The First Tentative Steps & How The Dream Began

We had taken the contract from Fat Ushail even though it carried the slaver's mark - the girl was too pretty for the open market. Ushail, the fat vulture, had charged them half their contract for her, slamming down a greasy, torn piece of paper on his desk which we paid straight up without even glancing at each other.
We didn't really care about rhee back then, as long as we kept our gear in repair, food on the table and enough narcotics to keep a steady high going. Anyways, if it didn’t work out we could always find her a family in need of an extra pair of hands somewhere. On our way out Caharin folded the paper twice then ripped it, throwing away the remains with the disgust it deserved.
After having collecting our 'property' both of us wanted to wash it away and pretty damn sure she wouldn't object to the idea I told the girl we would bathe first. Caharin tearing her contract as we made our way through the crowded streets of Crownston's Slave District had been noticed; the stench of stale sweat so heavy you could almost taste it was there.
The despair that usually accompanies it seemed lessened, although very tentatively so. They finally broke free of the disheartening presence of the District and entered the Grand Plaza through a series of archways; in people’s tongue, the Chainlink Run.
There was a official name for it, of course, but even the high nobility used the colloquial name unless composing a decree or other official document of one sort or another. I found this custom highly entertaining, having seen a noble receive such a decree I’d told Caharin I now knew the face of befuddlement.
Anyways, about halfway through the large open space, Caharin suddenly stopped.
I instincively checked my weapons weren't stuck and began scanning our immediate surroundings, a little surprised I hadn't sensed anything. Usually it was my senses that were the sharper, but I trusted Caha with my life on a daily basis; it wouldn't make much sense to stop now.
‘Take it easy, Ez. There's nothing you've missed. Take your hand off your sword.’ Caharin told me calmly. ‘You're scaring her.’
Looking at her I could see he was right, and so slightly embarrassed I dropped out of stance, smiling apologetically. ‘Sorry little starlight, I didn't mean to startle you,’ I said.
‘Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you, I promise.’


She did relax somewhat at that, which was good enough for the time being. The only way she was going to trust anyone for a while would be by empirical proof. Turning my head back to look at Caharin quizzically, he nodded up towards the rooftops ahead before continuing as if nothing had happened.
‘She's gonna need clothes, my friend, and something for the lice. I'll take her to Saul's, go take the high route to Merchant's Road and meet us there, alright?’
The high route was our internal jargon for taking to the rooftops, which formed an interconnecting series of platforms that was by far the quickest way of getting from one place to another in the city. Climbing up was easy, once you got the hang of it.
We'd discovered it was not only possible but actually quite a good way of upping your balance on non-flat terrain some weeks earlier. We'd been looking for a good spot to see the sky and drop some acid we’d gotten hold of.
We had since then created a hybrid of gambling, sport and practice that while practical and pretty damn fun when you’re sober becomes possibly one of the most hellishly complex things on high-grade Apothecary acid ever attempted.
After finding an appropriately positioned series of balconies and windowsills it wasn't long until I was making my way towards Merchant’s Road.

*********************** Chapter 2 ****************

‘She had had bright blue eyes and a light complexion, and she'd looked about your size, Shiya,’ I told the pretty redhead, letting my gaze linger slightly over the features she carried very well; something which I knew wasn’t something learned but a natural thing. You learn a lot from seeing people naked, and Shiya was a feline then just as she was now.
‘We'll come by later today or early tomorrow and we'll have you take measurements and stick her full of pins,’ I grinned, dodging the playful swat she levied at my head.
‘For now I just need something she can wear temporarily, some delicates and whatever else you girls absolutely must have. If you go get what you think is needed I'll go over to Leylin's and get a few things,’ I told Hera.
I promised to try and make it to her window before the night was too long gone, should she find it in her heart to love me until morning once again. Looking steadily into her eyes, dropping the act for a few seconds, I told her about the girl.

‘Hey, Uli! Come take over for me a little while wil’ya!’ Shiya shouted towards the back of the shop. ‘So,’ she said quietly, ‘I know you and Caha mean well, but sell me a mirror-fish if that poor girl doesn’t need a woman right now.’
She said this in a voice that was thin, yet full of the strength and calm only experience can bring. I had never asked her about her past, and she had told little, but I knew she hadn’t lived the easy life of a shop’s attendant growing up. I took her hand and smiled, saying: ‘I think you might be just the right woman, Shiya. Will you help her?’
‘Of course I will help, you moron. If I leave it to you she’ll end up with a thousand things yet nothing she needs.’ She smiled as she said this, but there was a serious note to it telling clear as day she meant every word yet didn’t blame me for it.
‘Shiya, you’re the best. There’s a few thousand rhee in this,’ I said handing her a pouch from my belt. Looking around I found what I was looking for, and pointing to the Novieran take-away restaurant I told her I’d go order while she made the necessary purchases.
‘Meet you outside there in twenty, yeah?’ I asked, receiving a nod in reply. As she was leaving, I couldn’t help but admire her, and with a whistle I made her turn around.
‘Keep going, little starlight. Let me enjoy the show!’
To her credit it should be said she blushed most fantastically.
After having stolen a quick kiss from Hera, the black-haired singer in the Noverian place while placing my order, I managed to make my way to Caharin with Shiya just in time to see him and the girl walk inside the bath house.
Bringing with me the food and surprisingly few bags from places such as the perfume parlor, tailor and leatherworker, plus a few of Hera's secret additions, each one a stern admonition of my incompetence as to what is absolutely necessary for a girl to have, I asked the quite pretty girl in charge of admissions to give the packages to the intended recipient.
‘Maybe we should take a quick bath as well, eh?’ I asked Shiya mischeviously, earning a mock stern ‘Anything to get me out of my clothes, right?’ Throwing my hand up to my heart I said ‘and into hot water, nothing else, nothing at all.’
‘For an extra thirty rhee I think you can get any company you want,’ she said, which was true, although letting her know I knew that would perhaps not be the wisest move. ‘Any company I want would mean you, you know,’ I told her earnestly yet with just enough of mocking present to leave her an out without having to say no directly.
‘I’d rather wait till tonight,’ she said, but the little giggle when I mocked a frown was kinda cute, which made the whole thing completely worth the effort. After a while I was leaning back and letting the hot water work it's miracles.
Hearing Caharin singing over the thin background noise of the busy street outside in his deep tenor definitely constituted a good moment; too few and too far between.

******************************************
‘You look a lot better now, I said,’ rather surprised. ‘Remember me to tell Shiya she is an amazing young woman when we go get you sorted out with clothes. Have you got a name, little sister?’
I waved over the desk girl and while in the process of paying her she gave me a little piece of paper, neatly folded across the the middle. Guessing the content were meant for later I pocketed the note unopened.
Turning to say goodbye to Caharin she shot a quizzical glance at our newly liberated addition to the group before connecting the dots. With the cutest little gasp she clapped her hands together, exclaiming her amazement at the transformation that had taken place.
‘Oh, the Old Bros be damned! Is that what was under all that dirt? You're pretty! I thought you could be but couldn't really tell before. A little hot water and a lot of soap goes a long way, right?’ she said very quickly, full of excitement. This was something I usually find very attractive, but when she was about to nudge our new-found protégé jokingly on the shoulder I forgot about that and shot a quick glance at Caharin; how she reacted would tell us a lot about her.
Not very surprising considering his careful nature he had positioned himself close enough to intercept in case it would be needed and was keeping a close eye on things. Catching the hand easily, he lifted it to his lips.
‘Such a rare flower as you perhaps know the way to Rosewater Street?’ He said this in his usual soft, gentle voice, but his eyes told a different story entirely. The girl blushed and made a vague pointing motion towards the direction of the setting sun, appearantly rendered mute by the tale told in those golden eyes.
We walked in a surprisingly comfortable silence down the street. With at least two hours left of daylight it would be a crime not to enjoy the windy summer's day till it's fullest while we had the opportunity.
‘You don't owe me or Caharin anything,’ I said softly, ‘but it would be nice to have a name to call you.’
As I spoke I came to think of something I hadn't thought of.
‘It doesn't have to be your real name. I'm Ezra, and my friend here is called Caharin. Let’s pick up something to drink and head on up to the old ruins over there.’ I said gently, very aware of the fact she hadn’t spoken a single word yet; it was barely you could hear her breath over the wind.

‘You are free to go, anytime. We will give you enough rhee to book passage to your homelands, should you want to leave.’ Caharin said, ‘but for some reason I think you’re meant to stay.’
When she nodded the tiniest of nods I was more than a little relieved; language barriers aren't hard to overcome, just time-consuming. I sighed with relief as the potentially maddening possibility vanished in the wind with that nod.
‘I thought we could get something to drink and head on up to the old ruins over there,’ I told my companions, trying to make sure the girl felt included as best I could. ‘We can catch the sunset over some good wine and a joint or two,’ I went on, ‘but first we got to go get you some real clothes.
‘The fact that it’s Shiya’s place we’re going to has absolutely nothing to do with it then?’ Caharin said slyly, which in his gentle voice sounded absolutely honest; something which I have envied him many, many a time.
‘Of course it does. She’s a wonderful woman,’ I said, without hint of defensiveness, ‘plus I kinda promised to see her tonight and I like to keep promises like that.’

*****************************

While Ez kept watch over our still nameless companion I passed under the always-open gate between the Overlook district and the Old Ruins. It was named after the slight elevation advantage it had on the Plaza more than anything else, and the Old Ruins because of the indeed ancient remains of a fairly decent-sized building left by the Old Bros.
It was the oldest part of the city by far, but with the exception of the ruins themselves almost every building had been restored to life; making it highly prestigious and therefore expensive to live in. By combination of luck and the munchies I had found out when I first came here many years ago that the food is the best in town.
More often than not it’s a rhee or two cheaper than their competitors as well. Picking up a few things here and there I scrounged up the makings of a good meal in a few minutes, borrowing a wicker basket at the bakery which to my happy surprise came with a red-and-white checkered blanket.
Picking up two bottles of decent wine I declined the wooden cups offered by the sweet long-time couple running the local spirit joint, smiling in the most mischievious manner possible. As intended, this made them laugh; I was glad to hear the wonderful, honest sound of a life well lived reminiscently watching the innocence of youth dancing in the warm light of a windy summer’s day.
The discount they gave was symbolic in nature but got my spirits up nonetheless. Waving goodbye I picked up the pace and headed up the winding road, the packed earth soft and smooth beneath my feet.
When I got to the top I looked around for my friends, who were nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t until he called out I thought of looking up and I could hear laughter in his voice; it was a rare thing for us to remain unseen like that. By the Divine, he’s never gonna let me forget this I thought, making my way towards the majestic remains of an archway.
Now a testament to the frailty inherent in all things; by the sunlight it was made to appear solid. A shimmering aura around the pale yellow stone, almost like it was illuminated from within.
The light cover of sand and earth obfuscated the bite of time, creating that illusionary solidity and further enhancing it through the warm light enveloping the stone; the shadows that you’re sure should be there just isn’t, their absence confusing the senses somehow.
I didn’t really mind though, because right there, sitting on top of the world the view was breathtaking; the beauty of countless worlds converging in one single hour before the light goes out.
Breaking free from the spell was almost painful, but the magic of it stayed with me even as I turned away; the soft embrace of golden light created the aura of illumination everywhere around us, the illusion of timelessness remained intact and complete.
The girl without a name were sitting with her back leaned against a broken archway, her head turned sideways towards the sun. Shielding her eyes with her left hand you could still see the mark where the manacles had been, but by tomorrow it would be gone.
‘Caharin, my friend, and you, little starlight we’ve found, let’s drink wine and laugh and smile; let’s get high, let’s sing and have a really good time, alright? We’re alive, man, so forget about goodbyes and other things like that,’
I said this quietly, standing on the far side of the fallen pillar we’d sat down on. Walking over to Caharin, I put my arm around his shoulders. Standing there, right at the softly shimmering edge one step away from the sky Caharin began to sing.
‘It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why babe, even if you don’t know by now. No it ain’t no use it sittin’ wonderin’ why babe, it will never do you somehow..’
When he came to the second verse and she joined in it felt like getting struck by lightning. With a voice that was clear and high and incredibly full of sorrow she sang. She sang like she was telling the world she was tired of being this fragile all the time, and she filled the air with this incredible release of pain from deep, deep inside; of having given up hope only to find out she desperately wanted to stay alive.
Joining them for the last two verses I realized we’d found exactly what we had talked about needing farther down the line. ‘. . . it’s not that you treated me unkind, you could’ve done better but I don’t mind; you just kinda wasted my precious time – but don’t think twice it’s alright.’
In that moment, without even knowing her name, I knew this was what we had been waiting for. That somehow this was the key that fit the locked door in our souls neither Caha’s or I had managed to open until now.

****************************************

We immediately turned towards each other with great big smiles and joyful exuberance like fire in our eyes, taking the few steps that separated us to stand close to each other.
‘My real name is Ashe zha’Rain azh’Dar. I sincerely apologize, but until this moment I wasn’t sure this wasn’t some sort of sick joke; what you did.. it’s just insane. I mean, how and why did you single out me from the hundreds others?’
At this point I was about to start explaining what we knew but stopped short when she raised one of her small hands; a gesture with such familiarity, such complete faith in that no offense would be taken. And none was, so I motioned her to continue.
She did so practically bubbling over, stopping herself quickly and taking a deep breath. Speaking in a tempo much easier to understand she said:
‘Earlier you said I could make up any name I want, and you wouldn’t mind.. well, now that I have given mine, don’t I deserve yours? You both picked a name that carries no family ties, no weight at all; making past stay were it belongs, maybe.. but also, all the good memories and bad decisions that have lead us here.’
She said this in the relaxed manner of an younger sister chiding her older brothers, like we were family. The exact same thing had happened between me and Caharin a few years ago, and neither of us looked at the other while making the decision; she had proven herself worthy just by asking the way she did.
‘Ezra Drachei of the Reach, Sinwielder and Lord of Speed.’
‘Caharin sho’Rha’akh’Shar, the Windwalker and the First of Seven, ’
We both bowed solemnly, then broke off into wide smiles. ‘Just call us Ez and Caha, Ashe, we’re just people like everyone else. We’re pretty damn good, but we make love and laugh and cry and eat Caha’s thousand different ways to fail soup when it’s his turn to cook. Relax. We’re just two friends who met a third along the road.’




Ashe did laugh heartily with us after a short second of being stunned, but continued seriously after it had dissipated:
‘That’s fine, but I can’t help but think about it none-the-less. I’d bet my last rhee our skills and abilities will match, just like our personalities. I’m a Changeling after all, I need some sort of formality or I’ll start feeling odd, it’s just how it is. Let’s come up with a name for our little group, yeah? What do you think?’
‘I’m in; in fact I was harboring the same thought you so eloquently put into words right now.’ I said, suddenly thoughtful. Appearing to have decided to just run with this incredible sense of belonging, Caharin stood with his head leaned back so far he seemed to look for answers in the sky.
Knowing oh so well there’s no point in trying to rush him to make a decision he considers of weight and serious nature, I waited patiently shooting looks of reassurance to our new changeling – pretty sure what his answer would be. Despite his careful nature he was the source of many of our more desperate solutions that had at times passed into the seriously weird territories. Far, far beyond the border, and they always worked out.
This was an idea with so much potential, and neither of us were much attached to our current nameless state really. And it’s not like we would somehow forget the old names if we ended wanting to change back.
Right about when I could see he’d made his decision our female companion had lost her patience and were just about to start prodding when I caught her eyes and putting up my hand to stop her.
As she bit back on what she’d been about to say Caharin leveled back his head and nodded acquiescence. ‘Alright then, before the sun goes down we will have become our new selves – I’ve got an idea for our group name I’d like to begin with. Then the lady goes first, I’ll follow and our White Guardian here will finish the transformation spell.’
Meeting nothing but two quick nods I cleared my throat, then pretended I opened an envelope much the same as they do when you receive your graduation papers from a Master. Caharin got it and chuckled, she didn’t get the joke itself but clapped in appreciation of the my pantomime performance.
‘I hereby present the gathered with the name – drumroll please – “The Quiet Dream”, to which we can add Team, Crew, Group, Party or any other synonym for group. Wait, wait, hold your horses, I’m not done yet. The reason we would want a name like this are chiefly because of three reasons.
The first would be the ironic use of Quiet, which could be construed as meaning death, giving it depth. Secondly, it’s original and separates us from the fold. Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, when you consider our attunements we have crystal, wind and frost which put together paints a picture of the deep tundra in moonlight or the frost of winter’s morning.
I once read a poem from the old world that described death by exposure to be the gentlest of deaths, the quiet death that let’s you go without pain, with time to accept it was your time and that it was the most peaceful death he’d ever witnessed.
I want us to become the absolute best we can, and this name could serve as a reminder we are good, loving people besides predators and killers.’ I proclaimed with feeling. ‘I believe in this, and unless either of you has a better alternative or strong enough objections to veto it..’ I let my voice trail off, and looked at them standing with my hands turned flat up in front of me, the universal gesture of trying to make someone understand your point of view.
‘I didn’t like it at first, since it sounded so .. meek. When you explained it I realized I love it,’ our feminine voice of the group stated emphatically. Caharin shrugged and nodded, saying ‘My friend, it is you who are loved by the words. As long as we’re in it together we can always bash in the face of anyone trying to make fun of us until they figure they’d rather have teeth than be funny,” he said and let loose a rare grin.
The Quiet Dream it is. I’ve thought of a name now as well, so let’s continue. I believe the lady was to go first – the floor is yours, madame.’ Standing up with a flourish that looked ceremonial, the girl who’d given up was standing straight with fire in her eyes in front of them, looking with steady gaze at the two young men who brought her back from the dead, taking a deep breath and letting it out before saying:
‘From this moment I am Ashe Eliyah of the Quiet Dream,’ she said proudly, only to break the air of regality by letting go of a very girly giggle and blushing; we knew we shouldn’t laugh but couldn’t help it, it had looked so goddamn funny. Soon she was laughing with us, it was contagious.
‘Glad you can laugh at yourself like that, Ashe. Makes the many mistakes we make easier to handle. Alright then, my turn,’ I announced after taking a few breaths to recover. ‘I am, from this day forward Ezra Drachei of the Quiet Dream. Just Ez is still fine, though.
Your turn, brother.’ I said, reaching for the last bottle of wine enjoying this little weirdity. Caharin stood silently looking at the setting sun, probably saying goodbye both to the magical light it had brought and the past he was about to leave behind.
‘Don’t worry, Caharin of the Wind, it’s time we let go of some things in order to create something new anyhow,” I said.
He turned around and nodded. ‘I’ll be Caha Catwhite, of the Quiet Dream.’ He said this matter-of-factly but the moment was so full of promise for the future none of us could help smiling. ‘Catwhite? That is.. unique.’ I said and was met with a silent nod, once again proving his damn sense of humor to be just as infuriating as always.
Having finished the wine and the sun gone down it was quickly decided we needed more wine, which was agreed had paramount importance to the continuation of this first night, then we’d adjourn to our lodging and have a few drinks before venturing out in the lovely Themerian night.

The rather large rooms me and Cat had rented when we got here some weeks ago had been decorated in the traditional style of the Jeweled Kingdoms, full of little statues of this little serene-looking fat guy sitting in the lotus position that I’d always thought looked like he wasn’t trying too hard to prove anything.
He seemed alright with just sitting there and didn’t bother anyone, so when we got high one night and decided to try our hand at interior design he was the sole survivor; completely unfazed throughout the ordeal.
He didn’t seem to miss the bamboo mats, jade or windings of the whiskered dragons, the screens making silhouettes in such a lethal, sharp way disappeared without any complaint being voiced; when the night turned into morning he settled into the new ambience completely at peace.
I mentioned his graceful acceptance of his new surroundings to Cat, who with an heroic last surge of creativity emptied the remaining paint in his bucket over his head. Thus satisfied Cat proceeded to throw himself on his bed, missing it completely.
“Probably an attempt at practice for a faceplanting competition,” I mused at the thirty centimeter tall acid homage my friend had created, “or perhaps he’s trying to fly hitchhiker-style” I murmured to myself.
Having exhausted the possible explanations for my companion’s leap of faith, so to speak, I turned my mind to the very serious situation at hand, namely locating the joint I had rolled earlier.
I was reasonably sure still existed in it’s untoked state somewhere among the debris; left among the ruins of our intoxicated careers in residential design, shortlived as it were, somewhere, somewhere in this room, it lay resting in the soft way joints do, it’s an inherent trait of it’s species after all.
When lost it’s a blue kind of softness it whispers to the world; still it sings the blues with every shred of soul it has, waiting for a miracle. “And lo and behold, one is coming soon, faithful one, and if it is in a somewhat strange form conceal your surprise and ponder not the ways of the Lord, remember they are indeed mysterious and forlorn” I sang to myself, in a voice close to a whisper.
I couldn’t say where the words were coming from or in fact even if aware of was sinigng until it was almost over. It felt right though, so I didn’t question it. After all, it was so in tune with my soul it had come out on it’s own, and going around doubting myself for no reason seemed pointless.
I spent perhaps fifteen minutes looking around the room before I found the largely unharmed joint in my hand, and that was my little miracle-in-the-morning alright.
“That’s the story of the room, Ashe”, I said after having finished the story.
Quickly making seating arrangements by throwing all the pillows, plus a little of everything else he found lying in the vicinity that were soft and not nailed down in a large, haphazard pile in the middle of the room, a project Ashe enthusiastically aided in after a little yelp of surprise when hit by one of the first projectiles Cat sent flying perhaps two seconds after the door slammed closed.
Her little yelp and the face she made was just about the funniest thing I’d seen in a long time, and I couldn’t contain the laugh that were coming from somewhere deep down, it almost felt like an little, separate entity, an intense rush of completely unshackled energy, surging through me in a joyful exhilaration.
It felt the exact way I always imagined someone bat shit crazy would about two weeks in on the bender of his life, at the point where shit turns really strange. I’ve always been fond of moments like that.
When it finally broke free it was a truly beautiful sound, honest and pure. When it stopped all three of us were grinning at each other like we’d been dropped on our heads repeatedly growing up, and being caught up in that moment together we took the first steps towards the bond we would later forge.
So, in a very real sense our story began as somewhat of a laugh, really.
From my surpremely horizontal position on the floor something became very clear. We needed to get wasted tonight, otherwise.. well, there probably would be consequences most diresome arising in very daunting ways if hedonism and abandon wasn’t practiced vigilantly this very night.
Now, I have always had a healthy respect for these insights and precognitions, especially when narcotics were involved somehow. For just these kind of emergencies I had prepared myself with utmost diligence and attention to detail.
I was now in possession of a briefcase, although if you read the tag it would appear a gentleman by the last name of Thompson perhaps would disagree on certain finer points regarding ownership and/or if in fact the discussion rather should be focusing on the larcenous nature of the situation or not.
This briefcase was the solution to almost every problem. The reason for this panaceal nature most likely, although one can argue the elegant black and grey of it’s exterior played a definite part as well, had to do with the narcotic substances it contained.
Up, down, sideways or seemingly remaining in place traveling the mellow skies in a yellow airplane from the old days in search for truth and beauty and song.. freedom to go for people on the road and a few things to get us through the rainy days. Anyways, my mind set on the task I interrupt Ashe’s and Cat’s conversation that to my surprise seems to in some way revolve around the my briefcase somehow.

Thus reaffirmed in my faith of the world and the holistic interconnectedness of all things for the foreseeable future I say “It’s time to get serious about tonight, this very fucking moment. Cat, you’ll be in charge of keeping us baked. Ashe, your first tour of duty will be managing the relief unit and dispensing with extreme liberty this here opium with the help of this pipe.
In case stronger measures are needed, or really, really wanted this bag contains pharmaceutical morphine and the syringes contain Edgeland skag. I’ll be in charge of the maintaining the lines. There’s only two rules; keep going until it’s over and leave no one behind!”
That Cat would be on the bus was no surprise, we’d been doing variations of this routine since our first days together and he was a fiend through and through just like I was. He had just caught the bag of weed, gotten out the papers and begun rolling the first joint of the night by the time I was finished, in the calm, steadfast manner that was his modus operandi most of the time.
He was high royalty in the practical joke scene for this very reason – no one saw it coming. I wasn’t even sure if he was joking half the time if I’m being honest, but once he’d said it was alright I just threw away any doubts without a second thought. He’d earned my trust early on and never lost it since.
We were brothers-in-heart, after all. Anyways, Ashe was still a young girl, and making her way through the purgatory of slavery affects everyone differently. I had kept a straight face but had worried a little, but if something like this made her uncomfortable it was something I’d want to know early on. I was four years past my twentieth naming day at the time, and I guessed her to be close to hers.
Every now and again her fragile appeareance would be reinforced from within and she would rise to the occasion without hesitation or doubt slightly changed. If I had to describe her appearance I’d say she had a very fragile kind of beauty, wearing a storm of pale gold for a crown and deep forest in her eyes.
The thousand ways she smiles that concealed the lethal essence of drawn blades beneath her skin, barely kept restrained, full of fierce grace. She favored gray and blue, sometimes pale shades of purple and deep red would appear but never as a main color.
After we told her she needed to get an outfit she would use everyday she came up with a rather elegant design. Standing 164 centimeters tall, and slim like a fae but with distinctive curves, she wore a slightly faded dark grey tunic, slim across the stomach and cut down the sides above the hips, billowing out slightly over her chest into folds forming a v-shaped pattern.
Her only resignation of usefulness in favor of her feminine sensibilities was the fact that the curve along the top of her breasts were made visible by a horizontal oval there. Her shoulders and upper arms were adorned with leather dyed a deep blue forming a spiral around the limb that ended at the elbow.

The actual arm of the tunic widened significantly at the elbow and flowed to an end a bit above the wrist. She wore the intricate bracers made of metal covering the top of her fingers, hands and lower arm that had a distinct purple quality we had had made for her. It had been expensive, but the result was worth every rhee as always.
We’d become good friends with Shaan’ah by now and rarely went anywhere else. Her pants were the same faded grey of the tunic, but had a pattern of cyan and sapphire along the side forming a stylized curved long knife on each leg.
It was bound with the same type of spiraling leather strap, only this was dyed purple, almost black, spanning from the hip to just above the knee. She had grey boots of high quality leather covered with jaguar skin, which made for quiet steps and a smashingly handsome set of boots.
The finishing touch was a long, thin piece of light gray linen she wound into a clever combination of hood and bandana to keep her hair from her eyes. We took her out to celebrate her new look that night, and I remember me and Cat making toast after toast to “the little oval”, “the freedom of boobs everywhere” and “our brilliant girl and her spectacular bosom” throughout the night.
This made Ashe giggle like a little girl every single time, something for which we teased her relentlessly, demanding proof we weren’t involved in any underage drinking. The trap was sprung the moment she asked how to prove it. “You have to win a shot race against a certified professional drinker of legal age whom you know, so either Cat or me”, we told her. Of course, we completely refused to evem consider the validity of any other proof, stating categorically that this was the only thing guaranteed to stand up in court here in Themesta.
I have to give her credit though, she accepted the offer with style as soon as it was obviously no other choice.
We let the bartender decide the spirit and to two jubilant roars and a sigh of exasperation absinthe was poured into seven shot glasses, to the brim my friend and in a amicable spirit we quickly decided to make it a battle royale of three friends and a bartender instead of a heads up battle of two.
As expected in a competition there must’ve been a winner in the end but to this very day no one involved remember who it was. Actually we don’t know who lost either, because somewhere around round seventeen we were all tied, the bartender told us the day after. I’d blurred out at round fifteen, Cat at fourteen and Ashe had reached a heroic twelve, an effort for which Cat decided a medal aught to be awarded.
I still think she has that thing somewhere. ‘For Heroic Efforts in the Face of Grave Peril’ I believe it was. A good memory, that one.


A few days later, we realized the precarious state of our economic situation when Cat called out for money and didn’t receive an answer. After a little rummaging around checking clothes and bags, as well as the nooks and crannies of the room we pooled everything together and made a pile, the smallness of which did nothing but hammer the impoverished nature of our predicament in.
Leaving us no choice but to take things seriously once again. “Alright, seems the music’s over, guys, so no more fooling around.” I said, marking the end of the party for this time.


--- Early Chapter: Losing Ashe & the Necromancer story beginning

The contract we took was pretty much just the first one we ran across, but that wasn’t unheard of for us, we were pretty much convinced we were damn near invincible. We tried to be ironic and shit about it but that was just show, we believed full in our hearts that we couldn’t find something we wouldn’t be able to cope with.
I guess we were right, at least empirically speaking. We weren’t paying much attention to it after having procured it, focusing on getting out slim funds to stretch for necessary travel supplies, the visit to Jhorma Kefahk’an would empty most of it. We could probably hunt, but neither me nor Cat had anything more than a basic outline about how it worked.
If anything, the whole issue of running out would give us something to keep us focused.
“Drachei, look at this.”
Cat was standing a few paces away with the contract held in a decidedly drooping sort of way. Wonder what he’s stumbled upon.
He handed me the contract and pointed out the important passage, which turned out to be the name at the bottom. It took me a little while to get it, and I wasn’t convinced it wasn’t just coincidence.
“It might just be the name isn’t that uncommon, you know. We’ll see when we’ve rounded things up, in any case.” I took the time to read through the contract, and it didn’t really seem much. There’s something about this that doesn’t add up.
The entire thing did seem like just the sort of thing that made Vasco who he was. How me managed to land on his feet after every fuck-up was a legend in itself. Me and Cat had met him about a year earlier in the middle of a forest down south around the border between Sapphira and the Coast somewhere.
The fact is was quite clearly intoxicated and wearing nothing except a leaf or two in strategic locations hinted at a story of some kind; his first question was:
“Is that wine or water?”, followed by “Which forest is this?”