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*Nightwhisper
"And guilty I may be, but don't give up on me... We will still be thick as thieves."
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Post by *Nightwhisper on Apr 29, 2020 14:29:59 GMT -5
There’s a feeling people get when they come home from a long trip. A feeling of safety to be back in familiar surroundings, a place to ease their weary body, and just relax. To come home and wash the grime of the world off one’s body, and share memories of the trip with friends and family. It was hard to describe, and yet universally shared by many. Kyra wished she knew what those people were talking about.
For the past seven years, she had been returning to the same base, but there were no feelings of home for her. She found herself taking up residence at the Rebel’s camp not on her own accord. It was more of an “if you don’t, then you’ll die” situation. At sixteen years of age, what other choice did she have? She had been ripped away from the streets of her hometown to live among people who were little better than the crowds she grew up around. In some ways, she had no problem fitting in with her current company. They were rough and rowdy, every man for themselves while lounging about at camp. However, when the need arose, they would all band together in a force that she had never experienced before. And she was a part of that force now, as hard to believe as if was.
Rumors of the Rebels spread through the slums of Ilirea like any other dirty secret exposed. They were a group of Riders who refused to conform to the leader of the Circle. It was hard to know what exactly they were fighting for back then. Rumors of any kind never held more than a grain of truth. Everything else was speculation and hot air people spouted to have others listen to them. Kyra admitted that she hadn’t put much thought about this group when she was younger, figuring it had nothing to do with her since she wasn’t a Rider. Turns out, a person didn’t have to be a Rider for them to get involved. All it takes is a death threat and knowing the right, or possibly wrong (depending on how you looked at it), people to put someone on the back of a horse, heading to the gods know where in the middle of the night.
Currently, saddle sore and running on two hours of sleep, the young woman strolled through the chaotic “streets” of the Rebel’s camp. It was currently mid-morning, and she had just returned from the latest recon mission to one of the cities to the west that might be a potential ally and safe spot for the members of the growing army to live and make a second, smaller, base and future place to gather much-needed supplies. Her mission had been to gather intel and make contact with the governor of the city in a week. Then report back to camp with a report of her findings. Kyra had run into some problems, unexpected problems for what else could it have been. The woman was able to handle the situation, but it put her behind schedule. To make it back with her full report on time, she had to sacrifice sleep for travel.
The woman wanted nothing more than to sink into her cot and sleep the morning away, but such pleasures were rare in a place like this. There were plenty of things to be done, and free time was a luxury that happened rarely. She would not stop nap yet. First, she was to find her captain and tell him of her findings. Then, depending on what issues needed resolving first, she would be sent back out with just enough time to bathe and change clothes. It was a never-ending cycle, and she had learned to roll with it as best as she could. It might sound a bit draining, and it was, believe her, but she preferred to keep this busy pace. Granted, it’d be easier if she had a full night’s rest, but she had to make do.
Greetings were called her way as she walked, some she acknowledged with a nod or playful quip, but she didn’t linger long. The sooner she reported to her captain, the sooner she could move on to something else. The camp was bustling with activity. Everywhere she looked, people were already set out to complete their chores. From further in the camp, the smells of the cook fire floated among the breeze, reminding the woman of her meager supper the night before. Later, she promised herself. Before anything, she would stop for food. No one would stop her from filling her stomach, and if they didn’t like it, so what? She either ate or starved, and starving didn’t help anyone’s purpose.
Locating her captain’s tent wasn’t difficult. To any new members, it would be a nightmare. She remembered her first few weeks in the camp had been like trying to find her way through a maze. There was no order to how the tents were sent up, possibly for a reason. There was no straight paths between tents; no distinguishing features that marked a higher-ranking member lived there. Kyra had done her fair share of barging into the wrong tents and tripping over an assortment of items left unattended around them. As time went on, she learned them just like the streets she had called home most of her life. Once she had things memorized, it wasn’t hard finding her way about. So it didn’t take long before she was outside her captain’s tent.
She knocked three times on the wooden post outside the door. From inside, she heard the muttered clearance to enter. Kyra pushed open the flap and walked inside. The interior of the tent was simple. Larger than most, it was furnished like a small office/bedroom. Of course, instead of a bed, there was a cot, and the four walls were made of flimsy canvas. It was enough for Captain Lawrence to fulfill his duties. As she entered, the brunette man in his late forties lifted his gaze from a stack of papers before him.
“Ah, just who I was hoping to find,” he said. “I’ve got something for you to do.”
“No hello? No ‘How’s your day been?’” Kyra commented as she walked over to the desk. “You don’t even want to hear the report from the last outing you sent me on?”
Lawrence waved his hand in dismissal. “Yes, yes, I need that report as well, but we can’t waste much time. Go on and tell me what you’ve learned.”
And so she did. Putting it in as paraphrased and summarized form as she could, Kyra told him the details and results of her trip to the city of Sadorm. She had gotten in touch with the governess, but there had been a delay in the actual negotiations. There had been someone in the city who was one of Genevieve’s spies keeping an eye on things. Said spy had intercepted some of her requests for meetings, and, while the letters were artfully written to be as normal as possible, did make things harder on Kyra’s part. Details concerning the Rebels were not discussed in any letters, so the alarm wasn’t raised, but that didn’t matter. The stakes were high enough as is. The added fact that one of Genevieve’s henchmen were watching her every move made it all the more tricky. Contact was made, and the promise of further visits was given.
Lawrence nodded his head. “Well, it’s not what I was hoping for, but it’ll do,” he said. “I’ll send someone else to finish this later. Right now, you’re needed for backup.”
No rest for the wicked, Kyra thought. “Hit me with it. Who do I have to go help?”
“One of our spies in Ilirea had to make an emergency exit,” Lawrence briefed her. That sentence only made her stomach coil. “He sent a message just a few minutes ago explaining the situation. Something happened in the ranks of Genevieve’s Riders, and his position was compromised in the process. He fled the city in a rush, taking with him the family of the Rider who appeared to have turned his coat. They’re located in one of our safe houses, and I need you to go and make sure things are under control.”
Kyra ran through the list of informants they had currently inside Ilirea. Due to it being the capital of the country and headquarters of the Circle, they had at least a handful of them. She had gone back to the city on several occasions but had not stuck around for long while there. But Lawrence had said “he,” which narrowed the list down some and not for the better. The actions of a rouge Rider wouldn’t affect a lot of the spies, at least not directly, save for one. Only one person who would risk getting said rouge Rider’s family out with him. She didn’t even want to think about it for fear her assumptions were true. Still, she had to receive all the information she would need.
“Which informant?” the woman asked.
“Morgan Reilly.” Shit. “The only Rider we have within the city, and close enough to Genevieve to keep an eye on her doings.”
“Which safe house?”
For the next few minutes, they took turns speaking, Kyra asking about certain details, and Lawrence telling her the answers. At the end of it all, he added, “I trust that you’ll be able to handle this. If needed, you may take one of the foot soldiers with you for extra measures.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Kyra assured him. “I can handle this on my own. Morgan’s capable enough on his own, the more people in the house, the more they’ll get in the way.”
Lawrence lifted a questioning eyebrow. “It sounds as if you know this informant, though I don’t remember sending you on any errands to meet with him. Although, if I recall, you were from Ilirea yourself, weren’t you.”
“Yes, I was, and I know him well enough. Now, if you excuse me, I’ll need to secure provision and transport. If that’s all?”
The captain studied Kyra for a heartbeat before nodding. “That is all. I expect you to send reports of how things are going. If anything happens, we’ll send a Rider out to assist.”
“Thank you,” Kyra said. She gave a shallow, respectful bow before exiting the tent.
A million curses strung themselves together in her mind. Seven years of avoiding Morgan, and she, of all people, now had to go aid him. If wasn’t that she didn’t want to. No, the thought of him in trouble made her want to go help. It was simply the fact that the last time they spoke, they hadn’t left on good terms. It was easier just to avoid him then try to force out awkward conversations. Now, her time of avoidance was over. This was all too much to try to work out on an empty stomach. So, for the time being, she pushed the assignment to the back of her mind and sought out the cook fires.
~ * ~ * ~
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Iven asked.
Transport to the small town of Driver’s Mill had been found in the form of Iven and his bronze-scaled dragon, Shara. While not a Rider herself, Kyra had spent many trips on dragon back in her time with the Rebels. Iven had been one Rider she had found herself traveling with a good bit, so he had been the first one she went to for help. There was just one downside: his clinginess.
“I’m sure,” Kyra answered as she unstrapped her legs from the saddle, grabbed her bag, and hopped nimbly to the ground. “If Lawrence had wanted a Rider to go, then he wouldn’t have asked me. Claims there isn’t enough of you to go around for something as small as this.”
“Aw, he’s always saying stuff like that. Besides, if I joined you, then we can just fly to the safe house without stopping. Why stop here anyway?”
“For the simple reason of who our informant is currently hiding from,” Kyra answered. “Right now, he’s probably watching the skies for signs of dragons sent by Genevieve to kill him. If he sees Shara, then he will be on alert and defensive. It’s easier to go on horseback.”
Iven didn’t look convinced at her explanation. She rolled her eyes. “All I needed was for you to bring me this far. I made that clear when you agreed. You’ve done your part. Now I can take it from here.”
“If you say so,” the man replied, shrugging his shoulders. “You’ve always had a very roundabout way of doing things, so who am I to stop you. You know how to reach me if you change your mind.” He gave her a quick wink before Shara took to the sky once more.
Kyra sighed and shrugged her bag’s strap over her shoulder. With him gone, she turned and headed into town. Shara had landed a half-mile away from the village’s limits. The walk wasn’t difficult, but she was running on empty. It had only taken half a day to reach Driver’s Mill. In another half day, she would make it to the safe house. However, that would be after she received a proper rest first. There was no way she was going to be able to face Morgan as exhausted as she was. Not to mention, she might have been stalling. There were things she had to work out, and, while she might not be able to work out any of them, having a moment to rest and recuperate. First she would procure herself a horse, and then rent a room. Depending on how long she slept, she would leave out late that afternoon or in the morning. She was hoping more for the latter. It would need more time to brace herself for the reunion she both looked forward to and dreaded at the same time.
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Heterosexual
✧☽ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏᴇʀ ☾✧
"You never have to prove yourself to anyone who doesn't accept you for who you are."
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Post by ✧☽ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏᴇʀ ☾✧ on Apr 29, 2020 16:34:42 GMT -5
Alright! Let's make this arrival go nice and smooth, people! No delays! No detours! Got it, Seth?
Seth: Why are you looking at me?
Senza: Why wouldn't we look at you? You can't follow a script to save your life.
Seth: I resent that. I am a very good actor.
Senza: Yeah, and you improvised most of your lines. Not exactly a stand-up model for acting.
Seth: Well I —
Guys! This is exactly what I'm talking about! Quit!
Seth & Senza: Sorry.
Senza: ... We all know that wasn't sincere, Accio.
Seth: Look who's talking, Arion.
Senza: That's not the title of the movie.
Seth: What movie?
*face-palm* Why me?
Morgan: Oh! Pick me! I know, I know!
Morgan! What the heck are you doing here? You're not part of this scene!
Morgan: Oops.
Night, kill me now. Please.
Seth: Well, that's a little dramatic—
Not another word, mister!
Seth: But—
No! Zip it!
Seth: *mocking silence*
I hate you.
Seth: 😘
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