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RESPITE FALLS - CAFE NEAR THE OLDHAMMER SMITHY - EARLY AFTERNOON
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Phoebe finally woke up this morning, more anxious and hurt than she's felt in a long time, the wolf's decision to 'open up' and try to do something she wanted to do ending disasterously with Aelia waking up the next morning. Stupid Erika. Stupid Ninell. And most especially, Stupid Phoebe. She grits her teeth, keeping an eye out for Cavro, hoping to be able to distract herself with... something else.
Orvac is at the Oldhammer, puttering -efficiently, of course- around the outside of the large doors as he moves a large delivery of coke and wood into the stocks, starting with the bagged coke sack by sack. There are dozens stacked outside, along with a cord of wood, a bit of a backlog dropoff. A certain cloaked figure is nowhere to be seen, and the badger taking the supplies into the smithy certainly looks like Cavro.
Phoebe growls, watching the Smithy for some time. She's spotted the badger going in and out, and eventually her recklessness gets the better of her, as she stands from her table and heads across the street to follow after him, whichever 'him' this is. "Hey."
Orvac turns to the unfamiliar voice, seeming to take a moment before straightening up and nodding to Phoebe. His smile is welcoming as he greets her. "Good day. I hope you're doing well. What can I do for you?"
Phoebe crosses her arms, taking a moment to take the measure of this other badger. "I'm looking to get some knives made. Someone lost mine." She really wishes Aelia could hear her right now. "So what's your name, then?"
Orvac blinks, humming to himself. "Knives? Two? Twins, maybe? Or more?" He picks up another sack of coke, hefting it onto his shoulder and carrying it inside, apparently distracted from the conversation. He calls back out through the door, "Come in, draw them if you can! And My name is Cavro, everyone else who comes to me seems to know. Sorry for not introducing myself, I suppose."
Phoebe shrugs, picking up a small shovel blade and examining the craftsmanship. "Twin blades? I like the sound of that, yeah. And, eh I'm still new in town. I'm Phoebe." She stares at the spade head, turning it in her hands, "I'm not really good at telling quality, but this seems like good work."
Orvac dumps the bag of coke into the bin, stepping back out from a cloud of dust and returning to Phoebe. "Mmh? Oh yes, the spades are as solid as the hammer would make them." He sets a few sheets of paper and a piece of charcoal on the cluttered work bench for Phoebe. "What shape would you like the knives? What are they needed for?" Beyond the initial niceties, the badger seems interested in talking business only, though if that is by choice or habit could be hard to tell.
Phoebe replaces the shovel head, "Self-defense, mostly. Just something I can keep on me, hidden. Just in case. I'm sure you understand, what with all that business with the Saur, it's worth having a weapon at hand, hm?" She glances around, "Guessing you've been at this a long time hm?"
Orvac nods firmly. "As long as I can recall. The Saur..? They're why orders of fuel weren't coming? My forge almost went out. Maybe a few weeks of coke left. A lot less just before it finally came. That would... Not be good. For the smithing. Need the fire." He looks to the forge, seemingly soothed by gazing into the infernal core. "Draw your blade, please. I'd like to se what you want of the forge."
Phoebe raises an eyebrow. "You really didn't notice the whole... war thing? They cut off the supply lines. Draw my blade...?" It takes her a moment to realize he means a design, and is not asking her to pull a weapon on him. She sets about this task, drawing a fairly simple, utilitarian blade, curved like a hunter's knife, the design is a little more predatory than 'self-defense' suggests. "There. As long as you can recall, eh? I mean, I'm guessing you didn't make the forge yourself, it looks like it's been here awhile. So, apprenticed here?"
Orvac carries another sack of coke in while she's drawing, returning to the table when she's finished. He picks up the drawing and turns it over, examining it from a few angles before quickly sketching it out on a piece of iron. "All my life. The forge was made by a man named Smitty. He started small, but built it with care. It remembers him. This is no good." He wipes the chalk off the iron, drawing the same outline onto another piece instead and examining it. "The war didn't concern me. The guards are the ones who fight, this forge was only involved in making their weapons."
Phoebe hrmphs at her design being called 'no good'. "You coulda just done that from the start. Eh, I get it. Self-preservation has to come first, right?" She glances at the forge, following his gaze. "It remembers him, eh? The Forge remember anything else? It saying anything about me?"
Orvac tilts his head, looking to Phoebe, then to the forge. "I don't think so." He carries the iron with Phoebe's redrawn outline on it over to the forge, reaching into the shimmering core and laying her piece within. He turns back to her, looking to the ash falling from his undamaged fur before shaking his head. "No. Should it?"
Phoebe shrugs. "Probably nothing about me. Not like I've ever done anything in here before." She pauses, considering. "What about previous smiths? It remember them? Whoever came after Smitty?"
Orvac hums, looking to the wolf. "I came after Smitty. The ash recalls the badger. He... Being I, learned from Smitty." He pauses, looking to the work bench with a slight squint.
Phoebe nods, smirking a little. "He... being you? Weird way to say it, but I don't know him. Or you. I mean, I get it. I've got days I feel like I'm someone else. Actually, kinda like the knives you're making me. Right? Twins."
Orvac turns back to Phoebe, crossing his arms. "Don't feel like someone else at all. I am myself." He looks to the first piece of iron, redrawing the blade onto it despite his mild protest and laying it inside the fires beside the other. His hand lingers in the hot ash for a few seconds, the badger pulling it back and spilling some ash onto the mantle before returning to the workbench.
Phoebe: "Never seen a badger who could stick his hand into a blazing forge, that's all I'm saying." She glances towards the wall. "Awful lot of tools there pulling stuff out of the forge."
Orvac blinks, looking toward the tools. "Hm? The forge doesn't hurt, so why waste time getting the tongs?" He stares at the workbench. "It's never hurt me."
Phoebe gives a low whistle. "You got me, there. Skills like that are rare, as far as I've heard. I'd wager other badgers aren't so lucky."
Orvac looks to Phoebe, humming. "Other badgers. You keep saying other badgers. I haven't met any other badgers in all my time here. Why so specific?"
Phoebe shrugs with a bit of a knowing grin, "What? I'm just talking about other blacksmiths. Honestly, I don't have much experience. But certainly there's other badgers. And probably some of them are blacksmiths, right?"
Orvac narrows his eyes at Phoebe, brushing the ashes off his fur to the floor. "That makes sense." He hesitates, "Why did you say you feel like someone else? That sounds strange, no?"
Phoebe hesitates for the first time, narrowing her eyes in turn. She leans back against the wall, in an empty space between the various tools, "You want truths, Cavro? I can give you truths, but they might be hard to swallow." She glances away, thinking. "Alright. Let me tell you the truth about me, yeah? Then maybe we can get to the truth about you."
Orvac finds himself focused entirely on Phoebe, rather than the forge for once, seemingly committing everything about her to memory unlike with most typical customers. He vaguely gestures toward her. "Sounds fair. I did ask."
Phoebe points a thumb back at herself, speaking entirely too casually for her words, "I'm not real. I mean, I'm flesh, but it's not really mine. I'm the product of magic. A curse, on someone else. She falls asleep, and I wake up."
Orvac blinks, letting out a single short laugh. "You take over her body? Or are you just a different personality in the same wolf?"
Phoebe smirks wickedly, bearing her fangs. "I take it over. She's just a deer. A lonely dancer named Aelia. She's the original. I sorta have memories of her life, cause when she's awake I can hear her thinking them. I can't ever rest. Not like she can. Cause I'm just the curse. I'm the price for whatever she did wrong."
Orvac: "...That sounds complicated. What do you plan to do about it? Or are you just going to continue living like that forever? Taking over her body when you can, living in her head when you can't."
Phoebe frowns, and the truth she was offering seems to vanish. "I'm... we're working on that. But complicated is the word of the day, Cavro. It's not like I can truly 'live a life' like this anyways."
Orvac shakes his head slightly, setting a hand against his hip. "No... neither can she, you think? So that's your truth, but what of me? You seem to think you know more about me than I do."
Phoebe takes a deep breath. "The truth is... there's a second Cavro. Another badger, who apprenticed here, and worked here. You've got his memories, or he's got yours, but just like me and Aelia, you two are halves of the same coin. I'm here cause he doesn't have the courage to speak to you. ...or maybe I just don't have his compassion. Hell, I don't know. This was his life, and he's given it up because he doesn't want to take it from you. And that's really hard for someone in my position not to recognize."
Orvac stares at her for a few moments, left hand moving to grip his right forearm. "What? Another... Me?" He looks to the forge, some pieces clicking. "So I can't remember the training because I didn't live it... But I know how by... instinct? No." He shakes his head, "That's... Insane. I'm me. I'm Cavro. Right?" He steps toward the furnace slowly. "It's too familiar to be fake."
Phoebe shrugs, "It's magic, hell if I know how it works. I don't know what made me, honestly. I just assume it's a curse cause who'd want to live half a life like this, with someone else living the other half? You and he, whatever you two are, are seperate, at least. Hell, near as I can tell, the only reason he's not moved on is cause he loves this forge as much as you seem to."
Orvac sets his hands on the mantle of the forge, taking a breath. "You're sure... Then?" He sets his hand on the hot ashes, grimacing. "I see it. The forge knows Cavro. These fires know the care of the badger... He built the bellows that breathe into it... I don't remember doing that... I've only ever worked iron, with the heart of the fire." He looks over his shoulder to Phoebe, a deeply sadness in his eyes.
Phoebe shifts forward, no longer leaning so casually against the wall. "I did say... hard truths. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I've had awhile to come to terms with what I am. But I still understand what you're feeling, at least a little." She glances away from his eyes after a moment and reaches up to rub her shoulder awkwardly, part of her definitely feeling bad for breaking his heart like this.
Orvac watches her look away from him, fingertips digging into the ashes as he tries to come to terms with this. "Impostor. I'm not real, just an impostor. He looks to the iron pieces he'd set into the flames with Phoebe's design on them. "No. I'm... Cavro. Or... I'm not." He draws his hands back from the ash, spilling the hot dust to the mantle and floor. "Who am I? The fake... Or Cavro? Myself. I'm... I'm Cavro. Cavro. I am the smith... Impostor..." He growls, banging his fist on the stone. "No..." Again. "Yes..." Again. "No!" And again. "FAKE!" A burst of ash clouds the front of the forge suddenly, the smith's angry gesture carrying through past the mantle, though his right arm ends in a crumbling stump, rather than a balled fist. He looks stunned for a moment, but realization dawns as his expression clears. He starts to turn toward Phoebe, but falls away into a mess of grey powder on the floor, the air escaping from under the cloud not carrying much of a gasp.
Phoebe braces herself, tensing up for combat if it comes to that, only to realize what's happening. She takes a few steps forward, wanting to reach out to comfort or support him, but the heat and ash doesn't make that easy at all, and before she knows what's happening, the elemental crumbles away before her eyes as Phoebe watches helplessly. "H-holy shit... no... that's not... that's not what was supposed to happen! You... you had a chance to make your own life... You had A CHANCE!" Her fists, balled in rage, she howls out in fury and sorrow, "You fucking idiot! You... you were like me... another freak like me..." She drops to her knees, at the edge of the ashes, staring down at them as if they'll give her some answer.
Narrator: The Pile of Ash does not seem to respond to Phoebe. Meanwhile the iron with her knife designs has become red-hot, and the bellows continue huffing their breath into the furnace.
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RESPITE STREETS - JUST AFTER DUSK
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Narrator: The sun has just set over Respite, the foot traffic around the town slowly dying down, and the streets emptying as the light dies out. The town is rarely 'dangerous' after dark, but it is a good time for those who are lying low, who may not wish to make a spectacle, to emerge, and try out things they had long been denied...
Kira is on her initial rounds for the night, checking to make sure that the various magitech lamps are illuminating properly, as well as lighting the few oil lamps by shops and houses that haven't had the funds to upgrade yet. Everything is going smoothly as she finishes up the sidestreets and moves back onto the main street
Xochicoatl glides awkwardly down from the sky close to Kira, shakily trying to flap her wings enough to gain lift, but her attempts are untrained. She impatiently tries to stretch her body upward, as if she can slither through the air, but instead it just throws off her weight, and instead of ascending she tips forward and crashes to the ground, hitting the ground and rolling into a crumpled ball of feathers and tail just ahead of Kira, as the young coatl groans, shaking off the latest failed attempt to fly.
Kira starts back as an ungraceful sky noodle crashes past her. In the darkness and commotion, recognition isn't immediate, and so instead Kira just flies down first to check on the hapless flyer. "Are you injured, miss?"
Xochicoatl untangles herself slowly, stretching out her wings to ensure they were not injured before folding them back against her. She smiles kindly to the concerned moth. "Ugh. No, no. I am not. Apologiesss if I ssstartled you. My attemptsss to fly... well, they have yet to bear fruit. I almossst had lift that time! I felt it!"
Kira cocks her head as she hears the voice and takes in some of its features, feeling a touch confused. "Ah, well... perhaps it would be better to practice flying somewhere... softer to land?" She flutters up and brings up her lantern to get a more illuminated look at the serpent.
Xochicoatl chuckles, a familiar rasping sound, as she dusts herself off a little, "I am unfamiliar with thisss town, I fear. And it this ground isss not ssso hard. Mossst of the time I have sssuccessfully glided myssself down sssafely. Only when I am impatient, do I crasssh like that."
Kira squints at Xochi's features, noticing the younger features and the difference in size and color compared to her missing friend. "Ah, I suppose. Apologies for the scrutiny, but you remind me of a friend who is missing..."
Xochicoatl tilts her head. "...Captain Louma? I have been told ssshe is Coatl, like I. I am sssupposed to meet her, but ssshe is gone."
Kira perches on the edge of a planter made from half of an old barrel and shakes her head. "No no, Captain Louma is away on holiday... My friend is an much older coatl, but can't fly..."
Xochicoatl slithers up closer, her tail noticably shorter with her young age. "More Coatl here? How ssstrange. Though, none pureblood, like I." She shifts back, giving Kira a proper bow. "I am Xochicoatl, pleased to make your acquaintence."
Kira blinks, but bows in return. "Ah, I believe she is, yes, but I don't know where she's gone, as I said. I am Kira, lamplighter and guard scout..." She frowns as she bows, pondering this turn of events. If Xochi is under some sort of spell, she won't be able to break it alone.
Xochicoatl smiles again, "A pleasssure, Kira. I would be very interesssted in meeting your friend! Ssshe and Captain Louma can sssurely both aid me when the day comesss that I can retake my throne." She giggles, "This may sssound foolisssh, but I am a Princessss."
Kira just nods in assent to this young Xochi's words, not wanting to risk angering or confusing her. "Yes, of course. If she... where could my friend find you if she returns soon?"
Xochicoatl glances down the street and points, "I have been ssstaying at Captain Louma'sss home, awaiting her return. A friend brought me there, by name of Vix. I admit, It isss rather dull, after all the excitement of coming here to Ressspite. It isss why I have been sssneaking out at night to try and learn to fly."
Kira nods to Xochi. "Ah, well stay there so that we can find you again... and good luck with your flying. Sadly, I don't know how feathered wings work, so I can't offer much advice with the flight. I do wish you the best of luck though." She flutters up. "I must return to my duties, but it was a pleasure meeting you, Princess Xochicoatl..."
Xochicoatl presses her hands together and bows, "Friendsss may call me Xochicoatl, pleassse. I look forward to talking more, Kira, to both you and your friend. And ahh... I ssshall continue my attemptsss. I ssshall learn in time! Thank you."
Kira gives a small bow before fluttering off to continue checking the lanterns about town, though her mind is on the state of her friend and what happened to her.
Xochicoatl turns back towards her task, taking a deep breath and preparing to climb up onto the rooftop once again, determined to learn flight one way or another.