Mari + Rhys // Friendship
Who: Mari and Rhys
When: November 21
Where: Warehouse fights!
Rating & Warnings: PG for gambling? Otherwise this is pretty G. And fluffy.
In which there are surprisingly few bad decisions.
The luck potion went down easily, sending a buzz through her limbs which left her skipping half the way to the boxing ring. It was dark - the night seemed to grow till it encompassed the day in Tyrol and Mari thought about half-remembered myths and stories where the seasons and planets were people. What happened in those? Summer was kidnapped by winter, or went into hiding... She breathed air into her hands, wondering how much was right, how much her sister had made up and how much was missing because of her own faulty memory.
The fight tonight was housed in an old warehouse of some kind. She slipped in, looking for a red head amongst the crowd. Who was fighting? She saw a bookie go past and hailed him quickly. He reeled off two names and she bet on the one she liked best. The key with a luck potion was to let go of any second-guessing and go with whatever you felt was best.
Rhys knew where to find the fights without issue. Once or twice-- well, maybe thrice... or more-- he had tried his hand at the arena himself. Didn't need to talk to fight, after all. Gawain had given him a good thrashing, but that had turned out to be for the better and Rhys had come out smarter. Betting wasn't Rhys' style at least not with other people's lives, but he was content to watch the fights and learn what he could.
He spotted Mari placing her own bet and waved to her as he wove through the crowd to meet her. He smiled. It was good to see Mari again, and not her acted counterpart.
Mari caught sight of a redhead out of the corner of her eye just as she finished the transaction and turned to wave. With anyone else, she wouldn't have bothered with a boxing ring - inevitably crowded places left it difficult to understand anything anyone said. One of the upsides of having a friend who couldn't talk was not having to struggle to pick out what he said.
"Hey, how've you been doing?" She gave him a wide smile. It was always good to see Rhys. He was level-headed enough to temper some of her worse decisions, but easy-going enough to let her go through with them anyway.
Rhys gave half a shrug as he gestured to himself to signal he was the same as always. There weren't any new scars. Not since the Citadel got up and walked around. He gestured for her to follow him and took hold of her arm so she wouldn't get lost while slipping back into the crowd to Rhys' chosen seat up on some leftover stacked boxes, just high and awkward enough to keep the others from claiming it for themselves.
He offered a hand to Mari to help her up. It may not have been a front row seat, but the height let them see clearly enough, and it was better than being knocked around by a careless, cheering crowd.
Mari kept an eye on his movements, her tongue touching her front tooth, mentally taking notes for the next time she tried on Abel. Rhys was gallant. So was Abel, but less so, more of a fop than her sweet and strong friend.
She took his hand, grinning slightly at the seats. The further away they were, the better for her. Wearing Abel's glasses had made her more conscious of her far-sightedness. Being sat away from the ring would help her forget about it for a while. She patted him on the shoulder. "Good seats, these."
Rhys flashed a smile at Mari, but shied away just as quickly with the praise. For as much as there was talk about pushing Mari from towers, and as much as Rhys was beginning to see the lengths her bad decisions would go to, she was still one of the nicer people he knew. The fact that he was supposed to be her boss slipped his mind. He liked just being friends better.
He glanced back again, miming uncorking a small bottle and taking a drink and gesturing to her curiously. He didn't know if potions had corks like that, but he imagined they did.
She looked at him blankly. This was the trouble with miming; she didn't know if he was asking whether she wanted some wine or about the potion. Rhys didn't drink, did he? She settled on the potion, taking the small bottle out of her bag and pointing to it. "Drank some already."
He wouldn't want some, would he? She dropped it back into her bag, pulling her bag around so that she could rest it on her lap. "Have you made a bet?" The happy feeling that came from making decisions whilst under the influence of a luck potion came back and she leaned back a little with a grin. Things would go well, they always did.
Rhys nodded with the answer, watching her a while longer with a careful gaze. Did it had any other effects? How else would it make her different? Some of Rhys' best friends were others, but something about this magic he didn't quite trust. The whole messing with heads thing, probably. A person's thoughts should be their own, unmolested by strange little potions. But if they took the potion voluntarily, that was their own thought too-- their choice.
Philosophy was annoying. He shook his head in response as he turned back to watch the match, tapping his chin in thought, then pointing to the one he would have bet on, were he into that sort of thing. It was the smaller fighter, or underdog, perhaps. This was why Rhys didn't bet.
Mari nodded at his decision. "That's who I bet on, I think." He looked speedy. It would be a good match, if he could avoid the bigger man's attacks. Leaning forward, she rested her arms on her bag, her wrists crossing. "I'm not sure. I just went with the one I liked the sound of."
She'd have to remember his name to find out if she'd won. Even if she didn't, something good would happen as a result. This was the thing about luck potions, they made it impossible to be cynical about anything. Every meeting led to something good, every setback was a blessing in disguise. Generally speaking, she was almost always certain that things would turn out alright, even if it took years, but ingesting a potion that guaranteed that made it easier to believe.
Rhys preferred to focus on the smaller fighters. He wasn't as short as Abel tended to imply. At least, he didn't think so. Maybe spending so much time with Siegmund had made Rhys believe he was comparatively taller than he actually was. In any case, Rhys wasn't exactly what someone would call large, either. It was important to see what the right-- and wrong-- things to do against a larger opponent were. Like taking a fist to the face, for example. Rhys winced in sympathy, hoping that wasn't the fighter Mari bet on.
He glanced to Mari, taken back by how relaxed she was. Not moments later did the other fighter turn things around in his favor, winning the match. Rhys could only blink, rubbing the back of his neck with a small smile.
"That went well!" It really had. Rhys hadn't been the only one examining the fighters. With the number of situations she was in that went violent, picking up strategy ideas past 'run, very quickly' was something Mari had been trying to do recently. So far, her repertoire had expanded to 'punch them in the face and run' and 'poke them in the eyes and run'. She'd have to learn more in case she ever met with Cristofolo again but that was what Gawain's lessons were for.
"Time to collect my winnings. I'll buy you dinner!" Jumping off their crates, she offered him a hand, the way he'd offered her one to get up there, a small grin tugging at the side of her mouth.
Rhys grinned back, not needing the help, but taking Mari's hand all the same as he hopped down with a nod of thanks. He took the lead to help her weave her way through the resulting crowd now that the fight had finished, smiling back at her now and again. It may not have been enough winnings for Mari to start her own gang, but Rhys wasn't going to argue with a free dinner.
Mari collected her winnings (a decent amount, if a little unimpressive to anyone with a steadier wage than she had) and grinned widely at him. "There's a nice little place, just round the corner," she pointed, taking the lead. "Come on, you'll like it."
To his relief, Mari wasn't so different on the luck potion. Just as impulsive, but with a little magical help for those impulses, it seemed. Rhys smiled back (he was doing a lot of that, lately) and followed her. It was difficult to dislike a free meal, but he would trust her further than that on this one.
The inn was one of the many quiet, family owned places dotted around Tyrol. It was small, but the clientèle was mostly older men and women. It was easy to find a quiet spot in the corner and order a meal, with no crowds taking up the good table or the time of the kitchen staff. Waiting for it to arrive, Mari pressed her thumb against her front teeth, eyeing an elderly man smoking a pipe by the fire and reading a small pamphlet. It wasn't long enough to agonise over, but every time he finished it, he moved his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other and turned the piece of paper over in his hands.
"He looks like my grandpa." It was mostly the age they had in common, but the clothes and the pipe were similar too. Tapping the table, she turned to Rhys with a smile. "Good fight, right? I'm not really a judge of those things. You'll have to tell me."
Quiet was welcome change of pace from the atmosphere of the Fox'n'Crown, which was about the only place Rhys knew to go on his own. It was out of the cold, too, and Rhys let himself curl his arms around his head as he rested him on the table a moment, soaking in the warmth. He lifted back up when Mari smoke, smiling and looking to the old man. He'd never known a grandparent of his own himself.
Rhys nodded, smile more of a grin now as he punched into his own palm. How could he begin without words? Or with words? That had been Rhys' favorite kind of fight: when it looked grim for someone who managed to turn it around. He tried to make a gesture, obviously animated from excitement, but also aware he wasn't able to express much of anything. Had he been able to speak, it probably would have come off as nonsensical babble.
She laughed at his animation, reading his happiness from it. "That good, then?" That was sort of an adorable reaction to two men beating each other bloody.
Mari leaned forwards a little, resting her elbows on her legs and looking around the room. A serving girl was making her way over with their orders and she waved with a grin. Soup, soup, soup. She didn't know why she'd ordered it. It would be good, she decided, even though the small quantity of the potion she'd taken was probably wearing off by now. "Have you seen many fights?" Or did he just know about them from getting in them?
Rhys rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly at the laugh, but smiled and nodded.
He had ordered the same. It was easier to gesture for what Mari had gotten than fumble around for something else at the time. Soup was fine with him, though. He ate slowly, and it might be cold by the time he finished, but Rhys had learned to live with that.
Seen many? Rhys started to nod, but stopped and shook his palm back and forth. He had seen many fights, but most of them weren't from any kind of arena. With another sheepish grin, he gestured to himself and mimed the punch again, faking a wince. Being a spectator usually turned into participation before long.
Mari stuck a spoonful of soup in her mouth, watching his gestures. They were, thankfully, easy to decipher. "Lotsa fights," she mumbled around the spoon, then took it out of her mouth to try and speak clearer. "You've been in lots of fights?" At the battle of the Hour, he'd been very handy. That was indicative of experience.
The soup was hot and thick, delicious too. Good choice, she congratulated herself, taking another spoonful. The older fellow by the fire finished his pamphlet once more, then turned it over to begin to reread.
Resting her elbow on the table and her cheek on her hand, she watched him thoughtfully. "Did you see any ghosts, earlier in the month?" Marijke had seen people, Rowan had seen Lenore, Moirine had seen Allen. It was intrusive to ask, but...there was really nothing to add to that. It was intrusive to ask.
Rhys nodded to confirm. Being understood this easily put him in a good mood, allowing him to enjoy the soup until Mari's next question. The memory of his mother leapt straight into Rhys' skull and he choked on his soup, accidentally swallowing into his lungs instead of his stomach. He covered his mouth and held up a hand to preemptively signal that he was fine until he calmed himself.
Little late to play that reaction off as nothing, wasn't it? Hand still over his mouth and eyes still watery from the fit, Rhys gave the smallest of possible nods.
She winced at the choking, leaning over and reaching around to pat him on the back. So that was a 'yes', then. Why else would he have choked? Probably a bad memory. She shouldn't ask any more about it. A good friend would probably change the subject to something else.
"Who did you meet?" Shifting until she was upright again, Mari stuck her spoon back in the soup, before remembering her manners. "If you're alright talking about it," she added, the spoon still in mid-air.
Rhys justified not talking about most things in his life because of the dangers of information, but he had been running out of excuses to keep quiet about the past. It was devoid of usefulness. I don't want to talk about it probably would have sufficed, but that wasn't entirely true anymore, either. Mari had let slip a lot of things about herself, from her family to her friend (well, weird friend) the Occia. Seemed one sided.
Lacking any convenient mimes for this conversation, Rhys decided to try the trick he learned with Dominic. Intrusive, maybe, but so was the question, and it's not like he and Mari hadn't touched hands before. Rhys reached for her hand and lifted her palm up, using his thumb to trace out M-O-M lightly on her skin. Short words and answers worked best here.
Mari waited patiently to see what he'd do with her hand, looking down at the table to concentrate on what he was spelling out rather than how ticklish her palms apparently were. It took her a moment to get it, her eyebrows moving together and face clouding slightly. Wow, that must have hurt.
Had Rhys ever mentioned his parents? He seemed so alone and spoke about himself so little that she generally assumed he'd sprung forth fully grown from the ether. "That must have been tough."
Rhys kept his eyes on Mari's hand to avoid looking up. Tough. He had thought his mother was alive. Maybe one day he'd be an even more important Whisper than he was. Maybe one day he would have the power to send more men out to gather information. Didn't matter now. Rhys forced himself to smile and gave a dismissive wave of his hand, but his eyes betrayed him. In reality, it had been six years. To Rhys, not even a month had passed.
He tried to smile again, weakly, tugging down his scarf to gesture to the scars on his throat before letting his hands drop to the table with a shrug. Linking the two incidents might give Mari a better idea of how it happened. Even with words, it was a strange situation to explain.
It took her a few moments to work everything out. Had she been killed when he'd gotten his scars? She couldn't ask for confirmation without risking upsetting him worse, but that seemed about right.
Standing up, Mari dragged the chair around until she was sat next to him, then wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 'Tough' probably didn't cover it. "I'm sorry," didn't either, but it was all she could really think of to say.
Rhys snapped his eyes to Mari when she moved to sit next to him, taken aback by the hug. Once his surprise had passed, the gesture won an earnest smile out of him. He brought an arm gently around Mari to return it as he looked to her with a nod of thanks.
Maybe it didn't cover it, but it was enough for him.
"If it helps," though it seemed like he was doing alright on his own. She'd started now though, best to finish. "From what I hear, they're all in a land with eternal youth, no pain and no sickness." How had Tesni described it? Endless fields.
Mari gave his shoulders one last squeeze, then moved back to her soup. Frowning, aware she was probably about to say something awkward if she stopped concentrating on not talking, she tried to balance her spoon upright in her soup, catching it when it started to fall. "I know someone who brought someone back from the dead," she mumbled. "If that makes you feel better also. I'm going to stop talking." If she hated anything, it was people who tried to make you feel better about death, yet here she went doing the same. Maybe she'd just stick her face in the bowl of soup and hope for the best.
Rhys paused to consider that, glancing at nothing in particular. Eternal youth, huh? She did look younger. Mother was a little vain. She'd like something like that. He returned to his soup, though stirred it idly before he managed to continue eating.
He glanced up at Mari again, almost grinning. Saying anything that might help, huh? That was probably something everyone wished for-- for people they cared about to come back. Mari was friends with a witch, and Rhys doubted whatever magic or Belief involved with that was without side effects. Mother seemed happy enough, and if that sort of land existed, there wouldn't be any reason to bring her back. She was probably happier now. Relaxed. Someplace where she didn't have to look after him.
Rhys shook his head, smiling and gesturing from his mouth. It was fine that Mari talked. Meant she cared, at least. And that made him feel better. It didn't even matter what she said.
He didn't seem to be upset by her words. Mari pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, smiling genuinely at him. She did care about Rhys, and not just because they were countrymen. He was a good person and an even better friend; seeing him happy was good. People were always so sure that she'd die soon, and judging by the fact that in the past six months she'd barely gone a two week stretch without her life being threatened, they were probably right. If she did, she'd work out some way to come back briefly, maybe carry a message from him to his mother if he wanted.
Though if she did that, she'd probably end up forcing herself to do the same for Moirine and Allen and wow she did not want to see Allen again. Maybe that was a bad idea.
"We should probably..." words. Hard to think of right ones. "Finish the soup."
Rhys laughed silently. Yeah, probably. He twirled his spoon between his fingers before nodding to return to his meal. Much as there was the temptation to grab the bowl and drink it, that didn't seem to fit the atmosphere of this particular establishment, nor did Rhys want to risk choking again.
It hadn't been the most uplifting conversation, but Rhys admitted it was nice to feel like he could say something. He focused on that aspect of it, not willing to allow the mood to darken again. It was a nice day out, all things considered, and there was no need to leave it on a somber note. Rhys made sure to smile if she ever glanced at him to let her know things were fine.
She smiled back when she caught his smiles, but focused on finishing her soup. The conversation was better the more distance they put between themselves and it, and the soup really was good. Truth be told, it was nice to have a day out where she wasn't thinking about Moirine doing something stupid, werewolves, or the thousand other terrible things Tyrol liked to throw at its citizens.
"We're going to have a winter dinner," she told him cheerfully, as she scraped the bottom of her soup bowl. Mari was fairly certain she could drag Marijke into helping with this, and she turned into a happy little kid whenever the thought of doing something that might make the both of them happy came up. "For Christmas. Next month. You should come."
Rhys looked up from his bowl with a blink of surprise. He'd heard of Christmas, but being from Balfour, never found himself celebrating it. Or celebrating much of anything, for that matter. He pointed to himself, only to feel silly when he had. There was still a part of Rhys that was taken off guard about being invited, well, anywhere.
He smiled though, nodding. Why not? Rhys doubted he would have anywhere else to be.
Mari beamed widely at him. Of course they still had to find a chicken - Rowan could pay for that - and some vegetables - Rowan could also pay for those - and presents - Rowan was an incredibly generous person - but planning it and inviting people, that was exciting.
Besides, likely they'd invite Moirine. It would be good to have a balancing force who could keep her from- She wasn't going to think about that. None of the options that might end that sentence would end well for anyone. "Great. It'll be fun."
As soon as Rhys learned about the whole present aspect, you could bet he would be dedicating a week or so of scrambling for thoughts on what would be best for the others. Especially Mari and Cerys-- the better you knew your friends, the harder gifts became. But for now Rhys just smiled, nodding in agreement and finishing off the last of his soup.
With everything that had happened the last few months, it was good to have something to look forward to. Things were beginning to calm down, and the rumors surrounding the winter holidays tended to be less... spooky than those of autumn. Maybe Belief would give them something good for a change.
He noticed they were both done, not without some disappointment. It was a nice outing. Rhys would walk Mari back to the Hour, at least.
Mari dropped enough coins to cover their meal and leave a small tip over on the table, standing up and patting him gently on the shoulder.
"Time to head back, I guess." She smiled down at him. "Thanks for coming out with me." It'd been such a nice day. No awkwardness, no fighting, no terrible things happening. Just a nice outing of betting and dinner.
Rhys stood up with Mari, nodding. Nodding seemed to be a lot of what he did, so he tried his own playful fist tap against her arm as he smiled for something a little more comradely. He gestured to the door with his hand and a toss of his head to let her know he would walk her back, holding the door for her as they left to let her know he would walk her back. If such a thing could be communicated at all.
It had been a nice time. He'd hate to here about sudden werewolf assaults over the ledgers later if he left now.
She laughed a little at the door being held open for her. Rarely did anyone do that for her. Probably because she was fairly terrible. Nodding politely at the open door, she linked her arm through his and waved in the vague direction of the Hour. "Walk me back?"
Rhys grinned as they linked arms and nodded, smiling all the way back to the Hour.
When: November 21
Where: Warehouse fights!
Rating & Warnings: PG for gambling? Otherwise this is pretty G. And fluffy.
In which there are surprisingly few bad decisions.
The luck potion went down easily, sending a buzz through her limbs which left her skipping half the way to the boxing ring. It was dark - the night seemed to grow till it encompassed the day in Tyrol and Mari thought about half-remembered myths and stories where the seasons and planets were people. What happened in those? Summer was kidnapped by winter, or went into hiding... She breathed air into her hands, wondering how much was right, how much her sister had made up and how much was missing because of her own faulty memory.
The fight tonight was housed in an old warehouse of some kind. She slipped in, looking for a red head amongst the crowd. Who was fighting? She saw a bookie go past and hailed him quickly. He reeled off two names and she bet on the one she liked best. The key with a luck potion was to let go of any second-guessing and go with whatever you felt was best.
Rhys knew where to find the fights without issue. Once or twice-- well, maybe thrice... or more-- he had tried his hand at the arena himself. Didn't need to talk to fight, after all. Gawain had given him a good thrashing, but that had turned out to be for the better and Rhys had come out smarter. Betting wasn't Rhys' style at least not with other people's lives, but he was content to watch the fights and learn what he could.
He spotted Mari placing her own bet and waved to her as he wove through the crowd to meet her. He smiled. It was good to see Mari again, and not her acted counterpart.
Mari caught sight of a redhead out of the corner of her eye just as she finished the transaction and turned to wave. With anyone else, she wouldn't have bothered with a boxing ring - inevitably crowded places left it difficult to understand anything anyone said. One of the upsides of having a friend who couldn't talk was not having to struggle to pick out what he said.
"Hey, how've you been doing?" She gave him a wide smile. It was always good to see Rhys. He was level-headed enough to temper some of her worse decisions, but easy-going enough to let her go through with them anyway.
Rhys gave half a shrug as he gestured to himself to signal he was the same as always. There weren't any new scars. Not since the Citadel got up and walked around. He gestured for her to follow him and took hold of her arm so she wouldn't get lost while slipping back into the crowd to Rhys' chosen seat up on some leftover stacked boxes, just high and awkward enough to keep the others from claiming it for themselves.
He offered a hand to Mari to help her up. It may not have been a front row seat, but the height let them see clearly enough, and it was better than being knocked around by a careless, cheering crowd.
Mari kept an eye on his movements, her tongue touching her front tooth, mentally taking notes for the next time she tried on Abel. Rhys was gallant. So was Abel, but less so, more of a fop than her sweet and strong friend.
She took his hand, grinning slightly at the seats. The further away they were, the better for her. Wearing Abel's glasses had made her more conscious of her far-sightedness. Being sat away from the ring would help her forget about it for a while. She patted him on the shoulder. "Good seats, these."
Rhys flashed a smile at Mari, but shied away just as quickly with the praise. For as much as there was talk about pushing Mari from towers, and as much as Rhys was beginning to see the lengths her bad decisions would go to, she was still one of the nicer people he knew. The fact that he was supposed to be her boss slipped his mind. He liked just being friends better.
He glanced back again, miming uncorking a small bottle and taking a drink and gesturing to her curiously. He didn't know if potions had corks like that, but he imagined they did.
She looked at him blankly. This was the trouble with miming; she didn't know if he was asking whether she wanted some wine or about the potion. Rhys didn't drink, did he? She settled on the potion, taking the small bottle out of her bag and pointing to it. "Drank some already."
He wouldn't want some, would he? She dropped it back into her bag, pulling her bag around so that she could rest it on her lap. "Have you made a bet?" The happy feeling that came from making decisions whilst under the influence of a luck potion came back and she leaned back a little with a grin. Things would go well, they always did.
Rhys nodded with the answer, watching her a while longer with a careful gaze. Did it had any other effects? How else would it make her different? Some of Rhys' best friends were others, but something about this magic he didn't quite trust. The whole messing with heads thing, probably. A person's thoughts should be their own, unmolested by strange little potions. But if they took the potion voluntarily, that was their own thought too-- their choice.
Philosophy was annoying. He shook his head in response as he turned back to watch the match, tapping his chin in thought, then pointing to the one he would have bet on, were he into that sort of thing. It was the smaller fighter, or underdog, perhaps. This was why Rhys didn't bet.
Mari nodded at his decision. "That's who I bet on, I think." He looked speedy. It would be a good match, if he could avoid the bigger man's attacks. Leaning forward, she rested her arms on her bag, her wrists crossing. "I'm not sure. I just went with the one I liked the sound of."
She'd have to remember his name to find out if she'd won. Even if she didn't, something good would happen as a result. This was the thing about luck potions, they made it impossible to be cynical about anything. Every meeting led to something good, every setback was a blessing in disguise. Generally speaking, she was almost always certain that things would turn out alright, even if it took years, but ingesting a potion that guaranteed that made it easier to believe.
Rhys preferred to focus on the smaller fighters. He wasn't as short as Abel tended to imply. At least, he didn't think so. Maybe spending so much time with Siegmund had made Rhys believe he was comparatively taller than he actually was. In any case, Rhys wasn't exactly what someone would call large, either. It was important to see what the right-- and wrong-- things to do against a larger opponent were. Like taking a fist to the face, for example. Rhys winced in sympathy, hoping that wasn't the fighter Mari bet on.
He glanced to Mari, taken back by how relaxed she was. Not moments later did the other fighter turn things around in his favor, winning the match. Rhys could only blink, rubbing the back of his neck with a small smile.
"That went well!" It really had. Rhys hadn't been the only one examining the fighters. With the number of situations she was in that went violent, picking up strategy ideas past 'run, very quickly' was something Mari had been trying to do recently. So far, her repertoire had expanded to 'punch them in the face and run' and 'poke them in the eyes and run'. She'd have to learn more in case she ever met with Cristofolo again but that was what Gawain's lessons were for.
"Time to collect my winnings. I'll buy you dinner!" Jumping off their crates, she offered him a hand, the way he'd offered her one to get up there, a small grin tugging at the side of her mouth.
Rhys grinned back, not needing the help, but taking Mari's hand all the same as he hopped down with a nod of thanks. He took the lead to help her weave her way through the resulting crowd now that the fight had finished, smiling back at her now and again. It may not have been enough winnings for Mari to start her own gang, but Rhys wasn't going to argue with a free dinner.
Mari collected her winnings (a decent amount, if a little unimpressive to anyone with a steadier wage than she had) and grinned widely at him. "There's a nice little place, just round the corner," she pointed, taking the lead. "Come on, you'll like it."
To his relief, Mari wasn't so different on the luck potion. Just as impulsive, but with a little magical help for those impulses, it seemed. Rhys smiled back (he was doing a lot of that, lately) and followed her. It was difficult to dislike a free meal, but he would trust her further than that on this one.
The inn was one of the many quiet, family owned places dotted around Tyrol. It was small, but the clientèle was mostly older men and women. It was easy to find a quiet spot in the corner and order a meal, with no crowds taking up the good table or the time of the kitchen staff. Waiting for it to arrive, Mari pressed her thumb against her front teeth, eyeing an elderly man smoking a pipe by the fire and reading a small pamphlet. It wasn't long enough to agonise over, but every time he finished it, he moved his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other and turned the piece of paper over in his hands.
"He looks like my grandpa." It was mostly the age they had in common, but the clothes and the pipe were similar too. Tapping the table, she turned to Rhys with a smile. "Good fight, right? I'm not really a judge of those things. You'll have to tell me."
Quiet was welcome change of pace from the atmosphere of the Fox'n'Crown, which was about the only place Rhys knew to go on his own. It was out of the cold, too, and Rhys let himself curl his arms around his head as he rested him on the table a moment, soaking in the warmth. He lifted back up when Mari smoke, smiling and looking to the old man. He'd never known a grandparent of his own himself.
Rhys nodded, smile more of a grin now as he punched into his own palm. How could he begin without words? Or with words? That had been Rhys' favorite kind of fight: when it looked grim for someone who managed to turn it around. He tried to make a gesture, obviously animated from excitement, but also aware he wasn't able to express much of anything. Had he been able to speak, it probably would have come off as nonsensical babble.
She laughed at his animation, reading his happiness from it. "That good, then?" That was sort of an adorable reaction to two men beating each other bloody.
Mari leaned forwards a little, resting her elbows on her legs and looking around the room. A serving girl was making her way over with their orders and she waved with a grin. Soup, soup, soup. She didn't know why she'd ordered it. It would be good, she decided, even though the small quantity of the potion she'd taken was probably wearing off by now. "Have you seen many fights?" Or did he just know about them from getting in them?
Rhys rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly at the laugh, but smiled and nodded.
He had ordered the same. It was easier to gesture for what Mari had gotten than fumble around for something else at the time. Soup was fine with him, though. He ate slowly, and it might be cold by the time he finished, but Rhys had learned to live with that.
Seen many? Rhys started to nod, but stopped and shook his palm back and forth. He had seen many fights, but most of them weren't from any kind of arena. With another sheepish grin, he gestured to himself and mimed the punch again, faking a wince. Being a spectator usually turned into participation before long.
Mari stuck a spoonful of soup in her mouth, watching his gestures. They were, thankfully, easy to decipher. "Lotsa fights," she mumbled around the spoon, then took it out of her mouth to try and speak clearer. "You've been in lots of fights?" At the battle of the Hour, he'd been very handy. That was indicative of experience.
The soup was hot and thick, delicious too. Good choice, she congratulated herself, taking another spoonful. The older fellow by the fire finished his pamphlet once more, then turned it over to begin to reread.
Resting her elbow on the table and her cheek on her hand, she watched him thoughtfully. "Did you see any ghosts, earlier in the month?" Marijke had seen people, Rowan had seen Lenore, Moirine had seen Allen. It was intrusive to ask, but...there was really nothing to add to that. It was intrusive to ask.
Rhys nodded to confirm. Being understood this easily put him in a good mood, allowing him to enjoy the soup until Mari's next question. The memory of his mother leapt straight into Rhys' skull and he choked on his soup, accidentally swallowing into his lungs instead of his stomach. He covered his mouth and held up a hand to preemptively signal that he was fine until he calmed himself.
Little late to play that reaction off as nothing, wasn't it? Hand still over his mouth and eyes still watery from the fit, Rhys gave the smallest of possible nods.
She winced at the choking, leaning over and reaching around to pat him on the back. So that was a 'yes', then. Why else would he have choked? Probably a bad memory. She shouldn't ask any more about it. A good friend would probably change the subject to something else.
"Who did you meet?" Shifting until she was upright again, Mari stuck her spoon back in the soup, before remembering her manners. "If you're alright talking about it," she added, the spoon still in mid-air.
Rhys justified not talking about most things in his life because of the dangers of information, but he had been running out of excuses to keep quiet about the past. It was devoid of usefulness. I don't want to talk about it probably would have sufficed, but that wasn't entirely true anymore, either. Mari had let slip a lot of things about herself, from her family to her friend (well, weird friend) the Occia. Seemed one sided.
Lacking any convenient mimes for this conversation, Rhys decided to try the trick he learned with Dominic. Intrusive, maybe, but so was the question, and it's not like he and Mari hadn't touched hands before. Rhys reached for her hand and lifted her palm up, using his thumb to trace out M-O-M lightly on her skin. Short words and answers worked best here.
Mari waited patiently to see what he'd do with her hand, looking down at the table to concentrate on what he was spelling out rather than how ticklish her palms apparently were. It took her a moment to get it, her eyebrows moving together and face clouding slightly. Wow, that must have hurt.
Had Rhys ever mentioned his parents? He seemed so alone and spoke about himself so little that she generally assumed he'd sprung forth fully grown from the ether. "That must have been tough."
Rhys kept his eyes on Mari's hand to avoid looking up. Tough. He had thought his mother was alive. Maybe one day he'd be an even more important Whisper than he was. Maybe one day he would have the power to send more men out to gather information. Didn't matter now. Rhys forced himself to smile and gave a dismissive wave of his hand, but his eyes betrayed him. In reality, it had been six years. To Rhys, not even a month had passed.
He tried to smile again, weakly, tugging down his scarf to gesture to the scars on his throat before letting his hands drop to the table with a shrug. Linking the two incidents might give Mari a better idea of how it happened. Even with words, it was a strange situation to explain.
It took her a few moments to work everything out. Had she been killed when he'd gotten his scars? She couldn't ask for confirmation without risking upsetting him worse, but that seemed about right.
Standing up, Mari dragged the chair around until she was sat next to him, then wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 'Tough' probably didn't cover it. "I'm sorry," didn't either, but it was all she could really think of to say.
Rhys snapped his eyes to Mari when she moved to sit next to him, taken aback by the hug. Once his surprise had passed, the gesture won an earnest smile out of him. He brought an arm gently around Mari to return it as he looked to her with a nod of thanks.
Maybe it didn't cover it, but it was enough for him.
"If it helps," though it seemed like he was doing alright on his own. She'd started now though, best to finish. "From what I hear, they're all in a land with eternal youth, no pain and no sickness." How had Tesni described it? Endless fields.
Mari gave his shoulders one last squeeze, then moved back to her soup. Frowning, aware she was probably about to say something awkward if she stopped concentrating on not talking, she tried to balance her spoon upright in her soup, catching it when it started to fall. "I know someone who brought someone back from the dead," she mumbled. "If that makes you feel better also. I'm going to stop talking." If she hated anything, it was people who tried to make you feel better about death, yet here she went doing the same. Maybe she'd just stick her face in the bowl of soup and hope for the best.
Rhys paused to consider that, glancing at nothing in particular. Eternal youth, huh? She did look younger. Mother was a little vain. She'd like something like that. He returned to his soup, though stirred it idly before he managed to continue eating.
He glanced up at Mari again, almost grinning. Saying anything that might help, huh? That was probably something everyone wished for-- for people they cared about to come back. Mari was friends with a witch, and Rhys doubted whatever magic or Belief involved with that was without side effects. Mother seemed happy enough, and if that sort of land existed, there wouldn't be any reason to bring her back. She was probably happier now. Relaxed. Someplace where she didn't have to look after him.
Rhys shook his head, smiling and gesturing from his mouth. It was fine that Mari talked. Meant she cared, at least. And that made him feel better. It didn't even matter what she said.
He didn't seem to be upset by her words. Mari pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, smiling genuinely at him. She did care about Rhys, and not just because they were countrymen. He was a good person and an even better friend; seeing him happy was good. People were always so sure that she'd die soon, and judging by the fact that in the past six months she'd barely gone a two week stretch without her life being threatened, they were probably right. If she did, she'd work out some way to come back briefly, maybe carry a message from him to his mother if he wanted.
Though if she did that, she'd probably end up forcing herself to do the same for Moirine and Allen and wow she did not want to see Allen again. Maybe that was a bad idea.
"We should probably..." words. Hard to think of right ones. "Finish the soup."
Rhys laughed silently. Yeah, probably. He twirled his spoon between his fingers before nodding to return to his meal. Much as there was the temptation to grab the bowl and drink it, that didn't seem to fit the atmosphere of this particular establishment, nor did Rhys want to risk choking again.
It hadn't been the most uplifting conversation, but Rhys admitted it was nice to feel like he could say something. He focused on that aspect of it, not willing to allow the mood to darken again. It was a nice day out, all things considered, and there was no need to leave it on a somber note. Rhys made sure to smile if she ever glanced at him to let her know things were fine.
She smiled back when she caught his smiles, but focused on finishing her soup. The conversation was better the more distance they put between themselves and it, and the soup really was good. Truth be told, it was nice to have a day out where she wasn't thinking about Moirine doing something stupid, werewolves, or the thousand other terrible things Tyrol liked to throw at its citizens.
"We're going to have a winter dinner," she told him cheerfully, as she scraped the bottom of her soup bowl. Mari was fairly certain she could drag Marijke into helping with this, and she turned into a happy little kid whenever the thought of doing something that might make the both of them happy came up. "For Christmas. Next month. You should come."
Rhys looked up from his bowl with a blink of surprise. He'd heard of Christmas, but being from Balfour, never found himself celebrating it. Or celebrating much of anything, for that matter. He pointed to himself, only to feel silly when he had. There was still a part of Rhys that was taken off guard about being invited, well, anywhere.
He smiled though, nodding. Why not? Rhys doubted he would have anywhere else to be.
Mari beamed widely at him. Of course they still had to find a chicken - Rowan could pay for that - and some vegetables - Rowan could also pay for those - and presents - Rowan was an incredibly generous person - but planning it and inviting people, that was exciting.
Besides, likely they'd invite Moirine. It would be good to have a balancing force who could keep her from- She wasn't going to think about that. None of the options that might end that sentence would end well for anyone. "Great. It'll be fun."
As soon as Rhys learned about the whole present aspect, you could bet he would be dedicating a week or so of scrambling for thoughts on what would be best for the others. Especially Mari and Cerys-- the better you knew your friends, the harder gifts became. But for now Rhys just smiled, nodding in agreement and finishing off the last of his soup.
With everything that had happened the last few months, it was good to have something to look forward to. Things were beginning to calm down, and the rumors surrounding the winter holidays tended to be less... spooky than those of autumn. Maybe Belief would give them something good for a change.
He noticed they were both done, not without some disappointment. It was a nice outing. Rhys would walk Mari back to the Hour, at least.
Mari dropped enough coins to cover their meal and leave a small tip over on the table, standing up and patting him gently on the shoulder.
"Time to head back, I guess." She smiled down at him. "Thanks for coming out with me." It'd been such a nice day. No awkwardness, no fighting, no terrible things happening. Just a nice outing of betting and dinner.
Rhys stood up with Mari, nodding. Nodding seemed to be a lot of what he did, so he tried his own playful fist tap against her arm as he smiled for something a little more comradely. He gestured to the door with his hand and a toss of his head to let her know he would walk her back, holding the door for her as they left to let her know he would walk her back. If such a thing could be communicated at all.
It had been a nice time. He'd hate to here about sudden werewolf assaults over the ledgers later if he left now.
She laughed a little at the door being held open for her. Rarely did anyone do that for her. Probably because she was fairly terrible. Nodding politely at the open door, she linked her arm through his and waved in the vague direction of the Hour. "Walk me back?"
Rhys grinned as they linked arms and nodded, smiling all the way back to the Hour.