It’s a cool night of the warmer time of year, a gentle breeze lapping at the locks of straw like hair drooping lazily down from Stitches’s head. As his crown of hair plays with the wind, he runs a brush through the tail of his trusted steed. The black Clydesdale whinnies at him, and protests the use of the brush on such an insignificant area! Stitches sighs but is coerced to move the brush up to Bread’s top mane, long and unkempt. Still, Bread nickers at him unhappily, prompting him to sigh again and whisper in admittance, “I know Bread, I know.”
Meanwhile, not too long after, Drubainbess dismounts after bringing her steed toward the back, looking around a moment before stepping over to Stitches. She studies him a moment before speaking, possibly checking to see if he is sober at present. Yet as uncertain as she remains, Drubainbess says, 'I thought I might find you here.'
Stitches seems entirely sober, oddly enough, and the darkened redness around his eyes has subsided quite a bit. As Stitches looks up, he smiles at her presence and turns to face her, leaving Bread untouched for a moment or so, "I guess I'm fairly easy to read." He says with a stunted laugh.
Drubainbess opens her mouth, then closes it. What little can be seen under her hood appears to be pale. She squeezes the edge of her tunic and glances around again, watching. "That is no bad thing," she says simply. After a moment of weighing something mentally, she pulls a note from her pocket and hands it to him, still watching the area almost with a paranoia.
Stitches blinks and takes the note from her hands, "What's this?" He asks, flipping the note over in his hands with curiosity, but still seeming more or less distracted by her just appearing in general.
Drubainbess shrugs slightly, frowning. "It...explains itself. Some random lad handed it to me not long ago, when I returned to town."
Stitches blinks and would have been reading it as she explained. For a few moments his eyes glide over the page in sheer bewilderment. The letter reads thusly:
“Dear Lady Drubainbess.
My name is Selvius. I am a leading, respected officer and commander of The Relight Initiative. If the name does not ring any bells, that is because it may have been unclear to you in your time during your capture. The Relight Initiative was formed by someone you know as Mahnik, and commanded by himself, a cruel man named Sykesbar as Mahnik’s right hand, and Veethoria, who is known as The Heart Witch. Many years ago we were hired by a young man to help him return his brother Kakeraen Ristirith, to Rohan where they lived with their family. Mahnik decided to keep and torture Kakeraen, then broke his mind through physical trauma. From there The Relight Initiative grew into a more deadly organization. Their commanders grew violent, and they began to show their true colors. After your capture they expanded to many parts of the world as their resources grew.
You escaped. But not all captives did.
As I said, I am Selvius. I am writing to you as one of the earliest members of The Relight Initiative, or at least what it used to be. I operated from Gondor during you and Mister Ristirith’s plight. I am writing to you now after having found out what happened to our dream…
I am writing to you because I wish to assist you, and Mister Ristirith.
Allow me to meet you Lady Drubainbess, so we may discuss this fully. I will arrive alone and unarmed. You may arrive as you like. As a show of good faith, I will inform you that Veethoria, Mister Ristirith’s former fiance, is in town. She is actively seeking him out.
Well regards from the shadows, ever may the lights burn.
-Selvius"
Stitches blinks and his head recoils at last as he looks up at her, blurting out questions as if alarmed, "Who is this person? I've never heard their name before...and...did you respond to them?" He asks in shock.
Drubainbess seems almost relieved at his response, almost as if it means her own response when reading it before was not uncalled for. She sighs, shaking her head. "I did not. Nor have I heard of this man before." She frowns deeper. "I...do not trust it. This must be a trap."
Stitches nods for a moment and frowns, "Yes...you're probably right about that..." He says, trailing off, and handing it back to her, "But I have no choice...I have to meet whoever it is. If they really want to help I'll take that risk instead of waiting for the others to plot, scheme, and ruin my life again."
Drubainbess takes the note and puts it back in her pocket, then freezes with her hand still in the pocket. She turns her face toward him and raises a brow. "You are going to...what? What if you are killed? I thought the others were...gone..."
Stitches shakes his head, "Mahnik...Sykes...and Vee at least survived. Those three are the top anyhow, and if they're still around they'll never let me be free of them and their antics. I have to end this, one way or another, but I'm not afraid of them.”
Drubainbess mutters the words, "I am," very quietly, almost silently mouthing them. She looks down, biting the inside of her cheek. "I cannot let you do so alone."
Selvius seeps from behind the corner of the building like a shadow in daylight, having listened in as well as he could and recognizing the people he was looking for. He speaks up to the two as he arrives from nowhere, hands stuffed in pockets at the front of his stomach, his long dark robes and a cloak follow him eerily. He speaks up as he seemingly means to catch them off guard, “I couldn't agree more.”
Kakeraen doesn't get to respond to Dru before the man steps out behind them, and he immediately tenses, reaching for his estoc. In turn, Drubainbess steps a little in front of where Stitches at least had been, her hands near her blades and her feet spread in a readied stance. Still, the dark man speaks softly, standing like a globule of pure shadow. From there before them, Selvius looks at the two from behind a large crooked nose. He hums quietly and raises his hands out of his pockets slowly, allowing them to see that he is unarmed, "I am Selvius, my lord, my lady."
Stitches steps next to Dru, equally as protectively and keeps his sword firmly held as he speaks up, "You're the fellow who wrote to Dru...are we going to be ambushed and slaughtered now?" He asks with a dented brow.
Drubainbess is silent for the moment, but the fearful state she'd been in before somehow seems to be replaced immediately with defiance. Though if one is close enough, her hands are shaking slightly, in a way that shows she is forcing herself not to tremble.
Selvius casts eyes of fathomless sadness on the man and he huffs gently, "It would be a bad ambush if I announced myself loudly, had no backup, and no weapons." He says before sticking his hands back into those pockets at the front of his robes, looking to Dru, "I meant what I said in the letter, my Lady. I am here to assist the two of you...You see...The others are no longer /just/ after Mister Ristirith here…” He says, enunciating the word ‘just’.
Stitches looks from Selvius to Dru and back to the dark looking man with a stern scowl. It is clear that he's on edge as well, "If any of you rats ever come near her again, I will not sleep until I wipe your existence from the world." He snarls.
Drubainbess raises an eyebrow at the man's words. "Why would you help us? You gave no reason to trust you in the note. Only reasons to do the opposite." She shakes her head. "What do you mean they are not only after...him?" She glances at Stitches in concern, before her eyes go right back.
Selvius lifts his chin and looks at the two he had been trying to reach. His mouth hangs open, and his voice is hardly the nicest thing about him, his words pour out like sludge or thick mud, slow and heavy, "I do hope...you find it in yourselves to allow this...conversation...to go smoother and with a bit more...civility." He then glances to Dru, and explains as concisely as he can, “Relight was an idea formed by three young close childhood friends, to help people. A freelancing organization if you will...somewhere along the way Mahnik lost his mind. I was only recently made aware of that change from my post as Master of Finances in our office in Gondor. As for the other bit…I'm afraid...Lady Veethoria has demanded that we find you...as well...Lady Dru.”
Stitches listens intently, and although his face softens, he doesn't seem to let down his guard. He keeps close to Dru and occasionally looks around, checking to make sure they aren't being surrounded or anything. However, Drubainbess studies him for a moment as he speaks. "If you indeed speak the truth, you shall have to forgive our distrust. We have lost much to this...Relight group." When he mentions her presence is demanded by Vee, she genuinely laughs. Not quietly either. "I should be ever so surprised if she did not at least demand I be assassinated in my sleep. Insane whelp."
Stitches holds his arm out over in front of Dru, as if shielding her from the very idea of what he says, "I let Vee live because I did enough damage to your 'organization' and my own mind killing your people. I was willing to let it all go and move on. If she wants Dru there's nothing left to say but to find her and end her." He says clearly.
Selvius tilts his head, "Your distrust was expected, but forgiven. And...yes...she put it rather more...colorful than I did." He admits, motioning to them, "May I approach?" he asks.
Stitches looks to Dru for her opinion. Drubainbess looks down at Stitches' arm as he holds it out, then back up at Selvius. She seems to work something out in her head as she looks at the stones in front of her, then points specifically at one a little beyond the horse in front of them. "That is the furthest you may come.." Her hands rest at her sides still.
Selvius nods and approaches them further as he speaks slowly, "I urge you to see the reason I speak. I have no wish for either of you...to endure...more harm than you already have."
Stitches sets his arm down but keeps close to Dru, eyeing Selvius intently, "How can we possibly trust you...?" He asks, starting to calm down, but still skeptical.
Selvius hums quietly, "I suppose I'll have to prove myself. Which I already intended to do. I would like to send you mail, one of you...to keep you informed on Relight's movements in Bree.” He says before looking around cautiously, “But I will not take up much of your time today, I'm sure you have...things to do…”
Drubainbess taps her leg and bites the inside of her cheek thoughtfully before glancing at her companion. Stitches in turn, hums, and looks back to Dru, "And in exchange?" He asks, either expecting to be extorted or waiting for the man to demand a price.
Selvius hums and shakes his head, "I will not require anything from you...from either of you." He says, looking off sullenly, "I want to fix my part of a dying dream...and it would seem that you two are the path to that redemption. Selvius goes on to announce, “We need not shake on it, you need not inform me of where you reside or when you come and go. I will have someone find you with my letters, and together I hope...we can end this mess.”
Stitches nods, looking at Dru, "I find this acceptable...but if you turn on us in any way...I swear." He threatens before stepping slightly closer to Dru, "But I cannot speak for her as well. It matters what she thinks is acceptable as well.
Drubainbess thinks a moment before dipping her head. "I can hardly find it disagreeable, since we have no further task added to us than before." She pauses, opening her mouth to speak, then seems to figure Stitches' threats did not need to be expanded.
Selvius tucks his hands deep within his front pockets and nods to the both of them, "Then until next time, my Lady..." He bows slightly to them, "And my lord." He says, turning quickly after a brief look around the shadowy place to disappear back behind the corner into the night.
Stitches finally lets go of his sword and places his hand on Dru's shoulder, "Are you alright...?"
Drubainbess lifts her hand to grasp his and she nods, still staring at where Selvius had been standing. "Are you?" She looks at him now, raising an eyebrow.
Stitches would gently pull himself into a hug around her if she lets him, sighing, "I don't know...maybe. I certainly need to finish this if it's going to keep cropping up. If that man really does help us...maybe this can be over."
Drubainbess wraps one arm around him, hugging him tightly while the other arm remains at her side. She rests the side of her head on his chest, "This time, it will finish," she says quietly as though not sure which direction the end will take.
It isn’t too many hours after they part that Stitches finds himself again in his nearly abandoned and certainly well abused house. Granted it had been cleaned with help recently, it still is a bit of a mess. It’s about to get worse. Despite his best efforts to stay sober, his ex fiance was now after him yet again, and moreso, after Dru. He takes a large puff of air and brings the bottle to his lips once he’s sure he’s alone and gorges himself on the bitter liquid, causing nausea, dizziness, and lightheadedness in a matter of moments. He stumbles around the messy shack and hiccups, tossing a bottle to the nearest wall for disposal. He grunts loudly and picks up a few neatly organized papers on the table near the fire. From here he admits his faults to them decently, but hesitates to say their name as if afraid, starting with a beauty of long and light hair, framing a delightful face, the name Cinder atop the parchment, “I wish you never me, truly. I never can do anything to anyone as wrong as I’ve done to you. What we had wasn’t fair, to you or me.” He says before moving on.
The next parchment depicts a woman with bobbed and darkened hair, wide eyes and an astute but comely smile. He hums quietly, frowning at the title of the paper: Taite, and whispering, “I think you needed me. It was wrong to leave Bree like that, for both of us, knowing that you needed help and I needed help, and you were left behind while I disappeared.” He says before moving to the last picture.
This one is fairly well detailed, as if practiced many times to perfection. The hair is shoulder length, and a deep, dark black. Her eyes are light and a stern look covers her face. Stitches sighs, meeting with the very same woman only hours ago. He looks down, “I’m really not that great of a person, Dru…Taite…Cinder.” He says quietly, before acknowledging, “This could all be over if I just let…if I let it happen, or made it happen.” He says quietly, not looking anywhere but down, trying not to be implicative of himself at the very least.
A hiss echoes in his head, “Do it.” As it often did, guiding his fingers to the knife at his belt, and another voice combats it gently, encouraging him to “Stay strong.”
Annoyed, his hands shoot up to his head as he whispers to an empty house and a full head, “Please…be quiet.” He begs.
His heart is in conflict about what to do about the people who have hurt him in the past, as well as himself. His head fights with itself for another portion of the night, the redness returns to the area around his eyes, and his breath wretchedly filled with the stench of alcohol by early morning. The green iris of his eyes search the tabletop frantically as he tries to ignore the advice of the voices he hears when no one is around. Echoing, tormenting, overpowering. He loses control in moments like this. Perhaps the shadow over one shoulder will convince him this is all pointless, and more people will suffer less if he simply was no longer here. Perhaps the light over the other shoulder will convince him that getting through it is the only way to achieve a cow named Tomato, a wife who truly loves him, and a child who sees not a monster for a father, but an idol to admire…
