Post by Liessel on Mar 21, 2024 9:52:50 GMT -5
One night, mid-September
It was very late by the time that Liessel left the house, or one could say that it was very early. Somewhere between midnight and dawn, she had pulled herself from her bed and donned a heavy cloak, her belt of pouches, and her boots. And, of course, her Flynn kit.
The young former priestess had spent a few days planning this. She knew where to get a horse she could rent and had already rented it. There were few cabs running at that time of night, and none were to be seen along the wide lane that hugged the neighborhood of Trevor Square. She already knew she was going to have to walk a fair way to get to her transportation.
She kept to the gaslit streets and keep her senses open. London in the small hours was too quiet, the mist sat too low, and the night air was too oppressive. All that was needed was a pink sky, and vines and tree limbs growing from every doorway and window. Reality was far kinder than what her imagination wanted to play out in her head. There were no creeping branches or twisting roots. London was simply at its natural rest.
Half an hour later, half chilled from needing to watch over her shoulder as much as she had to watch where she was going, Liessel paid the stablemaster the remaining deposit for her horse and was then off.
Once past the thickest parts of London’s residentials, Liessel laid on the speed and urged her horse, Holly, to a free gallop. Her Flynn kit had been secured and strapped down in one of the saddle bags with Waymaker’s haft slightly protruding from beneath the tied down flap. It was pointing her direction. If she ran into trouble, all she would have to do was reach for it.
Blissfully, no trouble marked her path as Holly beat her hooves against the ground and carried Liessel out of London.
By the time that she reached Salisbury, both she and Holly were exhausted. A room was bought for the day, and a stall rented for her horse. She slept much of it away, waking only to find herself something to eat in one of the local shops. Then, it was back to bed. Her night, and Holly’s, would be a long one.
From Salisbury she'd be heading to Stonehenge.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Uncle,” Her voice whispered through the door of his house, cutting through Jonnah Reistar’s dreams with the grace of a hot knife through butter. He was awake, laying there for a moment against the mat of his bed, listening until he heard it again, “Uncle. Please, it's me. Open your door.”
On the other side, Liessel was standing close with her head bowed toward the wood so that he would hear her even if she kept her voice relatively low. The sun had yet to begin its upward climb, but she had to be quick about this. She’d already been gone a day, and it would take her another to get back. Still, fearing that he hadn’t heard her, Liessel lifted a hand and knocked her knuckles lightly against the wood.
That got Jonnah up and moving. Soon enough the door was swinging open, and he was poking his head out to see whoelse might have come with her even as Liessel was saying, “I’ve come alone, and I need to get back, but I have something to ask of you.”
Nearby, Holly waited, stamping her hooves and shifting her weight idly where Liessel had tied her.
There was no one else, just as she had just told him. But his thoughts didn’t quite latch onto that. What they caught themselves on as he stepped back and motioned his niece into the little house was, “How is Horran?”
“Poppa is still healing,” She told Jonnah, stepping into the house and pulling the hood of her cloak back away from her face, “Which is why I must be swift. I would -- I would like you to make something for me. Well, two things, really.”
She turned as he was shutting the door and coming toward her, his face drawn down in open curiosity.
“The first is this:” From her kit she drew a small drawing. It was hardly the work of an artistic master, but the crudeness of it was easy enough for him to make out what he was looking at as he reached for the slip of paper.
“It is a holy symbol, and it does not have to be big. In fact, it should be small enough to fit in the palm of a hand. It will be a gift, so please make it ornate if you could.”
Jonnah spent a few moments studying the image before he folded it and gave Liessel a nod, “And the other?”
There was some hesitation to that answer. Liessel bit back the moment until she found the courage within herself to draw Waymaker from her bag. She’d managed to keep the crystal head of it hidden while she was there before with her friends but now, with some careful work from her fingers, she was pulling the leather cover off and holding it out toward her Uncle, “I need you to make me one of these. I would like the weight to be as close to the same as possible, if you can.”
He blinked, watching the crystal head catch glints of dim light as Liessel moved the crystal headed hatchet through the air toward him. “How did you -- where did this come from?”
“It is a long story, Uncle Jonnah. One I do not have time for tonight. Can you do this for me?”
It took him a few moments to recover before he was reaching out to take the hatchet so he could test the weight of it for himself.
Liessel watched him balance the weapon between his hands and then turned as he pushed himself through the room toward a scale he had set up in one of the corners that was secured to a heavy wooden table. There he weighed it, took note of the length of its haft as well as its thickness, the size and shape of the crystal head, before bringing the hatchet back to her. “It will take time, but I think I can do it.” He’d have to make a mold of wood, and gather some iron --
Liessel gave him a small nod and reached to take Waymaker back from him. He let it go easily and watched her slip the weapon back into its cover, and then back into her bag. “Must you return so soon?” He heard himself ask, reaching for her left shoulder as he spoke.
“I do,” He watched Liessel nod her head before slipping out from under his heavy hand to step toward him for a hug, “But I will be back. Poppa needs me right now; I cannot leave him there alone.”
Jonnah’s heavy hand turned into heavy arms that closed around Liessel’s slight form. He released her a moment later after kissing the top of her head, “Then travel well, my girl, and travel safe. I’ll work as quickly as I can on your request.”
As Liessel stepped back, her right hand was there pressing against her uncle’s chest. “Thank you, Uncle.” Then she was drawing her hood up and stepping back only to turn and hurry her way out of his house. By sunrise, Liessel would be back in her room in Salisbury and her horse would be back in its stable. By that evening, she’d be back in London and safely within the walls of the Knightsbridge house once more.
It was very late by the time that Liessel left the house, or one could say that it was very early. Somewhere between midnight and dawn, she had pulled herself from her bed and donned a heavy cloak, her belt of pouches, and her boots. And, of course, her Flynn kit.
The young former priestess had spent a few days planning this. She knew where to get a horse she could rent and had already rented it. There were few cabs running at that time of night, and none were to be seen along the wide lane that hugged the neighborhood of Trevor Square. She already knew she was going to have to walk a fair way to get to her transportation.
She kept to the gaslit streets and keep her senses open. London in the small hours was too quiet, the mist sat too low, and the night air was too oppressive. All that was needed was a pink sky, and vines and tree limbs growing from every doorway and window. Reality was far kinder than what her imagination wanted to play out in her head. There were no creeping branches or twisting roots. London was simply at its natural rest.
Half an hour later, half chilled from needing to watch over her shoulder as much as she had to watch where she was going, Liessel paid the stablemaster the remaining deposit for her horse and was then off.
Once past the thickest parts of London’s residentials, Liessel laid on the speed and urged her horse, Holly, to a free gallop. Her Flynn kit had been secured and strapped down in one of the saddle bags with Waymaker’s haft slightly protruding from beneath the tied down flap. It was pointing her direction. If she ran into trouble, all she would have to do was reach for it.
Blissfully, no trouble marked her path as Holly beat her hooves against the ground and carried Liessel out of London.
By the time that she reached Salisbury, both she and Holly were exhausted. A room was bought for the day, and a stall rented for her horse. She slept much of it away, waking only to find herself something to eat in one of the local shops. Then, it was back to bed. Her night, and Holly’s, would be a long one.
From Salisbury she'd be heading to Stonehenge.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Uncle,” Her voice whispered through the door of his house, cutting through Jonnah Reistar’s dreams with the grace of a hot knife through butter. He was awake, laying there for a moment against the mat of his bed, listening until he heard it again, “Uncle. Please, it's me. Open your door.”
On the other side, Liessel was standing close with her head bowed toward the wood so that he would hear her even if she kept her voice relatively low. The sun had yet to begin its upward climb, but she had to be quick about this. She’d already been gone a day, and it would take her another to get back. Still, fearing that he hadn’t heard her, Liessel lifted a hand and knocked her knuckles lightly against the wood.
That got Jonnah up and moving. Soon enough the door was swinging open, and he was poking his head out to see whoelse might have come with her even as Liessel was saying, “I’ve come alone, and I need to get back, but I have something to ask of you.”
Nearby, Holly waited, stamping her hooves and shifting her weight idly where Liessel had tied her.
There was no one else, just as she had just told him. But his thoughts didn’t quite latch onto that. What they caught themselves on as he stepped back and motioned his niece into the little house was, “How is Horran?”
“Poppa is still healing,” She told Jonnah, stepping into the house and pulling the hood of her cloak back away from her face, “Which is why I must be swift. I would -- I would like you to make something for me. Well, two things, really.”
She turned as he was shutting the door and coming toward her, his face drawn down in open curiosity.
“The first is this:” From her kit she drew a small drawing. It was hardly the work of an artistic master, but the crudeness of it was easy enough for him to make out what he was looking at as he reached for the slip of paper.
“It is a holy symbol, and it does not have to be big. In fact, it should be small enough to fit in the palm of a hand. It will be a gift, so please make it ornate if you could.”
Jonnah spent a few moments studying the image before he folded it and gave Liessel a nod, “And the other?”
There was some hesitation to that answer. Liessel bit back the moment until she found the courage within herself to draw Waymaker from her bag. She’d managed to keep the crystal head of it hidden while she was there before with her friends but now, with some careful work from her fingers, she was pulling the leather cover off and holding it out toward her Uncle, “I need you to make me one of these. I would like the weight to be as close to the same as possible, if you can.”
He blinked, watching the crystal head catch glints of dim light as Liessel moved the crystal headed hatchet through the air toward him. “How did you -- where did this come from?”
“It is a long story, Uncle Jonnah. One I do not have time for tonight. Can you do this for me?”
It took him a few moments to recover before he was reaching out to take the hatchet so he could test the weight of it for himself.
Liessel watched him balance the weapon between his hands and then turned as he pushed himself through the room toward a scale he had set up in one of the corners that was secured to a heavy wooden table. There he weighed it, took note of the length of its haft as well as its thickness, the size and shape of the crystal head, before bringing the hatchet back to her. “It will take time, but I think I can do it.” He’d have to make a mold of wood, and gather some iron --
Liessel gave him a small nod and reached to take Waymaker back from him. He let it go easily and watched her slip the weapon back into its cover, and then back into her bag. “Must you return so soon?” He heard himself ask, reaching for her left shoulder as he spoke.
“I do,” He watched Liessel nod her head before slipping out from under his heavy hand to step toward him for a hug, “But I will be back. Poppa needs me right now; I cannot leave him there alone.”
Jonnah’s heavy hand turned into heavy arms that closed around Liessel’s slight form. He released her a moment later after kissing the top of her head, “Then travel well, my girl, and travel safe. I’ll work as quickly as I can on your request.”
As Liessel stepped back, her right hand was there pressing against her uncle’s chest. “Thank you, Uncle.” Then she was drawing her hood up and stepping back only to turn and hurry her way out of his house. By sunrise, Liessel would be back in her room in Salisbury and her horse would be back in its stable. By that evening, she’d be back in London and safely within the walls of the Knightsbridge house once more.