|
Post by azmoham on May 6, 2018 8:44:11 GMT -8
"I'd have to check to be sure, but my recollection is cat's blood and fennel, at least for the potion that would enable me to see your soul, or find where it might be at any rate." He grimaced, not terribly fond of the ingredients required, perhaps they would be lucky and have no need to kill the creature themselves, finding one dead or tossing some street urchin a copper or two to catch one for them lest they spend their afternoon chasing strays up and down the cramped allies of the Hamlet. "Not pleasant, I know, but we shouldn't require more than one cat to fulfill the requirements handily. And I'm certain that we can find wild fennel somewhere abouts."
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on May 6, 2018 8:51:08 GMT -8
Tilly nodded, conjuring up more resolve to spend in the future. Truthfully, out on the streets, she had avoided stray cats and dogs out of sheer inexperience with the animals who had sharp claws and teeth like steel traps to be used on a whim. In fact, the only cat that had permitted her to pet it was one that was a human all along.
"What else? Anything else you might need on hand, just in case?" She queried, "Just so that you never, ever have to do anything without the materials."
|
|
|
Post by azmoham on May 6, 2018 8:55:30 GMT -8
He smiled, just a little. "I never plan to. I'll have a fuller list of ingredients and procedures outlined tomorrow, I must warn you however that these sorts of things are often rather time-consuming, even the simplest among them can take several hours or even days to come to fruition. Still, I'd prefer to wait than kill myself in the name of expediency." He stretched, arching his back and twisting his head side to side. "Now, I do believe I came here for a bath? Would you terribly mind averting your ever-so-pure, maiden eyes so that I could begin?"
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on May 6, 2018 9:11:34 GMT -8
Tilly sighed, turning about on her heels to face the wall. What whiplash, to go from the subject of his death, to rituals, and then to bathing. Albeit, she supposed, it was par for the course in this Estate... And she was guilty of it too.
For good measure, she squished her hat down on her head until it obscured her eyes entirely.
"D'you need any cat's blood for your bath, too? A little sprig of funnel, hm?"
|
|
|
Post by azmoham on May 6, 2018 9:17:15 GMT -8
He made a thoughtful humm, as if deeply considering the option as he removed his shirt, which he folded neatly and left sitting atop his jacket beside his shoes and bag. "Not in this particular instance, bathing in blood is really more of a cultist practice, and given my notable lack of bronze masks and blades welded to my arms, I'd best avoid it for now." Next came his pants, and he blushed fiercely despite the total inability for his female companion to see him. Now standing in solely his braies, he scampered quickly towards one of the tubs, stopping right before he stuck his leg into the nearest one. "These are warmed, yes?"
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on May 6, 2018 9:54:48 GMT -8
Tilly squeezed her eyes shut from behind her hat, but waggled a hand at him from over her shoulder, refusing to part from her post beside the wall.
"They're... supposed to be! There should be some matches or flint and the like in one of those crates, over there." She waved a hand in a wide gesture in what she thought might be the general direction of the crates. Perhaps she went about this in the wrong order.
"Did I ever tell you Lekalis was working on opening a nicer bathhouse? One with proper rooms and the like..."
|
|
|
Post by azmoham on May 6, 2018 9:59:34 GMT -8
He turned to follow her vaugue waving, spotting the flint and steel resting on one of the myriad of boxes which littered the room. He scurried across the wet floor as fast as he dared, careful not to slip on the wet stones, and took up the fire-implement before hurrying back to his bath. Lighting the fuel underneath, he waited for a moment as the fire flickered and jumped, licking the underside of the tub. "Oh really? Well I'm quite certain it'll lovely, likely a far sight more private than this at any rate." He stuck a finger into the water to test its temperature and found it still too cold, so he leaned against the edge of the basin and waited. "I'm not entirely nude, by-the-by, I haven't lost all sense of decency after all." He sniffed.
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on May 6, 2018 10:12:06 GMT -8
Tilly was hesitant to take it as permission to unblind herself.
"So... s'that mean I can turn around, then?" She listened acutely for the man's feet slap against the stonework with a new, fresh worry that he might fall over and crack a slip or... something suitably elderly. She hummed, shifting on her feet.
"Anything you need help with over there?"
|
|
|
Post by azmoham on May 6, 2018 10:18:27 GMT -8
"Unless you happen to be able to wiggle your own fingers and summon up some fire, I'd say not." Jacques replied, once more testing the water and finding it tolerably warm. With aged slowness he began to clamber into the bath, first slipping one foot into the water and then the other, before lowering his lower body in. It was marvellously refreshing, to be in water that wasn't from a stream or pond, or else completely freezing, and he sighed contentedly. "Ahhh, much better. You should be able to turn around now without violating your precious innocent eyes." Just as he spoke, he glanced down and frowned slightly, remembering the rather ghastly scar which marred the flesh across his chest, a permanent reminder of the cost his folly demanded. Running a finger over the roiling skin, his brows pushed together, recalling their flight from the beast, its flaming appendages flailing wildly as its source was consumed with cleansing fire. It's gone. It's gone. I saw it burn, lit the fire myself. It's gone.
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on May 6, 2018 10:37:11 GMT -8
"Oooh, it wasn't my eyes that I was worried about. I wasn't trying to startle you to death, poor thing."
Tilly turned about, pulling her hat, again, away from her face and setting it to rest daintily on her blonde head. She brushed herself off, as though she'd endured an entire ordeal, and made to stroll on over to a bench some two or three yards away.
Her eyes drifted to the pile of clothing, folded so neatly.
"Do you need your clothing scrubbed, too? Else you get dusty again just from putting them back on."
|
|
|
Post by azmoham on May 6, 2018 10:44:13 GMT -8
He gave her a look of mild surprise, startled from his memories by her question. "I'll attend to those myself, I'm sure I'll be able to, ahem, 'borrow' a washbasin from the church at some point in order to get those washed properly." Then again, the curious thing about priestly-peoples was their rather strangle lack of hygiene, he'd always heard and firmly believed that 'cleanliness is next to godliness' and yet he found no proof of that saying in most monasteries and churches he'd visited in his time. Still, there must be some sort of tub for cleaning the linens, otherwise the whole place would reek of priestly sweat, instead of incense and ink. "You seem...untroubled by domesticity, I figured you'd be more against the idea of settling down, to be honest. It never really seemed to be your aim, then again, I don't suppose it was my aim to end up hobbling about with a cane and prattling on like an old fool." He wasn't really sure what his aim had been, something about knowledge and magic and the secrets of the universe. Now he would be quite happy just to find somewhere to read and think in peace, maybe write a book if he felt sufficiently motivated.
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on May 6, 2018 11:02:02 GMT -8
"I... try not to think about it. It wasn't my decision." Tilly shifted uncomfortably in her seat, resting both elbows on her knees as she glanced towards one of the smallish windows in the walls. It allowed cool, dim light to pour into the bathhouse.
"No, it wasn't my decision. I've been a touch unwell as of late-- unfit to go out expeditioning, at least. I thought I'd keel over on that last one." She grimaced; typically she avoided thinking about it, focusing on the now... but now she was thinking on it.
It was unpleasant.
|
|
|
Post by azmoham on May 6, 2018 11:12:00 GMT -8
The mage nodded in understanding. There were many things that had transpired over the previous months and years that hadn't quite been his choice, and he'd simply been forced to follow along and pray things resolved themselves in an orderly manner that hopefully left him and his loved ones unscathed, or as close as they could be in a place like this. "Ahhh. Well, if it's any consolation, you'll be a wonderful mother and wife, I'm sure. Perhaps, perhaps it's for the best that you quit now while you're ahead, sane and healthy. I know that there are those who are never given such an option..." He said, thinking of his sister. When she was in the mood, which seemed to be more often than not, she had a penchant to drink and rant, about the Hamlet, about their Mother, about her scars and about bent swords, not turned to plows but merely made worthless by their defects. But would she trade that for this, a tattered body and mind wracked with illness for a life of quiet, homely tasks? He wasn't sure, his feeling was she'd sooner die of a blade than a babe, and would perfectly happy with it that way. And yet still, he couldn't help but wonder, had she found someone to keep her whole, better than him, able to offer what he never could, would she find some appeal in the serenity of being a wife and caregiver? It was absurd, to picture her in a matron's gown, leading some tot by the hand, cooing and babbling, but it was an absurdity better than her drunken rages and sighs she thought he didn't hear...
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on May 6, 2018 11:27:20 GMT -8
Tilly sighed and gave a wry, self-loathing smile.
"Oh, yes. Only the best mothers sell their baby's soul off before it's even born. That'll do it some good. I've a natural talent." She continued on, slouching in her seat, now, burying her chin rather sourly in the open, gloved palm of her hand. This is why she typically tried not to think on it.
"It won't... hurt it, will it? The curse and all..."
|
|
|
Post by azmoham on May 6, 2018 11:40:56 GMT -8
"Tsk, tsk, you didn't sell your child's soul, twas an accident...Unless of course you did sell its soul and have neglected to tell me thus far." He turned in the tub so he faced her, watching as she put her head into her hands. "You can't be blamed for an accident, or for Lekalis' rather horrid mismanaging for what seems to be a horrible curse. I don't know the whole of the matter, so I can't lay the blame at anyone's feet precisely, but I mist confess I find it odd he would willingly endanger yourself, and your child in such a manner." While it was true he certainly had gotten better at reserving judgement without full knowledge, he couldn't help but feel that the ex-lord had committed a rather terrible wrong by acting so recklessly. But, who was he to talk of acting recklessly? He had nearly died and killed several times, and had actually done it once just in his brief time in the Hamlet. To be fair, that clown was quite an ass, and he nearly had me at the end of a hangman's noose... he subconsciusly rubbed his throat, a glower coming to his face as he remembered that damn stupid jester, and then a small mean smile as he then recalled the sight of the man's smoldering head, his body twitching lifelessly on the floor of the tavern. Well, I like to think he learned his lesson at any rate, that being: don't provoke wizards, its terribly unwise. Self-indulgent and cruel as it was, he still couldn't deny the satisfaction that cretin's death brought him, even still. What a horrid, acrid, stupid beast he'd been, and the look on his face right before his head had been reduced to a smoking crater? That alone was enough to make his smirk nearly overtake his face. He pressed a palm to his lips and grinned in private for a moment, hoping the woman was too busy counting cobbles to notice his devilish mirth.
|
|