You'll Come Running Back. [Dhruv Val'Esdraelon]

Wherein time's joke repeats itself.

The underbelly that lies beneath the city.

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Aurin
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Location: Kalzasi
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It was easy enough to keep track of Dhruv through the door. The sembling trick was strong with Aurin, and he could sense it in Dhruv, as well as Reaving - like Kaus, or a Dawnmartyr. While he waited patiently, he considered what the choice of runes might mean - a warrior who liked to know what was going on around him? Or perhaps he was like Aurin, and the choices hadn't always been his.

He didn't force conversation, but he responded in kind. Whenever Dhruv's attention delved inward or drifted, Aurin paid closer attention to what else was going on around them.

"Aye," he agreed, although the sort of debt between them depended more on the honor of the elf than any agreement made between them. Aurin had made his choice to help, and Dhruv would make his choice whether or not to find a way to offer recompense. The Aurin of five years ago wouldn't have been able to offer this largesse without knowing he could get his investment back; now he was comfortable enough to gamble with people's lives and loyalties.

"Well, if you say so. If you run off... at least I worked off a bit of my past debts." His smile was more of a smirk, twisted and sharp, but more unkind to himself than anyone else. "Like I said, I'll drop by tomorrow, but if you need to look me up, I do the books for the Golden Peacock Theater in the Plaza of Jeweled Arches as a day job." In fact, he was the managing director - some might say impresario, but he would scoff at them. Elric managed the art. Lord Yserloo managed the hoity-toity investors. Aurin just made sure things ran smoothly and in the black.

"I get around, though, so if I'm not there, just leave word. I'll get back there soon enough." He paused. "If rest doesn't revitalize you fast enough, I'll see about finding you a dragonshard or two..." Aurin wasn't much for fixing people, but he knew a mage could leach aether from dragonshards to replenish themselves. Dhruv was in a bad way, but looked like he would clean up nice eventually.

"I wouldn't suggest looking for Elwes. She's not very sociable."
word count: 386
“I don't want to be at the mercy of my emotions.
I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.”
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Dhruv
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“Funny you should bring that up.” The elf lowered his spoon. He ate nearly half the bowl, which was likely less than he fretful cook would have liked and more than his stomach preferred. Not that there was anything wrong with the food. It was his stomach – it felt like it was still tangled somewhere around the ruins of the Godspire, likely flagging his entrails like a flag in the tortured winds.

He blinked. Gold eyes ticked to Aurin’s face, meeting his eyes in a surprise anchoring as he surfaced with suppressed shudder from what could only be a flashback. “I –” he began, and snapped his mouth shut for a long moment before opening it again. The life he’d led, cobbled together in scraps, prior to this jump seemed to be coming in with the tide, washing all along the corroded shores of him. “I’m sorry,” he settled on finally, frowning at himself.

Elbows collapsed to the table in a charming disregard of manners, the remains of his meal pushed to the side as once strong shoulders pitched forward. He cleared his throat around a laugh that was too bitter, maybe for even him.

“I would prefer to do you a service as soon as it might arise. So, please, don’t hesitate to inquire should something occur to you.” At last, one side of his mouth twisted up in that strange, compelling smile and he turned his hands palms up on the table between them in a shrug’s conclusion. “I’d rather not disappear on you, but I may not be able to help it.” A beat and his smile deepened. “I’ll not seek her then, but luck will be with Elwes should our paths cross again.”

The word dragonshard pulled his attention, hooking his eyes right back on Aurin as he pushed back from the table. Exhaustion and, yes, pain was pulling on him, but he hesitated. “I certainly wouldn’t say no,” he decided upon at length, corners of his eyes crinkling as if they shared in some great, cosmic jest. In a way, they did.

“I’m spent, friend.” Dhruv finished rising and briefly clasped Aurin’s shoulder before stepping for the stairwell. It was a very warm, and very real, gesture. Dhruv told himself he’d return these favors, all of them tenfold, if he could. If time ever allowed.
word count: 400
time is the echo of an axe
within a wood

-- Larkin.
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Hekatos
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After Dhruv quit the common room, arrangements were made more explicitly with Nora, the proprietor, bartender, and general go-to person for the inn. The woman wasn't old, but on the morrow, she would pay close attention to how much her elven guest ate, how often, as well as whatever comings and goings, visitors or the like - much like a mother. She was forthcoming with answers to his questions such as she had the wherewithal to do, but kept that on her mental inventory as well.

Master Kavafis had saved her skin and her inn, and while he paid her for the room he kept there, she felt she owed him an ongoing debt as well. She would be honest with Dhruv if he asked how she knew him, and she would say he was a dangerous man, but the good sort of dangerous.

Time would tell whether she was right.

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word count: 328
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