Tragedy of Gold

"Didn't take me all that long, my sister knows my heart," he said, thumping his fist against his chest, eyes locked on the flames as he spoke. "She and I shared beats for nine months. Some things don't need saying," He smiled, and looked up to his friend.

"You though, I still need to use words for. Though I suppose I could have prayed to the Lady..."

"I don't hear prayers outside my order, Little Lion. Those go directly to God," Cithara murmured pleasantly, the man perking up a bit, eyes contemplative.

"Oh. That's good to know. I assumed he had a... functionary for that."

"No, what else would he do with the fullness of his existence, if not hear your prayers?"

"That is oddly reassuring," Nazir said, propping his head in his hands. "Even if they go unanswered."

"Yet never unheard, know that it hurts him as it does you to be asked and be unable to give."

"God... hurts?" the southerner asked, Cithara's attention turning fully to him, her body angled towards the mustering men-at-arms, watching them gather in the distance, she smiled at the dark-skinned man, her eyes touched with sadness at the memory.

"God does, Little Lion. He hurts, and he loves, and he does little else but wring his hands and pace the divine realm like a nervous hen," she said, pausing before adding; "Figuratively speaking, that is. God loves us deeply, and he frets as all parents do."

"Oh," was all Nazir said for a spell, sitting there, chin in his hands, staring off into the distance. "That... I. Huh," the southerner sat back a moment, his face blank as he shook his head. "I'm sorry Holy One I appear to have had yet another existential moment all over you and your gallant champion," he said, shrugging his shoulders with a wild-eyed, incredulous grin spreading across his face. "I have a lot of those around you, Bart," he added, and the Paladin grimaced slightly.

"I have noticed we attract that kind of attention."

"It's been quite an adventure," Nazir agreed, his eyes distant, flickering over far places and further times. "I'm no blushing lamb, I've been on a few adventures, I've been to just about every part of the Northsea Confederation, or close. Yet and still..." he trailed off, looking back down the hill towards the ruins, his eyes hard. "It has been an adventure the same. It has hurt, and it has opened my eyes... and honestly, it has scared the God-blessed piss out of me," he said, meeting Bart's gaze with a wild-eyed sort of expression.

"I have never been more terrified in my life than I have on this journey. I did not know such fear was possible."

"I am sorry Nazir, I did not mean to visit such thi-," Bart began, leaning forward to comfort his friend, and the wiry southerner sat up straight, cutting his hand through the air like a knife.

"Hey!" he interjected, "I was not finished."

Cithara's eyes widened a bit at that, her raised mug concealing her expression, Bart's dual-colored gaze mirroring it. The bronzed man's kohl-lined eyes were hard, two chips of amber as he settled back down slowly, eyes never wavering.

"I have often allowed others to assuage me too easily. It was good fear. I learned things about myself, things I would not have discovered on my own," he said, laying his palms flat on his chest; "I do not like the person I was when we met any longer, Brother Bart. He was a vain, foolish man of much knowledge but little wisdom. I don't know who I will become, but I know that he will be a good man. Strong of heart, good of character," he said and settled back with a smile.

"Little Lion grows into his mane," Cithara mused quietly, Nazir raised an eyebrow at that and gave a bit of a smile.

"Yet and still — yes, I am glad I went on this journey, with you. Glad for the opportunity to..." he looked down at his hands and arms, groping about in his heart. "... die better, I suppose."

"Come now Nazir, you'll never die," Bart said with a lopsided grin. "You're too pretty to die."

"God's own truth," Nazir said with a genuine grin, laughing and taking a fortifying sip of his coffee, sucking his teeth at its bitterness as Bart chuckled, the import of his friend's journey not lost in the humor.

"Who's dyin'?" came a worried voice, and from down the embankment Lidia and Gram ascended, both also girded for battle, Lidia in a similar gambeson and coat of mail as Nazir, though it seemed her weapons of choice had also changed, a short 'messer' of her own as the Reiklanders called it rested on her hip. It was a utilitarian blade, unaltered and unadorned — the kind his father carried: an overgrown, clip-pointed knife by all accounts more than a sword. It fit well with the rest of her unassuming garb on her hip next to an equally nondescript poniard.

"Nobody we know, God willing," Bart said, holding out the pot. "Coffee?"

"Oh God yes, cannae believe it but the willow tree here drinks tea," she said, giving him a bit of a look as Bart filled another tin cup from the mess kit with the heady brew, handing it off to her.

"I prefer something mild in the mornings," the tall Darrowmite said nonplussed, and Lidia grinned at him wickedly.

"I cannae recall you sayin' that earlier this morn' when ye woke me," she said, causing the stoic man to give her a bit of an admonishing smile as she grinned smugly, and took a long swig of the cup. Her eyes promptly turned to pinpoints and she pursed her lips around the mouthful. Bart's eyes raised expectantly as he sipped his own. Cithara and Nazir did the same. She swallowed.

"Lady's White Teats that's stouter'n lamp oil!" she hissed, sucking at the roof of her palate in a decidedly unladylike fashion, before she paused — everyone at the fireside having suddenly stopped, staring at her. Cithara simply tipped her head up with a bemused smile.

"Language."

"Oh. Right," She murmured, turning a color of red nigh to match her hair and hood as she looked back up to Gram, who simply smiled at her. "Sorry 'bout that," she said, meekly turning her gaze back to Cithara, whose expression had remained mild. "S'habit, I'm workin' on it."

"You've worked very hard, dear one. I appreciate it," the Unicorn said warmly.

"She is astonishingly resilient," Gram said softly from where he stood, leaning heavily on his spear, the shaft at an angle, his body braced against it, hands negligently balancing the polearm against him like a lover, casual and close.

"Bart told me of your adventures in the dark places below ground," the unicorn said, eyes flicking over the little changeling, gaze warming in kind, "A place of nightmares, and yet you stand here still. Resilient? Pish-posh, heroic is the word I would use."

Lidia couldn't seem to decide if she wanted to puff up at the praise or wither under all of the attention. Her usual flinty banter failed her in the face of the Unicorn, and instead, she just sat down near Gram's feet, the tall cavalier clearly content to stand. She folded her hands around the coffee cup.

"My friends needed me," she murmured softly. "S'what I'm supposed tae do, innit?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders. "I nae could run away 'cause I was scared o' the things in the dark. They'd have just chased me... an'... well," she swallowed a bit, looking across the fire in the morning light.

"Bart wasn't scared. So... iffin' the Tinman thought there was a chance, there had to be one."

"Oh, I was terrified," Bart murmured shyly, swirling his coffee. Lidia gave him a rueful look.

"I know ye were, dope. But ye dinnae show it... ye were brave." Bart shrugged, nodding. She looked at Cithara. "I dinnae really believe in anythin'. Nae bit o' church services, prayer, or piety. But bein' down in the dark wit' naught but a torn dress, a stolen knife an' little else?" she looked away, down into the murky black depths of her coffee, pondering its darkness as if it were Dagan-Baal's lair again, festooned in spoor, blood, and bones.

"It was inspirin' I guess. Seein' this dumb hayseed from the country bleedin', spittin', and shouting. Had nothin' special 'bout him but steel in his hands an' his spine. Ye... sort o' stop believin' in heroes when ye live like I do." she said in a small voice, face red. "Then ye meet one."

Bart felt uncomfortable as he was lauded by his adopted sister, his mouth worked in half-formed denials as he tried to downplay it, but even as his eyes flicked around, to his attire, his surroundings, his companions... he couldn't deny that at the very least, he looked very heroic. The mantle fit ill on his shoulders, and he struggled against its weight. Cithara's gaze met his in sympathy as he finally managed to speak.

"It... was what I was trained to do, that is all," he said honestly, spreading his hands. "I am not some valorous saint, I was simply... doing what I was taught, in the circumstances I was given," he said in a slightly pained voice, leaning heavily on his knees. "I was terrified, but also who else was there if I ran? The doctrine of battle dictated that to retreat was to die, and worse forsake the field — the girl, and Lidia as well — I was brave, but that's because I was given no option not to be," he said, and Cithara leaned close to him, gently nuzzling his temple.

"Darling... that is heroism," she said quietly, and Bart huffed out a defeated sigh.

"... I know, but I don't like being called a hero," he lamented, and Lidia frowned at him ferociously.

"Past heroism aside," Gram added as Lidia's visible irritation grew; "He was not there, in the limestone caves beneath Fort Ivory. He was not there in the undercrofts when the Ghuls tore open the earth and poured in. He did not leap to the fray, fire and steel in either hand against eldritch horrors," Gram said, meeting her gaze. "You did."

"Indeed, and as Bart told it, your courage bore out against many other foes that night, and even on to matters of the heart." Cithara agreed and lowered her voice. "It is a terrifying thing to admit another to one's heart, and yet you've done it no less than twice in this adventure," she said, turning her golden gaze from Bart to Gram.

"Astonishingly resilient," Gram said softly with finality, not even turning his gaze from the horizon as the wind picked up, swirling the leaves around him.

"Suppose ye're right..." Lidia admitted, Nazir meeting her gaze over his coffee cup, golden hazel eyes narrowing a bit with mischief.

"Of course they are, you and Bart are so alike I am not entirely sure I won't find a fae in his kitchen when we go calling for sweet rolls and tea later," he said cheekily, and she gave him a pouty little frown, her lower lip sticking out as she did. Bart's face was similarly moody, Cithara kissed him again on the cheek, and in similar timing, Gram leaned down and kissed the top of the girl's head. Both motions were in perfect sync, both bleeding off their recipient's ire visibly.

"You both are brave, valorous souls. I am the divine being here, so I will brook no argument," Cithara said in an imperious tone, looking between Paladin and Thief alike; "You have made each other stronger in turn, as true siblings of the heart should. Your love gladdens me, and your growth apart as well." she concluded, and then with a slightly mocking tone she added at the end: "So, there."

"The Lady has spoken," Gram said in a mild tone, causing Nazir to give a snort of laughter.

"D'ye ever get used to how... bright, she is?" Lidia asked nobody in particular, Cithara tittered softly at that as Nazir made an uncertain gesture with his hand.

"Apparently that's a thing of degrees," he answered, and Lidia made a disappointed sound into the cup of coffee. Bitterness or no, she clearly relished the jolt of energy it offered, looking up to Cithara.

"Not fer nothin' Lady, but all ye... bigness, is really hard on me senses," she said, sniffing a bit. "Ye're so... bright and sharp tae me eyes and nose, its a mite overbearin' at times," Cithara tilted her head at that.

"Curious... none have mentioned my scent before," she inquired, and Lidia colored a bit.

"Oh... I notice it. I notice when it... changes."

There was a moment as Cithara considered when her scent might change, and it was then the Unicorn's turn to blush, ears laying back as her eyes and Lidia's both moved to Bart for a moment, the little thief raising an eyebrow and Cithara casting her eyes down demurely.

"I see. You are quite kind with your forbearance," she said in a small voice, her smile returning after a breath. "I will stay downwind of you in... future circumstances."

"Does any of this make sense to you?" Bart asked Nazir, who looked at him with incredulous eyes.

"Manasa's Pinions, you were a virgin," he exhaled with a teasing chuckle, and Bart blushed hotly as he looked to Gram for some kind lifeline, but the tall Darrowmite simply shook his head, raising a hand in a warding gesture. Bart slumped his shoulders, feeling defeated — and a bit picked on.

The conversation mercifully shifted away to the idle chatter of friends, nervous ones. Quiet, important unimportances until Lidia sat near Bart and Cithara as Nazir engaged Gram in an idle discussion of musical styles; Darrowmite vs. Rezarian hymns were the topic of the moment.

"Bart, Lady," She said softly, drawing their attention from the conversation, the two almost lazily watching their friends interact. Savoring those moments.

"Yeah?" Bart asked, Cithara simply smiling and perking her ears forward.

"I... I'm scared," she said softly, setting her teeth a bit. "There, I said it. It's real."

"Dear one..." Cithara began, but she held up her hands.

"Nae, not yet. I'm scared... and I just need tae say it out loud tae ye," she said, bringing her hands back and kneading on her knuckles through her gloves, fidgeting to keep her eyes from the three golden ones before her. "I... am afraid tae die, I'm so scared tae die now," she said, eyes wide and large. "I wasn't... nae 'afore. I was just meself an' whatever risks it took tae get noticed, tae nae be alone. Dyin' free and fancy was like livin' forever, right?" she asked and swallowed hard.

"Ah'm nae like that now. I got ye, Bart and Gram... God in His Heaven is he tae good for the likes o' me, I've seen things an' God's Teeth I don't wanna die yet," she said, tucking her shoulders up around her head. Green eyes full of fear, worry, and a child-like anger.

"Nae yet, I just got tae the good part."

The discussion had died off, Gram and Nazir turning to their friend as she planted her hands firmly at her sides, her jaw set forward stubbornly.

"I like this... us," she said, looking around, her eyes alighting down the hill as she spied the last of the two, Naima and Rashid walking up towards them with purpose.

"I like my family, my friends," she continued, "I like havin' the same faces 'round the table in the mornin'. I like sleepin' in a bed," she said, looking warmly at Gram, "An' nae always alone anymore either," she added with a dreamy smile, the tall man mirroring the expression. She turned back to the other two as Naima and Rashid paused at the circle's edge, the tall man inquiring about what was occurring with a thick, angled eyebrow.

"I'm scared tae die, Lady. So... I'm gonna need tae lean on ye an' Bart a little... okay?" she asked, biting her lower lip. "I know I'm brave, and I can fight an' all that... but I need ye tae help me, I'm scared... an' for once I dinnae 'ave to bear it alone."

Bart had a single answer, and that was to fold the little changeling in a tight embrace, his armor giving a bit of a clatter and the half-cape partially burying her as he did. She gave a little squeak and leaned up into him, holding him tightly. Cithara as well pressing against the vulnerable little thief, Bart raising his arm to add her to the embrace. There was a quiet pause, the warmth of the scene flowing out all around the campfire, Lidia took a sharp breath.

"Alright, that's enough o' that," she said, pulling away, wiping her eyes with a thumb. "Thank ye," she said.

"You may simply ask if you desire a hug, little one," Cithara said softly, and Lidia bit her lip again.

"... That's not strange? Ye're the Lady." she hedged.

"Does your nose tell you that I am overly particular about touch?" she countered with an arch little look, Lidia paused and with a hot blush, wagged a finger at her pointedly

"Nae, point taken Lady..." she paused and looked around a moment at her friends before adding in a small voice. "... may I have a hug?"

"Of course, dear one."

The little thief walked forward shyly, put her arms around the Lady's neck carefully, and slid herself gently into an embrace, Cithara's eyes turning up at the ends with quiet joy as she leaned into the girl, her foreleg folding gently around the changeling's back. They held that for a moment, before Lidia slid away, eyes a little wide.

"You're...so warm," she said a bit dumbly, trembling a little. Bart remembered that — the first time he'd had direct contact with the font of life that was Cithara, the Lady smiled and leaned in to kiss her little freckled nose.

"A mother must be, to care for all she will," was all she said, and smiled at her. "I would welcome you to my home as well, all of you. As would Bart, ne'er shall you find my doors nor heart closed to you," she said, dipping her head.

"My thanks, for your care of my Champion in his time of need. Thou art courageous."

"We took care of each other," Naima said, her face its usual cool compassion. She'd abandoned her typical loose dress and robes for equally loose trousers and a knee-length utilitarian tunic of sorts with half-length sleeves, split up either side for movement, the tough silken cloth in the same vibrant blue as her brother and husband. Her healer's bag slung along with a belt heavy with pouches and pockets across her tiny, narrow frame; making her look even smaller than her same-height brother in comparison. Her long black hair was tied up in a snug coiled braid at the base of her skull, and her own khol-lined eyes were hard. Determined.

"It was our duty," Rashid offered, dressed as he was before, the older man's unchanging arms and armor giving the yellow-sashed Akali an unmoving, stony sense of permanency; his fierce, bearded face serene as he offered a simple shrug. "What else were we to do? We are all children of God," he offered in that resonant basso, folding his thick fingers together at his waist. He didn't even stand as a warrior; stoic, calm, and steadfast — a rock to which one could anchor themselves. They seemed content to stay, the seasoned couple resolute in their presence. It was hard to believe at times Naima and Nazir were twins. The weight of a mantle, he knew it well.

"I will thank you for your kindness regardless," Cithara said as the pair joined them, Lidia meekly sliding away, finding Gram, her hands clasping his as she sat near him. Bart looked up to his companions, fully arrayed before him, all ready for battle. Eyes expecting.

"How rich a man am I, to have such a wealth of friends," Bart said, leaning forward on his knees as he looked at his companions — his friends. His family.

"No matter what happens, I am full glad to have known each of you," he continued, smiling at them with his scarred face. "The hurts feel lesser in your presence, and my sword arm all the stronger with you by my side," He raised his cup of coffee, Nazir having gone and poured two cups of the stout brew for Rashid and Naima.

"To my friends, my family. Together at the end of the world. Come what may, I will die happy knowing that you found my life worth being a part of."

"Hopefully, none too soon," Naima added, smiling at Bart "You're a bit of a bull, but I seem to have a penchant for such people in my life," she added, looking up to Rashid, who smiled broadly; the tin cup looking amusingly small in his massive, calloused fingers.