bolderfell | Prismatica Inbox

Be careful, if you do attempt it. When I say unable to, what I mean is —

It's not just an absence of results. Attempting it seems to actively cause him pain.

It hurts and it doesn't make any Chroma?

That's how it seems. As you can imagine, I haven't many avenues for testing the hypothesis.

Right. It's just

If it worked, even if it hurt, I'd ask if he could stand it at least a little. Running out of Chroma is a pain all its own. What's his moonblessing?

Sanguis. And I've done what I can; he's able to put himself into a state of hibernation of sorts, to conserve and replenish some of his natural energy. We're resilient creatures, we demons. He's comfortable for the moment. And guarded.

Unfortunately, the extent to which I can make him comfortable ends at the boundary between the shelter and the rain. It's almost as though the downpour is devouring any chroma it comes into contact with.

He has to have dried off by now, right? But it's still affecting him?

I can ask the healers I know if they've heard of anything like this. They've both been here longer, too. If Chroma's gone sideways on them before, they may know some way around it.

...Therion.

Why do you think I sought you out tonight?

[...]

I won't go out to ask them. They have these devices. I know one of them even knows how to use hers for sure.

Don't avoid me, pretty thing.

I didn't come calling in search of advice.

[...

...]

I know, I think.

But because you did, I wanted to offer. I mean, because you did come calling.

He's your partner. The one who's here in Lunatia.

He is, yes. But he's strong, for all that I worry. Next to the unimaginable things he's already endured, perhaps it's laughable for me to be even half so preoccupied.

But I suspect you understand how it rankles, to be faced with circumstances utterly beyond one's control.

I've lived most of my life facing circumstances like that. It's why I'm a thief.

To better answer your original question, pretty sure I'm all right. Honestly. By now, I'd notice if something was eating my Chroma. So at least you don't have to add me to your list of preoccupations.

Oh, I doubt you'll ever be stricken from my list of preoccupations. But I'll make a note of your current status nevertheless.

Wow. That's some esteem you've got for me. Or I worry you that much, but that interpretation's a lot less flattering.

Could I interest you in storytelling to while away the time until your friend's better, and your preoccupations are less preoccupying? It's the right weather for it.

It won't be quite the same as the last time we traded them, will it? More's the pity.

Still. I'll take any distraction I can get, I think.

You can pretend we're in the same state this time if you like. I won't confirm or deny any assumptions you make. Just let me refill my glass.

It's funny. Last time I told this story was over drinks, too. You might appreciate it even more than the tavern master did then -- it's about my cleverness getting me into exactly the trouble I deserved.

Pretend as I might, I'm afraid tugging on my own hair doesn't have quite the same effect. But I'll make do somehow, regardless.

I'm curious what coin you'll be claiming from me in exchange for your tale, also.

I know you didn't miss the part where I've been cooped up inside for days. I'm bored. Just tell me a story of your own when I'm done -- won't even ask it to be true.

Where you're from, they ever punish thieves with something called the Fool's Bangle?

All right. I'm sure I can come up with a tantalizing lie with which to entertain you, when my turn comes.

You'd be surprised by the myriad of creative ways my homeland has developed to punish thieves. But for the sake of the story: no, what is it?

Probably not much of a punishment by your standards, then. The Fool's Bangle is a metal band locked around the wrist of a thief stupid enough to get caught plying his trade. It's more 'humane,' supposedly, than sending them to rot in a gaol or cutting off hands to prove a point, but it shows anyone in the know that they ARE a thief, and a sloppy one. That band's spelled the end of more than a few careers. And more than a few lives.

What I'll tell you is how I got, and got free of, the Fool's Bangle myself.

Unless you'd rather not hear how a seventeen-year-old girl and her ancient butler got the best of me.

A humiliation, then. I can think of plenty of thieves that would sooner choose death than to be branded so.

I think I recognize these characters. Is this Cordelia and Heathcote? The sweet girl and the old man.

That's them. Though you can imagine I had no reason to think fondly of them at the time.

By that point, I was used to working alone. I came to Bolderfall riding a nice little streak of success and found that news of my exploits had preceded me. Not that any of the other thieves in the tavern knew my face or name. To them, I was just another dusty knave at the bar. Still, hearing others make tall tales out of my work helps bad ale go down better. I was feeling pretty good.

The conversation turned, as it does, to where that thief might strike next. That's how I learned about the treasure of House Ravus, and all the money they'd spent on men, dogs, and traps to guard it.

The tavern master noticed I was listening and thought to warn me off. Said no one else had so much as laid eyes yet on what they were keeping.

This sounds like a trap in the making, with the benefit of hindsight.

But I assume you knew you were up to the task, and ready to pit yourself against the challenge?

Of course. I'd done well for myself till then, hadn't I?

So picture my surprise when it DID turn out to be a trap, and all I found waiting after all my skill, care, and daring was a single red jewel and an old man with a sword.

For my dignity's sake, I'll have you know I won the duel that followed. But clever, short-sighted, prideful me couldn't have foreseen he'd be fast enough to slip that bangle on me in the fight. And no way could I have dreamed what they were after all along, more than rumors of wealth or the illusion of safety, was a thief at their mercy.

You see, when I got past all their traps, I saw only the one stone. But the Ravus inheritance was originally a set of four, and they needed someone quick enough, smart enough, and resilient enough to steal the rest back from the robbers who came before. I happened to be the first one to pass their test -- and fall into their trap.

I had some strong words for Heathcote then.

It's a fairly irritating habit of the righteous, isn't it, to conscript others with less rigid morals to do their dirty work for them.

So it wasn't the old man that won you over, but the girl?

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