Chapter Text
ii. to noblecourt
He still has no idea how he got here -- much less with a group of people.
It's an odd kind of comfort, sitting at the tavern in Noblecourt a little ways away from the group. He finds he doesn't mind it much, because he's tucked in his own little nook at the counter, mug of mead in his hands and a couple leaves from his own personal budget that he's more than willing to spend. He keeps an ear open for information on the dragonstones -- there has to be something about them that these people know and Heathcote hasn't told him, but his eyes wander the tavern as he slowly, slowly sips from his mug.
The tavern's not much different from what he had seen in Rippletide, and from every tavern after that. There's lively chatter from the patrons, some over the others that aren't of much importance to him, and there's whistling and hollering from others for Primrose on stage. He has to find it in himself to thank her later, but he figures that maybe this is her own way of getting information -- she needed it just as much for her own mission, after all. Maybe she's gathering some for him, he's unsure. They're nowhere close in that sense.
His gaze averts from the stage to a table in the corner, where he spots Alfyn and Ophilia talking quietly. The apothecary's nursing his own mug of mead in his hands, and he's listening intently to what the cleric has to say -- there's a big, doofy smile on his face, too. Therion knows that smile, and he scoffs onto the rim of his drink before turning away to look at another table, a little more out in the open and ways away from that corner that Alfyn and Ophilia were at, and a little closer to the stage.
He takes note of the fact that Linde's resting at H'aanit's feet, and as her master engages Olberic in what seemed to be another arm wrestling competition that had gathered quite the number of patrons from their tables to watch. Therion doesn't care who wins, though; it's not his business. Cyrus' attention is on Primrose on stage, as she's in the middle of performing yet another dance, and Therion turns away; it's not his business, either for what either of them do. It's not his business for what any of his...companions do.
Everyone's accounted for, of course they are -- they have to be, because unfortunate for him they come together and they leave together. Alfyn and Ophilia are in their corner. Cyrus is watching Primrose dance on stage. Olberic and H'aanit are engaged in an arm wrestling contest, Linde at her feet. He accounts for himself, at the counter sliding the mug back for another round. Where was --
"Theeeriooon...." Speak of the brat.
Therion sighs as he turns around, then looking at Tressa sliding up onto the stool next to him with a grin on her face. She wants something, of course she wants something, and he stares her square in the face as he takes another sip of his mead, because gods, is he going to need it.
"Can I help you?" The way he asks is deadpanned, but that doesn't wipe the grin off her face. Nothing's going to make her go away (kind of a pity, he thinks, because he was hoping to have the night to himself for once) and so he decides to indulge her just for now. Usually he regrets it -- and he already does, but that doesn't stop Tressa from leaning over and he narrows his eyes over at her. "Look, kid --"
"Wanna make a quick buck?" That's a sudden response if she ever had one, and it throws him off slightly.
"What do you mean 'a quick buck?' Didn't we make something today?" He admits the kid had an eye for money, and when Ophilia or Alfyn drag them all off to go help someone in need, usually they're paid pretty handsomely. Olberic takes account for what they're given in terms of equipment, or whatever herbs were their reward usually went straight to Alfyn's satchel. He doesn't want to admit it, but he finds that he's starting to get used to...whatever system this was, as organized as it is and strange to him as it is for everyone else.
"Well, yeah, but I got a tip from one of the patrons out here that there are ratkins out tonight -- tons of them. We can make a quick buck bringing back something from them!"
Therion has the slightest inkling that he doesn't like where this is going, but he sighs, gets up from where he sits, and he throws a couple leaves onto the counter. His bangle jangles on his arm as he goes to follow Tressa out the door, the others not noticing as they leave -- he's sure that they'll get the hint when they don't see him at the counter and surely can't find her wandering around. They brought one of the spare lanterns with them, but they figure that there won't be too many ratkins out tonight anyway; he's not sure what they're going to get out of this anyhow.
"So...do you actually know where these ratkins are?" the leaves rustle beneath their feet as they continue walking along, the tavern ways away from the both of them but at the same time close by as their pace slows a little. Tressa remains at the front of course, leading the way, and Therion remains behind, every now and then looking back to make sure that there wasn't anyone or anything that had decided to come follow them. He's certain that she wasn't doing this to ditch the group, either -- because of course, they come together and they all leave together, and he's just about to point that out when he hears an exceptionally louder, exceptionally stronger crunch coming from behind the both of them.
"Well." They both turn around, and right behind them are two or three ratkins -- Therion can't tell, but what he knows is that they're not happy, and he watches as Tressa raises her spear. "That what you're looking for?"
"You bet they are! Let's go!" And he facepalms as he watches her rush in, then following right after her with his dagger in hand.
("Are you sure you caught saw them walking out of the tavern?" the six of them are walking out of the tavern now, Alfyn scratching the back of his neck as he, Ophilia, Cyrus, Olberic, and Primrose look in H'aanit's direction. Linde had picked up on Therion's scent -- alcohol mixing with apples, and she was sure that there had been traces of Tressa's too, and H'aanit looks down when she hears her companion growl in the direction of the forest.
"Thou hast picked up on something, Linde?" she bends down, and Linde's focused on the forest in front of her.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunchcrunchcrunchcrunchcrunch --
"I told you!" They perk up when they hear Therion's voice from a distance, along with the sound of leaves crunching getting louder and a little faster. "I told you this was a bad idea!"
"You told me nothing! Keep running!" There's Tressa close behind, and they watch as the thief and the merchant run screaming in another direction, away from the ratkins they had provoked only a couple of minutes ago.)
.
(Friends. Brothers. Partners.
There was some sort of rush that he had felt when he was running off with Darius -- they had stopped somewhere in Riverford, he has absolutely no recollection at this point and he chooses not to remember for the sake of everything else, and he remember standing there with him, out of breath and they're cursing the Cianno name with laughs and pockets full of gold that they swear they have to keep looking back to make sure they didn't leave anything behind.
"...I think we're in the clear," Therion looks behind him to check if the Ciannos had been following behind. Darius follows suit, standing at his side and he holds up the treasure they had taken with a grin.
"Haha, those Cianno bastards finally got what they deserved!" Darius looks back as well with a laugh, then clapping a hand onto Therion's shoulder. "Always struttin' around like they bleedin' own the place. I wish I could see their boats when they realize someone beat them to it."
Of course, Therion thinks. They were the ones who beat them to it -- nothing could stop him at least while he had Darius by his side.
"No matter how hard they look now, they won't find our treasure," Darius promises. Our treasure. They worked together to find it, of course it's theirs.
"Something this rare would be wasted on them anyway." Therion agrees with him about that much, that was for certain. And he's sure that they made their way unseen that no one would be able to tip off the Ciannos anyway.
"You said it. Now we'll just sell this gem and --"
"Wait." Darius turns to him when he says so. Something seemed off -- it definitely wasn't the Ciannos following behind, or the figuring out the price of the gem that they had taken from them together.
"Something wrong?"
"Where are the gold coins we stole? We said we'd split the spoils." He can see beads of sweat starting to form on Darius' face, but he waves that off with an uneasy laugh. That makes Therion's only start to grow.
"Hah! Sharp as a tack, aren't ye? It's not much, so I thought I'd just hold onto it and buy you a tiddly later."
I would have much rather preferred to split if you ask me...but Therion doesn't say it aloud and instead he nods. "...I see. Then let's celebrate with this tonight."
"Y - Yeah, let's!"
"...But don't let your guard down. The Ciannos will come for revenge at some point." he clenches his fists. "They call themselves thieves, but they'll resort to violence if need be."
(It's not a very noble job, he also thinks, but that was just overkill.)
"I know. Thanks for lookin' out, partner."
"No problem. Now let's get moving." Therion's sharp enough to notice the daggers that Darius stares into his back, but he ignores it and keeps walking.)
Therion brushes the thought away with a small scoff before walking out Barham's door, key in hand.
~
That's not a look that she sees on Therion's face every day.
It takes them a couple days to get back to Bolderfall -- Tressa was the one to bug Therion to let her go with him, and Ophilia and Primrose had offered to accompany them as well while Alfyn, H'aanit, Cyrus, and Olberic made their way over to Victors' Hollow with the promise to regroup in Saintsbridge for the Kindling. It would have taken them a couple more days by walking, but thanks to Primrose's...persuasion and Tressa's negotiation, they're there much earlier then they expect to be. Tressa and Primrose are walking ahead, and they're chatting about...well, she's not paying much attention to the conversation that she's having with Primrose than the one that she's hearing from behind her.
"So that is a dragonstone. Why, it's so beautiful..." every now and then she peeks behind her to see Ophilia looking at the ruby stone in Therion's hands closely, and the faraway look that he had had on his face from the day that they had fought Orlick vanished, and he holds it out for the her to see.
"...Huh. Wouldn't have thought you religious types had much interest in gems," he replies, then inspecting it for himself. From where she walks and listens, Tressa admits that the dragonstone was very pretty to look at; and it must have had a pretty high market price too for being so rare. She takes that as her cue to turn her head away, though, so neither one of them knew that she was listening in, and to just keep an ear out in case.
"I care not for material wealth, if that is what you mean. But I can sense a strange power in those stones."
"I'll have to take your word on that. It's not exactly my area of expertise." Frankly, she doesn't take Therion as the type of believe in...higher powers, or the gods, or whatever seemed to be out there. "But whatever the reason, it's not a bad thing for someone like you to be interested in pretty gems."
"Whatever do you mean by that?" Ah. Tressa has an idea that she knows where the conversation is going, and when she looks next to her, she can see that Primrose is hiding a smirk behind her hand. She clearly knows where it was going, and she narrows her eyes over at her and places a finger over her lips, just to tell her to keep quiet and listen.
"I mean, most girls your age like to wear brooches and bangles, right?" Tressa never took Ophilia to be the type to wear those sorts of things either. "If you ask me, a better place for these gems would be on the wrist of a young lady like yourself." She and Primrose immediately look back as soon as they hear him say so, and the smirk's never left his face, for one; on the other, Ophilia's cheeks are turning bright red and they can tell that she's trying to find the right words to say.
"W - Why..." Oh, she's so flustered. "Now you're just teasing me, aren't you? Well, I think this conversation is over!" And she huffs away, leaving Therion alone with the dragonstone to join her and Primrose (cheeks still red of course), and Tressa takes that as her cue to step behind and wait for him to catch up to her. The smirk's still on his face, of course, but there's something behind that smile that still bothers her.
"You know," she starts, "my mom told me that it's not right to have someone play with your feelings like that." Therion just reaches over and pats her cap -- almost a little too hard at first -- and she swats his hand away. "Hey!"
"I never knew my mom, kid. And that's just my way of being nice." Well. That was certainly something. She's about to say something else, but the moment they make their way up the stairs that Therion told them to go to, that's when she realizes that they're there and already she can see a girl with short blond hair running out to greet them, a much older man following suit. Therion walks ahead of the three of them, and Primrose takes that as a cue to stay back; Tressa and Ophilia follow suit as they wait for him.
They can't hear much of the conversation that's going on, so they assume that Heathcote's giving Therion tips on where to find the next dragonstone and they'll be on their way. There's something more to the conversation, though; something about that girl telling him that he wasn't the type to abandon responsibility.
"And you strike me as someone with too much faith in people," he responds, and it's loud enough for the wind to carry and for the three of them to hear. It takes a bit for Tressa to register what he says, but there's a hardness to his voice that she's never heard before. "Take it from me: no matter how much you trust someone, they will betray you. So do yourself a favor, and build your walls up higher before you get hurt."
Tressa can't hear the rest of the conversation after that, but she assumes that they're finished by the way he brushes past the three of them. She's about to run after him and say something, but that's when Primrose gently clasps her shoulder and shakes her head.
.
He still has no idea how he got here -- much less with a group of people.
Tressa's sitting next to him at the tavern counter in silence, and he takes a sip of his mead. He doesn't look over at her, she doesn't look over at him. He doesn't bother listening for more intel on the dragonstones, or give his attention to Primrose on stage. Ophilia's somewhere in the tavern, but they don't search around for her either.
"I meant what I said back there," he sets his glass down. He still doesn't look at her but out of the corner of his eye he can see her lower her head even more in response. Therion knows that she overheard him talking to Heathcote and Cordelia, and he thinks that it's okay for her not to understand. It was better if she -- or the others -- didn't, and he picks up his mug and drinks once more.
(Therion doesn't want to think about how he got there, or how his relationship is with this entire group that he unintentionally picked up from every part of Orsterra -- even much less with this kid.)