, as he learned in both the Fleet and Duplicity. "Do we need to take care not to get bitten or we might turn ourselves?"

Edited (typos and word choice) 2025-11-02 17:46 (UTC)

Jon's attempt at Common is clumsy, but in a way that shows he has a basic understanding of the language and what he's trying to say. Amelia cracks a small smile but doesn't say anything, leaving the praise to Chris. The Archivist won't want to hear it from her anyway.

She holds her tongue about Wolfe's weapons as well. That will require a private conversation, considering the previous owner of the knife she wants to give to him. "I think Chris' plan to lure them to us for a while is a good place to start, especially if we can find a defensible position. I have enough knives that I can spare one or two for each of you," she looks at Jon and Wolfe in turn, "in case of emergency and keep the rest to myself. I have reach with my slingshot, though I'll need to hunt for some proper rocks for it before we leave." An easy task along the shore of a lake.

Her attention turns to Chris to hear his answer to the mage's question. She doubts it'll change their plans at all, but it would be good to know what they're likely to be up against. To occupy herself while she listens, she pulls her plate closer, offers a nod and a mouthed 'thanks' to the cleric, and takes a few bites. It's better than the conjured bread she managed to eat this morning and she's grateful for that. If she has to eat, and she knows she does, better there be some taste to it to keep her interested in the act.

Jon grimaces to himself at Chris' mild praise. He knows it's meant kindly, but the Archivist is used to being able to articulate himself and use a more complex vocabulary than most. While he's not starting from complete scratch thanks to his loose efforts to learn Common after Duplicity's auto-translation had failed, he knows he's still a novice and will likely sound it for some time to come. Unless being woven into the Weave might come with that basic knowledge.

Maybe they could negotiate something with Mystra.

It's a thought he files away for later as he closes the book and sits up to pick at the food he's been given. It's more meat than he might usually look for, but it's not like he's been out gathering berries and vegetables from the forest. The realization that his dietary options are going to be incredibly restricted here compared to even back home hits him very suddenly. They're in the cold north. Any 'exotic' fruits and vegetables are almost certainly a luxury.

Jon frowns to himself as he listens before chiming in with, "How many is 'enough?' That wasn't made particularly clear. Half a dozen? A hundred? Will a bell go off when we're finished?" He knows he shouldn't be snarky about this being very... fantasy, but he can't entirely help himself.

To Wolfe's question, at least, he shakes his head. "No, there are no zombies here in Faerun to my knowledge that spread their undead state; it's not a disease, just necromancy."

He stands again to go to his pack and pulls out the multi-jeweled dagger to place on the table. "I'd like someone to take this. Each gem is tied to an element, and there's healing and radiant magic available through it. Undead are usually vulnerable to radiant magic.

"And, no...I don't expect there to be a chime or anything. Either a messenger of the Raven Queen will tell us, or she'll let us know some other way."

He glances up to Amelia as he takes his seat again, a small smile on his lips. "I promise not all of them are annoying, just the one that is my Shadow mirror. Probably."

"I figured we'd just fight until they stopped coming? Usually works for me," he shrugs, but looks to Chris with deference. It's his world, after all. He'd know better.

Other than being curious as to what makes a good sling-shot rock, Wolfe is mostly quiet, listening and occasionally peeking at Jon's book of Common around bites of food. He doesn't seem particularly subdued, at least no more than anyone else. He's just enjoying being around his family.

"Best we give it to one of them." Amelia looks to Chris the nods to the other men. "I'll be all right with you at my side. Better they have a little extra protection where it can be offered." Anything is better than nothing, especially when they shouldn't use any of their abilities. Wolfe will be tempted anyway, but if he can be persuaded away by having that dagger in hand? She'd be grateful for it.

"I am glad to know the messengers aren't all like Topher. I think we can only afford my anger going in one direction at a time right now, especially where your matron's people are concerned." She can laugh at herself for that much, though she somewhat doubts the joke will land after how she's been today. Dreams, she still needs to apologize to Chris...

She shifts a little in her seat, pushing the soft sweater she's wearing - so remarkably like one she was all but living in for days after Wolfe was taken from them - back on her wrists. "Do you think we'll ever see her for ourselves, the Raven Queen? I know she's real for the abilities you have and what the little shit who stopped in this morning brought us, but I've never..." Her lips purse thoughtfully. "It's hard to believe in something without seeing it with my own eyes. I'm certain that's offensive to the gods here, but I hope my being from somewhere else will lessen that blow."

"I imagine seeing gods when you're not one of their clerics is typically a bad thing," Jon says, punctuating the comment with a point of his fork in her direction. He does note Wolfe's attention to the book and moves it so it might be easier for the mage to look at. "Not that I'm not curious, but if she comes to us... Is there any sort of madness we could expect from seeing her?"

While Chris and his Guardians may have treated with gods, he can't imagine it was a particularly good time with the Raven Queen, especially when she's more otherworldly than some of them might be.

The dagger also gets a look, but his attention for that turns to Wolfe first. Jon is willing to take it, but he imagines the actual fighter should have a first claim to it.

Chris nods when Amelia says one of the others should take the dagger, and when Jon doesn't reach for it, Chris slides it towards Wolfe. Probably for the best, he'd always been a little hesitant about letting his Archivist have that dagger when it could permanently harm him, especially considering some of his less favorable inclinations.

He considers Amelia's question and Jon's addition with some thought while he chews a bite of fish. When he decides on his words, he glances at the raven's head on the back wall, then back to the others.

"There's a strong possibility she'll come to see us herself...there's also a strong possibility she won't do what an emissary could do for her. She's...a bit like the very bird she's named for: flights of fancy and unique things take her attention...you all are certainly unique things. That said, sometimes she can't be bothered with something not interesting enough for her. If she does come, I think Jon's had the best idea of what she looks like, I...looked a bit like her myself, back when everyone was pulled into storybooks. She has three faces, each denoting a different emotion that switches out based on how she's feeling. The neutral face is the best to see. And when she speaks, it's not with words so much as...impressions. Ideas pushed into your head in a way you know aren't yours, but get her meaning and ideas across."

He shakes his head and shifts some of his stew about in its bowl. "That's the best I can describe it. She's more...otherworldly than some gods, but all of the gods I've met in Faerun are creatures obviously beyond mortals, with power and presence to match. It would be best if we keep our dealings with gods directly to as minimum as possible for several reasons."

Chris pushes the dagger towards him and Wolfe accepts it without comment. He'd rather he get hurt than Jon right now. He's well aware of Jon's supernatural ability to heal, but its magic and needing to use it will drain his friend faster than necessary. Best to have the tools to remove threats before they ever reach him. Besides, even if he hasn't had lessons with a dagger, Wolfe knows how to move in combat better than Jon does just through experience with the sort of battle he's assuming this will be.

"Are we going to be able to do that? I mean, we're doing something at the Raven Queen's near-direct request, and in her back yard. Then we're going to need to petition Mystra directly, who might take a personal interest since we're curiosities, as you said. I don't know enough about her or how she operates to think she'll have her cleric speak for her at her temple, if she even gives us the time of day. If she doesn't, then you've said yourself you have plans to petition other Gods."

Polishing off the stew, Wolfe leans back a bit to participate in the conversation better, though he does nod to Jon in thanks for the book. He shifts it closer, but doesn't stick his nose in it just yet. That would be rude mid-talk.

"I'm a little surprised Her Highness sent Topher instead of speaking through you, her cleric, though. You obviously still have your connection if she didn't send you a vial to drink... Ah, maybe that's why, someone had to deliver the vials." That's... very obvious now that he's said it. "...Nevermind."

"We'll do what we can to keep our interactions with them as little as possible after we're in the Weave." Amelia's reckless enough to threaten or fight gods for messing with the people at this table, but she's calmed enough since this morning to see the logic in avoiding it where she can. She's not going to go out of her way to find fights that don't need fighting, at least with the gods and when everyone else in the party is actively asking to avoid it.

She's not certain how to process what the Raven Queen looks like or her very mercurial ways. It reminds her a bit of Jamie, through presented in a very different way from the changeling, and a child when Chris describes her desire for what's unique and yet also not making efforts to see those unique things for herself. This is a god they're speaking of, though, so she doesn't say any of this out loud. The last thing she needs is to be struck down for speaking her mind in the blunt way she does when working through her thoughts and deciding how she feels about the outcome. This is also Chris' matron and that above all else makes her hold her tongue. It helps that she's curious about Wolfe's question; she nods along as the man speaks to show her own genuine curiosity about the answer.

And then lifts a hand to gently rub his back when the mage stumbles over his thoughts. He gets a soft smile and a kiss to his temple before she returns to her stew. As soon as she's done with that, he can have her hand to help him recover further.

"I think I'm most concerned about Bane taking an interest once he notices us." Jon flicks a glance at Wolfe. He doesn't know how much Amelia might know about the fraught and abusive relationship with Chris' former god, but he knows the mage should be on the same page. "Or rather, once he notices you." His gaze turns to Chris as he continues to pick at his own stew. "The Raven Queen is all well and good; we know she's on our side for the moment." Probably. The soul thread vials provide some sense of certainty for the moment. What might come later is anyone's guess is a mercurial bird of a goddess.

"Bane, though... You'll let us know if he does try to contact you, yes? We should probably all be open about that, if it comes to pass."

There's a part of him that worries Chris might try to hide it, that he'll turn to anyone who might help them given their current situation. Bane is power and control. Wouldn't he be convenient for a man who's just lost so much of that? And has been struggling with its loss for the past five years?

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Deception 25

Insight 25

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Insight 17. He is very off his game lol

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cw: brief refrence to self-harming tendencies

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