specialising in stories from the road
Kanamori dutifully follows Princess Ivy to a modestly-sized tavern, with a hanging sign over the door depicting what appears to be a warforged wolf. The building's face belies its size; the interior is designed to feel open and spacious, and a little cluster of round bells rattle as the two of them enter. A tall plant woman sits at a little desk in the lobby, hair resembling a blackberry bush, a whorl of thorned stems and sharply pointed leaves. A staircase rises off to her right, turning at a right angle up and behind her to the left. "Welcome back, Your Highness. Are you feeling any better?"
"I guess, yeah. Could we get two seats at the bar, please?"
"Of course, right this way."
A tabaxi behind the bar, greying about the whiskers, nods to acknowledge their approach. It's getting on in the day. A few patrons are here already, sitting in booths or at the opposite end of the bar. Kanamori follows Ivy's lead, sitting next to her at the bar and thanking her lucky stars that her diplomacy skills hadn't become rusty.
"So tell me, er... Kanamori, was it? What made you want to come find me when your companions had given up on me?"
Palms in her lap, Kanamori's gaze doesn't rise to Princess Ivy's face quite yet. She takes some time to try and parse her feelings about this situation and how best to articulate them. She's interested in being diplomatic, yes, but she thinks she wants to get to know Princess Ivy as a person, too, not just a noble whose company she has been privileged with. This isn't all tactics, risk against reward against emotions, the same way it sounded like it was for Mr. Robitaille and Miss Frenzbiek.
"I don't know what exactly has happened to you, but I was told that the Corruption took your kingdom. You must be in a lot of pain, and it's clear that my... companions were either blind to it or only interested in what you know, not who you are." The stressed word conveys clear distaste - not for them as people necessarily, but for their lack of understanding on the matter. She lets the implied sentiments speak for themselves; it would be improper at this juncture to address them bluntly.
"I wanted to hear about the duel, on common ground as fighters, not as royalty and commoner, but only if you were willing. If you're not..." Her tone subtly lightens a little, from deadpan to bordering on contentment. "Having a drink with someone of your caliber is enough for me."
"I can already tell I'm going to like you." A broad smile spreads across Ivy's face, missing a tooth in the front, and although Kanamori is not looking up at her she can hear this smile plainly. She relaxes a little, knows that she is in safer territory than before. "Could I get a shot of brandy, please? Thanks. It was a wonderful dance, though apparently one of your companions can turn into a monkey, and that caught me off guard. So aside from being beaten into the ground by a raging animal, it was nice."
(Miss Frenzbiek, most likely, although Kanamori thinks it's possible Orryn could have that knowledge, too. She's gained little experience with transformative magics in her lifetime.)
"Oh, and you don't have to talk to me like you have a stick up your ass. I'm not gonna have you beheaded or anything like that."
"...I'm not used to talking with royalty," Kanamori mutters, almost imperceptibly embarrassed. "Especially not as equals."
"I understand. I had the same impression of the common folk, as it were, for the longest time. Dad would always say a royal is above all the rats, but man, he can suck a cock." There's the distinctive click of glass on wood, a fraction of a pause, and then another, louder click, indicating just how quickly Ivy can toss back her shots. Kanamori feels a little relieved, free to speak more informally now, and she raises her gaze to look at Princess Ivy properly, and something... very strange happens.
The plates of Ivy's samurai armor shine in the lantern light, sleek dark hair flowing like water over and down the big pauldrons. She looks only a few years older than Kanamori herself. Her eyes are so blue, and beautiful... they remind Kanamori of the sea, deep and dark and alluring.
(The monastery of the Sacred Hearts in Chenosa is high on a plateau, and beyond the fields outside it, the cliff down to the ocean is steep. Kanamori has seen the ocean's many moods. On bright, clear days, she had sat in the fields by the cliff and almost thought she could see all the way to the coast of Elnbel, far across the water. She has no interest in becoming a sailor, but she deeply appreciates the ocean's mystique.)
Kanamori is somewhat plain and round-faced, with yellow eyes and skin tone the rich maroon of spilled blood, utterly un-self-conscious about her own appearance. Princess Ivy is not the first attractive person she has met on her travels, but she is the only one whose presence exudes things - charisma, strength, responsibility. An easy familiarity has settled between the two of them, as if they are old friends instead of near-total strangers.
"You're a monk, yeah? What brings you to this place?"
"Yes. I've trained as a gunfighter over the past few years and I've been traveling since." A faint smile appears at the corners of her mouth. "I'm not sure, really. I know I didn't intend it as a vacation." Often she has chosen destinations that pique her interest, or Mr. Brisbee had chosen them because there was a job there they could take while she trained, but Kanamori has never made the decision on the merits of vacation potential.
Ivy chuckles, a sound rich and luxuriant as warm chocolate. "Suppose you picked a bad time for a vacation, huh?"
"Oh, I'm not. But some of the others thought they were."
(In her experience, even if you don't go looking for where your help might be needed in the world, that opportunity will always find you, as long as you were open to it arriving.)
"Oh, where are my manners, I should get you a menu." Ivy waves a hand towards the bartender, tips her head towards Kanamori, and he passes her a parchment. "How'd you even come to meet them, anyway? Just circumstance?"
"Same boat. Literally." Admittedly, it was a pirate vessel, but Kanamori neither is nor was trained to be discerning about her choice of transport, as long as they're not discerning about her. She looks over the parchment, finding herself uninterested in the majority of it. "We got the gnome with the halberd, and a couple others, out of a jam."
"Dang. Sounds like quite the story. Would this happen to be the same gnome with the multicolored hair? At least... I think it's multicolored. I don't know how much they told you about me, but I'm colorblind."
"They neglected to mention it," Kanamori says, mellow and deadpan as usual. She had perceived, shrewdly, that personal details such as this had not seemed to matter in Miss Frenzbiek's and Mr. Robitaille's exasperation. The logical extension presented here is that Ivy had been having an extraordinarily difficult time in her pursuit of protecting her kingdom, and it's no wonder she tried to seek out like-minded people she could trust to help.
Ivy scoffs, rolls her eyes. "Figures. They didn't seem to want anything to do with me, just what I know. Another," and within moments of the bartender passing her a second shot of brandy it's down her throat with ease.
On one hand, Kanamori can understand their view. There's precious little knowledge going around about this opportunity that had found them, and knowledge is power. But she doesn't condone harassing someone in pain for what scraps they might know, with the only alternatives being disarming them or discarding the possibility of their company entirely. On the other hand, she can't condone a duel that may have started with honor, but wounded the other party by shifting into desperation. That kind of thing is decidedly dishonorable, and there ought to be an apology for it, whether the rest of the party accepts Ivy into the fold or not. She cannot and will not express this view out loud.
"Whatever she's having, please." What she really wants is the firepower shot, but she would not want to abuse the privilege of Ivy's coin. She's never gotten used to the particular way brandy burns the throat, and she gives herself a mental count of three before tossing it back, nose scrunching up.
"Good, right? Hey - " Ivy raises two fingers, to signal the bartender. "Put her drinks on my tab, I'll pay you for it in the morning." The tabaxi gives her a little nod.
"That's... very kind of you. Thank you."
"Of course. For a fellow warrior of honor."
Kanamori feels touched.
"Is there something on your mind besides the duel?"
"Ah... quite a lot." There's so much she wants to ask Ivy, so many topics to talk about, but even though the formalities have been dropped she would hate to be too forward, leading instead of following or throwing salt in recently opened wounds. After all, she's Ivy's guest.
"Well. Shoot. I'm all ears." Ivy cocks her head on one side a little and smiles, warm and reassuring. "Not literally, of course."
Kanamori has to think about where to begin for a moment. Then she says, "Where did you get your sword? I... can't believe they asked to take it from you." It sounds a little pained.
"Ah." Ivy seems like she was expecting this. She unsheathes a longsword from its place at her hip and lays it on the bar in front of them. Kanamori recognizes the reddish shine of copper, and etchings stretching across the ricasso and fuller gleam bright gold, an open-jawed dragon exerting its will on the world. The hilt of it is wrapped tightly in black cloth, silver glinting quietly underneath. "My mother dabbled in metallurgy. I know, not very becoming of a queen... she forged this herself. It's all I have left of her now."
It's a magnificent piece. Kanamori is plainly awed, admiring it as if it were a long-lost treasure from the past, or a masterwork of art. Perhaps it's both. She finally stands to take off her robes and overcoat, draping them over her barstool before pulling her own shortsword out of its scabbard-harness and laying it on the bar. The hilt is wrapped in black silk cording, and the oval blade guard (which has truly taken a battering over the years) depicts the twisting dragon in the insignia of the Sacred Hearts, ringed with flowers on a vine. Just as deadly sharp and useful as any other, the sword had been little more than a sparring tool, the final test of monks' bladed weapons training. In Kanamori's hands, it's outgrown that reputation. She has always preferred it not only as a keepsake of her home, but for its familiar heft and swing.
"I can't claim to know your pain, but I can sympathize. This is the first blade I ever trained on, and my mother gave it to me when I left home. I would never be willing to have it taken from me." Her gaze shifts from the two swords, one so small below the other, to Ivy's face. "I'm sorry about your mother. Truly."
"I..." Ivy's voice wobbles; she takes a deep, steadying breath. "Thank you. Truly."
"And I'm sorry about your kingdom. I... feel strangely compelled to ask if there's some way I can help you. Not because of your station, but because of your character." Yellow eyes meet blue ones, shimmering a little with unshed tears, and there is something horrible and hollow back there that Kanamori recognizes at once. It's the look of someone who has seen viscerally traumatic things, the full emotional extent of which they cannot confront or convey. (She's seen this a couple times before. It's not a look one could forget.)
In this moment, Kanamori knows three things: Ivy needs and deserves help and support and sympathy and kindness, just like anyone else in rough situations. If she can offer any of that in any way, she will - not just because it's the right thing to do, but because she genuinely likes being around Ivy. It's rare for her to feel so comfortable around someone so quickly.
"I... that's very kind of you, I really, um..." Kanamori folds her overcoat and robes somewhat clumsily, before sitting again and putting them in her lap. Ivy's gaze ducks and flits away, back to the bar. She raises two fingers for the bartender again, and even without having requested it out loud, he passes her another brandy, which she again drinks immediately. "I really do want to help, you know?" She burps a little, and Kanamori can faintly smell the nutmeg. "Oh, sorry, that's not very ladylike of me."
(As if either of them suddenly care about being properly ladylike. It's almost funny.)
"I understand. Maybe they'd be willing to reconcile. They seemed frustrated, but not like they wanted nothing more to do with you."
Ivy looks solemn, then. "Are you sure? I... Would they even give me a chance? To me it seems like they don't give two shits."
Kanamori does hesitate at this. "I'm not sure. But I think it's worth a try. What do you think?"
"Yeah... maybe another shot first. Oi! Could I get one of the good shit?" The greying tabaxi nods and winks slyly, messing around with some things behind the bar before bringing up a little glass of brandy. With a snap of his fingers, the surface lights with cool blue flame. "Thanks, mate." Ivy carefully blows the fire out before tossing it back. Kanamori can't help but watch with poorly-concealed interest. (She has a streak of mischievousness and bravado in her. It tends to only make itself known during a fight or in anticipation of one, but now and then it compels her to be a show-off.) "Want one? It's good."
"...Yes, please."
"Okay, then. Another firepower shot for the lady, please."
Kanamori gives it another mental three-count before tossing back the shot. There's a moderately loud hiss as the blue flame hits the inside of her mouth and goes out. It amps up the flavor of the baking spices immensely; it's delicious.
"Damn. That's impressive."
"That's lovely." A little sigh passes her lips. She feels almost relaxed enough to melt. "I've had flaming sake, but I'm unfamiliar with brandy."
"Good shit, right?"
"Yeah." Kanamori gives Ivy a rare, genuine, full, contented smile. "Good shit." (She thinks her tongue is burnt. It was worth it for the taste alone, never mind impressing the company she's in.)
"So what's - " Ivy burps again, and a puff of grey smoke comes out. " - Sorry - what's the plan, exactly? I walk up to them and they spit in my face?"
"I don't think they would spit in your face. We'd have to find them first. Last I heard, they were about to investigate a theft at the library."
"Let's go, then."
There's a brief awkward kerfuffle as Ivy tries to sheath the shortsword in her hip scabbard instead of her own longsword. Kanamori finds the little chill she can feel in the air refreshing, opting to wear only the pale, billowing robes. "I suppose I'm ready when you are."
Ivy pays for their drinks with platinum, and to Kanamori's credit, she's only mildly amazed.
"I've never seen someone pay so casually with it before."
"Well, I am a princess, after all." Giggling, Ivy wobbles on her feet and almost falls over. Kanamori reaches out on reflex to steady her before realizing her mistake and stopping short. (It's improper to touch nobles without permission, and far too early to ask after this sort of thing.)
"Should we wait until tomorrow?"
"Nahhh, we should go now. You said the librarby, right?"
There's no chance of Ivy explaining why she drank so much, and equally as little chance of deterring her from leaving... so Kanamori lets her go, and trails out after her. As they approach the library, she has a funny gut feeling that things are not going to go so well for them.
"Ah - how would you like me to refer to you?"
"You can call me Ivy if you want to."
Kanamori nods and has no reply, stunned that she's on first-name terms with a noble... somehow.