Men Who Lurk in the Dark (Mahaerat, Athanael)

[Teller]

Lady Mahaerat and her translator, Mistress Sota, had been visiting a friend of Mahaerat’s who lived an hour outside the city when their carriage broke a wheel on the way back into town.

One of us could ride the horse into town, Mahaerat signed to Sota, as they both stood beside the angled carriage, which had nearly thrown them both off the seat when the wheel split.

Sota rolled her eyes and shook her head, turning so she faced Mahaerat, so the deaf woman could read her reply. ”We’re both women. That may not end well for either of us.”

May not end well for either of us regardless, Mahaerat disagreed, though she admitted Sota had a point.

”Yes but at least together we can die at swordpoint in the comforting grasp of each other’s arms.”

This time Mahaerat rolled her eyes, and went around to rub the horse’s neck then begin unhitching him.

Sota grabbed her by the arm. ”Lady Mahaerat, you are not riding all the way back to the city by yourself.”

Mahaerat laughed, though only she and the dead could hear any sounds Mahaerat made. No no, just getting the horse uhitched. It’s pulling his harness sideways as it is.

”Why must you always refuse a driver?” Sota wanted to know, exasperated and worried.

He’d be bored silly sitting out in the country while we chat!

”So invite him in! I’m allowed to partake in your conversations of my own accord, and you’ve never been ungenerous with inviting others to you gatherings.”

Mahaerat had to admit that this had never occurred to her before. She tugged on the buckles and clips connecting the harness to the wooden arms that went on either side of him, whatever they were called. He might be uncomfortable with all of us ladies. She had to pause to gesture her words every time she wanted to speak to be understood.

Sota leaned in closer, arms crossed as though chilled, though they had at least an hour until nightfall. ”Be nice if one of your ghost friends knew how to fix a wheel.” Sota and Mahaerat’s other translator were among the precious few who knew about Mahaerat’s ability to converse with ghosts, and she said it with her back to the road out of habit, looking like she’d lowered her voice too, though there didn’t appear to be anyone else present.

Mahaerat nodded. Too bad they never come when I call. So poorly trained. I ought to complain to their parents.

Sota snorted. She wasn’t a lady; she could get away with it.

[Emma]

A dream that had taken an unusual turn was what jerked me out of my slumber. It had been a perfectly normal dream about work- at least, until the oxen with gonorrhea had appeared. At that point, it had just become preposterous. The images of bovine sexually transmitted infections faded from my vision and were replaced with the markedly more pleasant image of a fiery sunset. Or maybe it was sunrise. I had no actual idea of how long I’d been asleep. I looked down at myself. A quick pat down of my leather armour ensured that nothing had been stolen during my nap. I sat up and looked around. There really was no way of telling if I’d been asleep for eight hours or eight years. I was lying in the grass near the road just outside of town. At some point, I’d wondered if it would be better to sleep or to do my job, and sleep had seemed like a better idea.

Speaking of jobs, the Council would probably have preferred me to move a little more quickly. I was supposed to recover an artefact in Jilani, something that had been spotted in one of the new frontier towns that had sprung up in the mountains. It was regular, run of the mill. Council missions tended to not be particularly creative when we weren’t at war. I ended up lying back down with a sad little sigh. There would be no peace as long as I put it off. Nonetheless, it took a few more minutes before I was finally able to stand up. I rolled along the grass before eventually hauling myself to my feet and getting a proper look around. The sun had sunk a little since I had first woken. That meant night was coming, and thusly cold. I stretched out my limbs and began to tread towards town.

I hadn’t gotten even half a kilometer down the way when I spotted a wagon up ahead. Except it was toppled over. The horse was still upright, as were two slender figures standing near it, engaged in heated discussion. Or, at least it looked like they were. I couldn’t actually hear anything. Upon closer inspection, they both seemed well to do based on their clothes. I adjusted my bow on my back and made sure my footsteps were noisy, so as not to startle them. They were definitely communicating, but with gestures, not words. The wagon looked like it had hit an improperly placed rock, splitting one wheel wide open. I didn’t know anything about fixing wooden implements, but I figured it would be charitable to stop and ask the ladies if they needed any help. I could use some amusement.

“It seems your wagon went head over titties. What an unfortunate occurrence. Once your wagon wheel starts splitting its ass like that, it’s done for. Would you like me to accompany you into town?”

Words;; 490
Character Used;; Athanaël Lescaut
Notes;; Athanaël speaks in COMPLETE MONOTONE which is harder to describe than I thought.

[Teller]

Mahaerat saw their visitor approaching before Sota heard him, and Sota turned when she saw what Mahaerat had been looking at, and flinched. Mahaerat raised her head, stepping out from the horse, and put a shoulder in front of Sota’s. There wasn’t much she could do to defend her translator, but as a woman of higher rank she felt it was her responsibility to try. Some noblewomen considered defense to be the job of their lesser, and needless to say Mahaerat disagreed. It was remarkable how often people could be talked down if need be, and Sota had been with Mahaerat for more than a decade; she spoke for Mahaerat well, and could pass for a noblewoman in every manner if she so chose, including tone of voice Mahaerat presumed. Her ghostly companions had told her Sota had the right attitude, but it wasn’t something she could personally hear to determine.

Mahaerat lifted a slender eyebrow, reading the man’s lips, and suppressed her amusement at his ‘base’ comment until she had a better idea of what he was like.

Once the man had finished, Sota looked to Mahaerat, who considered, then shaped the words with her hands, though Sota could sometimes read her lips, but she’d have to look away from their stranger to do so. Introduce us regularly, and ask him if he knows the distance to town and if he’s familiar with the area. If he doesn’t give it, ask his name.


Mistress Sota looked back to the stranger. ”My name is Mistress Sota, this is My Lady Mahaerat. Thank you for your offer. My lady wonders if you know the distance to town, and if you’re familiar with this area.” She paused with her hands folded politely before her.

But Mahaerat noticed her translator’s shiver, and went to their tipped wagon, retrieving a lap blanket, and shook it out over Sota’s shoulders, doing her best to keep an eye on the man’s mouth as she did so, to save Sota from having to fill her in. By all means Mahaerat ought to be the cold one, being from the south originally, but worry and resolution kept her warm, just in case this man’s generosity had unforeseen layers she didn’t care to peel back and reveal.

But, after only a minute, Mahaerat glanced at the swiftly darkening sky and realized their best option was to trust this man and hope he didn’t run away with it. She gestured to Sota, retrieved the second lap blanket, and drew the horse’s reins over its head, handing them to Sota as she spoke, since Sota wouldn’t be using her hands as much as her lady did.

”We would be glad of your assistance, sir, and thank you again. What are you doing out so late? Most people try to be in town or at home before nightfall.”

Mahaerat started in the direction of town, attempting to keep each of them in the corners of her eyes, in an attempt not to lag in her understanding of the conversation. Something pale wisped in and out of her periphery, usually the sign of a ghost coming for a visit, but when she looked there was no one there.

[Emma]

Nobility tended to react either one of two ways to my choice in vocabulary- offended shrieking, or suppressing any emotion. This lady was doing the latter, and that always tended to be the more interesting reaction. I couldn’t tell if she found me hilarious or if she was pondering where would be the best location to dump my body. Either option would be a good one. I watched with genuine interest as she signed elaborately to the lady-in-waiting next to her. I couldn’t tell if she was deaf and had read my lips or was simply mute. The lady-in-waiting was perfectly capable of speech, however, and answered politely and cautiously. I realized that a hulking male figure approaching two alone and vulnerable women was probably reason for concern. I figured some honesty would help soothe their concerns.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Athanaël, although I do prefer the title of Grandmaster Titties. I would be lying if I told you I knew the distance to town, but that is where I’m headed. I know this area about as well as I know an ostrich’s anus. And frankly, the dark gives me the heebie-jeebies.” I watched as the deaf-or-mute woman, Mahaerat, placed a warm blanket over her translator’s shoulders. What a kind motion, particularly for nobility. I wanted a blanket too. “I happen to be travelling on government business. Someone shit out the wrong fuck and the Council wants me to take a look. And what brings you two out here?”

Words;; 250
Character Used;; Athanaël Lescaut
Notes;; Dialogue posts are short.

[Teller]

”Although I do prefer the title of Grandmaster Titties….” Mahaerat snorted when she saw him say that, her attempt not to laugh, and her failure. She clapped a hand to her mouth, shaking her head, and sighed. Well, at least Sota was the only one who would see her again and who would know of her unladylike reaction, and to an ungentlemanly quip, no less. She’d like to see an ostrich someday though; they seemed like curious creatures, let alone birds.

”We were visiting a friend from out of town,” Mahaerat signed, and Sota spoke for her. ”Large portions of her house were destroyed in the hurricane and we were doing what we could to help.” Which mostly meant providing emotional and social support while the friend organized her own repairs, as said friend was hurting for money no more than Mahaerat was. ”And I hate to say it, but you must not be on good terms with the Councilmembers if they sent you to examine someone else’s shit and fuck.”

”I don’t want to say that!” Sota mouthed to her, aghast.

Mahaerat gestured toward Athanael. ”Do you truly think he will believe any less of you for it?”

”Mahaerat, really?”

Mahaerat smiled. ”Please? He’s doing us a favor thus far by accompanying us. The least we can do is offer him some good humor in return. I haven’t asked you to refer to him yet as Grandmaster Titties, have I?”

Sota rolled her eyes, and repeated what Mahaerat had said—at least the part they had argued about, though not the brief argument following. Their horse bobbed his head, made uncertain by something they couldn’t hear, and Mahaerat glanced around them, but saw nothing of interest. She wished she’d thought to take a lantern from the wagon—which may well be empty or gone by the time they returned to it tomorrow—but she wasn’t going to ask them to go back for it now. Perhaps dracoisks could see in the dark; in a way she hoped so. He’d be a better lookout than they were, so long as he didn’t suddenly decide he’d rather not be of an assistance at all.

”He’s a handsome one, isn’t he?” she remarked to Sota, who, to spare Athanael, bit the inside of her lip and smiled instead of giggling. ”Ask him if he’s ever seen an ostrich.”

”Normally I wouldn’t ask, but why?”

”Because I want to know.”

”That’s a very illuminating answer, Mahaerat, thank you.” Sota inhaled. ”My lady wishes to know if you’ve ever seen an ostrich or are just referring to them for comedic purposes.”

[Emma]

I nodded along as the translator spoke, and then watched in interest as they seemed to have a heated argument about something. Mahaerat was acting like she had just farted from how hard she was trying not to laugh, and Sota was absolutely flabbergasted. That was the only purpose I could see for such an argument. A chill wind blew and I had to suppress a shiver. Talking to two pretty ladies was all fine and well, but I didn’t want my balls to drop off. I sidled up to the horse and gave it a reassuring pat. The question about the ostrich took me slightly aback. I turned back to the two women, unhitching the horse as I spoke.

“I’m glad you asked. I have indeed seen an ostrich. They are majestic creatures. They look like an asshole on stilts… that should fly but can’t. Because they’re stupid. As for the Council, they like me just fine. Shitting a fuck is the sort of thing agents are trained to deal with. Is there anything you need me to carry?”

Words;; 180
Character Used;; Athanaël Lescaut
Notes;;

[Teller]

Mahaerat smiled to herself as she read Athanael’s response, doing her best not to allow her and Sota’s side conversations to exclude him, though naturally they already did. Internally, she sighed; there was no such thing as a private or unhindered conversation for Mahaerat, unless she spoke with one of her translators or her immediate family. ”Majestic assholes?” she asked, with Sota repeating. How could one be a majestic asshole? Well, she supposed she knew a few nobility like that, so it couldn’t be too difficult for animals to achieve, could it?

His occupation however intrigued her. ”Why would you become an agent if you’re habitually doing things you don’t seem to enjoy?” Sota repeated for her. ”It seems an awful waste of one’s time and energy.” Sota paused, watched Mahaerat, and added, ”Lady Mahaerat wonders what else you do beyond investigating metaphorical fecal matter.” Sota shook her head to herself, exasperated with the language of their conversation, not that Mahaerat nodded.

”I suppose he is attractive,” Sota agreed to Mahaerat, waiting until Athanael wasn’t speaking so not to interrupt, as even if he couldn’t hear their speech he knew what it was, and they didn’t want to offend. ”Looks like the sort of man who might sell you a horse just to see how you bounce on top of it.”

Mahaerat caught another laugh inside her chest, desperately not wanting him to think they were laughing at him, and since she wasn’t doing the best job of hiding her reactions, quickly signed again. ”She’d like to inform you she’s in no way laughing at you; she’s amused by my phrasing of a prior observation,” Sota informed him.

Mahaerat glanced over their belongings. She’d thrown a few packs over their horse’s back before leaving, so there wasn’t much and the horse could easily handle it. But her eyes snagged on the second blanket, the way Sota walked with her chin tucked into hers, and her brows crept together as she thought. Weren’t dracolisks meant to be sensitive to lower temperatures? And the breeze tonight—a remnant of the recent hurricane—made what was otherwise only a cool night feel colder.

Mahaerat reached behind Sota to snag the blanket down, and one of Sota’s packs, since they were lighter and somewhat precariously placed on top. She extended them to Athanael, then signed words for Sota to speak. ”She says these aren’t well-placed on the top and we might lose them in the dark, if you wouldn’t mind. She also offers some of the food and water we brought with us, if you’re hungry or thirsty. And thank you.”

Mahaerat only wished she’d been the one to think of the blanket, or at least thought of it sooner. It was rude to forget the sensitivities, so to speak, of the various races.

[Emma]

I didn’t respond right away to the query about my job. Telling them I was an agent in the first place would probably result in me getting the boot from Aisling. And by boot, I meant he would pay multiple men to kick me half to death. However, I had always found lying was not my strong suit, and Council information about agents’ identities were public record anyway. That being said, I couldn’t divulge important secrets. It was nice to have a conversation that went beyond awkward small talk, but the question was of a very personal nature. My most private wishes were not meant for a sunset stroll. Of course, I didn’t let any of this show on my face or in my voice. I remained as passive as ever. I couldn’t lie, but keeping a deadpan face was always something I had excelled at.

“Everyone has to do stupid things at their job sometimes. My job is all fun and games until someone takes a shit out of their fuck. In fact, my jobs are usually so much fun that they make me start ovulating… which is quite surprising.”

I was aware of the two women’s continued dialogue, which remained a mystery to me. I was obviously aware that more was being said than the translator told me. By their facial expressions, it seemed to be something amusing. I turned away and began removing items from the wagon. I simply nodded when Sota told me they weren’t laughing at me. Of course. That would be absurd. I was, however, more than happy to remove the package Mahaerat wanted. At that moment, a sudden breeze picked up and I stiffened. There wasn’t a lot to be jealous about regarding mermaids, but I did wish I had their heat storage capabilities.

“I have the packages requested. If you don’t mind, let’s get moving. I’d say my wiener is approximately…” I considered the precise mathematics. “… sixty percent of its usual size, and still shrinking. We should get inside before I start producing estrogen.”

Words;; 343
Character Used;; Athanaël Lescaut
Notes;;

[Teller]

At his response Mahaerat smiled, and Sota laughed. ”Speaking for myself, I would admit that Lady Mahaerat’s conversations are not always conversations I would choose for myself. But one’s job often brings unexpected things.” Mahaerat lightly elbowed her, and Sota rolled her eyes.

Of course it was difficult to have any conversation at all with a living person, for Mahaerat. And certainly no private conversations except for those with close family members, most of which were fluent in Sign Language. This fellow’s own language interested her though—most people tempered whatever natural colloquialisms they had when around the nobility, but this fellow directly didn’t, and his chatter was quite different from that she’d ‘overheard’ from everyone else’s. She’d be interested to know with what kinds of tones he spoke, and nudged Sota to ask her.

Entirely flat, Sota replied. He speaks with a near-perfect monotone. Well, that was curious. But it likely made it entirely more startling once one realized what he’d so blandly said.

At Athanael’s shiver, and declaration of cold, Mahaerat winced, embarrassed that she hadn’t thought about how the temperature would affect him. Having not spent much time around dracolisks was no excuse—in this day and age one had to have at least a basic understanding of all the main races, of which he was a part. She extended him another of the soft blankets, and tugged on her gloves, though she herself wasn’t yet any more than cool. Through Sota, she said, ”But you said the best parts of your jobs caused you to ovulate, so couldn’t your current exalted task of escorting us be accomplishing a similar effect?” She hoped he took it the right way, but guessed with his sense of humor that he would understand.

Mahaerat took a satchel of her more important belongings and started off down the road, Sota still gripping the reins of the waiting horse, there not being much they’d absolutely needed to save from whoever found the wagon first. Sota had never been particular about her clothes, and knew that her mistress would swiftly replace them once they’d returned home, and Mahaerat had left nothing behind that she couldn’t replace herself.

”Please excuse me if my question is rude,” Sota said for Mahaerat, [/b]”but is it impolite for me to ask how old you are? I understand dracolisks have a rather long lifespan, and am curious. To my eyes we look roughly the same age.”[/b]

Something the horse heard that neither Sota nor Mahaerat could startled it, and it lifted its head with a start, the reins jerking in Sota’s grip. Determined not to let go, Sota stumbled sideways, and Mahaerat lunged to grab the reins ahead of her hand in case the horse reared.