| Jakob Fall |
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| To Writing |
| Wessley |
| A man trudged down the narrow street, head bent against the pounding rain. His hand stole to his neck to feel the silver chain that hung there. His fingers idly stroked the silver ring that had been threaded through by the chain. He froze suddenly as he felt a knife between his shoulders. The point pierced cloak and shirt, but not skin. He cursed silently. I must not have heard him in the rain and thunder. He could feel breath directly behind his left ear. A woman's voice sounded quietly. "I was beginning to feel offended, as you had not yet come to see me, though you've been in town two days already." The man relaxed, though only slightly. He turned his head minutely to the voice. "I'm here on busines." The woman snorted. "Business? You? You are too much of a free spirit, Wessley." Wessley considered this a moment, then gave a short laugh. "In truth, yes, I suppose I am." To his relief, the knife against his back disappeared, and was replaced by a hand on his shoulder. "Buy you a drink?" Wessley grinned and nodded. "Loriann, you know I'd not turn down that offer." "No," she replied, rolling dark brown eyes, "Certainly you wouldn't. Come on, a new place just opened; pretty good." "Lead the way." Loriann tapped her foot impatiently. Wessley's fingers were once more stroking the ring around his neck. "It never usually takes this long," Loriann burst out suddenly. Wessley turned dark blue eyes on her. "I'm in no hurry." Loriann, though, just began tapping her foot mor vigorously. Soon after, a wine girl approached the table carrying two mugs. "What was keeping you?" Loriann demanded, glaring balefully. The girl merely sat down the mugs of ale, nodded to each of them, and turned to walk away. Loriann growled, but Wessley kicked her under the table as he took a swig. "Not worth a fight, friend." "I'll pick my own fights, thank you," she muttered, staring down at her own drink, but did not persue the matter further. After several minutes of silenced drinking, Loriann sat down her mug. "How's business?" "Quite well, thank you. Yours?" "Still the best thief in town," she grinned. Wessley raised eyebrows eloquently. "Oh you think you're better than me, master swordsman?" Wessley silently placed a small purse on the table. "But," she protested, mouth working, "that's mine--" Her face turned white, then she began to laugh. "It seems I have a rival." Wessley grinned and gave a small bow. "So how is the search going, Wess?" His face again turned solemn. "I've had no luck. None." The pain in his eyes was evident. She was about to change the subject when he spoke again. "It's been three years, Loriann." His eyes were unfocused, as if he could see something just beyond her face. "Three. And no leads. Save one." His hand was again floating near the silver necklace. Loriann clasped his other hand in her own. "You'll find him, Wess. I know it. I've been keeping my eyes opened, as promised." "Thanks." His eyes reflected true gratitude. His hand fell to the mug and he downed the last of the ale. "Listen, I have a guest bedroom. Why don't you stay in my home tonight?" "Thank you." Loriann finished her drink, then stood. As the two departed, she flipped a copper coin to the bartender. The storm had only worsened during their time in the tavern. The two pulled up the hoods of their cloaks and swiftly walked several blocks to a tiny door hidden between a bakery and a butcher shop. Wessley waited, wiping rain from his face, as Loriann fumbled with the keys. The sweet smell of bread and the arresting scent of blood from the neighboring shops filled Wessley's nostrils. Finaly, the door swung open and the two hurried inside. Loriann took Wessley's rain-soaked cloak and hung it on a peg beside her own. "You hungry, Wessley?" she asked, heading toward the kitchen. "No, I'm fine, thanks." He stopped in front of a small mirror in the hallway and shook some of the water from his hair, leaving it wild and unkempt, in a darker shade of blond than usual from the water. He continued walking and stopped in front of the fireplace in the kitchen. He turned towards Loriann. "Mind if I dry my shirt here?" She turned from the vegetables she was preparing to shake her head. Wessley peeled his soaked shirt off bare skin and hung it near the fire. He approached Loriann. "Need any help?" "Here, peel and cut this potato," she said, handing him the large vegetable and a knife. Wessley set to work over the sink, potato skin collecting in clumps. "How is your sister doing?" she asked. "She is doing well. She is pregnant again." Loriann rolled her eyes. "Now of how many children will you be the uncle?" Wessley stopped to think, then said, "Uh, five, I think. Maybe six." "Your sister is insane." "Wholeheartedly agreed. I don't know what she is thinking. Now I have to buy more Spring Festival gifts, besides." Loriann laughed, thumping him on the back. "Always concerned about your money, you are." Wessley dropped the knife from the force of her friendly slap, and was thrown into a fit of coughing in order to regain his breat. Loriann grinned broadly. Wessley glared at her from watering eyes. "Just because you have the strength of a man doesn't mean you must show it off. I know your strength, believe me." Loriann smirked as her finger traced a long scar crossing his ribcage. "Yes, what a pleasant first meeting we had. You thought me to be a mere woman. But I was the one who walked from the fight unscathed." "It took me a year to recover from that poison fully." "You weren't supposed to recover at all. That poison-tipped knife was top quality." "So was the healer my sister found for me after she discovered me dying in that alley, praise the Initiator." "Now I'm glad you are alive. But I certainly wasn't then. I lost at least a one hundred gold bounty when it was discovered that you were still breathing." "And then I was cleared of all charges anyway. Much to my relief." "I'd imagine," she laughed. "You had all the bounty hunters in the nation after your tail for a good year and a half. What did you ever do to get such a bounty, anyway?" "I was just searching for my brother. It's all I've been doing for the past three years," he sighed, then began dicing his peeled potato. Loriann gave him a concerned look, then returned to chopping off stems of broccoli. |
| A Novel-To-Be That is Still Being Worked On |
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