North Sea Dungeon

It was early enough that the sun hadn't begun peeking over the horizon, but soft pinks and purples began to dye the sky. Somewhere, on the western end of the Island, far from the eventual bustle of the town square and the outer reaches of the port, Loscan lay in the grass. Splayed out on his back almost like a dead man, he stared, unfocused into the sky. He'd been here long enough that the morning dew had seen fit to dress him in the same damp beads it had given to the wild undergrowth around him. The cold of fading night made his fingers numb and bit his exposed face and ears, but he didn't mind.

Lying here, cold and wet and numb was exactly what he needed. Too long had he been stuffed into the dark quarters of a ship, where he gained neither reprieve from his squadron or the other passengers. The salt stung his skin, there was always the drum of busy footsteps, and the sounds of people talking. Orders barked, casual conversation, hushed whispers, eyes turned to the motley crew he'd been stuck with when they thought they wouldn't notice. Now that it was over...

Well, he'd probably be scolded for slipping away unannounced.

But right now, the sky being filled with colors was beautiful. There were insects buzzing in the grass. There was a gentle, cold breeze. And Loscan was blissfully alone.

Tista wasn't able to sleep, kept up by the intense lurching of his stomach telling him something was wrong. He had given up on sleeping not too long into the night and attempted to work, but he was exhausted; his mind caked in ooze causing all commands to his body to be weakened and delayed. He was forced to sit with this unbearable feeling in complete silence.

After what felt like a sickening eternity, Tista forced himself out of bed and grabbed his pack. It was still dark out, but he needed fresh air.

The feeling didn't go away as he started to leave the busy city behind him. Cool grass left wet kisses on his sandled feet, wafts of sea air became more frequent, and mesmerizing blotches of color starting to cover the sky as he strode onward. Tista felt the engagement of multiple senses to be grounding, but it was not enough to stop the turning wheel in his stomach. Suddenly he stopped. Something felt off - not with himself but with his surroundings. He looked to see what was different when he noticed something laying not too far from him. A cloaked figure flattened the grass, unmoving.

Tista felt his heart jump coming to the conclusion that this is what his gut's been warning him of; he found the site of a murder outside the dungeon. He stood frozen - mind racing - he could be next or worse he could be framed. Just when he started to really find himself on this island he was going to have to leave. Who would make sure Pick was okay if he was gone though? Before he could spiral further Tista mentally slapped himself to regain control. He shook as he stepped closer to the body, "Hello," his voice came out a bit meeker than he expected. "Are you alive?"

Slowly, it all started to drift back to Loscan. The moment his mind was re-engaged by that voice, all the feelings his body muted for the blissful experience of being alone out here came back. He was cold. Bitterly so. Silent at first, he turned his head just enough to regard the man who'd interrupted this moment. One eye, peeking out from a mess of strangely silvered hair with a suddenly focused stare.

"Yes." For some reason. Loscan left that last part out. He paused for a few moments, before gathering himself with a sigh, cold limbs sluggishly pulling him into a sitting position. Tugging his wet hood back over his head and long ears, Loscan crosses his arms over his legs, pulled tightly up to his chest.

"... Do... You need something?" He asked, keen to salvage the rest of the perfect quiet he'd just been enjoying. He should be glad it wasn't interrupted by his Captain or their hound, come to nip at his heels for daring to want a moment away. Not that they'd ever bothered him much for such a thing before.

Upon hearing the question, Tista laughed nervously - both out of relief he hadn't stumbled across a corpse but also fear that he was now stuck in an awkward interaction. Seeing the long ears was enough to make his heart jump, but the obvious signs the elf was giving that Tista had interrupted something made him much more nervous. He felt the sudden compulsion to explain himself, stumbling over his words at first but eventually - sort of - finding his footing.

"I'm sorry I just couldn't sleep at all last night y'know," Tista felt his cadence pick up in speed but couldn't stop it. "I was wanting to get some fresh air, y'know? Maybe it would help calm my nerves a bit, and I have this spot I usually go to around here. It has an amazing view of the sea and the sun hits you just right, and - " he shook his head realizing he got off topic. " - But anyways, I was on my way there when I saw you in the grass and I'm really sorry that I thought you were dead." He finished the apology off with a slight bow of the head. He glanced back up to see the elf staring at him blankly. The silence lingered for a little too long so Tista broke, "What were you doing out here anyways?" He would be lying if he said he wasn't curious about what the elf was doing laying out in the grass so early like this. Maybe its some weird ritual in order to use magic.

Loscan tilts his head a bit as the dwarf rambles, not blinking as he listens. Looking over him, he noted a few things. This guy was obviously nervous, but he supposed anyone would be if they stumbled across someone they thought was a corpse. He couldn't tell what he had in his bag, but it spoke to either an adventuring spirit, or perhaps being a gatherer. There was also the implication that he'd lived here for a short while, if he had a spot he enjoyed visiting to clear his head. And nothing about this young dwarven man spoke to any danger he might hold. Finally, Loscan blinks, turning his head away from him to gaze out in front of him. It was a striking visual, a dark sea the backdrop to grass turned purple in early dawn shadows.

"Nerves too, I guess." Loscan slowly admits. He curls his cold fingers from where he loosely held his knees, testing to see how much feeling they had in them. Too little for him to keep moping out here. Perhaps being interrupted was a good thing. And by what might be a local, or more experienced adventurer. He takes a breath, reminding himself that all of his squadron were here for information. "... What are you nervous about, then?" He asks, his steady and almost bored sounding voice not betraying his intentions.

There was a long moment of silence after this question. Tista wasn’t exactly ready for further questioning as he didn’t expect much interest to be shown in him at all, but knowing the elf was also nervous helped ease his mind; so much so that as his thoughts started to get taken over by the calmness of the scene around him, making it harder for him to exhume what was making him nervous. He focused on the figure sitting in front of him, a small shadow cast on a dark backdrop. The only colors were coming from those that called for the sun’s imminent arrival. The sporadic calls of the first awakening gulls meshed with the droning sounds of distant waves and tall grass shifting in the sea breeze. As if not to interrupt the symphony Tista answered quietly, “I’m not sure.”

With focus still drawn to the hooded back of the elf, Tista gently placed his bag on to the ground with his body soon following. He sat behind with a comfortable distance put between them. He leaned against his pack like a lumpy pillow as he spoke once more, “I’ve had this sickening feeling in my gut for a while now, but it’s been pretty easy to ignore up until tonight. It’s like there is so much festering inside me, but I can’t figure out exactly what it is in order to get it out.” He couldn’t believe what he was saying to a complete stranger, but now that he had opened the floodgates it was hard to close it back. Maybe he was just tired and rambling, maybe it was the serenity of the scene before him drawing it out, or it could possibly be that something which had been clawing to get out of him was finally unable to be choked down any longer. Tista chewed on his lip, his leg bouncing as he tried to keep quiet out of anxiety, but he cracked.

“I’ve been on this island for a while,” Tista started. “I’ve been trying to study the magic found within the dungeon; it’s been a lifelong dream I’ve had ever since I was young to be able to use it and I felt like I was getting really close when I met someone down there. I felt so drawn to him like he might be the answer to what I’ve been searching for, but even if that were still true,” He paused, getting hit with a soft blow of self-reflection. “I don’t think I care about that as much as I care about him anymore.” Tista couldn’t tell if there was any movement coming from the man in front of him, but he continued still having more to say.

“The thing with that though is that I want to be there and take care of him so bad, but its so hard to tell if that’s what he really needs. He’s been living down there all his life. Its not like he needs anyone to help him, but I want to and I feel like I need to be there with him all the time. I get so anxious when I’m away from him like something bad could happen at any moment, but me constantly being there with him feels like I’m pushing something he doesn’t want onto him.”

A breeze gently swept past Tista’s face, making a slight wetness on his cheek more prominent as it cooled. He quickly wiped it away so it would go unnoticed and sighed. “I guess I’m worried about him is all.”

Loscan listened closely as the grass shifted under the weight of the dwarf's pack, noting the respectful distance between them. He opened his mouth, about to grace him with another response just as short as the ones he'd given before, when the stranger spoke again. And Loscan did what he did best, as the dwarf kept speaking. Listen, and glean every bit of information he possibly could. The dwarf had a sickening feeling in his stomach, coincidentally marked by the arrival of one of the worst possible things that could happen to the burgeoning community around a dungeon. He needed to listen more to his intuition. To Loscan, the thought of a dwarf of all races trying to study magic was amusing, but that wasn't the part of what he was explaining that caught the Canary's attention.

A person, who this mana-less dwarf claims to think is the key to letting him use magic. A person who has lived down there all his life. It was far too early to make such an assumption, but the thought of the dungeon's lord crossed Loscan's head. He narrowed his eyes at the horizon, thinking hard. If not the lord of the dungeon, then a definite person of interest for his squadron to investigate. He needed more information. And to do that, the first step would be...

Loscan unraveled himself from his tight-knit position, weighing both the dwarf's words and his possible responses carefully. Twisting his upper body a bit, he regarded the stranger with far more attention than he'd afforded him before, head tilted against his shoulder to look at him. The dew in his hair was turned to a halo in the growing morning light, the one eyed gaze he gave soft... The magical tattoos across his face highlighted by the shadows. "... I don't want to assume anything about your situation... But I think I've gone through something similar. Wanting to take care of someone, I mean." He says. It wasn't a complete lie.

Just from the way he spoke, Loscan wagered this dwarven man was the kind who'd apologize and immediately clam up. He couldn't have that. Giving him the best smile he could, an expression he hardly put on, Loscan tried to smooth this contingency over. "I'd tell you more so it's fair, but... Well, I heard you out, and we accidentally seemed to have skipped introductions." He said. "My name is Loscan. What about you?"

"Ah! Yeah!" Tista was surprised at the sudden turn to look at him. Still dewy eyed, he looked away as an attempt to save himself from embarrassment "Sorry about that." He laughed putting on a faint smile as an attempt to hide that he was flustered. He needed to steel himself. This elf - Loscan just said he's gone through something similar. Maybe he could give advice and calm Tista's nerves about Pickpen. Still looking away Tista took a deep breath to ease out the last bit of emotions.

"The name's Tista." He finally turned his head back to look at the elf who was still staring at him. "Thank you... for listening to me Loscan," he gave a smile. This one genuine. "I would love to hear a story from you too if you wouldn't mind staying with me for a bit longer."