2nd of Zi'Da 721
"Spider, a neighbor, catches the flies that try to take my seeds. Will you take me, so that I may spread my progeny?"
The rhododendron blossom beseeched the man who used the Soul-Forged speech to communicate with it. The little pink flower was part of a hardy plant, and Robert knew it had medicinal value, as a soporific. With a snap of his fingers, he caught the branch that it sprouted from, and brought it to his nose, sniffing it.
"Have you seen the people who live over there? Have they had visitors?" Robert jerked his head to the side, indicating the sea-side cabin where the 'Enners' lived. Amanda and Emilia, her daughter. Although he'd not dared get close enough to disturb their lives, not close enough to observe whether they even lived there anymore. Robert supposed they might've moved on after the incident, but he held out hope.
Robert Sanderling crouched over a small shrubbery, at the corner of a street that led a bit in from the wharves, not far from the WItchwood. His straw-colored hair was pulled into a bun, and his eyes dusted with sooty powder, to emulate the lack of sleep. Although, in truth, he didn't need to fake a shortage of slumber. He wore a wrist-length and knee-length flaxen brown tunic beneath a blooded leather cuirass and armor. His breeches were of wool fabric with flaxen inner lining. They were loose-fitting and colored green, tucked into black leather shin-wraps. His feet were bare, save for some brown fur coverings that draped over the top of his feet. Around his shoulders, a mantled cloak of blue wrapped over his torso, cinched in place by a pewter broach, fashioned with the mark of the Widow's Lament. He wore it in order that other mercenaries would recognize his affiliation at least, if nothing else.
The blossom paused for a moment, and then, "I do not know. They do not bother us, only the spiders catch my helpers."
"Hmmm." Robert hummed, glancing back toward the cabin. He sat there for a few moments before rising to his feet, after plucking the flower from its branch. True to the flower's request, he would seed it near his own home. Once it was plucked, however, it spoke no more, its purpose fulfilled.
He could use a source of soporific plants, after all. Sleep was a rare commodity lately.
Robert stood to the side of the street, keeping his back to the wall but his neck craned to watch the cabin. His eyes searched every detail of that small house. It was only slightly dilapidated. Not nearly the shanty that Magpie had described once upon a time. Perhaps in the passion of the moment, he had exaggerated the squalor from which he'd 'rescued' Emilia. To Robert's eyes, the place had potential. In terms of its locale, its construction... Whatever it looked like inside, it couldn't have been far beyond repair.
Robert had assessed his share of properties in the past, for his own use, for the use of other organizations. Maybe though, it was his background as a denizen of Lowtown in Andaris. There weren't many situations that he saw as irretrievable. And a dilapidated ruin even had its appeal.
"Why do you linger so often here, Master?" The voice of Breen filled Robert's mind. The diri of sorrow emerged from the alleyway adjacent to Robert's haunt, and then lumbered over toward where he was and lowered down on his haunches. He was in his physical form, that of a black Lysorian shepherd dog.
The creature was no doubt attracted by Robert's maudlin mood. "I'm here to see if I can catch a slight glimpse of her, of anyone connected to her. Do you think she still works, or... does anything? It's almost hard to believe that Daia has fixed her." Robert sent his thoughts back to the diri, without speaking aloud.
Breen tilted his head upward, and to the side. "I don't know, Master. Why don't you go and knock on the door?"
Robert thought about it, many times. In the end, the rhododendron blossom's insistence that there were spiders about alerted him. He didn't wish to clue them in on the fact that he still cared, that he'd ever cared. He probably failed at that. It'd be a simple matter for Sintra to discover his preoccupation, even disguised and anonymous as he was. Robert sent that answer back through their link, and Breen whined , feeling bad for Robert, presumably.
Breen said very little more for a few moments but was content to receive Robert's thoughts on the matter. "I don't know what it is about me, and my preoccupation with my shambling menagerie of broken derelicts. Fleaface, Emilia, Sage, Eve..." Robert sighed, even his children were counted among those who were damaged. They had, at some point in their lives gone derelict, drifting through the world as if they were ghosts who'd forgotten how to lay in their graves. In Eve's case, it was in the literal sense. "I seem to have a knack for collecting them, don't I Breen?"
Breen had little to say to that, other than to continue a low-pitched whine, and stifle a yawn.
A few bits later, Robert had sufficiently soaked in his isolation and self-loathing enough. He dragged his self off the wall he leaned against, picked up his greatsword and left. He began walking off into the alleyways adjacent the main thoroughfare. Yet, before crossing the threshold into the dingy alleyway, he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. A sudden hope sprang up, and he doubled back, crouching behind the corner and glimpsing at the figure lingering near the cabin. Except it wasn't anyone that Robert could recognize. Some unremarkable interloper, with brown hair, leather clothes and a yellow cloak. There wasn't much to stand out about them, and they didn't appear to be skulking, but looked for all the world as if they belonged where they were. Had new residents taken up in the cabin in the wake of the Enners? Robert hadn't dared direct any of his contacts to check in on the Enners, lest he draw attention to the fact that he did care. So much of the cabin and its current residents were shrouded in secrecy. It was only recently he'd acquired the ability to roam around unnoticed, unrecognized.
Given that fact, and that he wouldn't indeed be recognized at all, Robert stopped skulking behind the corner. With a few steps, he began walking along the road that led up to the cabin. The figure was startled by his appearance, and turned around. It was a young man, fair in complexion and with blue eyes. Yet for all his youth there was a confidence there. He still looked very much for all the world as if he belonged where he was. Robert saluted him, raising his hand to his brow.
"Hello there." Robert smiled, his eyes wrinkling in mock friendliness. "Good day for a stroll."
It wasn't the most subtle approach that Robert had undertaken when approaching a stranger. But he thought it'd get the conversation started.
The young man noted Robert's pin, the Widow's Lament broach. He shook his head, "I don't have any money, if that's what you're after."
Robert shrugged, "Money's not all that's of value, boy." He looked at him, up and down. His eyes trailed from the boy's belongings to the cabin they were situated near. Perhaps the Enners, if they still lived there, weren't at home? That'd make it easier for Robert to engage in some espionage.
"What brings you to this neighborhood?" Robert crossed his arms, leaning the greatsword against his shoulder.
The young man's eyes narrowed, as he looked from Robert to the cabin and then over Robert's shoulder, to the path that led out of the way. "I live around here."
It seemed the conversation wasn't getting Robert anywhere with this young man, and so he decided to end it, more or less. "Well, this is Widow's Lament territory. If you ever want to learn to fight, come on down to Bel Alley."
The young man rolled his eyes, and Woe thought he could detect a hint of relief, although it might've been his imagination. "Right..."
So saying, Robert kept walking along, moving out of the vicinity and back toward Bel Alley. About a break later, as he entered the dirty streets of the poorer quarters, he noticed the sound of footfalls crunching behind him. Not recognizing the sound of the footfalls, he allowed them to follow him. He diverted his path away from Bel Alley, toward an abandoned harbor master's office.
If someone was following Robert, he'd learn who it was.
Will be continued.
