mnt_raph | [OOM: On the Road]

It's less than a day's ride from the Designated Tortoise to Corus, so Abigail and Raph saddled up Cloud and a loaner horse by the name of Colin and set out after just after lunch. They crossed into the city proper just as the shadows began to lengthen announcing the approach of night. Raph, who had spent his first few years in Tortall doing odd jobs in and about the city, had more than a few favors at his disposal. The best barn was open to the horses, while their people dined on the best fare at the best table, and later slept in the best bed the inn had to offer. Pretty damn auspicious way to start an Adventure, if Raph says so himself.

The following morning all travellers awoke refreshed and prepared for anything the day had to offer, which apparently a whole lot given the beautiful weather and overall quiet of the countryside. The group had only been travelling for a few hours when they reached that point in the journey where pleasant conversation falls by the wayside leaving only silence in its wake. The silence wasn't welcome. Making conversation was the only thing keeping Raph's mind from focusing on the any number of things he'd rather not be thinking about. Foremost on that particular list is the paranoia that at any moment he's going to fall off Colin.

In the nearly ten years that he has spent on this side of the door, Raph has only successfully ridden on Cloud for any extended duration. Horses, you see, make him nervous. So nervous that the horses, sensing this apprehension, can do nothing but react in kind. More than one has been guilty of throwing him from the saddle, and as such Raph has stuck close to Cloud and Cloud alone as much as possible. Cloud was there though out his seemingly endless Kane-like wandering of Tortall, and there was no way Raph was going to repay the poor pony's loyalty by making his cart his sorry ass around on another long journey. It just wouldn't be fair. Which is why during the four day trek towards the Swoop it will be Abigail riding Cloud, what with her being so much lighter than the bald Shang warrior riding to her left.

So far so good though, right? Colin seems to be behaving in spite of Raph's white knuckled death grip on the reins.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

mnt_raph

"That'd be nice," he says nuzzling into her neck. It's an action that stops the moment her reaction to his words sinks in. He...didn't even notice he said something.

"We uh...we worked nights. A lot."

From:

tortallan_npc

For a moment she's tempted to let the subject drop, in the hopes that maybe he'd get back to the neck nuzzling; but ultimately the ability to do so isn't in her makeup.

"When you were young," Abigail says, looking at him with mingled surprise and disbelief. "Sure, and I work nights one after t'other. Always have. I still fetch water and feed the horses, visit friends and take my brother a meal while Mithros lights the sky."

From:

mnt_raph

He rest his forehead on her shoulder, attempting to make this sound as droll as humanly possible.

"It wasn't like that. We just...didn't go out. We spent all day training inside, and then at night...we did rounds much like I do now. It wasn't a big thing."

From:

tortallan_npc

"Mmm hmm. High enough to where you couldn't hear the people in the streets?"

Her raised eyebrow is practically audible.

From:

mnt_raph

"Big buildings on big hills," he says easily. What? It's not entirely a lie.

From:

tortallan_npc

"And the streets," she continues, slightly suspicious, "they must've been at the base of big hills?"

The response was easy, sure, but something is as off as a soured barrel of ale. But it's that same feeling, that lump right there in her chest, that she's had since he told her about the other tavern. Milliways. Lips pursed, Abigail considers how to proceed.

"Tell me," she says, leaning down to kiss the top of his head; she stays like that, gently rubbing her cheek against him.

From:

mnt_raph

"Aye," he responds to her first question. The rhetorical one. It's not the pause that gets him, but the kiss. It almost startles him from his dealings with his own anxiety.

"About?"

Because playing dumb ALWAYS works.

From:

tortallan_npc

Abigail rolls her eyes toward the heavens, secure in the knowledge that he can't see it from his position.

"Trainin'. Rounds. When you were young."

The only sounds other than her voice are the trees rustling, the swish of horse tails and the slight snort Cloud gives as he pulls up a mouthful of grass. They are utterly, completely alone, for what feels like the first time.

From:

mnt_raph

Thank the Goddess he asked for clarification! He almost just went into a New York tale by accident. Crises averted!

"Isn't that much to tell, honestly. Mostly just a family affair. We were our own monastery, for the most part. My brothers, our Father, an' me. We trained in the day time. Mostly hand to hand combat at first, then as we got older there was weapons work. Schoolin' in between. Just a different branch of Shang called Ninjitsu."

From:

tortallan_npc

"No women?"

Abigail slowly leans forward, careful not to dislodge him, and grabs a chunk of bread.

"Goddess, no wonder you were always fightin'."

From:

mnt_raph

He chuckles. "No, no women. Not until we were in our teens anyway. An' even then only a couple at best."

Bread you say? Raph has been known to enjoy bread on occasion. Shang hands are quick when it comes to bread-napping.

From:

tortallan_npc

The frown on her face has everything to do with the stolen bread, not the thought of a teenage Raph discovering the opposite sex. She's choosy, but she's had her fair share of romances.

Raph just gets under her skin more than most.

"Where was this, then?" she asks conversationally, reaching over to tear a piece off the larger chunk.

From:

mnt_raph

Stolen food is the tastiest food, that is until someone asks you a question you'd rather not answer. Something like that can make even the most delectable of pilfered snacks go all sawdust in a guy's mouth.

"Back home."

From:

tortallan_npc

"That I figured," Abigail tells him, swallowing a quick laugh.

She smiles blandly and bites into the bread.

"Milliways?"

From:

mnt_raph

"No," he says, before he can think better of it. She knows he's not from Tortall, or even Olau. She's never straight out asked before, and he's never thought to offer the information...for various reasons.

"No one's really from Milliways. It..." he pauses to pop a bite of bread into his mouth, and then proceeds to talk with his mouth full. "It's a way station."

From:

tortallan_npc

For years she's assumed he's from the Copper Isles, Galla, Tusaine, Maren -- not Scanra -- or some country she's not heard of, but lately the likelihood of it has troubled her. A distant cousin of the Lioness not of Tortall is all he's ever shared willingly.

She hasn't pushed; he hasn't volunteered more. Until a Spidren attacked and he was worried enough to tell her of Milliways. That had shifted her reality, made her question everything she'd thought to be true, and real. She'd even consulted a mage, who'd looked at her oddly and spoken of the Realms.

A way station, he says. A place between worlds. Abigail's throat goes dry, and she has to sip wine in order to swallow the bread she'd been chewing.

"It's all different than I've thought, isn't it? The world," she says wonderingly. "I haven't asked. Mayhap I didn't want the truth, or wasn't ready for it. But I'd like it now."

Voice even and calm, she looks him in the eye as she speaks. There's still a sense that she'll wait for him to be ready and not punish him for it, but she wants him to know she's willing to hear and handle it now. She's with him in this. She's prepared.

From:

mnt_raph

Her declaration leaves him speechless, eyes the size of saucers blink at her. She thinks she's ready, doesn't she. Oh but she has no idea. None what so ever.

Raph holds her gaze for as long as he can stand it, but then eventually is forced to look away out of fear. Some great warrior he's turning out to be.

He pulls his arm back, running his open palm across his scalp.

"What do you want to know?" he says quietly. So quiet, that if she wasn't expecting him to speak she might have missed it.

From:

tortallan_npc

At his words, her heart does a quick flip in her chest. It's unsettling.

"Everything," she confesses, lips curving in a wry smile. "But I've no clear notion of what to ask."

Abigail threads her fingers together in her lap and squeezes, keeping herself from touching him, fussing over him. Whenever his eyes go hollow like that, she has an irrational urge to comfort or cuff him.

"Where you call home seems as good a start as any."

From:

mnt_raph

He gets that a lot.

Raph takes a deep breath, looks out onto the expanse of land before them, and exhales.

"It's called New York City, in a country called The United States of America. An' it was the year...." his face screws up in thought as he tries to remember the date the last time he was there. "I think it was 1998 or 1999. I'm not really sure."

From:

tortallan_npc

"New York City," Abigail breathes, the name feeling and sounding alien in her Tortallan accent. "United States of America."

When she was young, her father told her to repeat things until she made a memory and could recall them: the fair price of grain, how many tankards are in a barrel, the recipe for brown bread.

She doesn't think she'll forget this, but she repeats the names anyway.

"Is it like here?" she asks after a while. "Older, I suppose. Goddess knows we're a long ways from... 1999."

From:

mnt_raph

It's now that he turns back to her, with a smirk on his face.

"Not even remotely. There're other places back home that were like here at one point, but never New York. New York never had a king."

From:

tortallan_npc

No king? That gives her pause.

"Emperor?" she supposes.

The narration is glad Raph isn't from Chicago, as it would then be obliged to make a crack about Abe Froman.

From:

mnt_raph

Raph's already shaking his head.

"No Emperor. Folk that lead us do so 'cause they've been voted into power by the will of the people."

Not that Raph's ever voted....

From:

tortallan_npc

Loyalty to Tortall and the crown is bred into Abigail's bones, and is something she's never questioned; both have needed defending in her life, and both have her support. Tortall is home. But there's plenty she'd tell the king were he to stop in her tavern for a meal. Plenty she'd tell him needs fixing.

Less so now, since King Jonathan came to the throne.

Still, to have a say, to know your ruler listened to you, must be a fine thing indeed.

"Not sure I'd want some people we know havin' a say. Stupidity is the same, nobles and commoners alike."

But she's smiling as she says it.