old mistakes (rwaht)

[Vylira]

x x

The world was a spinning hurricane of vibrant colors and tingling sensations. Vylira found herself walking across Hyrule Field without a care in the world for where she was going. It wasn't the destination, after all, it was the journey. At least that was her mindset at the moment as whatever kind of high she was one had settled in and given her this deep sense of understanding for the world and a whole new perspective. Which was a powerful thing to the woman, who saw things from many perspectives.

In fact whatever was in her system was perhaps only amplified by the steady stream of information that fed through her, though her instincts knew right from birth how to filter it. The information passed through and she only registered what she needed to, and then passed it off. But with the enlightenment she was feeling she reached out and held onto strands of information, the bits of knowledge telling her the most intimate moments across the world, and she admired them with a new eye.

Until, of course, her trek along the road in Hyrule field found her passing through a small patch of wild flowers and the particular vibrancy with which those colors shone to her was too alluring for her to ignore. She stopped right there on the road and squat down onto her haunches as she examined the flowers. A slender hand reached out and gently passed across each of the petals, feeling the sensation as sparks of lightning flowing through her body, distorted and amplified so that the silky smooth flower felt much more pleasurable to the touch than idle admiration.

Where she was, even in this altered state, however, was no coincidence. There on the road minutes before an old and familiar presence would be passing by. Nothing was a coincidence when it came to Vylira, though everyone seemed to think so. She was there waiting, though the high she was on was completely unrelated to that. Her mind was complicated, a cool and calculating machine that functioned even when her consciousness was lost in the clouds of color and sensation. Even as she crouched there in all the telltale baubles and luxurious fabrics that she wore, fawning over the gentleness of the flower, she knew that Rwaht Orin was coming through in just mere moments, and she was waiting.

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[rwaht]

x x

Path of Honour

It was not often that Rwaht was alone.

His daughter needed him, after all. She was why he had left everything, including his sword, his life, and his wife, behind. He did not regret it for a moment, but he did enjoy his time alone, to himself, time which was almost invariably in the daytime, while his daughter was sleeping. Ayara was nearby, and he would be sure to return before dark, but even so ... he could not help but feel concerned for his daughter, sleeping alone in a cave, where anyone might find her. He had hidden the entrance well, and it was out of the way. He prayed that would be enough.

There were not many people on the road, which was just as well. He didn't have the patience to try on some act to fool someone right now. His current form was unrecognisable to anyone as Rwaht Orin, but it was certainly memorable. As such, he'd eschewed his normal black cloak in the place of a plain brown shirt and pair of pants, while his long hair was held back in a ponytail. His short, harmless wooden sword was at his side, and he walked as though he was unused to having a weapon there. It had taken years to learn how to properly use a sword; it had taken many more years besides to learn how to look like someone who couldn't use one. He had considered walking with a slight limp, but that would have been overselling it, he thought.

As it was, he was walking to town to get a leather patch that Ayara would be able to use to block out the left lens of her glasses. No matter what Rwaht did, it was hard to achieve a level of light that let both of them see what they were doing without plunging one or the other into blindness. The patch had been Ayara's idea, an excellent way for them to co-exist without causing some sort of discomfort to one or the other. Rwaht had been willing to live in darkness for the rest of his days, of course; but Ayara was a compassionate child. The ghost of a smile passed over his face.

When he saw a girl bent over some flowers, some way down the road, he kept walking about his way as normal, without daring to modify his pace. To give any reaction other than what was normal might betray him, and worse, might betray Ayara. It was a long shot, of course, but Rwaht had never been one to dismiss long shots. He passed by her without saying much of a word, though he looked at her naturally, as though he were curious. He smiled pleasantly.

"Hello there," he said, with every intention of immediately going on his way.

[Vylira]

x x

And there, just as she knew he would be, was Rwaht Orin. Not as most would remember him, but Vylira wasn't most. She knew it was him because she knew everything that he did, every little aspect of that disguise he worked so hard to maintain, and it was quite clever. And she knew, most importantly, why he was there at that exact moment, having been witness in her own special way to the very conversation where the idea came up. So as he passed by and offered her a polite greeting, Vylira found herself wondering if Rwaht knew her still.

Granted her thoughts and ponderings weren't exactly stable by any means at that particular moment. "Hello to you, too, Mr. Orin," she said, turning around with a big Cheshire grin spread across her face and putting particular emphasis on stating his name. She wasn't particularly sure why she would say it like that, nor did she care too much. "You needn't go much further, I figured I'd meet you halfway with your leather." She reached out her hand and produced from nowhere a leather patch and cord. She had bore witness to the conversation and the idea, of course, so she knew what it was he needed and why.

"I see that daughter of yours is fairing quite well, all things considered," she added as a side thought, giggling for no discernible reason, as if there were some joke in what she had said. And Vylira being Vylira there might just be. But her business was information, so she wasn't about to just give away secrets, even in the altered state of mind she was in. Free samples was one thing, and a strip of leather cost mere pennies when bargained right so it was no gift at all, but she was a business woman first and foremost and her kind of business was particularly booming in this day and age.

Her attention got sidetracked by the leather in her hand and she reached out and stroked the material. "Wow, have you ever taken the time to feel leather, like actually feel it?" she said with great importance. "It feels so . . . cow-y. I wonder why cows don't feel cow-y, though? The only difference between tanned leather and their skin is that they aren't wearing it. It even sits in the sun while they're wearing it, but it doesn't develop like actual processed leather. How strange," she mused, studying the material even as she offered it over to him.

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[rwaht]

x x

Path of Honour

For a moment, Rwaht started.

It lasted only a second, but it unmistakably bore signs of danger: his hand rushed to the wooden sword at his size, his stance changed, and his eyes narrowed. It passed in a moment, though, as he examined the girl closely. He remembered her, now. Vylira. He was not sure if he trusted this girl, but he did owe her. His daughter owed some part of her happiness to this girl, and for that Rwaht was in her debt. His eyes narrowed and he held out a hand for the leather patch. He wondered if he would get it.

"She is, yes." Rwaht's voice was short, and clipped. He did owe the girl, but that didn't necessarily mean he liked her, and anyone who could potentially compromise Ayara's freedom--as this woman certainly could--was worthy of suspicion in Rwaht's mind. More to the point, even though he remembered her as acting strange, Vylira seemed to be ... different, to say the least.

"The blood is still flowing through their veins. If the flesh is dead, it will be easier to tan," Rwaht said idly, reciting a fact that, like so many others, he couldn't remember the origin of. His hand was still open, waiting for the leather pouch. She knew why he needed it, and he knew that she knew, as well ... it was enough to give him a headache. He did not have time for these distractions; Vylira surely knew that Rwaht's every action was tied to a careful schedule, ensuring that he could check on his daughter several times in any day, and furthermore be there with a meal prepared when she woke. It was demanding, but Rwaht didn't mind.

"What is it that you want from me, Vylira? You never did cash in on that ... 'favour,'" Rwaht said, his nose wrinkling slightly as he said the word. He did not like the concept of being in someone's debt--loathed it, in fact--but he simply would not have been able to give Ayara her arm without Vylira. She was a necessary evil, he supposed. If she ever decided that information about Rwaht's daughter was worth selling, though ... he did not know what he would do then. He had devoted himself to peace, but if any harm came to his daughter, he was not sure how he would react. Moments ago, he had been more than ready to defend himself and demonstrate just how painful a wooden sword could be. He wondered how far he would have gone. What was perhaps more frightening is that he truthfully did not know.

[Vylira]

x x

When Rwaht's hand extended, Vylira looked down at it for a moment and considered it. The typical sign of "gimmethat", as it were, perfected by any sentient being from when they were young and utilized for the rest of their lives. A simple gesture in which one extends their hand and leaves it open, palm up, in a vaguely bowl shape. How did that become the universal gesture, Vylira wondered, though that was easily the drugs speaking. Her studying of the leather shifted to examining his hand before she gingerly let the leather fall from her hand into his waiting grasp. A bowl wasn't even the most efficient shape for a strip of leather, how did that work?

That over with, her eyes turned back to the silver-haired warrior and examined him. "She looks like you. A lot like you, actually. Not this you, though, the other one, the more handsome one," the keaton said with that same knowing smirk. "It's a real shame what happened to her. And to think, you could've been a grandfather." That comment was easily enough to let Rwaht in on the fact that Vylira was hinting at something, and a smart man would be able to figure it out. Unless he was so concerned for Ayara. The keaton wondered idly if Rwaht was that stubborn that he'd ignore all the signs she'd all but thrown into his face. Definitely not, she decided, but his reaction would be telling.

She let that comment drop until Rwaht decided to pursue it, and turned to business at hand. She had met Rwaht halfway and given him the thing he would spend another half an hour searching for in town. Even if he worked on a carefully planned schedule, she had just freed up at least an hour of his time that he wouldn't be able to excuse himself out of. Which had really been her intention. Not that people could talk their way out of things with her. She knew when they were lying and they were almost always lying. Pressing business elsewhere, when elsewhere was deserted and no one was on their way there.

Where was she? Her thoughts were so hard to maintain with the drug in her system. She was transfixed in Rwaht's eyes when she caught herself wandered, staring deeply at the color of them. "You know I know a guy who does eye transplants, he could swap out yours for some new ones. Eyes that color would fetch a beautiful price in the right markets. Which I also know," she mused idly, then stopped herself. "Of course I don't intend to cash in my favor just yet. It's rather reassuring having it, you know, what with you being a legend and all. You could just call this . . . checking in on an investment," she said with random clarity in her tone. "Or maybe I just happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to see how you and the missus were doing!" she added and broke into a wide grin.

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