Warm Your Bones [O]

[Ellis Danton]

Having weaseled himself (quite conspicuously) out of the cave situation with the young Sumish boy, Ellis had wandered through the forests that seemed to be more made of rain than trees. It was still pouring outside as if it were trying to match Submiere in the amount of water in a country. Yet Ellis had chosen the freezing bullets of water instead of the awkward comfort of sharing the cave with Skylar. It had started off as a fine arrangement; they seemed to get along… But Ellis, of course, can never let a relationship last very long. He just wasn’t good at it.

And so he had left, and had gone in search of some other shelter. Quite luckily for him, it was a quick find. Well, not quick, but quick enough to suffice. Ellis had stumbled upon a city. It did not seem particularly large or bustling – though he attributed to the latter the rain and the time of night it was. Due to that same time and the same weather, he was surprised to see any lights on at all, but not too far distant from his entrance into the city he could see a decently sized building flooding with candle-light. Ellis’ mind raced with the thoughts of how warm that candle would be. He was freezing.

Managing to get to the door, he checked for a sign that stated it as an Inn, found one, and then started knocking. He realized, however, before his knuckles managed to rap a sound that his emblem of being in the Aurcaeli battalion was out in the open. Skylar may not have been too worrisome about it, but Ellis was quite sure that he would be one of the only ones who would be in such a shape. Taking the handkerchief that lay dormant in his pants pocket, he covered the sewed badge. Putting the tissue in the breast pocket he spent a moment or two trying to get the wet cloth to droop over the symbol so that no one would realize exactly whom he was. Pausing to check it in a window, he nodded at himself that it was right, and knocked.

The door was fast to open, and he was ushered inside faster than he could notice exactly whom it was that had spirited him inside. He felt his small cape being removed and someone fussing over him, and then his eyes got used to the light. An older woman, probably his mother’s age, was fussing over him as a man (who Ellis supposed was her husband) emerged from a room behind a front desk. “Well good heavens there lad, what kind of moron goes out travelin’ on a night like this? Come on, come on… Eleanor, bring him to the parlour, in front of the fire.”

He felt himself being pushed over to the left and into a room that reminded him of hunting cabins he had seen before, ones he had always imagined his father would have, and that many fathers brought their sons to. The woman shooed someone out of one of the small chairs close to the fire, and sat Ellis down quickly. It was only then that Ellis realized exactly how wet he was, and how violently he was shaking.

“It’s a bad night to be running around outside, silly boy,” She fussed as she bent to yank off his mud soaked boots, “Didn’t your father or mother ever tell you that you’ll catch your death in weather like this?” Ellis didn’t answer, he just scooted himself closer to the fire, muttering a small thank you at the fast hospitality. He found it odd that they were so welcoming so quickly. They didn’t even know yet if he could pay for room, or food, or even their kindness. Heck, even he didn’t know.

“Drink this up dearie,” The motherly woman (named what, Elizabeth?) shoved a hot mug into his hand, forcing him to wonder when she had gotten it. “What got into your mind? Why were you mucking around out there?”

“J-j-j-just st-st-stupid m-m-mistake… I g-g-guess…” He actually found himself thanking the fact that he was shivering, it made his stutter seem like it was being caused by the cold and not by him actually having a speech impediment. He sipped at the mug she had forced into his hand and revelled in the warmness that spread through his body.

“Stupid indeed,” She said, shaking her head and straightening up, “Well, you warm your bones, dearie. Head on over to the front desk for me or my husband and we’ll get you all set up, alright?” Ellis simply nodded his head, taking another sip of the warm – cocoa? coffee? tea? – so that he could finally warm enough to catch his bearings. Remembering his manners, he called after the retreating woman, “Th-thank you.”

“We only get these storms once in a while,” The woman stopped to tell him, “But when it happens, we’re ready for the people like you who aren’t.”

[Cherry Milerand]

Sometimes, when things were just calm, you had to go with it. Cherry often considered herself to be the life of any party, but that didn't mean she couldn't occasionally just let the calm remain as the calm. And that is precisely what she was doing as she seated herself easily and comfortably on the carpeted staircase of the nice Inn she currently found herself in.

It was raining outside, and rather hard by the sound of it, and most of this particular Inn's tenants were all seated cozily in front of or near the Fireplace, as the kind Elanor bustled about below and fussed at them about straying too close and what-not. It was a nice-looking scene, and just looked like a picture out of a story from her vantage point on the Stairs that led up to the second floor, her legs dangling through the little bars of the banister.

Elanor had fussed at her too, making a big deal about about how stairs weren't met to be sat on, but the motherly woman seemed to find maybe a spark of secret amusement in it, as she hardly pressed the matter and left Cherry alone soon after, merely shaking her head. However, her husband seemed to become alert all of a sudden, staring pointedly out the Window into the rainy streets outside.

Elanor seemed to take the cue immediately as she rushed to the door, and no sooner than a small knock had been heard was she busting it open and ushering the hapless customer inside in record speed. Cherry suppressed the urge to whistle at the show. This guy was a mess - and in due time, both Innkeepers were echoing her exact thoughts.

What on earth was that man doing outside?

Still, she was smiling in amusement at the little show beneath, watching him being tended to, pushed about, set in front of the fireplace (in place of another who was hastily bidden to move), forced to take a cup of some hot beverage, etcetera. Cherry hadn't been here for longer than a day, but she was already used to Elanor's nature, and had confidently predicted the woman's every move. She especially got a kick out of the man's confused expression when the hot drink was produced from seemingly nowhere - it reminded her of a certain someone who had the same kind of look, all too recently.

She had waited until things had finally died down, the Innkeepers going upstairs past Cherry to prepare lodgings for the sopping man, before she decided to get up and make her way down the steps - some casual conversation sounded nice right about now.

She wasn't wearing anything particularly extravagant - just her usual fare (as in, the only outfit she ever seemed to wear more than once in the same year). Finding herself a nice spot on the rug in front of the fire, she plopped down neatly, leaning back on her palms as she watched the flickering lights dance about in the hearth. Finally, she cocked her head to the side, hoping to catch eye contact with the man.

"So, Mr. Drowned Rat, how do you do? I heard you say something about a stupid mistake, or something? Well, you've got my attention. Why don't you tell me about it? I'm interested to know what kind of situation would have had you running off into this weather." she asked with a laugh. Of course, this weather would be no problem for her - aside from some discomfort and possibly ruined clothes, she had nothing to fear from the cold rain with her immune system. Damn thing should be bronzed.

"Oh, and while you're at it, why not share your name with me? I'm Cherry, by the way." she offered, smile at her lips and an inviting look in her eyes.

[Ellis Danton]

He had somewhat expected hospitality and conversation to have been made by the innkeeper(s?) and his or her family, he had somewhat expected to be sat before a fire in his sopping clothes that were most certainly ruining the fabric on the large cushy chair – what he had not expected was for any of the other patrons to seat themselves close to him (for any reason other than warming themselves by the crackling embers), or for them to strike up conversations with him. He only thanked his stars that it wasn’t a man, though it did have reddish hair that complimented her Lamini skin.

While she spoke and he tried his best to listen to all of the words she uttered, he couldn’t help but noticing her odd attire. It was something he associated with teenagers in school. Expensive schools. Noble schools. Ones where it didn’t really matter what you looked like, you were rich and that was all that mattered. Chains decorated her, odd wraps around her wrist hung down to the floor where he saw that they were connected to weights. What was she supposed to be? Was this a costume? Was she a mercenary? No, far too young and skinny for that. To be a mercenary you had to have strong muscles, and he couldn’t bring himself to believe that she had much muscle – she looked like she may have been underweight, but he couldn’t be certain.

He realized then that he had been staring, and that he had not answered her and instead left an awkward silence within which he watched her. His cheeks flared and he looked down and then to the fire. “Sorry, I suppose I a-am a b-b-bit out of it. M-My ears are still r-ringing from the… the r-rain, and the… well, the thhhhunder, of course.”

He checked back into his ratty memory banks to try and recall exactly what she had said. He felt horrible. Not only had he been staring, rather rudely, but also he had also not paid attention. He was the kind of person who would listen to everything someone had to say, and yet here he was. Not paying attention.

“Ellis,” He told her, answering her last-most question. He would not proffer his full name, he had no idea of her affiliations. Giving his first, however, seemed harmless. He was certain it was a relatively common name. “T-t-to be honest… Ch-Cherry, was it? I’d r-rather not share it. Mistakes ought to be p-p-private, I think. They’re embarrassing; they’re all too telling. It’s b-better off t-to… to keep it to oneself. Unless th-there’s someone close. But I d-d-don’t even know you. S-sorry…”


ooc; Eleanor.

[Cherry Milerand]

Cherry resisted the urge to go “awwwwww” with disappointment. He didn’t want to share what had him running around in the night? That was certainly no fun. However, that didn’t mean she couldn’t invent her own story, right? After all, if he didn’t give his side, he was practically waving his right to it.

As the ideas began to form in her head, she took note of the fact that he certainly was staring a lot – either he was enthralled by her excellent sense of fashion, or he had the hots for her. Or both. Both was always good. However, she had taken the equal opportunity of sizing him up with her own eyes, and had come to the conclusion that he just wasn’t her type – he had this sort of look about him. She couldn’t quite place her finger on it, but there was just a way about his appearance that seemed to say “Friends, not lovers”, so she dismissed any ideas of that immediately.

Making a show of stretching for a moment, just barely with a playful idea of showing off, she settled herself more comfortably in front of the flames, uncrossing her legs and instead bringing them to rest beneath her as she took a position sitting on her side, cocking her head back up to look at him again.

”Ellis, huh? That’s a nice name. It suits you, I think. Sooo, you in the mood for a story? Because I’ve gone and invented-“

Her speech was cut off by the quickly moving steps of a young-looking girl, kind of reserved in facial expression, who had appeared to hand a pile of clothes to Ellis. “Excuse me sir, but the Masters asked that I bring these to you.” She explained quickly, bowing inside of a second and then turning to bustle away, clearly flustered with having had to talk to someone.

Cherry had seen her around, once or twice. Apparently she worked for the Innkeepers, but she was clearly so shy that she mainly stuck to menial tasks in the back or something. Cherry had to shake her head at her as she went. ”So very shy. Seriously, I gotta wonder about that – is it really so hard to just say a few words to someone? Some people are so self-conscious…” she remarked with obvious disapproval in her voice. ”I tell ya, though, leave me alone with her for a day or two and I’d have her opening right on up. Mark my words on that.” she added, this time with some cheer.

Turning back to Ellis, she eyed the bundle he was given, raising her brow slightly at it. ”A change of clothes, huh? Hmm…” Looking at the plain, drab garments had her furrowing her brow – clearly, they were just stock clothes for temporary use, and weren’t intended to look nice, but she still couldn’t help it. Maybe she could offer a line of clothes for use in Inns…whenever she got around to starting that business. She’d do it eventually.

”Well, let’s get back on-topic, hmm? I was thinking that since you’d rather not share a mistake, we could invent a story for you. Paint us up a nice picture for why you were out there in the rain, hmm? It can be as fantastic as we want, too. What do you say?” she asked with a bit of a childish giggle.

[Ellis Danton]

He was shocked by how quickly this girl managed to speak. Every time she said something, Ellis would open his mouth to reply. Before he could, however, she went on. At one point, Ellis thought that he had managed to get past her, but then he discovered that she had only shut herself up because some small and reserved looked servant girl had walked up to him to offer him a pile of clothes. His ears went a little pink, but he managed a smile and a thank you to the girl who was already retreating. He watched after her, hardly paying attention to what Cherry was saying at all – which was unusual. Then again, he found it unusual that he was not even given the opportunity to utter a word. Then again, people in his division talked about women being like this, Ellis had obviously just met the right kind of woman up to that point.

Cherry went on to offer up her skills, and it took a moment for Ellis to realize that she was not a prostitute. He hadn’t been paying very close attention, but she had started to take on odd positions, stretching in a way that would have made him notice her breasts had he been paying attention. Prostitutes several times in Inns had approached Ellis while he was wearing his uniform, so it didn’t seem unnatural. Apparently though, that was not the reason she was talking to him. Or perhaps it was. He had observed that they tended to be good behavioural readers, perhaps she was trying to make him more comfortable? It wouldn’t really matter either way, though. He didn’t sleep with prostitutes to begin with, but this one was just so odd looking to him that he could not even imagine it.

When he finally clued in to the fact that she was talking about creating a story for him, he held a small debate in his mind about whether he should just go and retreat to his room to change, or if he should stay behind and see what she was going to do. “Excuse m-me,” He said as he stood. His warming beverage was in his hand while the clothes were being held under his arm. He towered over her at his height of six nine, a height that often got him noticed far too often. He wondered briefly if the clothes would even fit. “I th-think I’m g-going to go and ch-ch-change, b-b-before I get… pneumonia… or something,” He began to walk out of the warm, lodge like room, pausing at the desk to ask the man of the Inn for a room which he paid for right then.

He turned back to the room, seeing that already his chair had been taken by someone who was using some sort of charm on it, likely to dry it off. “P-perhaps… C-cherry? W-when I return?” It was a decision that he regretted already, but he could not very well not come back now. It just wasn’t in him. He kept promises, and this had no become one. He said he’d return, so now he had to. Cursing himself as he made his way up the stairs in sopping sock feet (he’d forgotten his shoes had been removed) he wondered what was in store with this Cherry girl.

He found the room he was in – twenty-two – and unlocked the door to find a cozy little room quite similar to the one housing the warm fire and the strange Lamini call-girl. He tossed the new clothes on the bed’s quilt (which looked handmade, something that made Ellis smile) and the placed his mug on the dresser before closing the door and beginning to undress.

The clothes he had been given were particularly bland. An aged white, more like cream now. No shape to it. Just fabric that just barely fit his bulkily muscled form. He didn’t really know how it looked, he was not the kind of person to look in mirrors. He knew what he would see, and he knew it would make him uncomfortable. So he resigned to simply going by how things felt. The clothes were a tight fit, but they gave him a kind of anonymity that he desperately wanted.

He grabbed his warm drink again, drinking down the dregs in one swig as he sat on the surprisingly cushy bed. He collapsed back against it, more than prepared to sleep, before he opened his eyes with the realization that he had made that silly promise of returning. With a sigh and a mop of his upper lip with the shirt he was wearing (his handkerchief was far too wet to be of any help) he got back up and grabbed the mug as he headed back down, locking the door behind him as he went.

He handed the mug off to Eleanor (who insisted he called her Ellie) and then went back into the lodge-like room with bare feet and no chair to sit in anymore. He saw Cherry and went towards her. “So… We’re m-making up a st-story?”

[Cherry Milerand]

Cherry knew a brush-off when she saw one. It wasn't a very difficult thing to notice. When Ellis rose from his seat with the apparent intent to go change his clothes, stating that he might be more willing when he returned, Cherry had this feeling she wouldn't be seeing him again. As soon as he had gone, she sighed mildly. "Like making some conversation with someone is just so hard, right?" she asked herself dryly.

Ah well. She was plenty capable of being silent if need be. Sure, she much preferred to talk as often as possible, but it wasn't a necessity or anything like that. Though it had her thinking she should probably look into getting a pet soon. Preferably one she could talk to without looking like a lunatic. Her busy eyes scanned the room around her, taking in the other faces littered about the lobby - no good. Everyone was either already involved with someone else or had this look on their face that clearly indicated they were not in the mood to talk. One person even looked deliberately from Cherry in a "I don't see you" sort of way the moment her eyes landed on him. She furrowed her brow at this fellow.

Guh, this was turning out to be pretty boring. She was just about to consider turning in for the evening when a voice popped up from behind her as it approached.

"So... we're m-making up a st-story?"

She was surprised. He actually had come back. She turned her gaze to look up at his tall frame (especially tall with her seated position), and smiled a cheery smile. Inwardly, she was resisting the urge to guffaw at his wardrobe - after all, it really wasn't his fault. As she had noted earlier, Inn's probably couldn't afford to go out and buy extravagant clothing just for the purpose of offering their tenants a change of clothes. They were temporary garments for temporary situations, and it would be a very poor choice of money spent to get something too nice. Even still, she found it no less appealing to look at those ratty things, so she instead occupied herself with looking at his face - it was a nice face, and it spared her the risk of offending him by accidentally making a rude remark or gesture about his clothes.

And so, smile never faltering, she offered a chuckle. "Oho, so you meant what you said. Yes, yes, we're going to make up a little story. Go on, take a seat." she said, scooting over to make room in front of the fire and adjusting her position to a cross-legged one. "You look sort of tired, so maybe we can put you to bed with this one, hmm? Oh, and don't worry, David over there, the Innkeeper, is a strong fellow - if you nod off, he can carry you to your room. I would know, heheh." she giggled, rubbing the back of her head. "Got a little too comfy in front of this fire last night." she added by way of explanation.

"So! We'll need a starting point. I need a quick grip on what type of guy you are - so, would you say you're adventurous, lovesick, or dutiful? Don't worry if neither one fits you, just pick the one that is closest to the mark. Answer me that, and I'll have a nice story for you." she promised with a grin, her mind already buzzing with the possible tales she could make up about how Ellis had got caught in the rain. Chasing a dragon? Rescuing a princess? Off on a quest? Any one could do.

Although if she had to guess, she would probably go with dutiful - he had this air about that seemed kind of stern, or at the very least, serious about himself. Bearing that in mind, she let her mind wander more on the dutiful stories than either of the other two, trying as quickly as possible to come up with a good starting point in advance. She was no story-teller by trade, but she was certainly capable of spinning a good yarn given the right circumstances to work with.

[Ellis Danton]

Well she was certainly a talker. When he returned she seemed to jump on the chance to start nattering on again, and Ellis wondered why he had decided to be honourable. Oh, right. Because that’s what his mother would have wanted. He sat down, crossing his legs and pulling the shirt down in the back, uncomfortable with how small it was and how it rode up. Shifting his position to try to ease the problem, he could tell that he would not be falling asleep. There was too much light, his shirt rode up too much and her voice just went on and on. He preferred quiet, or at least a rhythmic sound; a metronome of sorts – the beating of a heart, the careful steps of a soldier.

She asked what kind of man he was, and he opened his mouth to answer only to be stopped by her giving him three choices. What was this? An application for the army? Lovesick, adventurous or dutiful – those were he choices. He supposed that he could fit all of them. Even if one might appear to be a stretch. He was indeed lovesick, though not in a manner she would have guessed. He supposed he would be considered adventurous, but not in a way that had him running after some treasure in a dangerous cave. Of course, dutiful… He was dutiful to the army? He may have wanted to leave but he didn’t because… His mother. He was dutiful to his mother. Whatever she needed, wanted or he supposed she would like was something he would do or get. His lovesick nature for a father, his adventurous spirit in looking for his father… Well they had nothing on his duty to his mother. “D-dutiful,” He told her, nodding his head slightly to go along with his words.

“B-but please m-make sure that this story is… plaus-plausible?” He rubbed his hands together as if he were still cold and shifted towards the fire a bit more (fixing his shirt again and rubbing his upper lip briefly with the collar of the shirt, though it was hard to stretch it). Perhaps it would cover the fact that he had a stutter. Instead, he was just shivering. Cold. She didn't need to know the real reason.

[Cherry Milerand]

He seemed to be in thought for a moment, and she honestly couldn't blame him - those were some pretty generic, unrefined selections, and could in no way shape or form fully describe the depth of a person's character. But this was just harmless fun, and she only needed a little bit of information to work with. She was glad she had pegged him as dutiful though, as she had already been running miniature brainstorms through her head on the subject. So after the confirmation, she closed her eyes for a moment, thinking about him and about anything and everything she could glean off of him based on the slim information she had available to her. After all, she only knew him for, what, all of twenty or so minutes?

Finally, she opened her eyes and let her gaze fall softly into the flickering flames of the fireplace, a faint smile on her features. He took himself seriously. He was self-described as dutiful, although only based on the choices she offered him. He seemed a tad impatient with her underneath his polite shell, and she was in no way planning on begrudging him that - after all, he had actually bothered to come back and listen to her tell him a story, so why should she be angry? It was a nice gesture on his part. That told her he was a considerate fellow, even if his consideration was being paid to one whom he wasn't too fond of. He kept promises. She nodded to herself, her eyes never leaving the fire as she began.

"I was raining on the night that they took his sister away from him. The two of them had never done anything wrong - she was a sweet, loving little girl, and he was an honest man who tried to take care of her the best way he could. He did everything to support her, taking several jobs, and making many sacrifices, all for the sake of that smile - the one only she could do. Their parents had died long ago, fallen victims of disease, but he had pulled them through it. Because how could he allow her to grow up without the love she deserved? She deserved nothing less. And his normally taciturn, serious expression would break up instantly when he would come home from work, only to find her cooking in the kitchen, telling him how much she loved her big brother.

And to this day, he doesn't know why they did it - one rainy night, he came home to find the door ajar, and was just in time to witness several men carrying off his sister through their back door while one man leaned casually against the wall, smoking a pipe and staring at him expectantly. Of course, Ellis' first instinct was to charge, to beat the men senseless - he could do it. He was easily large enough, and physically capable enough to make quick work of the men who had just walked off with his sister. It was the man with the pipe that worried him. Large, visible muscled even beneath the fabrics of his suit, his eyes cold and calculating as he watched Ellis with anticipation. The fight was inevitable, and sadly, Ellis did not prevail. But he didn't fail either - the man with the pipe was forced to retreat from the scene, too wounded to continue the fight, but having left Ellis wounded enough that he would not give chase. At least, not immediately.

There was hardly a word of exchange between them, so how could he possibly understand who these men were, what they wanted, why they had targeted his sister? He searched frantically as soon as he could walk again. His house forgotten, he left town, following every lead he could - he didn't even know if she was still alive, he could note that with grim realization, but he could not simply sit by and do nothing about it, now could he? No, of course not.

Months passed, and one day he found a golden flickering of hope. While talking to the residents of a certain town in Submiere, he managed to find out that a group of men had passed through on their way to the port, and they had a girl with them. A girl who fit the exact description he gave - reportedly, she looked to be in fine condition too. The fisherman he had asked could tell that this girl was clearly not supposed to be with these men; anyone could figure that out based on the questions Ellis was asking of them, and based on the absolute concern he drenched his every word in. The ports were closed because a storm was coming in, but for the sake of this man who clearly had a noble goal to fulfill, the fisherman promised him a free ferry as soon as he was ready.

And so it was that they braved the icy sea, on only the small fishing boat, in the midst of the freezing rain. Ellis would not let this stop him. No, in fact, the rain only served to strengthen his resolve; he was reminded on the night that started all of this. The men he was after were in Niseca. And in this storm, they wouldn't be moving anytime soon. They weren't driven by the same resolution Ellis had. When the two arrived in Niseca, the fisherman was kind enough to use his connections - other sailors who were currently in the port town happily conveyed the information that the men had indeed come here, and were currently checked into an inn.

Ellis knew what he had to do now. But the kind fisherman would not allow him to do it in his condition - his health was too poor, made weak by the storm. He needed a night of rest. And so a promise was made. The Fisherman and his friends would make absolute sure that the men would go nowhere. Come morning, there would be various difficulties, halting transport beyond the Town. In the meantime, Ellis would promise to rest in a different inn, so as not to be tempted into violence, one a good distance away from the other. He would rest, and be sure he was prepared."

Cherry smiled at her own little melodramatic story, full of cliches and unexplained plot, but still kind of nice. She turned to Ellis now, looking away from the fire. "And come morning, when Ellis is ready, he will venture out into the misty day, and he will have his sister back. Make no mistake on this man's unshakable resolve." she finished, laughing slightly to herself. "Okay, so it wasn't that great, but what did you think of that?" she asked, dropping her "Storyteller Voice", as she called it and returning to her usual demeanor.

[Ellis Danton]

Ellis was never very good with fiction. It didn't really suit him. Despite his apparent need for escapism, he much preferred stories that were real, that had happened and that were instructive. The only books he read were the "How To" ones, and even when he was young he wasn't particularly fond of bedtime, where he would be told some story of a pleasant prince or king. This, of course, had Ellis' hopes higher. A lie as to why he was roaming around other countries than his own could provide a perfectly good excuse to allow him to continue his trekking through Niseca. He couldn't very well tell people his secrets, nor could he divulge that he was doing work for the Aurcaeli army (even though he wasn't at this juncture).

His hopes were all but dashed however when Cherry told her story. Perhaps Ellis was too dedicated to reality, but her story just seemed silly and unrealistic. Which, he supposed, it was supposed to be. Unrealistic, that was. But it still left him vaguely saddened. He had hoped that she would have told him something that seemed real for him to do. Something perhaps similar to his truth but not so much.

"Th-There is a p-problem, I-I do not have a sister, n-nor have I ever b-been to... to Submiere. I've never even b-been out to... to sea. I don't even know how it... how it would f-feel to be on a b-boat in the... in the... in the water. Seems rather unsafe actually and..." He stopped himself, drawing a leg up to cling to. His eyes sifted through the room lazily, feeling bad about himself now. "I'm sorry. I-I just... I g-g-guess I only c-came for... for a... for a story b-b-because I had promised to."

His eyes grew downcast for a moment before returning to his observation of the room. He had not really looked at the place the first time. After all, he had been cold and wet. He had been crowded by innkeepers and Cherry and then he had gone upstairs. The room was very nice however. It was like a country lodge with its animal heads and hardwood and quilts. It took a second look over the room, but then he saw it. It was beautiful and it was magical and Ellis couldn't believe that it was there. He had not seen it when he had first come to the room, when he had returned, and when he had first been observing the room. But now... Well there it was. His fingers twitched slightly, excited by a remembrance and Ellis rubbed his eyes and looked again to see if it was really there.

"Do you... Do you th-think that... well, that they would m-mind if I p-pla-played their piano?" He asked of Cherry, standing up from his position on the floor to move towards the lovely thing. The last time he had seen a piano was when the one that had always been in his childhood home was removed to make more room for the weaponry he was being given in the army. It was mostly removed, however, because his mother thought it was unfit for a military man to play. He grazed his hand over it, revelling in the smoothness of the old surface.

"I-its... very old. Antique. Would you... Would you l-l-look at these... At these keys..." They were somewhat chipped, and definitely held a layer of dust, still they managed to beautiful. They didn't make the keys in such a fashion any more, or at least they hadn't been made like this on the past pianos that he had played on.

(ooc: Sorry about the shitty writing quality there, it seems creative writing class has sapped me of my abilities D: )

[Cherry Milerand]

Now it was Cherry's turn to be disappointed. As soon as the story had ended, Ellis began to list off the various problems her story had, stating why certain things couldn't be right, or what didn't add up. She sighed. "Well, obviously a story isn't meant to be true. Then it wouldn't be a story, it'd be an account." she looked at him quizzically, a small smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "I thought the point of this was to make up a story for you because you weren't interested in sharing your real one? If you wanted it to be factually correct, you have just told me your real story, y'know?"

He had apologized then, remarking that he only really came down because he had promised to, and she just sighed in a defeated manner and shrugged her shoulders. "I kind of figured. You seemed a little put-off by me from the very beginning. But still, I gotta say I admire your honesty, and the fact that you kept your promise, heheh." But he was no longer listening to her. His attention was suddenly quite fixated on the old, black piano that resided in the corner of the room, the one that hadn't been played over the past three days that Cherry had been staying here. He seemed to be absolutely transfixed by it, rubbing his hand carefully over it.

Cherry hopped up onto her feet then, patting down her lap to shake off some of the dust in the rug she had been sitting on, and proceeded to wander over to him, looking over his shoulder with a curious expression on her face as he continued to stare in awe and analyze the thing. It was quite pretty actually. She had simply never learned to play - no, she had learned the flute, the lyre, the sitar, the violin, and even the trumpet, all at the behest of her parents in her youth, but she had struck out on her own before they had started her on the piano. She slightly regretted it, and wondered why it wasn't the first instrument she had ever been made to learn. After all, it WAS supposed to be the de facto instrument of elegance and the rich, wasn't it?

But what was important now was that Ellis was positively dying to play it, she could tell. So she grinned and pat him lightly on his broad back, encouraging him. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind. It's been sitting out here and no one's touched it in days, so I imagine they'd like SOMEbody to play it. Why not you? It'd be wonderful to fill this place with some lovely music on a night like this, don't you think so?" removing her hand from his back, she proceeded to plop herself lightly on the edge of the piano, rather certain that her light weight wouldn't do anything to upset the sturdy-looking instrument. She kicked her legs very slightly, closing her eyes to relax. "Go on. Let's hear what you can do, hmm?"

She could see, out of the corner of her before she had closed them, that Eleanor had returned from upstairs, leaning against the front desk in rest, and had looked over in apparent interest. Cherry wasn't sure if Ellis had noticed her or not, but she was pretty sure he hadn't - he seemed like the type who would ask her directly, had he known she was there. The woman didn't seem to be taking any action, though, so it was probably fine.

Cherry waited, her encouraging smile remaining firmly on her features.

[Ellis Danton]

Ellis just nodded along simply, staring at the piano keys while he bit at his lip a bit. He hadn't played for a while, so it was a more than a little daunting to think of trying again in front of people. How many other opportunities would he have, though? All of a sudden he sat on the bench and let his foot graze over the pedals as his hands went over the ivory at his fingertips. "I... I haven't played. N-not for a while," He admitted as he rolled his shoulders and took a calming breath.

Then he played. The first note was off, and so he stopped again to gather his thoughts. Then he remembered something. The best music didn't come from the brain. It didn't come from memorization or musical rhetoric. It came from his fingertips, it came from his soul. He had since long denied the existence of a soul, but perhaps this once he could allow it to be again. This time when he played, he didn't pay attention to a botched note here or there. He just played. Note after note, sound after sound.

He played his thoughts on the war. He played his confusion and his sadness. His anger. He was rusty, and was certain one could tell. Still he managed to produce something heartfelt and lovely beyond its mistakes. It was not something to write home about, but it attracted attention from other patrons. They seemed to be enjoying it. He didn't care about them, however. He devoted his entire mind to his thoughts. He played sweet and sorrow music as images flew by him of things that he had seen. Of things that he had felt.

He knew what he had to do now. He had to quit the war. He had to take the risk with Xista and leave. He had to hide away, he had to fight against the death - not for it.

He wondered if this epiphany - if this solidarity of his stance - would have come about if he had not come to this specific inn. If he had not met Cherry and made the promise to come back down to hear and unbelievable story. "Thank you," He managed to breath out, messing up a few notes while he took the time out to speak. He recovered, however, and kept playing. His fingers were growing sore swiftly, uncomfortable from lack of use. Still he played. He played because there was nothing else.

[Cherry Milerand]

She hadn't known what to expect when Ellis began to play, and apparently, no one else had either. They all stared at him with open surprise as his hands skillfully glided over the keys in front of him. There had been a brief hiccup near the beginning, but he had seemed to remedy that issue almost immediately. Cherry herself was quite impressed, actually. The music he played was so full of raw emotion - anyone who knew anything about music could tell that much. The first thing she had been taught about music was to tell the difference between performing for the sake of performing, and performing for the sake of conveying something emotional.

She couldn't decipher what it was he wanted to convey, but she could tell simply from the nature of the piece that it was something of deep meaning and importance to him. It was sorrowful. It was sorrowful, and dreadful, and yet hopeful. The tunes seemed random at first, but if one kept listening, they could find the rhythm in them, find the melody that danced across the room in slowly-increasing intensities. And as she listened to them, whatever their importance was to their composer, she was gripped with an urge she had not felt for a very long time. She suddenly wanted to see her mother, and her father. She wanted to home to them and sweep them into an embrace she never been big enough to produce in her younger days. When was the last time she had talked to them? When was the last time she had even seen them face to face? It had been too long, and as she listened to the sorrowful, hopeful song, she almost felt like crying.

She was caught completely off-guard when Ellis suddenly thanked her, tripping over the melody just briefly as he did so, before resuming to play again. She stared at him, lips slightly parted, eyes wide. There was no smile on her face, for once in a very long while, and instead she only looked on him with confusion and wonderment. Had she done something to help him? He was no longer looking at her, if he had even looked at her to begin with. He was again enraptured in the keys, and she could see the feelings moving across his face. This music he was making... its meaning was definitely something of importance to him.

A ghost of a smile was on her face again, and she looked at him with sad eyes. And with her mother and father in mind, she turned away, closing her eyes, and opening her mouth. And then she began to sing, a low, soft song, matching it to the melody she had now grown used to.

"I can feel your pain,
deep inside my heart,
it reverberates desperately.

How I want to see you,
how I want to hold you,
and tell you how wrong I've been.

I'll hold you in my arms,
and weep upon your shoulder,
for all the time we've missed together.

I'll never forget,
for as long as I live,
just where my home truly is.

You and I, we will find, each other some day.
Our hearts, can never be apart.
And I'll tell you just how sorry I truly am.
For everything...

All the things you give me,
all the ways you love me,
I could never hope to repay.

So I will come and see you,
and give my love to you,
until the final day."

It most certainly wasn't the greatest thing ever written, nor was it very moving. But it still brought a tear to Cherry's eye, for all the personal meaning it held. She suddenly felt so very ungrateful. All the love and support her parents had ever given her, and she couldn't even bother to go and see them? Cowell and worries be damned. Cherry was going home.

[Ellis Danton]

He felt as though he was nearing the end of his song when Cherry began to sing. She matched his melody, and so he worked to ensure that the tune kept the same to go along with the words she was now saying. He could barely hear her over his own thoughts, but he still knew that it sounded quite lovely. She didn't seem like a half bad singer, and he wondered if her words were made up or if she had heard them somewhere before.

When she finished singing, he stopped playing, realizing only then that his eyes felt wet and as though they might well up at any moment. He brought himself back however, looking nervously around at the patrons of the inn giving him a smattering of applause and Eleanor surprising him by patting him on the shoulder and telling him 'that was nice, dearie.'

"Thank you," He managed to get out, smiling slightly as he stood from the bench, resting his hand on the keys for an unimaginably lovely moment before taking himself away from it and returning to his new... person of the night. "We uh... We m-make a half-decent t-team, huh?" He offered the small-talk awkwardly, pushing his hands into the pockets of the temporary trousers he was wearing. This was turning out to be a surprisingly nice night.

[Cherry Milerand]

Cherry grinned at him and nodded, wiping a tiny bit of leftover moisture from her eye as she hopped off the piano lightly. "Yes, um, I suppose we do. Er, sorry if it sounded bad!" she stammered out, placing her hands behind her back in a show of nervousness that was most unlike her. "It's.... been a very long time since the last time I sang a song, and... well, I doubt it was that great, honestly. I think it was mostly your music that carried the performance on the whole." she chuckled.

She asked Eleanor if she might be guided to the nearest cup of hot coffee, but the woman merely waved her off and headed off to get it herself. Cherry gave her a quick hug, and turned back to Ellis. "I almost never drink the stuff, but I feel like I really need one right now. So, um, Ellis, where did you learn to play the piano like that?" she asked, changing the subject. She was happy he seemed to be in a much better mood than he had been before. "It was... lovely." she settled with the word, knowing there were so many other things she could pick up from what he had played, but opting not to call attention to them. It was probably personal, after all.

"Me, I never learned to play, but I seriously regretted that after hearing what you did with that instrument." Echoing Ellis' thoughts, she couldn't help but feel that the night had turned out to be quite a nice one.

[Ellis Danton]

Ellis decided, at that moment, that he had been wrong about Cherry. He felt rather awful about thinking such negative things about her before, now she seemed quite relatable, as surprising as it seemed to him. Not only that, but she did help him - in whatever small way - figure out exactly what it was he was going to do. Yes, it was life threatening. Yes, it was probably stupid. But it was what he wanted to do.

"Wh...Where I l-l-learned?" He had to think back to figure out where he had learned piano. He knew he had taken lessons - a lot of lessons, but he couldn't quite pinpoint who or when. All he really knew was that it was when he was young. He started before he even wanted to talk, and went for several years before he could even play a whole song without stopping due to mistakes partway through. "Oh... t-t-to be honest with you," He told her, finally deciding that even if he tried his hardest he would be unable to come up with a correct answer, "I-I can't... I can't really r-r-remember. It was a l-long t-t-time ago."

He did remember learning though. He remembered how incredibly difficult it was, but how much he liked it. Or at least... He liked it more than he liked fighting or anything in that vein. "It t-t-took a lot of ha-hard work, though. I..I spent day in... d-d-day out... It was k-kind of... you know, th..the...rapeutic? I haven't played one for several ye-years now, though. I... Well I d-d-do definitely miss it."