Who would have known that a medieval fantasy town would be way more active and ‘alive’ than a city in real life, even when the weather was just short of terrible? Within the holy capital of Falderen, the greatest city of man, Cain found himself overwhelmed by the variety of individuals that passed. Even in heavy rain, farmers and merchants still stubbornly peddled their wares, while guards with thick, oiled cloaks stood with backs against larger, more reputable establishments, as if discipline could ward off the chill that permeated their clothes and chilled their bones. Despite the thick grayness that loomed above, blotting out the sun and forcing street lamps to be lit up ahead of schedule, there was still a feverish sensation of ‘motion’ sweeping through the town. Everyone had somewhere to go within the commercial district of Falderen, even if the heavens conspired against their entrepreneurial aspirations. Within that anthill-esque activity, it was a singular individual that stood still, perhaps, that drew curious looks from bystanders. Wearing nothing but the rags that could be described as a an adventurer’s starter gear, as well as a stylishly white hat that clashed with the rest of his pitiful appearance, an incredibly tall man stood by an immaculate fountain, every part of his body drenched by the downpour. His clothes and hair clung to his body like an unpleasant second skin, and yet, the expression on his own face was strangely tranquil, oddly relaxed in spite of the situation he found himself in. In a world without colds or flus (?), being soaked to the bone must be experienced at least once, after all. And no matter what the conditions were, a gentleman must abide to a promise made. He had sworn to await his lady by the Fountain of Seven Doves, even in fire and flood, so a downpour like this? That was nothing in the face of his convictions. Arms crossed against his chest, his dark eyes neither scanned the crowd nor did they smoulder in impatience. Instead, he simply affixed it in one direction, occasionally straying when something interesting caught his eye. Though streams of rainwater carved a delta in his masculine face, though all the pomf in his hair was lost in the rain, Cain cared not. This was like meditating under a water fall. This was like that dog who waited outside the house, waiting for a master who’d never return. This was like basically every Bollywood movie ever, except a monsoon would be even wetter and windier. This was, essentially, a great scene for his information source to walk into. Man, it really was the right decision, making himself look so irresistibly handsome!
She'd answered a request to talk by a stranger recently. Small in stature, the thing that made Harveste really stick out wasn't her height, like she'd often complain- it was her long, lavender tendrils that fell almost to the ground directly, even when put into high, curled up pigtails. She was dry, and thankful for it, carrying a four leaf clover she'd just managed to grow with great practice. Perhaps it would show useful in keeping her heart afloat when she was going to tell someone a tale of something horrific? Nearing the fountain they'd agreed to meet at, the most eye-catching person was, perhaps, tall man soaked to the bone in fountain water, sitting unusually close to its personal rain. As she trotted over, assuming this was the one she'd been trying to find, she couldn't help but worry a little. "You know, we're in a virtual reality. Things still can be pretty real even if some things are different. You're going to get a chill and hurt your back if you don't get dry soon." Smiling softly, she felt her hands move behind her back for a moment, fingers fiddling together before she moved to take a seat next to him. "You're Cain, correct? I'm Harveste- the one that replied to your request. You were hoping to know about Azog, correct? What was it you wanted to know?"
Deep in the folds of his own narcissism, Cain didn’t even notice the person that had approached them until they spoke up, and even then, scanning around him, he couldn’t find the source of the voice. It was only when he peered downwards, craning his neck that the tall man noticed the talking four - leaf clover that had snuck up on him somewhere along the way. A Faerin? Or just someone who wanted to make a little girl as their avatar? Regardless of her creation intentions, the Muse found himself more troubled by what exactly he was supposed to do in the face of someone who was literally two feet shorter than himself. Does he kneel on one leg, all knightly, and address them eye-to-eye? Does he pick and lift them up to achieve the same effect? Or does he maintain the right angle his neck was currently in? Cain, ever the flamboyant gentleman, chose the first, sweeping onto one knee so that he could face his new acquaintance on the same level. With distractingly vivid eyes and twintails so illogically long that they were mere inches away from grazing the ground, Harveste looked to be another individual optimized towards looking good instead of looking practical. Her large, round face, like that of an oval, only served to multiply her child-like charm, and though her clothes weren’t elaborate enough to truly fit the tone, her large clover umbrella gave her the mystique befitting of a cute little nature fairy. Heck, if Cain wasn’t more waterlogged than a sponge after dishwashing, he’d totally be break character and just gush over how adorable Harveste was. For now though, this smol nature sprite’s concern over his well-being was definitely something worth appreciating, and for that, Cain smiled. “Truly, thank you, Harveste for your concern. I am indeed Cain Darlite, Flagbearer of Miracles, Bane of the Lupine Kind, Protect of Qora’s Bounty. Mere droplets of virtual rain shall not befuddle me any more than it shall drown out the great trees of Brisshal.” A pause, transient as he gathered his thoughts. “Today though, my lady, I am a mere muse, seeking a first person account of the legend that is the Hell-Prince of Flame’s glorious demise at the hands of the heroes who braved the depths of the flaming abyss to vanquish him. Please, do not be encumbered with mere questions. I will be satisfied if you simply regale my with tales of your valor, Fey Noblesse of Auspicious Verdure.”
The man's rather flamboyant persona was ringing clear to her, even though there was a mist in the air from the fallen droplets. As he swept himself to his knee, she couldn't quite comprehend the redness upon her cheeks- was she embarrassed by his actions themselves, or old implications of chivalry and knighthood? Whatever it was, she held a hand out in hopes of helping him back to his feet. "Lupine kind...I don't believe I know of that species. Unless you mean peas...But I kind of doubt that." Learning certain bits about botany had been helpful for her character development in the past, and it seemed to show now to be useful once more. Because really, what else could the man mean? There was no animal within that family, was there? She shook her head softly, realizing that overthinking it would just hurt her skull. Instead, she moved the clover she carried to cover the both of them. At least, though she couldn't dry him, she could keep him from getting further soaked. "I have yet to earn such titles that would lead to me being praised. Simply Harveste is good enough to me, Mister Darlite." Her words had a hint of a giggle or hum with each breath. She'd thought of calling him 'Mister Cain', but that would make her think she was calling him old due to the perfect pun for the walking aid she often carried at home. "As for the Fire Prince, I wasn't actually all that useful myself. I was able to support a bit, but I spent a fair amount of time hiding behind the taller folks because I'm also a convenient pyrophobe. I probably should've thought about that before going to a volcano battle, huh?"
“Lupine refers to wolves,” Cain explained, momentarily breaking character to elaborate on the depths of his vocabulary. A thesaurus certainly had been useful during his high school days, after all, and now that it was more or less expected of him to present things with the biggest words that come in mind, the midnight-haired man’s past investment simply proved itself to be even more helpful than before. Ah, communication truly was a wonderful thing. “And if it’s too great of a title for your current deeds to stand up to, then consider it an ideal to live up to, Harveste,” he replied, ducking his head down slightly as she extended the umbrella over his soaked head. “Though I insist, please, call me Cain. We’ve rendezvoused here as equals, did we not? Assigning seniority falsely is unnecessary.” Faerins, after all, had a greater lifespan than humans, and even ignoring that, there was a fair possibility that he was playing with a fourty-something year old man in real life, which was a squeamish thought even Harveste appeared to be a decent person so far. But no, back to his persona. The outside world shouldn’t matter too much at all. Closing his eyes, the kneeling man listened to the fey woman speak to the background symphony of steady raindrops and the constant rush of the fountain. It was a short tale, truly, but one that spoke of the courage to face one’s fear, to plunge into battle for another’s sake in spite of your own traumas. It was heroic in its own way, wasn’t it? Maybe he was just being nice. “If all heroes thought carefully about the task they were to complete, would they truly have done it?” Cain asked, readjusting his hat, “It’s the heart, not the brain that matters, Harveste, and to plunge into that hellish abyss to begin with already proves that you are willing to face your fears. A moment of bravery is equal to days of rationality, after all. In the eyes of this humble muse, you’re just as much of a legend as the ones you supported. And who knows, perhaps one day it will not be you who fears fire, but fire who fears you?” A smile creeped up the corners of his mouth, before Cain abruptly sneezed. No, he definitely wasn’t sick. This was just an allergic reaction to something he wasn’t aware of. “Anyways, if you could, describe the Prince of Fire to me?”
"For some reason when I think of wolves, I only think canine or lycanthropic, but the later refers to a medical condition more than actual wolves, huh?" She babbled a bit for a moment, though was grateful when he began to explain the real meaning carefully. "So lupine can imply peas or wolves? That's kind of funny in a way. I wonder if there's some sort of intricate relation that we don't know about...?" Her mind began to wander to the possibilities. Was there a time people thought wolves ate pea flowers or something along those lines? Were pea flowers originally named something related to wolves instead? The ideas were giving her quite a rush- but not as much as the man had before, with his knightly actions that were far too entertaining to ignore. So, she returned her attention to him after letting the thoughts into the background of her mind. She'd still have to write about it later. "I came here so that I can experience everything once. A title is just one thing on my to do list!" Actually, she should really write that thing down. "I don't play for fame or anything like that, though. If I do earn a title, I'd probably still want to be quiet about it. Titles are fun and all, but I want to be treated the same no matter when it is. I'd feel bad if someone started treating me differently just because I got a little notoriety." She didn't want to think about some of her earlier days as a teen on the internet. Even the girl behind the faerin had had her fifteen minutes of fame- but it wasn't as fun as she'd thought it would be. If anything, it was downright scary. "I don't like crowds, so I'll stick to being more of a wallflower. A wallflower that likes to grow flowers is pretty amusing in its own right, don't you think?" His long and elaborate explanation was a beauty all it's own. His metaphors and meaning were equally exquisite, leaving her heart leaping in hopes of hearing even more of his magical thoughts. However, he'd paused and proceeded to sneeze. He may have thought it something mild himself, but she wasn't so keen to learn if getting sick was possible after all was said and done! "I'll tell you more about it when we find somewhere to get out of the rain. It's a bit chilly to me, at least. Do you mind if we go somewhere indoors? Or at least under some sort of overhang? Though some dry clothes might be nice for the both of us. It's always a bit embarrassing with how they stick when they're wet..."
“Canine refers to dogs specifically, actually,” Cain pointed out, sniffling reactively after that sneeze, “Lupine is the term for wolves, but I must confess, I’ve never heard of it being used to refer to a type of pea before.” Something to look up back in the real world. It was nice though, expanding his knowledge of various trivial things. Now if someone made a riddle based off those double meanings, he’d totally get it in the bag! Oh, those trolls under the bridge will be in for a hell of a surprise if they tried to pull a fast lupine one over him now. Reveling pre-emptively in the possibility of a glorious victory against those wart-riddled giants, he almost missed what else the Faerin said about her own way of living life. How Hobbit-like, that wish to live like a flower on a wall, quietly watching her garden prosper. “Would rather be a friendly neighborhood flower shop owner, neh? I can respect that. Suppose driving yourself towards glory without keeping both feet on the ground is dangerous in its own right. A meteoric ascent, after all, precipitates a dizzying fall.” But meteor showers were beautiful too, and it was that image that Cain aspired towards. Life was short, and much too cheap. “I’ll look forward to when the king asks of you to flood the royal gardens with flora then, Harveste. Though we may have different opinions on pulling the eyes of others to ourselves, flowers, at least, deserve to always be admired, right?” His eyes twinkled with merriment as he brought a hand against his temple, pulling wet strands back out of his face. Though the umbrella proved useful, it didn’t automatically dry what was already dampened, nor did vertical protection shield them from the sheets of rain that fell diagonally, their paths pulled by unkind winds. In such a situation, it wasn’t proper at all for him to delay the twin-tailed fey any further, was it? A tavern, perhaps, with a blazing hearth and a cup of hot coffee. Nodding at her suggestion, the midnight-haired man said, “If that is your wish, I shall comply. State a location, and I shall bring you there.” With an elegant twist of his body, Cain showed Harveste his back, fully intending on piggybacking the smaller girl to whether she wanted, so they could both benefit from the umbrella. Retrospectively, it was probably more embarrassing than just having clothes that clung to the skin, but introspectively, Cain didn’t have much when it came to a sense of shame.
In reality, a florist would probably be the worst possible job for Harveste- actually, any job involving dealing with people had generally seemed to be such to her. No, she was more of an introvert offline. Though lately, she'd had to deal with people more even though her job was to write. Actually, now that she thought about it, didn't this man sound quite like a writer himself? His words were far too elegant for a mere muse in a game. He was taking it far too seriously, and was far too interested in words based on his understanding of lupine that he'd taught her, just like she'd managed to teach him another form. Deciding she'd ask him at a later time- preferably when they were out of the rain- the small girl awkwardly wrapped her arms around his neck to accept the offer to be carried, mostly so she could keep him under her rather large clover cover. "I don't know how this is any less awkward, but...Even when you're coated in cold water, you're quite warm, aren't you Cain? It feels nice even though it's kind of funny feeling." Giggling, she wrapped her legs lightly around his waist, looking around. "Um, I think there's a tavern just down that block-" She pointed, carefully, hoping it would help guide him. "I'm just assuming you'll be able to enter, mind you, because you're a hefty guy with a good tongue on you. I doubt a kid could speak so well, so there's no reason they wouldn't let you in for shelter at least. If not, there should be an inn down by there too."
Fusion complete, the two of them marched off down the still fairly bustling streets. Though Harveste may have shrunk from the strange looks the mismatched duo got, Cain absolutely reveled in it, a great, big grin at every individual that turned their way. Even bent over slightly, he was taller than most within the commercial district, and that, combined with the Faerin that clung onto his back like a parasitic child, gave more than enough reasons for others to give him a wide berth. Travelling down the stone road wasn’t troublesome at all, and his Faerin GPS worked wonders in pointing him the right way. “It’s simply that my heart is warm enough to counteract the chill of my flesh,” Cain replied playfully, “Would be remiss of myself to cause you further discomfort through a body as cold as winter rain, Harveste.” There was a longer pause as the twin-tailed Faerin spoke up about whether or not he’d be allowed into the tavern to begin with. Were there even age restrictions on alcohol consumption within this fantasy civilization? That didn't particularly sound right, but at the same time, Cain hadn’t noticed any child running around with a mug of mead. A part of him was even a bit leery about drinking for the first time, even in a virtual environment but… There was no time for more rhetoric. They were already there. The Silver Willow Pub, matching its pretty name, appeared to be a rather eloquent bar. Pushing through the main doors, the two found themselves in a fairly classy establishment. A dandy fifty-something bartender managed the counter, sporting a trim moustache as he poured a drink from the barrels behind him, while raven-haired waitress with a modest bosom took notice of Cain’s sorry state of affairs and brought them to a table near a crackling hearth. Already, the muse could feel steam rise off of him, as he removed his outer layer to dry on an unoccupied chair. Around, groups mainly consisting of human males enjoyed quiet conversation and the occasional roll of dice, as if observing some unspoken rule of courtesy. In the corner was a raised platform, perhaps a stage for minstrels and other performers. All in all, the atmosphere was a far cry from the chaotic pseudo-gambling dens that Cain had generally associated taverns with. Leaning back on his chair, the muse offered, “Go ahead. Order something, Harveste. Whatever your stomach desires, I shall provide, out of gratitude for your company and your knowledge. Though the wealth of nations may not be at my disposal, let it be known that Cain Darlite is no unkind miser.”
His playful poem as to why he was warm was entertaining to her childish heart. As she kept herself attached to his back, the looks they got both made her want to hide but ignore the people around her all the more. Faerin often got strange looks, she'd noticed- and then again, this wasn't actually all that uncommon for her anymore, even if it was just a piggy back ride. Still, the man certainly stood out all his own, and his words did just the same, making her giggle audibly as she rested her head against his shoulder. "A warm heart is a good thing. It show's your alive, after all. But even a warm heart isn't always a good one. I think you're also warm because your heart is good and kind." Sure, she didn't have much to back up her statement, but most mean people wouldn't opt to tend to a small lady this way, after all, would they? He'd opted to worry more for her than himself, or so it had certainly seemed from the start. Why wouldn't she think him a good person? It was only natural in this instance. Once inside and led to the crackling warmth of the hearth, the girl wriggled her way off his back to find herself a seat nearby him, finding a chair equally comfortable, yet too tall for her feet to touch the ground. With slight timidity, she felt her legs lightly swing back and forth, shaking some of the rain off of her ankles. He offered her a treat, and she laughed a bit again. "Quite the gentleman aren't you? But since you're a bit newer to the area, you might not have much in the way of funds yet...Are you really that certain? I don't mind going dutch." Then again, her words enough would probably bother those around her, she soon realized. 'Going dutch' wasn't a common phrase in this world, and the men in nearby tables that heard her seemed rather acute of hearing for at least that moment passing. "Besides, as I said, I was already certain you were a kind fellow." That said, she was going to order something whether he paid for her or not. She merely asked the kind waitress that came to them for a cup of tea, finding that the warmth would soothe her tired figure and warm her even faster than the heat of the nearby flames. Turning to the man soon after, she smiled. "Now, for the story we're here for... Where should I begin...?"
Oh, were his destitute finances that obvious at a glance? Well, perhaps he had neglected the rest of his outfit in favor of getting a fancy white hat. After all, it had been a good week or so now, and Cain was still walking around in beginner clothing that offered more or less no protection against monsters. Still, her concern was unnecessary. Poor as he was, he still had a war chest of more than two hundred gold. Surely there were no items within the Silver Willow Pub that straight up cost more than that? And surely Harveste wouldn’t take this as a chance to suck him dry of all his wealth? Thankfully, neither were the case, with the twin-tailed Faerin opting for a cup of tea. Getting some cold water himself, for the warmth of the hearth was turning the area around him into a steam bath as rainwater evaporated, Cain replied airily, “There’s no need to worry about that, Harveste. It would be terribly disingenuous of me if I were to do this simply to convince you that I’m a kind fellow. Please, I insist. Consider it payment for coming to this meeting despite the terrible conditions outside, if you must.” With both beverages brought over, the lanky individual set his hat on the table, one hand wiping another droplet of rain from his forehead. A sip confirmed his expectations: well water. Definitely had that earthy taste, compared to the sharp tang of river water or the strange aftertaste of boiled water. Perhaps it made sense for them not to bother with boiling, when a fantasy setting wouldn’t be aware of bacteria to begin with. “Perhaps begin with a description and the impression that the Prince of Hellfire gave off?” he suggested, before crossing his legs and clasping his hands over his knee. “And then segue into a description of the battlefield as you saw it, Lady Harveste?”
"I was likely going to come to the city today anyway, weather dreary or not. I needed a break from scouring around the forest for a bit. I may love nature, but I still like to wander town too from time to time." If she got better with people in the game, after all, wouldn't she be able to get better with them in real life? Sipping her tea, the girl began to muster what she could think to say about the painful memories of Azog. "I've always been a bit of a pyrophobic person, so to me, the fact he was essentially on fire quite literally...That alone was enough to scare me. Adding in the fact we were on a volcano, it kind of felt like a fight with the devil you might see in old literature." As she continued recounting her memories, whether it was the suicidal conclusion or the way the boss had been rather adamant about taking hostages throughout the fight. She told him about the gorilla like creatures that would try to protect the prince from time to time, and about various people (though forgetting most of their names for the moment) and their actions, describing each to the best of her ability. "Even thinking about it makes me thirsty...It was just so warm." Laughing, she sipped her tea once more. "It's a shame we didn't have much to drink. We were lucky there were others able to supply us with water despite the heat."
Through the entirety of her story, Cain stayed quiet, nodding occasionally to indicate he had been paying attention the whole time. So environmental factors were important as well, huh? It brought a small smile on his lips when he envisioned hydromancers just going around being glorified drink vendors, going around and making sure everyone else didn’t shrivel up like grass during a dry summer. Still, the sheer epicness of large-scale combat against a massive foe definitely made him wish that he was there for that. For the sake of experiencing such rigorous combat, he really should put in more effort increasing his strength, huh? To face down demons and false gods on cosmic landscapes, to grab glory in the same way that this ‘Eleanor’ individual did, with a final, earth-shaking arcane spell, to have new stories to add to the tapestry that was his heroic legend…oh man, all this was making him just a little bit excited. His knee began to bounce, even though his mother had always chastised him about that bad habit, and Cain subconsciously leaned forwards as her tale continued onto the climax, with Azog defeated and everyone heading home aboard large hot air balloons. “Umu,” he laughed, “It most certainly sounds like a harrowing environment to be fighting in. Those anthropoid abominations must have been quite troublesome as well, and the usage of magic to hydrate others, that’s certainly the sort of tactical improvisation that Lheo would smile upon.” Cain nodded again, excited to see just what sort of inspiration he could draw from the epic tale once it was internalized long enough. A new aria perhaps, for that shiny new spell he was going to get? Or maybe a poem, narrated with his sexy, masculine voice? Oh, maybe he could even just take a pilgrimage to the site of Azog’s demise! Ah, so many things to see~ “That was indeed a good tale,” the muse spoke, “Thank you. I offer you the thanks of my soul and a rose for your efforts! …or I will, if you just gimme a bit.” Removing a white handkerchief from his pockets, Cain spent a good five minutes folding and wrapping it up, until it took on the shape of a blossoming white rose. Not his best effort, but hey, it’s the thought that counts. “Along with my payment for your tea, please, accept this as a show of my goodwill and gratitude, Lady Harveste.”
Watching him fold the kerchief into a flower, the girl could only smile as he enchanted her with his movements. To her, his method was swift yet smoothly portrayed. It was as if she were watching a magician, or another naturamancer. She held the fake flower to her chest, hiding the way it seemed to paint her cheeks a similar color to its namesake. Singing softly for a moment, the girl wandered to a flower pot and grew a small yellow rose herself, holding it out to the man with a grin. "A flower would suit you just as well, in my eyes. Think of it as thanks for the one you gave me, and for the company. I happen to have enjoyed it quite a bit as well." She gave a light bow of sorts, wanting to properly thank him. His kindness was soon rewarded by a light peck on the cheek, however, as she thought fitting based on his earlier actions during the day. "A gentleman deserves a gentleman's reward. Now, make sure you remember to show me what you use the tale for in the future, okay? And drop the 'lady'. Just Harveste would be fine with me." Before he could leave her behind, she sent him a friend request so he could easily contact her again, then turned to head out the door with a new clover umbrella- but outside, the mild rain had halted. The sun soothed her slightly, leading her to run out of the tavern with a smile. "It's like the sky wanted us to play there today. But now, where should I go next...?" --Fin--
