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<Malach> ::the evening is not entirely revolting for early Marsembrian summer, but it has been raining on and off all day, which always helps. A different group of mercenaries is clustered near the shore, but Malach is waiting near the shadowy alcove. He has the expression of someone who is expecting to be disappointed.:: * Kevil prepared carefully for this meeting. His illusions are layered several deep, and this time his tattered clothes are real. Nacheyla's truth-stone is bound to his arm and hidden under a thick, filthy bandage that smells faintly of blood and some foul poultice. Aldis' clamshell is tucked into the pocket of his dress. * Malach yawns and stretches, then looks around again. * Kevil slinks into the shadows, stopping just as he rounds the corner and sees the mercenary. <Darla> ::in a tiny, frightened whisper:: M'lord? * Malach spins quickly. "Ah, my dear... I wasn't sure if you'd remembered..." He grins widely, flashing white teeth at her. <Darla> ::smiles nervously:: I almost didn' make it anyhow, m'lord. The orcs... ::she swallows heavily:: * Malach frowns. "That reminds me... " He digs through his pockets and comes up with a wrinkled bit of parchment. "I got this for you, so's that you'd be able to come see me." He hands it to her. * Darla takes the parchment quickly, and squints at it. "Looks a bit like the writ the healing woman had, when she come..." She looks up at him hopefully. * Malach pats her hand. "You show that, if the orcs give you any trouble and they'll leave you be..." He offers her his arm. "I got someplace nice and cozy for us, and a bit of dinner? You look a mite underfed." <Darla> ::gives him a tremulous smile as she tucks the writ into her pocket:: Yes, m'lord, thank you... My brother-in-law, he won't let me go an' work, so we've been sharing off his chit... <Malach> ::leading her away from the dock area:: It ain't exactly right, is it? Orcs gettin' all the food and people being hungry... ::he shakes his head:: Not exactly what I signed on for, you know. ::shrugs:: Beats the alternative, I guess. ::he leads her into a somewhat shabby neighborhood:: Here we are... <Darla> Wouldn' mind the orcs taking food, m'lord, if they'd work for it some... ::she flushes and ducks her head as if half-expecting a blow:: Beggin' your pardon m'lord, I mean... <Malach> ::opens the door and lets her inside:: Don't worry your head, none, pet. Things ain't exactly friendly-like between us and them. But they pay us... an' you know, it keeps 'em out of our country. <Darla> ::nods quickly:: Yes, m'lord, of course... Where are you from? * Malach brings her back to the small kitchen where a whole roasted chicken (cold) and some bread and cheese are laid out on the table. "Been living in Ordulin most recent-like. Before that, was near Zhentil Keep... " * Darla looks hungrily at the food, and her hand twitches before she pulls it back. She looks at the mercenary warily. "That's really far away... I never even heard of Ordulin." She offers another tentative smile. "I like your accent though... It's all soft and pretty." <Malach> ::grins at her obvious hunger:: Go ahead and have some, pet... I got a few plates around here somewhere... ::he digs through a cupboard and finds two chipped dinner plates:: * Darla flushes, but doesn't hesitate to tear a leg from the chicken. She takes a small, tentative bite, and then a bigger one. * Malach cuts a few slices of bread and cheese, putting them on the plates, then leans back in a chair to watch her eat. * Darla finishes the leg and takes a bite of bread before looking at him guiltily. "Aren't you going to have some, m'lord?" * Malach grins at her, then picks up his own piece of bread. "Don't worry, pet. There's plenty." <Darla> ::finishes the piece of bread quickly and reaches for more:: I don't... Don't s'pose you got to see my kin, at all? Are they all right? <Malach> ::nods:: I did... your sister was real grateful for the food... she been having some problems nursin'. She said... damn, let's see if I c'n 'member this... to tell you... ::he scratches at the small beard on his chin:: dim... no, that's not right. I'm not much shakes with language... dis have lin. Something like that... said you'd know it was from her, then. <Darla> ::breath catches, and she drops her head to hide tearing eyes:: Th-thank you... <Malach> ::grins again, helping himself to a slab of breastmeat:: Don't you worry... I'll look after 'em for you. <Darla> ::sniffles and rubs at her eyes:: I- I wish she could just come home... How long're the orcs planning on holding everyone? They can't keep them in there *forever*, can they? <Malach> ::shrugs:: I don't think they will... but Big Red's up fightin' with the King and all... once that army's wiped out, he'll come settle this place permanent-like... won't be need for hostages when he's around. <Darla> ::shivers and looks up with wide eyes, her voice a frightened whisper again:: The dragon? <Malach> ::nods:: Yeah, that's him. I don't like sayin' his name, don't want him to hear it... ::he looks a bit nervous himself:: <Darla> ::nods in immediate agreement:: What's... what's he going to do with us? <Malach> ::shrugs:: I... dunno, pet. He ain't, you know, eating people... I think he wants to be, like king of the world or something... * Darla looks vaguely, but not especially, reassured, and nibbles at some more cheese. <Malach> But don't you worry about that... I reckon ol' Azoun'll give him more trouble than he counted on... ::grins at her:: <Darla> ::returns his grin, with just a hint of spirit:: Wouldn't that put you out of a job, then? * Malach leans back in his chair. "Mercenaries can find work just about anywhere... I ain't so attached to Big Red that I'll throw flowers at his funeral pyre, should someone get so lucky..." <Darla> ::nods, licking chicken grease off her fingers:: Wish I *were* a princess, like my da' always called me. Then I'd be rich and I could hire you an' your company to throw out the orcs for us. ::she smiles shyly:: * Malach shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time." He watches her intently, a flicker of lust over his face as she licks her fingers. * Darla pushes her plate away a bit and blushes as she looks down at the table. "Thank you for the food, m'lord..." * Malach stands up and moves around the table to her, dropping to one knee by her side. "We ain't all heartless, pet." He turns her chin to face him. <Darla> ::meets his eyes briefly, then looks down again, trembling slightly:: N-no, m'lord. Of course not... <Malach> ::shakes his head:: Don't call me that, pet... I'm no one's lord. Name's Malach, if I ain't said it before... <Darla> Yes, m'l- Malach. * Malach stands up and offers her his hand. "Let's go... set us someplace more comfortable. It ain't the palace, like where that damned Woundwort's been living, but it ain't so bad." <Darla> ::nods shakily and puts her hand in his, letting him lead her.:: * Malach leads her to a somewhat better furnished bedroom. A wide bed, strewn with cushions, dominates the room. A basin, sitting on top of a cherry dresser, is more than half full of war-spoils... gold, gemstones, bracelets, coins, rings. Stacked untidily in one corner are a few bolts of silk, satin, and several yards of very expensive lace. * Darla pauses, gaping, as they cross the threshold. "A-all this is yours?" <Malach> ::nods:: Yeah... my squad got an extra share, cause we broke the palace guards. Cost us, too. Lost sixteen, in that fight... ::he grimaces:: I hate mages. * Darla pulls her hand from Malach's and crosses to look at a bolt of shimmering silk. She reaches out a hand, but snatches it back at the last moment, wary of her dirty fingers. She picks up a jewel-studded bracelet instead and turns it over in the lamp light.:: * Malach grins at her. "Think I might build me a house, when this is all over... big place, you know?" <Darla> ::gives him a smile as she puts the bracelet back down:: With servants to do all the work, of course... <Malach> Most definitely... ::he sits on the bed, then pats the area next to him:: C'mere and sit down, pet. * Darla crosses the room, then halts just short of the bed. "Oh! I forgot!" She blushes. "I have to... The healer-woman said, if I didn't want..." Her blush darkens furiously. "Just- just a minute in the necessary, first?" * Malach laughs. "Smart girl..." He points. "Just down the hall there, to the left." <Darla> ::grins weakly, still embarrassed:: Won't be but a minute... ::she turns and goes down the hall, closing the bathroom door carefully behind her:: <Darla> ::Inside, she retrieves Aldis' clamshell from her dress pocket, and closes her eyes in silent prayer. After a moment, she opens it and whispers, "Lorelei." A perfect duplicate of "Darla" shimmers into being and stands unmoving. Darla looks at her duplicate carefully, then nods once.:: Go. <Darla> ::The duplicate comes to life, her motions and mannerisms carefully copied by Aldis after a long session with Kevil two nights before. She opens the door and walks back up the hall.:: * Darla leans against the bathroom wall, breath held as she listens. * Malach grins as Darla returns. "All better, now?" He pats the side of the bed again. <Duplicate> Yes, m'lord... ::she sits obediently next to Malach on the bed:: <Malach> ::grins at her, pushing some of her hair out of her face:: No need to be formal, pet... I ain't gonna bite you... * Duplicate smiles and looks down shyly. * Malach leans over and blows out the candle. <Malach> ::some time passes in which we will leave these two (three?) in relative privacy:: * Malach lays back on the pillows sometime later and puts his arms behind his head, looking very satisfied. * Darla lets out a final shallow breath in the bathroom and whispers, "Come back..." The duplicate sits up and slides from the bed, giving Malach a warm, lingering smile, then gathers up her clothes and returns to the bathroom. * Malach leans up on his elbows to watch her, then stretches, pulling himself out of bed. He fishes around in the floor for a while to find his pants and pulls them on. "I'll just pack up that leftover chicken for you, pet, while you're dressing..." * Darla musses her own hair to match the duplicate's dishevelled state, then banishes it. She splashes a bit of water on her face, then emerges, following Malach's voice to the kitchen. "That's very kind of you... My brother-in-law couldn't work today, so he'll be hungry." * Malach adds the remainder of the bread and cheese to the basket. "I got plenty, and I hate to see a pretty girl going hungry..." He grins at her, then, almost hesitantly, "You're... not displeased, I hope?" <Darla> ::smiles bashfully:: Oh, no, I... I hadn't expected it to be that nice... ::gives him a faintly nervous smile:: Were you pleased? I- I don't know much... <Malach> ::grins:: Very fine, pet... very fine... * Malach looks around through some of his cupboards and adds a few apples to the basket. "There you go, pet... a bit of lunch for you..." <Darla> ::smiles and boldly runs a finger down his arm before she takes the basket:: Thank you... Shall I- When shall I come back? ::she blushes, but meets his gaze:: * Malach thinks a moment. "I'm back on patrol for the next four nights running... but after that?" He glances at her. "I might... be persuaded to take you up on the wall. You won't be able to talk to 'em, but you can see your sister and mum from there." <Darla> ::looks up at Malach with wide, hopeful eyes:: Really? I- I'd like that. <Malach> ::pats her hand:: I think I can arrange it... you have to promise not to tell no one, though... I could get in a lot of trouble... <Darla> ::bites her lip:: Not even my brother-in-law? He misses my sister something awful... <Malach> After... not before... ::he looks at her:: Men get awful hostile when their wives are in danger... <Darla> ::nods reluctantly:: After. All right... * Malach leans over and kisses her warmly. "You best run along, pet... I got work in the morning." <Darla> ::nods and fishes in her pocket for the writ of passage:: In four days, then... * Malach shows her to the door and watches as she scurries down the street. * Darla stops before she turns down a side-street and looks back, offering a tiny wave. * Malach waves. * Kevil stops around the corner and allows his illusions to dissolve. He spits once, then looks down at the writ in one hand and the basket of food in the other with a grin. "Pretty good wages for a kiss," he admits to the shadows, then resumes his way home, walking swiftly. |
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