---

How this group of incompetent fools thought they were cut out for mercenary work was beyond him. Half of them barely seemed to know how the wield the weapons they carried, and ended up promptly disarmed anyway. It was telling that the most useful contributors were a timid farmhand and a teenager. At least Esvelee and Cerric got thrashed around a bit up on their literal and figurative high horse, though the blue-skinned man seemed to find it entertaining more than anything. Jackass.

He did have a point, though; the necromancer wasn't their concern unless he continued to threaten the wagon. Loath as Ceolfric was to leave their attacker without a few new holes in his gut, they didn't have time to scour the woods for the little coward. He'd probably be doing that on his own too, if their sorry performance against a few dogs was any indication.

The bandit flicked his blade harshly at the ground to shake off the coat of congealed blood and questionable ichor, but didn't sheathe it quite yet. People that sent minions to die in their stead didn't often have a death wish, but their assailant could end up overconfident now that he'd wounded an inattentive noblewoman. Granted, that was contingent upon Ceolfric still being around to pick up their slack, so he paused rather than follow Cerric to give them a chance to recover.

"Liadon's right, we're not here to kill some corpse-fucker. Stick with the wagon and keep an eye out," Ceolfric announced gruffly. If their attacker wanted to raise more pets, he'd have to tip off Kyreth in the process, so they'd have ample warning if he wished to continue his assault. Otherwise, he wasn't getting paid to deal with the bastard and he wasn't going to babysit anyone that disagreed either. He barely liked their odds against entirely mundane threats, now that he'd seen the group in action.

---

Kyreth nodded mutely to Lilann, struggling through another bout of coughing before his lungs finally felt (mostly) clear. He accepted Eila’s healing readily, although not without a little squirming. He’d never been the subject of healing magic before; the pain subsided quickly, for a mercy, but it was accompanied by a tingling warmth and a queer crawling feeling as his flesh readily knit itself back together. His eyes widened at the process, and a sigh of relief escaped him; just like that, good as new. He could only imagine how handy it would have been to have someone like her around on his travels before now.

Once healed, he reached to replace his hood, only to grab thin air. Right, damn - what was left of his cloak was stuck in a stinking, smoldering heap on the roadside. He opened his mouth to apologize to Eila, feeling horrible about having ruined her gift to him so recklessly, but she was already gone, jogging back toward the cart.

“It seems I’ve put myself in a predicament…” Kyreth took a go at levity, smirking halfheartedly at Lilann as he gestured to his missing hood. His voice was still gravely from the smoke, but that was the least of his problems. He really had just made things a whole lot harder for himself. He stood out enough with the benefit of a hood to cover his horns; now, not only had he destroyed a very expensive gift, he’d also made sure he’d be openly advertising his Tainted nature everywhere they went.

Damn. He allowed himself a groan as he pulled himself to his feet, hands healed but still feeling all the aches and pains that came with a violent roll with a savage beast. Cerric told him to stop apologizing for himself, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty. Lilann hid her nature well - better than he did even before losing his cloak - but with him among their number, he wouldn’t just be drawing negative attention to himself, but to the group as a whole. Dammit, he knew he’d be a burden on this trip, he just hadn’t predicted how creatively he’d manage to do it.

“Well, we’re alive, that’s the main thing,” Kyreth muttered, half to Lilann as he dusted himself off, but mostly to himself. He really should have counted himself lucky, all things considered. Feeling badly, sure, but he endured a fiery accident and got away with only some minor injuries, and nobody else hurt to boot. Importantly, Lilann was okay.

Kyreth raised his eyebrows at that, the thought surprising him a bit. It occurred to him that he’d only known Lilann barely two days, yet there he was, keeping her at the forefront of his mind, throwing caution to the wind to help her. It was so unlike him, so utterly unlike his kind to put someone else before himself, it surprised him that he didn’t realize the oddness of it all until now. Hells, the last time he kept anyone’s interests in mind was with Berta…

He shook his head, putting the images of fire and smoke out of his mind. Similar incident, sure, but this time ended a lot better than that time did. He should be thankful for that.

Instead of stewing further, Kyreth reached between the buttons of his tunic to grasp his pendant and bowed his head, offering a silent prayer of thanks to Selene for her mercy. Once done, he made his way back to the cart - or where the cart had been, before that mad beast took off with it and left Cerric in the muck - and stooped to pick up the cloak pin he’d dropped, putting it safely in his pocket. Cloak or no cloak, he would be loath to let such a thoughtful gift rust in the dirt.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said warmly to Lilann, hoisting his (thankfully undamaged) pack back over his shoulder. He tried to fasten his hood again, failing again, and instead sheepishly combed through his hair, utterly unused to the feeling of wind in his hair. “Let’s hope the rest of the road isn’t nearly so interesting.”

Everything faded. The wolf, Ceolfric, Eila, and the Tainted Twins, all gone as he began to hack and slice away at the mangled corpse before him. All he could see was the Sahagin threat that killed his family, endangered his people, and the reason why he'd fled. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks with every swing until finally Lilans cry out about the master snapped him back and the wolf was just that, a dead wolf. He wiped the tears off his face as he reached for a cloth that was hidden on an inside pocket of his jacket, pulling it out to wipe the black ichor from his blade before sheathing it.

"Yeah. Fun." He hated it, but Cerric was right. They weren't hired to off some wannabe necromancer, they were hired to protect the farm girl and its goods, both of which seemed to be getting away at the moment. Ermes pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as he continued to make his way towards the cart. He spotted Eila breaking into a light jog, catching up to them as he tried to lock step with her. "You sure you should be running like this? Didn't your leg just get gashed?" His eyes fell towards her previously injured leg before recalling that she'd mentioned her Aether was used to heal. Weird. He was quiet for a moment, thinking, wondering how exactly her type could be used. Was it purely restorative? Or could she use it in a fight if needed?

"So what exactly does yours allow you to do? I'm not schooled in any of this so aside from healing that's kinda all I know. That and that you said you were a physical something or other." As he looked towards his side to talk to Eila, his eyes kept shifting back, watching as the pair of Tainted grabbed their items back at the end of the fray. Something about one of them seemed off, and he didn't like the feeling. What's more he seemed to have lost his only method of disguise. Ermes could care either way, but he doubted the places they were going would be as kind. They didn't have to work with him. If you could consider anything that just happened working. Ceolfric seemed to do all the work, Ermes was just supporting him.

---

Despite having watched with no small degree of fascination as Eila healed Kyreth’s hands, Lilann still gasped quietly when the woman took her by the wrists. The sudden pressure made her wince, she fought down the urge to recoil, and took a steadying breath that she hoped didn’t sound as frayed at the end as it was. Relief came quickly, and pleasantly; warmth that, compounded with the burns, ought to have been painful but was instead soothing. She had no searing wounds to reknit, but the angry red hue of her skin cooled to blue.

Strangest of all was the feeling of another’s aether. She’d never felt that before, at least not like this—not directly. Lilann was not an expert in the field, she didn’t know what the different sensations meant, or what arcane roots they had. She thought she sensed a heartbeat in it, Eila’s perhaps, or her own in her ears, much too loud. If it was, she hoped the other woman hadn’t heard it too.

“That’s quite something,” she said. “Thank you. Really.” She flexed her fingers and made a note to be kinder to her in the future, until she proved she didn’t deserve it.

Unless, she thought sharply. Not until. Be fair. Or try, at least.

With Eila gone off after the cart, Lilann waited for Kyreth. She chuckled seeing his hood gone, shared his concern. Part of her was glad though, but it was an old, spiteful part that used to relish in drunkards begging the little Tainted girl for a story. Why should he hide? Let them see who he was. But it was an easy enough thing to think while she wore her hat and mask.

She ignored his prayer, or rather, ignored he was praying. “I wouldn’t be, if you hadn’t intervened. I’m sorry you got hurt on my behalf. Thank you, Kyreth.”

It was a bit formal. She wasn’t used to being saved, not that she was particularly opposed. Still, she had meant it, that she regretted his injury. Her concern for his well-being was becoming a reality she couldn’t reason away, though it seemed logical enough. They were the only Tainted here, they had to look out for each other. When this was over, surely things would be more appropriately distant between them.

Never mind the memories, they weren’t hers anyway.

“I don’t think we’re that lucky,” she said hastily. “But I do like our chances more now that I’ve seen us in action. Small burns aside, I think you handled yourself rather well.”

A few drops of rain threatened a downpour, but the sky still held true and the rest of the day remained uneventful. Cerric’s seemingly endless chatter had him jumping from the current state of Relfin politics to the best names for dogs to the possibility that an air aetherbone may have touched a star. Even Esvelee was losing her patience with the man, having run out of words and care for whatever mindless shit was streaming out of the energetic half elf’s mouth, and she couldn’t sound more relieved when she announced her intent to pull off the road at a waystop for the evening. Not that it stopped Cerric. He kept a hearty one-sided conversation up until Esvelee all but shoved him off the cart and shooed him away so she could tend to the horse. Her eyes fell on Kyreth’s horns and for a moment a sneer curled at the corner of her lip, but she looked away quickly to focus on her task.

“Now, before we call the day done and gone, let’s discuss the day. Nothing terrible, but a lot happened and based on what I saw, you don’t know enough to understand how dangerous what happened earlier was.” Cerric piped up from where he was putting another log onto the fire. He gave them a few moments to pull themselves from their conversations and their thoughts before continuing. “I doubt anyone here is ignorant of Rot. A nasty colloquialism, but an apt one, Rot is an affliction in which a living creature, or a corpse, suffers undeath. It is a perversion of natural aether, warping a creature’s very biology until they are no longer a mortal creature. Food, drink, air, and the pleasures and tribulations of life are no longer their concern, stripped away in the unrelenting crusade of hatred and despair. They become lifeless, violent creatures with only the intent to spread their vile disease, as we saw today. How rot happens, I’m not particularly sure, only that it does and when you encounter an undead, you give it wide breadth and let it pass or you put it down from as far as you can.” Cerric startled as the log slipped from his fingers and sent a whirlwind of embers spiraling towards him.

“You were discussing a puppet master during and in the aftermath, but little was spoken about the consequences of Eila’s injuries. While yes, the beasts’ saliva clearly contained concentrated Rot, who is to say it couldn’t have been transmitted through the claws? Rot is an aetheric sickness and as our mental Animas friend here knows, its afflications and manipulations can be subtle and unseen. This means Eila is now a potential security risk to the operation, and to each living creature she comes in contact with, until we can be sure she isn’t at risk of turning.” Cerric explained, drumming his fingers on his legs he thought. “Normally, I would recommend putting her out of her misery-no offense Eila, but it is the most merciful thing to do rather than letting you suffer-but truth be told, she likely knows more on the subject of Rot than I do so I’ll leave that decision in the hands of her peers unless it becomes undeniable.” He patted Eila’s shoulder before continuing.

“Furthermore, your… teamwork.” The pause was palpable as Cerric struggled not to include a colorful description. “I would also recommend you talk about that because yes you successfully defended the caravan, but you won’t always have an Animas aetherborn around to patch you back together. You each wield powerful abilities - talk strategy so the short term, you come out in better condition and the long term, you have an idea of what supplies and tools to purchase as stock supplies.”

---

Ceolfric couldn't bring himself to care about the rain. If their demon showed up now, they'd have no choice but to run; they could barely fend off a few undead wolves at their best, and now the rest of his travelling party was disarmed, battered, and probably on the verge of collapsing from an adrenaline dump. With such terrible odds, he doubted his Lord would be merciful enough to even spare him, let alone the others. Instead, he trudged along dutifully beside the wagon, constantly alert for any disparities between his eyes and his aetheric senses.

Their stop couldn't come soon enough.

Ceolfric offered only token aid in setting up the camp for the night; anyone who wanted to argue could try their luck with the wolves again. Quite frankly, he'd need his strength more than them if they were attacked again. Of course, the unspoken power disparity couldn't have peacefully remained so - Cerric decided to drudge it out into the open. The lecture about the consequences of undead exposure was fine, but the bandit couldn't draw anything out of his teamwork spiel except that they were all failing horribly at their assessment. It wouldn't have been so demeaning if he hadn't implied Eila was the thing holding them together and not Ceolfric's willingness to kill the thing that almost ate her.

Eila seemed convinced that she wasn't infected, and as far as Ceolfric could tell, she didn't seem to be lying, but he'd have to keep an eye on her anyway. If her aether started feeling faint, he'd have to tie her up or something. Or just kill her to be safe like Cerric had suggested, but there was no reason to throw an entire person away when she might still have use.

"I assume you all know where you fucked up," Ceolfric gruffly commented as plopped down at the base of a tree near the fire, leaning against the trunk casually. "But exposure is the first step to composure, so I hope you'll all react a bit faster next time." A little tenacity would do them some good; being aetherborn was no good if they froze up and cried every time someone wanted to hurt them. Freckles should've been able to handle the entire pack singlehandedly. Even the teenager lost his composure at the end, and he was Ceolfric's running favorite.

"Now, why don't we go over everyone's skillset and what that can provide in a typical caravan ambush scenario, so we don't have a repeat of that embarrassing display." Better to keep them on track before anyone started pointing fingers. The bandit figured he was safe, but even Eila was supposedly an educated woman and she surely didn't need to be told that she was a waste of a flank guard in four different ways to understand. One of them would break rather than reliably sticking to the plan, he was sure, but it beat floundering about without any sense of coherence.

Indifferently, Ceolfric drew his sword and poured the remainder of his waterskin over it, careful not to spill any potentially Rot-tainted water on himself. Last thing he needed was to chop a highwayman in half and have it rise up against him a few moments later due to carelessness.

---

Kyreth wasn’t sure if he agreed with Lilann’s optimistic assessment of his fighting prowess, but luckily the rest of the day’s traveling didn’t necessitate any more demonstrations. Rain threatened again, but did not fall; the damp chill in the air lingered, though, and Kyreth was all the more aware of it for lack of his cloak. And to think he used to complain about the old scrap of canvas he was using before - apparently, it did a lot more for the weather than he gave it credit for.

For all their chilly walking, Esvelee seemed to get the worst of the trip, visually souring as she listened - or was subjected to - Cerric’s endless chattering. Kyreth only half-paid attention from his spot at the rear of the caravan, eyes trained on the undergrowth along the road for any movement. It was a small comfort that he might be forewarned of another ambush by a buzz in the ambient aether (ideas that were still foreign to him, even after a firsthand lesson) but he wasn’t willing to trust his new extra sense just yet.

But they made it safely, Selene be praised, and once again Kyreth was making for a spot farthest from the campfire when Cerric addressed the group. A shiver wormed up his spine at the mention of Rot, and immediately his thoughts went to the black sludge he’d been coughing after inhaling so much smoke off that burning wolf. Shit, could he be infected with Rot too?

Eila seemed unconcerned, thankfully, but worry ate at Kyreth all the same. Maybe he could pull her aside later and see if she could check him for Rot, too. Of course, it seemed she found him first, loudly proclaiming her surprise at his aetherborn status for all the group to hear.

Me neither, he thought exasperatedly, I’m even more surprised than you are.

“Uh… not particularly, you could say,” he replied noncommittally, although he soon remembered how unnerving that might sound to the others. “But I do now!” he quickly added, “Um, Lord Mystralath is instructing me. That’s, uh, actually why I’m here. Studying the aether.” He gestured stiffly at the surrounding woods, hoping not to attract any more questions.

Ermes listened intently as Eila began to explain what and how her powers worked. He was glad to see his line of questioning didn’t annoy or irritate her, it instead seemed to pull her out of the fog she seemed to be in after the attack. Putting her back into a more excitable state like how he’d first met her. He wished he could write all of this down, but not only was he incapable of writing or reading, he couldn’t very well do it while they were walking and trying to catch up to their runaway client. So he did his best to commit everything to memory, which was luckily something he was fairly good at. At the mention of Azaiza’s blessing, all Ermes could think about was how his felt more like a curse. His whole life he’d been treated differently because of how his powers were presented. The only real blessing was that he could one day become strong enough to wield this curse to take back what was stolen from him. His mouth felt dry as he then realized he’d been tensing his jaw, taking in a long breath and playing it off as a sigh of exhaustion from the earlier bout as he used this to relax his muscles. He watched as the color in Eila’s eyes danced, changing to vibrant hues of green as she explained herself to him. It was a simple enough explanation, though he still didn’t fully grasp what it was that she could or couldn’t do. From the sounds of it though, she could control other people's bodies so long as they still held aether in them. That would explain her inability to help in the fight, no aether meant nothing to grasp onto and that meant she needed to switch tactics faster than she was prepared to do. He bit back the thought of commenting on how he liked the way her eyes changed when she seemed excited about a subject.

Ermes was glad to have her company for the walk, mostly because it made it easier to drown out Cerric’s inane rambling as he did his best to pester the poor farmgirl for the remainder of the trip. If the undead wolves or Kyreth’s bursts of flames didn’t kill her, he was sure Cerric’s ramblings would. What he’d hoped would be a relaxing evening to once again gather his aether for the next leg of the journey, instead turned into a life lesson by Cerric. His attention was fully on the strange half-elf, though he didn’t let it seem like it, staring towards the man but right through him as if he’d much rather be doing anything else than to hear him speak. The more that Cerric spoke though, the more Ermes began to sit up in his seat, something akin to a kid hearing a campfire ghost tale. He’d never heard of how The Rot came to be, nor the actual workings of the strange disease, but it appeared it was the antithesis to them all. Whereas they had an abundance of aether and were capable of manipulating this living energy, it appeared that the rot robbed a creature of theirs until there was nothing left than a shambling undead husk. Ermes had noted the black ichor that sprung from the wolves mouths, but as Cerric continued to speak, he hadn’t considered or even known that The Rot could come as an invisible disease. He’d assumed there would always be some sort of presence to alert them of the danger, but now it seemed that anything could be carrying that danger. What’s more Cerric was suggesting not only that Eila could be infected, but that they should put her down in the event that she was without even knowing if it was true or not.

His shoulders tensed as his eyes darted from Cerric to Ceolfric to Eila. Ermes doubted the tainted twins would be willing to just kill Eila so easily, Ceolfric seemed like the type to rid himself of any potential dead weight, and Cerric was the one suggesting it. When Eila finally spoke up his shoulders relaxed back into a slump. She wasn’t infected, that meant no one had a reason to try a midnight assassination on her. Good. His head snapped towards Ceolfric as he began to speak, worried he might object to Eila’s potentially biased opinion of herself. Fortunately he pressed past that and wanted mainly to talk strategy, though his words left much to be desired. There was a pang of shame in Ermes as Ceolfric mentioned how they’d all fucked up in some way or another, but he quickly countered it by telling them the only way to learn is to be in these embarrassing displays of power. By now everyone seemed to be joining in on the conversation, with Kyreth up as the first person to dissect. According to him he didn’t even know he was an Aetherborn. Really? That lanky ass fucker set a damn wolf ablaze in a panic and he wanted them to believe he hadn’t done something similar beforehand? Suddenly Ermes found himself wishing for the rain to come. Sooner fight the Rancor than wake up to a blazing forest because Kyreth had a bad dream. Something the tainted said caught his attention though, causing him to quirk an eyebrow as he stared at him blankly for a moment. ”Studying the aether? What do you mean by that? Actually…come to think of it, you mentioned sensing something just before the wolf attack earlier. I didn’t sense anything, I was just able to pick up the sounds and movements of the ones hiding away…” Could tainted feel the aether around them? Or did it have to do with what Eila just called him, Primordial. Maybe his aether was more attuned with that of the worlds. Ermes could only ever feel his own.

---

The day wound, and gloomy as it was, they were at least spared a drenching by the time they pulled off the road. Esvelee seemed eager to rest, or at least rid herself of Cerric’s endless conversation. Lilann felt a certain enjoyment at that, a professional amusement in seeing someone fail so boldly in maintaining the interest of their audience that it very well could have been intentional. Bards—whether by trade or by nature—needed to cultivate a particular sense of their standings with others. It had to be sharp and responsive, like a reflex, able to see and hear and feel when the things you said were landing, and when they weren’t.

If she’d gone on like he did, the crowds in Dranir would likely have beaten her dead. Maybe that was a difference in their styles, or maybe it was something a little more innate than that. Either way it was funny.

Less funny was the idea that Eila might be Rotting. It was one the woman was quick to dismiss, and utilizing that impeccable sense, Lilann figured there was no need or point in pushing the matter. But, still, regardless of Eila’s insistence, she was going to keep an eye on her. She liked the woman more now than before, but not enough for pure, blind trust.

The topic quickly moved on, led by Ceolfric, though it splintered quickly towards Kyreth’s aetheric abilities. He seemed immediately anxious, and it came out in his words; she hoped they wouldn’t push him too hard over it. Learning or not, dangerous or not, he’d saved her life, and probably more, with his little fireshow.

“I’ve been in more than a few ambushes—necromancy wasn’t what I would call typical,” she offered. “No shortage of dead animals in the woods, I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of them before the journey’s done. Some of us couldn’t so much as touch those things with our aether, so perhaps we should focus on the ones who could.”

She gestured to Ermes and Kyreth, and, a bit delayed, to Eila as well. “The bindings, the fire, the healing—they’re valuable, I’d suggest putting them behind us. You’re good with that sword. I might have lost my own weapon, but if I can get my hands on something sharp, or heavy, I can help you defend them. At least that way we have a structure.”

"I'd heard the Mystralaths were a weird sort, but taking in a Tainted under wing seems like blasphemy." Esvelee commented as she joined the group, sitting down on the other side of Cerric while eyeing Kyreth warily. "In all honesty, Agitha's the only reason they're even permitted in town. Only reason we're still standing is 'cause of her; hard to tell her no, never mind the whole mind fucking she does. If Zubil's flock had their way, you'd be run out."

"Magic is the master of the Mystralaths. They care little for the trappings of the mortal flesh or the shade of soul. Greatness overwhelms morality in many of their eyes, and the Lord I serve is no different. It's probably why we get along so well!" Cerric waved away the concern with a laugh. "Still, they're lucky to have been born in this century. Barely an age ago, they were still hunting Tainted for sport. Now there are even land owning Tainted in Dranir! Time sure flies these days." Esvelee wrinkled her nose but didn't say anything else on the matter, instead turning to Eila.

"Uh, no offense or anything but you feel sorta like the odd one out here. You have that gentle-folk feel like the Wilree folk have when they come visit the Duke. Why are you wandering out here in the woods?" Esvelee asked, taking a quick sip from her hip flask. She offered it out to Eila after.

Meanwhile, Cerric latched onto Ermes's question. "Primordial aetherborn are innately attended to ambident aether and its movements. Shortly before we were attacked, the ambient aether convulsed, for lack of a better term, and the ripples lasted a disturbingly long time considering it was just three wolves that appeared. It felt a little like…" Cerric explained, water pooling in his palm. The water separated into long, worm-like ribbons that writhed in his palm before settling. "That! I was a little worried for a second, but three Rot-infested wolves were just a tad challenging for the lot of you! I'm sure our darling entertainer will have a fabulous tale to tell when we return." He shook his hand out, water flying up into the dark as he did. He brought his hand up to his mouth as he yawned and blinked, eyes glassy.

"Sorry, sorry! Seems like it's about time I turn in for the evening. Quick stop to the privy and then it'll be lights out for me." He pushed himself to his feet, and waved as he disappeared into the dark himself.

---

This woman apparently didn't understand her position. It was understandable, if annoying, for her to think she could bark out orders in the heat of the moment, but to greet one of your saviors with snide remarks that they should be run out of town by inept sun worshippers so tactlessly afterward spoke to a completely unfounded confidence. Kyreth could set her ablaze with but a flick of his wrist and her only recourse would be to scream for Cerric's help before she met her beloved Zubil personally. His apparent indebtedness to the Lord might've given her a bit of a shield against retaliation, but Ceolfric couldn't help but wonder if she'd be so open with her scorn if he were the Tainted and Kyreth a meek human farmboy along for the ride. If she was so afraid of that doddering old gremlin, she'd hardly be a match for him, after all.

And then Esvelee turned on Eila. A warranted question, but she really should continue to indulge her curiosity at her own peril. Eila was harmless and Kyreth probably lacked the testicular fortitude to actually retaliate, even verbally, but even the cowardly can 'conveniently' miss something that may bring the girl to harm. It was a good thing Cerric didn't seem to mind that she hated his stories, because he'd be the only friend she had left by the end of this trip if she kept that up.

Cerric himself, on the other hand, offered another tidbit of helpful knowledge. The bandit had already surmised that Kyreth possessed some specific sense that he lacked himself, but an explanation of the nuances wasn't unwelcome. Assuming he got the gist, anyway; the display with the water snakes did nothing for him. Though it raised an important question; did he make such a disturbance every time he reached into someone's mind? And was such a skill innate only to primordial aetherborn, or could anyone cultivate such a sense. Dealing with fellow aetherborn would be even more difficult than he expected if they could breach his layers of subtlety and misdirection with a sense Ceolfric wasn't even aware of.

"Does that happen with every use of magic, or just big ones?" Ceolfric questioned as he turned his gaze to Kyreth. Cerric would've probably been a better resource, but his bladder had apparently won out and Ceolfric certainly wasn't going to interrogate a man while he was pissing. Maybe it would segway back into a productive discussion instead of more of Esvelee's whining.

---

@Obscene Symphony

Eila’s question drew more attention to Kyreth, as he expected it would, and he rubbed his neck insecurely as the shadow-haired kid - Ermes - questioned him.

“...Well, it’s like…” He began haltingly, the fingers of his free hand groping the air at his side for a suitable answer. Truly, he was hardly the person to do this; grasp on the concept of “studying the aether” was tenuous at best, and he barely understood it well enough to practice it himself, let alone explain it to others.

Fortunately, as he searched for an explanation, Cerric piped up with just that, and Kyreth was happy to let him steal the show, nodding along. “Yes, exactly,” he added, looking back to Ermes. “Lord Mystralath tells me there’s aether all around us, running through the air and everything else. What I’m here to study is how the aether… well, feels, I guess, and how it moves and behaves in different places as we travel. I’m told it changes a lot in these woods.”

Ceolfric was next with a question, and Kyreth was a little surprised that he would ask it at all. The bandit struck him more as the proud type, and it was hard to picture him asking anyone about anything, but he supposed he was probably pragmatic above all else. That would be wise, if Ceolfric lead as rough a life as he looked.

Of course, his question was just as much of interest to Kyreth, and the Tainted had to pause to think about it. “I don’t think it would be all magic, no,” he finally replied, searching his memory. “That’s the first time I can recall ever noticing something like that before, but I’ve been around Lilann doing magic and didn’t feel anything.”

His brow furrowed as he thought, trying his best to work through the limited aether theory he’d been taught to come up with an explanation. “I guess if the disturbance we felt is the aether rippling, then it would make sense for only bigger uses of magic to cause that, right? Like throwing stones in a pool.” Kyreth picked up a piece of gravel and tossed it into a nearby puddle, watching pensively as the ripples spread and bounced off the edges. “Maybe it works the same for aether. Or not; maybe it’s just something I’ll learn and get more sensitive to with time. I wish I could say, but I really don’t know.”

Ermes didn’t exactly care for the tainted pair, latching on more towards Ceolfric and Eila than the two whispering would-be demons. Yet something irked him inside when Esvelee shot a comment off about Kyreth. Sure he didn’t have much care for him, but like it or not he was a part of their team right now and that meant they needed to stand together. He wanted to snap a comment back, tell her she should be more grateful that thanks to some effort of that tainted she was still standing and without the aether consuming curse of rot as it were. However, Ceolfric, Kyreth, and Eila all seemed to move past the comment. At first he was angry, wondering how all of them could be so heartless to one of their own, when Ermes realised they weren’t, they just simply couldn’t speak out, threaten, or attack the one person they were sent here to protect. If they did then chances were they weren’t going to be getting accepted into the guild anytime soon. So Ermes chewed on his lip in silence, listening as the conversation continued without him while making sure to pay attention to Cerric’s explanation of the events that happened beforehand. It made…some sense to him, but thankfully for him Ceolfric pressed on with more questions on the matter. Kyreth’s answer didn’t help much at first, causing Ermes’s face to contort in confusion as he tried to piece together Cerric’s snake wiggles with Kyreth’s ripples.

He kept his attention on the tainted for a moment before he finally spoke up. ”So if aether is all around us…and we think of it being like that puddle but with more shape then it’d be a sphere like what Cerric had shown us. Meaning you can feel what's around you but you can’t exactly see it all…unless something large enough comes to disturb it causing ripples to form and a way to see a massive about of aether pooling into one place from where the metaphorical rock came from? So then you can only see when actual danger is coming but you can’t see smaller scaled changes?” Ermes’s thoughts went from asking Eila and Kyreth combined, to more so talking to himself instead as he went on. He wanted to ask if Kyreth could also sense his own aether, but then he felt as though he’d be giving too much away…then again they were supposed to be working together on all of this to figure out exactly how to work together for the next rot infested fight. There was a large sigh as he placed both hands on either side of him and he tilted his head back to look up at the sky. ”Ok, so Kyreth you’re our early warning system in case more rot creatures are formed nearby, or in case the Rancor itself decides to show up. What about you Lilan? You’re aetherborn too, so what can you do and if anything what do you sense?”

---

Between the job offers, the lack of outright targeted violence, and the copious amounts of indiscriminate violence, Lilann had managed to briefly forget how awful of a place Finnagund was. With the burdens of the day shucked to the ground, she had nearly started to feel, dare she think it, relaxed, around these people.

Honestly, thank the shit-eating gods for sending Esvelee to remind her. How would she have gotten any sleep without someone reminding her about the good old days? A perfect little rage lullaby.

She made a mental note—Esvelee Buckman, the Red Fern Fool. A good start to a good story, she thought. Lilann’s was a petty soul, born of a life that afforded her little opportunity for more visceral vengeance. She didn’t know much about the woman, yet, but there was still a long road ahead of them left to pick her apart, to scrutinize her every flaw, every embarrassing mistake. And what she didn’t learn, well, she’d never shied away from taking artistic liberties with her fictions.

Within a few months, the people of Soft Haven would be saying some very entertaining things about Miss Buckman.

At least Kyreth seemed to take it in stride, or at least he seemed no more anxious than usual. The others also ignored Esvelee’s comments, either out of silent agreeance or disdain. Part of her wanted to hope for the latter. She erred to healthy skepticism instead.

Pulled from her machinations by the gloomy boy, Lilann took a few moments to process. What could she do? Well, she would have liked to say ‘more than what you saw back there’, but without her sword, and with their payment dependent on the cart remaining intact, she’d have been hard-pressed to prove it.

“I could…” throw the client at it. “…Oh, you know, throw a few rocks, sing a few songs. If we survive, I assure you the story will be enthralling. I doubt we’ll have to worry much about sensing the Rancor, though. We’ll know if we stumble into its territory."

“Yeah, I s’pose a walkthrough the woods with ravenous rot infested wolves would be.” Esvelee agreed, nodding. “Never been nowhere but home and Wilree. If I didn’t have home, I’d probably take to wandering for a while myself but with the old man gettin’ older every day, someone’s got to keep the farms running. Red fern’s too critical to let fall to the wayside because of some wanderlust and all that.”

As the moon rose unseen behind cloying clouds and the night lengthened, the music of the Snakeburrow Woods rang out above the noises of the nighttime critters. Usually barely a buzz in the back of the mind, the rising music accompanied a slow swell of aether. Leaves in the distance crunched, a branch snapped, and the loud thud of something heavy hitting the ground in the distance broke the swelling melody. It came from the opposite direction from Cerric, Esvelee looking between the two points concernedly.

“Giles, you blumbling drunkard, get your flea ridden arse off the ground and keep walkin’. We still go a few days to go before we meetin’ with the conclave.” A voice laden with exasperation rang out through the woods. “I ain’t agree to this little scheme of yours just for your ass to die halfway through. So. Get. Up.” A sharp smack punctuated each word at the end, but still there didn’t seem to be a response.

The rest of that evening’s conversation got away from Kyreth, the young Tainted’s mind drifting off with wonderings of his own on the nature of ambient aether. Ermes’ further questions mirrored his own, and myriad more followed behind them, none of which he could ever hope to answer without further instruction. It was strange (and tiring) to think so hard about something so… abstract. Ironically, it felt like a great luxury; with his room and board pretty much sorted for the time being, Kyreth was unaccustomed to the freedom to let his mind wander to things beyond his immediate needs. Maybe that was why fortunate folk like Eila always seemed to dive into study: with nothing else to worry about, they were free to pour all their attention into higher pursuits.

Ironically, it was more a distraction than a help when it came to his candle practice, his focus wavering as his mind was drawn to pry into concepts he barely understood. Of course, since he knew so little on the topic of… well, anything, he only ended up treading the same circles in his head, repeating the same questions and proposed answers over and over again. It was like getting a song stuck in his head, a vague tune and lyrics half-remembered and muffled through the tavern wall; he knew just enough to realize how much he couldn’t remember, and the tune would stay lodged in his ear until he finally learned all the words.

Sleep didn’t come easily, especially with aether hanging dense in the air, so it was tough luck that just as Kyreth finally drifted off, something insistent pulled him from his slumber, accompanied by a sudden thud and-- silence?

Wait, was that right? Kyreth shot up from his spot on the grass, eyes wide in the darkness, straining to hear. Yes… yes, it was quieter than before. There used to be… music? Yes, Lilann mentioned the music in the forest. It was supposed to be a good thing, he thought. Had he really been so distracted not to notice it before? And more importantly, if it was such a good omen, then why had it stopped…?

Kyreth’s eyes glowed brightly in the darkness, his freckles like a little swarm of fireflies in comparison, both conspicuously visible in the gloom as he looked over toward his companions. Esvelee was awake, too, and looking just as concerned as Kyreth. What was more, a now-familiar buzzing in Kyreth’s fingers heralded a change in the aether. Wait, maybe that was what woke him? It wasn’t the sound; he was awake already when he heard that. No, it felt like it came from within, like a rising panic in his chest - no, a rise in the aether!

Kyreth’s breath caught in his chest as a voice rang out in the darkness, an invisible traveler bickering loudly as if they were in broad daylight. The contrast put him even more on edge, and he stiffened as a slap sounded through the trees. He barely breathed, not sure what to do next. The voice mentioned a “scheme” - were they thieves? Kyreth didn’t know much about merchants and trade, but he knew enough to know their cargo was valuable. Were they here to rob the caravan? Had they been following them? Or was it bad luck to stumble upon common highwaymen?

Oh Mistress, you chose a strange vocation for me, Kyreth thought worriedly, grasping his crescent as the evening’s conversation about everyone’s skills came pointedly to mind. Silently, he looked to Esvelee and held a finger to his lips, motioning for her to be quiet. It seemed the interlopers hadn’t noticed them yet.

Beyond that, he had absolutely no idea what to do.

---

Lilann was beginning to think restful sleep was beyond her. Between her nerves, that eerie dream, and the music, she could hardly bring herself to shut her eyes for fear that something might be waiting for her the moment she opened them again. It was embarrassing. Years spent living in cave towns, sleeping in alleys where she ran the very real risk of waking up to a knife in her gut, and here she was, exhausting herself over fairy tales.

Except they weren’t fairy tales. The smell of death had been real, the Rancor had been real, and the godsdamned music was so real she’d be hearing it in the back of her mind for the rest of her life. However short that seemed it might be.

Truly, she was tempted to retrieve her lyre and play along. That duet from her little excursion hadn’t been so bad, and while the melody sweeping through the trees was lovely in its own right, it really did want for a partner.

Then again, if she woke the brute he might just kill her.

The choice wasn’t left to her in the end, though, as there was a commotion not too far from their camp. Something falling, someone shouting angrily. She sat up and saw she wasn’t alone in noticing; Kyreth was motioning for Esvelee to be silent—not an idea she found disagreeable.

She ran the gamut of possibilities in her head. Thieves were likely, as were fellow merchants. The idea that it might be the necromancer crossed her mind, briefly, but she figured if they were looking to pick up where they’d left off, they wouldn’t announce themselves like this. Likewise she put the thought of the Rancor from her mind—there was still color, and the smell was wilderness, not rot. These were people, she decided.

Getting to her feet, Lilann pulled her mask over her face, and donned her hat. “I’ve had about enough of being snuck up on.” she mumbled, and motioned to get Kyreth’s attention, before pointing towards the voices.

She found a modestly-sized rock and touched it, flooded it with her aether, and picked it up. As she walked towards the tree line she let it go, and with a quiet hiss and a twist of her wrist, it floated up beside her. She kept one hand in a rigid form, almost like she was knocking back an arrow. A fast rock might handle a thief, and if it was something more sinister…well, she had suggested being on the front lines.

Casting one look back to her companions, she drew up to the trees, trying to peer through them at whoever, or whatever, was making all that noise.