“Alright, I have to know— what the hell is in that book?
Tomoe’s voice is so clear, it feels like the divines made it for the express purpose of cutting through the morning air. It’s always a bit disorienting to shift your perception from two angles to one, but the last thing you want is to be rude to a new person. Especially one who broadcasts a specialty for punching.
You grant your eyes a few heavy blinks as you regain proper depth perception and look up and over your shoulder at the individual tailing your new little group. The presence she carries with her feels larger than reality, but when you actually take the time to find her eyes, you are pleasantly surprised that you don’t have to crane your neck upward nearly as much as you expected. A single orange eye cuts through the distance just as effectively as her voice did, and you make a mental note to never get in between this woman and any kind of goal or destination. If just her voice and gaze can carve through air like this, you can only imagine how effective that curved blade on her back must be.
“It’s a book on magic. Specifically, spellcrafting. I’m trying to crack an unfamiliar combination, and it’s proving quite the challenge.”
With half her face obscured by some kind of complex face covering, and the other half masked behind a naturally stoic expression, it's hard to tell what she's thinking. An already arduous task for you, amplified exponentially by her demeanor. “Spell… crafting? As in, you’re trying to make a new spell?”
You try to mask your surprise; you know everyone has different life experiences, but to have zero understanding of how one accesses the font of magic? Even you could tell the difference between a spear and a sword, and you’ve never held either.
“No, not a new spell, but a complicated one to recreate. I hope this isn’t rude, but do you know how spellcasting works?”
She shrugs. “Can’t say I’ve ever found myself in a position of needing to know.”
You open your mouth, then shut it; a familiar process from more moments than you'd like to admit. This seems to amuse her in some way, judging by the quirk of her lip, which gives you a sense of relief. With a small wave of her hand, she’s clearly opened the door for you to speak freely, and you take it with haste.
“Well, ‘magic’ isn’t just one thing. Everything has some level of magic to it; the lifeforce that courses through flora and fauna, the spark of a flame before it ignites, the way a cliff erodes and transforms over time, all of it has magic woven into it. The world we live in is like… like a symphony. So many different notes and chords all working together. Adding to the symphony is easy; you just learn the components, and recreate them. That’s why the first spells most people learn are ones that create light or sound. Modifying is more of a challenge; people often think learning to move water would be easier than creating it anew, but that’s not the case. And to remove a component of that symphony entirely? To erase something from the page? That requires downright mastery.”
You meet her eyes again and see that her already tilted lip has morphed into a full smirk. You feel your face flush red. “Sorry. I guess I can get a bit too verbose when it’s something I’m passionate about.”
“Don’t you ever apologize for passion. True drive is too rare these days; I respect it, even if it’s not a subject I hold any particular weight towards.”
You’re taken aback by this. You find her view a bit pessimistic; you’ve met plenty of driven people on your travels. What is much rarer is someone who is willing to acknowledge and appreciate that drive without any personal attachment. You already like this new friend, even though you think she’d break you in half for calling her such. Despite this risk, you decide to try to break the ice a little bit more. “So, west, huh? Can’t imagine you’re heading all the way to the coast if you have a polite view of mages.”
The smirk wavers a little; she’s clearly very cautious, but seems to decide you aren’t a threat. You’re not sure if that should be an insult or not. “Well, each step I take is already the furthest west I’ve ever been, so I’m not even completely confident in my destination yet.”
You recreate Aeron’s map in your mind’s eye; the intersection where you all met is pretty far east, when taking into account the whole island. “I hope this isn’t rude to say, but that’s a bit unexpected to me. You strike me as a rather well-traveled individual; the fact that my book and I have seen more of the island than you certainly comes as a bit of a surprise.”
She shrugs again. “I grew up in the Arboreal Sea. You could spend an entire lifetime exploring that place and still, there would be a thousand trees you’ve never seen. For a long time, I never imagined I’d need anywhere else.”
“Then what changed?”
There is an uncomfortable pause in the conversation, and when you hazard a look back, you see her eyes are locked into the distant horizon, and realize you’ve sent her down a memory lane that seems less than pleasant. Panicking a little at this unexpected social hurdle, you blurt out, “Well, I’m from Tempus! Definitely not as hard to explore that in its entirety. Even if you wanted to.”
Tomoe blinks out of the memory your question had locked her into. You’re pretty sure that she noticed that you recognized her shift in demeanor, and those three layers make your mind spin. How do people navigate conversations like this?
Her soft chuckle fills the space between your persons. This is the first laugh you’ve heard from her, including when everyone else was laughing at that Soup Merchant’s stories. Even though it’s tinged with sadness, likely leftover from the memory you unintentionally activated, this laugh infects your own mood as you return a partial smile in her direction.
“Well, I’ve heard a few barside stories of that place,”, she continues after a beat. “Few of them pleasant, but everywhere has to be home to somebody. And hey, gods know the Arboreal Sea isn’t always paradise.”
“I’ve certainly heard a fair share of terrifying tales from your home as well. Leaves that block out the sun, tricks and traps from the Arboreans, a litany of flora and fauna that’ll spit out nothing but bones…”
Frighteningly, this list of threats seems to invoke fondness in Tomoe’s face, as her smile creeps up into her one visible eye for the first time. “Sounds like home to me. I’ll take the law of the land over the law of man any day of the week. Besides, isn’t Tempus where that weird time-cave is? That scuff sounds far more cursed than anything I’ve encountered in the Sea.”
“Hey, don’t knock the cave! Pretty much everything I learned came from studying there. Well, me and…” your voice trails off as a pair of faces enter your mind's eye, accompanied by a pang of longing.
Tomoe, however, seems less interested in your sudden pause, and more interested in the sentence before it. Her pace slows, as the one orange eye squints in sudden suspicion. “You… studied that place? You aren’t an arcanist, are you?”
Snapping back to reality, you quickly roll up your jacket sleeves to quickly display a pair of unmarked palms and forearms. “Never used it myself, if that’s your concern. But you can’t really understand a symphony without looking closely at the instruments, right?”
You see her jaw clench as she seems to process a thousand thoughts at once. She rubs the small of her neck, her hand disappearing under her high collar that obscures everything up to her chin . It looks like she’s about to say something a few times, then quickly shakes her head as if trying to physically eject her own thoughts. With a quick exhale through the nose, somewhere between a dry laugh and an outright scoff, she says, “Sure. Whatever you say.”
You’re not totally sure why that set her off so much, but you decide not to push it any further. As the conversation halts to a reasonable (if somewhat tense) stopping point, you decide to return to your tome. It takes you a moment to split your perception again; the arcane text overlapping with the sight of your own heels until you’re able to focus on both again. This is a skill that took you years to master, but it has proven its value time and time again.
However, just as your mind has started to sink back into the complex weave of symbols in front of you, you’re pulled right back out by an unexpected sound; it sounds like someone is crying? It’s easy to look and confirm that none of your current traveling companions has heard this sound, and you once again find yourself grateful that the creature you share perception with has better hearing than your own.
You clear your throat. “Um, everyone? I think I hear someone crying in the forest.”
Aeron and Qinris pause mid-conversation and turn around. Qinris’ deep voice is skeptical, but polite. “Are you sure? I didn’t hear anything. Maybe it was just the wind?”
You decide it’s unwise to immediately betray the exact details of your enhanced senses, and hope that you can convince them of the truth without it. “I’m not completely confident it was tears, I’m not even confident it was human, but I’m confident it wasn’t the wind. Someone or something is hurt, that direction.” You accentuate your statement with a stout finger in the direction of the sound.
Aeron reaches for his map and unfurls it. “Well, if we’re where I think we are, then we’re making solid time to Mivian. We can investigate it, make sure there’s nothing worth- uh, Tomoe?” His message is interrupted by the woman striding past him, her gaze affixed to the road ahead. Leaning to look past the Merlutin, you see her stop at a dark spot in the compacted dirt path.
Kneeling down at her destination, she speaks only a single word: “Blood.”
You rush forward to see what she’s talking about, but only see a small muddy patch in the dirt. “Um…? It just looks like mud, to me. Barely mud, even.”
With barely a glance in your direction, Tomoe puts two fingers into the altered earth and brings it up. Against her pale skin, you do see a hint of red in the moisture that covers her fingertips. She sniffs it, nods in confirmation, and gives you a more direct look. “Fresh water, and fresh blood. Someone tried to clean blood off something, no more than half an hour ago. And apparently couldn’t wait for it to dry before slinking off into the forest.” She points to a line of droplets that you never would have caught on your own. “Might be whoever’s responsible for your strange sounds?”
You chuckle, nervously. “This… may be past my limit for strange occurrences in one day.”
“Then you should have kept your mouth shut,” she shrugs. “I don’t walk away from things.” Resting a confident hand on the hilt of her blade without drawing it, Tomoe walks decisively into the forest.
Qinris looks between the two of you, and then gives a soft laugh. “Well, can’t let a lady go alone!” He rushes to keep up with Tomoe, Aeron drawing a trident right on his heels.
You feel a sigh pass through your lips before shackling your tome to your side and following the trio.
You hope you’re ready for this.