Adrian suggested that Veleria never leave his property uncovered. Cover her head with a cloak, wear a mask to veil her face. Better yet, don’t leave at all. She was already one for hiding, but his suggestions bothered her nonetheless. Remaining in one place for long had never been her style.
Still, she knew that Adrian was right. Despite his distance from her, there was no telling if Alk’Hath’s servants were in Almor or elsewhere. They could be anywhere. And if they saw her? Well. With these thoughts in mind, Veleria pulled a cloak around her shoulders, set the hood over her head, then pulled a cloth mask up to her nose. She locked up on her way out and took her first step towards the seaside city of Almor, briefly glancing towards the coast where the sea lapped at the shore. The air was light, salty, and entirely calming. She could understand why Adrian would want to own property out here. She wished she could, too.
The distance between Adrian’s property and Almor proper was a fair walk. Given her newfound sedentary existence, she found herself somewhat tired once she took her first step into Almor and gave it a once-over. There were numerous characters here, all entirely too consumed with the details of their own lives to notice Veleria among them. It felt like most other cities she had visited this side of the empire—slanted roofs for the rains, and dull, washed out colors. The cobblestones below her boots appeared rather worn, too, though no one seemed to pay that any mind.
She spent her time buying a few things with Adrian’s coin. Between shops she observed others. Almor was about as lively as any other port city she had been to, but there were peculiarities that helped it stand out. For one, there was the occasional person who had the same tattoo as another she had seen pass by. It depicted a stylized hand with a snake coiling around it, the fingers pressing down on the snake’s head wherein a ruby could be seen between its fangs. She wouldn’t say it was particularly common, but the frequency was certainly questionable. After she saw it for the fifth time, she wondered if Adrian had one too. He had kept himself fully dressed despite her being in his home.
She had never been to Almor before now. There were many cities out there that boasted more activity from certain groups…but, Almor? She wasn’t certain which one called this place its home. Veleria resolved to ask Adrian later. Whatever seal was on the letter would certainly give Auros pause, and she needed to know who, or what she was representing now. Veleria finalized her trip by buying a few new articles of clothing before returning to the cabin.
Later that night, Adrian returned as expected. Veleria had since changed into a better fitting blouse and some trousers, and had taken to Adrian’s kitchen in his stead. She heard that people usually opened up over a good meal. It was the best idea she could come up with.
“Were you in town?” He asked her, draping his cloak over one of many hooks by the doorway.
“Yes,” She replied. Adrian was filling a mug with mead. He asked her if she wanted any, but she kindly refused. He took a seat at the table, watching her. She could feel those dull green eyes piercing her backside. It made her nervous.
“Those look good on you. I should have taken you to buy them myself, but I just thought it better that you stay here.” He took a swig. “You didn’t see anyone you recognized, did you? Especially not the one who…”
“No, I—Ow!”
Veleria dropped the knife she was working with. Her gaze, perplexed, locked onto her hand. She had cut three fingers nearly down to the bone. It had hurt, a lot, but now she barely felt anything at all. The blood oozing from within her wounds bubbled—sizzled, even, before seeming to cool. Adrian joined her when the cuts had closed on their own. He was looking between her hand and the floor, where the knife itself was beginning to smoke from where it was coated with her blood. Some of the floorboards were producing the same effect.
“What in the world?” Adrian asked, his question aimed at the night rather than Veleria herself.
Still entranced by what had happened, Veleria moved each individual finger. There was a smear of her blood on each one, but she could no longer see any open wounds. No scars, either.
“I—I cut myself. Three of my fingers…But…“
She could hear her breath hitching.
Adrian grabbed both her shoulders. His grip was tight, tight enough that her breath caught in her throat. She had never seen him look at her like that. It was caring, but authoritative.
“Go lie down,” he told her. “I’ll finish up here.”
She did as she was told. It was easier than trying to parse her thoughts, and Veleria had no desire to see what had become of the knife. It smelled like an old fire in the cabin now.
While lying in her bed she fingered her scar. It wasn’t just warm, but hot. Her fingers were hot, too, and she could feel the linens beginning to grow in temperature as well. Yet, it was far from uncomfortable. She wasn’t sweating, or even close to it. After a while, she heard the iron pot move, then Adrian’s footsteps approaching. Now, he spoke to her from the doorway.
“Any better?” He asked.
“I guess so,” she replied hesitantly. “I still don’t really know what happened.” As she started to get up, Adrian came to help. Her temperature had seemingly gone down to a more normal level, or at least she thought so as Adrian didn’t react upon touching her.
He walked her back out to the kitchen, sitting her at the kitchen table. Two bowls were already laid out for them, both steaming from the soup Adrian had crafted in her stead. He didn’t say much to her then, choosing instead to eat. It was possible that he wanted to avoid the subject for now, she supposed. It had come and gone rather suddenly, and Veleria was still somewhat shaken. She did, however, notice that the knife was gone and that there were burn marks on the floorboards. Her blood, apparently. When her gaze came back around to the table and the man across from her, Veleria was reminded of why she had chosen to cook in the first place.
A familiar snake-and-hand tattoo could be seen on Adrian’s exposed bicep. She decided not to be coy. Not with him.
“What is that tattoo from?” She asked directly.
“This one?” He pointed to the culprit. She nodded. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“That makes me worry about it.”
His gaze leveled with hers at that comment. She was not deterred.
“I saw numerous people in town with that exact same mark. What group is most active in Almor, Adrian? I just sent the Autumn Council a letter with your seal on it. I deserve to know.” Veleria placed her spoon in the bowl and crossed her arms over her chest. She had no real desire for food lately, anyway.
Adrian did the same, sans that instead of crossing his arms, he placed his elbows on the table and leaned into a web of his fingers. They stared each other down, but only Adrian gave.
“It is the mark of the Giarmund Thieves Guild. My father, Reaver, founded it in his youth, and I have reluctantly held it together since his passing.” He said, a brief sigh escaping his lips. “Are you satisfied now?”
Veleria gave this some thought. She knew of the guild, as Giarmund was a famous name. What he had actually told her was far more interesting.
“So, you’re kind of like an authority around here?” She raised a sideways palm in question.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
At this, Adrian stood from his seat. He was getting more mead. If she did a mental count, she figured he was at around six or seven drinks by this time of night. That number was likely higher considering what she had not seen. When he sat back down, she continued.
“You’re a well known man, and a wanted one.” She said. “Not that I have to tell you that.”
Adrian chuckled, “You needn’t worry. Although I have no interest in dealings with the elves, your Auros De’Tarsons will take the letter seriously, sure enough.” He shrugged. “But now you know who you can trust.”
Who she could trust. Since her waking here, Adrian had never laid a hand on her. He had always shown support towards her, though Veleria wasn’t entirely certain as to why. Then, there was the fact that he was to accompany her to the elven lands. In many ways he was a known criminal, likely even towards the elves, so the fact that Adrian was to see to her safety—personally—was a matter in and of itself.
“Why are you helping me?” She asked, rather suddenly.
Adrian paused mid-drink. He gulped down what he had, his gaze firmly on Veleria during this exchange.
“We all have to do the right thing sometime.” He answered. “This is my ‘right thing,’ I think.” Adrian finished his drink, at least three-fourths of it sliding down his gullet. His eyes were already fairly red. He continued, but more solemnly than before. “Veleria, you were asleep for nearly a month.”
“I’m sorry, what—“
But while her jaw slacked, Adrian interrupted her.
“How could I tell you that? Look at you, healthy as any newborn babe. You don’t even eat. Don’t think I haven’t noticed!” He gestured widely towards her untouched bowl. For now she remained silent, but Veleria had to wonder the toll this information had taken on him. It was surprising for her, yes, but she was more taken aback by his actions. “I had several of my people try to diagnose you. Not a single one could explain what the hell was going on.”
As if trying to occupy himself, Adrian pushed his meal further from him. His mug joined the bowl. Veleria had half the mind to stand up, to see if perhaps Adrian needed a hand but he kept her glued to her seat. There was more to this story.
“I believe that,” Adrian said, “you have become more than human, Veleria.”
“Are you certain that all you saw was my breathing corpse?” Veleria asked him.
“I don’t know what I saw.”
That was all she could get out of him before he retired to his room for the night. He got up and left her in the kitchen, to ponder her own existence and wonder what Adrian had seen that night. As before, Veleria touched her scar. She recycled his words in her head. More than human.
Veleria had never had any ability in magic. There was nothing to distinguish herself from any other woman of her age and stature.
But now, there was something else. Something that burned within her chest. She didn’t know what it was or where it had come from. But, if she had to guess, it was this heat that gave her life. For now, she could do little more than speculate. It would do her little good.
Veleria took to her feet, and snatched one of Adrian’s knives from the kitchen. She looked it over—Once, twice, four times total, shaking her head at the ludicrous thoughts mulling through her mind. There was only one thing she knew for certain. She was alive. Why, was beyond her. She could not answer that and she lacked the right information to even form a half decent opinion on the matter. Yet, tonight she learned something new. Something she wanted to recreate.
With knife in hand, Veleria left the cabin and headed down to the beach. She took it in first. At this time, with the moon pulling the waves, there was only calm to greet her. She breathed in the salt, the air fresh. Then, following a longer moment of this, she opened her eyes and brought the knife to her exposed wrist. Within the moon’s glow Veleria could see her own hesitation. The knife shook in her hand. She had never deliberately harmed herself.
It was terrifying. How could she? If she was wrong, if she and Adrian had both hallucinated the kitchen incident… Veleria thinned her lips and reaffirmed her grip. What she was about to do was insane, yes, but it was nowhere near as fear-inducing as Vos’iin hunting her in her—what she thought—final moments. This? This was nothing in comparison.
Veleria slashed her wrist. Pain exploded throughout her arm. It folded her stomach. She nearly screamed. Yet, she held still and watched. Her blood, like before, bubbled. Steam came roiling off her arm, off the sea-foam below her feet as her blood mixed into it. Within seconds, the wound she inflicted upon herself was gone. She looked at the knife. The steel itself had contorted, as if returned to the forge.
Her blood was hot enough to soften steel. Her wounds closed near instantly. Whatever had happened that night, now Veleria at least knew where she stood. She threw the knife into the sea and returned to the cabin. Once inside, she noted that Adrian had left the furnace burning and another stupid idea crossed her. She thrust her hand into the flames without a second thought, but Veleria found that she wasn’t surprised when the fire did nothing to her. She did not burn. In fact, the heat was nothing in comparison to whatever mystery coursed throughout her veins.
Veleria put out the fire and turned in for the night.