One more stop before Lynchburg, Virginia. Declan needed the help of a former enemy of small stature, residing in Beckley for quite some time. Only one local family has been aware that a guest has been living nearby. The mayor and his family have sworn themselves to secrecy about the presence. That has proven to be difficult with the renovation of the Beckley Exhibition Coal Mine out on Ewart Avenue.
-
Declan took a less traveled dirt road and the wind picked up. Zephyranthes… “… Go back Declan…” the wind turned and swirled back into his chest. “… Go back Declan…” There was something familiar and nurturing about the gust. It was not cool as it should have been. It was warming and energizing. Declan proceeded toward the bare weeping willow and sat on the snow covered rock. Patience, a calm heart and a firm tug on the willow branch closest the rock chair would beckon the Dvergar. Patience was not a trait that Declan had learned to hone in all his years traveling the world. He pulled out his Birkan Flute he hides away in an outer pocket lining his right sleeve. More often than not he uses the hard bone as protection from harm in fight. This morning, its true purpose would call his friend and former enemy. Raising the flute to his mouth like a recorder, he plays a warbling dissonant sound. It resembled a high pitched sickly bird.
-
Mr. Mayor put down his fork from his left hand and dropped his toast from his right. His partner in life dropped a fresh plate of pancakes, all sticky with butter and Vermont Maple Syrup. They knew the sound and looked each other in the eye, “Declan’s back,” both frowning. The last time they experienced his kind, they had just been married, saying their “I do’s.” But they had reason to worry. Declan brings trouble, or rather, finds it. The mayor’s wife sat down and waited for the inevitable. Declan doesn’t waste time.
-
“…Declan flee…” The wind swirled. And he recognized the voice. *No, it can’t be.* he thought to himself.
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The willow swayed and announced the arrival of his friend. “Declan, you promised not to return so soon. Why do you call me?”
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“I need to borrow your Hoplite xiphos and some powdered Rindr.” Declan pleaded. He kneeled and held his arms outstretched, “…please Va…”
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“YOU - may NOT speak my name!! …your grievance is not with Beckley? This bodes well for you.” She turns, “I will return in a moment.”
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The swirling wind calms him and whispers “…you are indeed a lucky man…” *I know it’s her, it has to be* “Justine? ...Sister?” a moments pause, “Yes brother.” “This is father’s work?” The wind twirls tormented “No!”
-
Returning from behind Declan, he is startled at her appearance in armor and thinks *enemy* “I’m not here to fight you, old friend!” Declan cowered. “I am here with your requests and offer my assistance Declan.”
-
“No, Va…, …f-friend. I must see to this matter on my own.” Declan accepts the xiphos and Rindr. The powder is in a flat bladder pouch to preserve its potency and fits nicely into the side pockets of his cargo pants. The xiphos is not so easy to hide. “Declan, the xiphos responds to your needs” instantly the xiphos compacts itself to fit connected to the chain on his belt loop. “Thank you. I now owe you and will return the favor some day.” He kneels and turns away. Justine follows quietly without notice.
-
64 East is all wet with slush, but it’s the easiest way toward Lynchburg at the moment. Looking at his map, he figures he can stop for lunch in Lewisburg. Declan is oddly warm, but appreciative not to be cold. Justine is holding tight to her brother as they race into the wind.
-
“You are faithful to that man. Better than he deserves, but he is making up all. He still needs us. He’ll have trouble getting in. He requires more than he’s considered. Come, Hati! – we must hurry and take the short-cut into the city.”
-
The Mayor and his wife are left with no answers and a feeling of dread.
-
Declan took a less traveled dirt road and the wind picked up. Zephyranthes… “… Go back Declan…” the wind turned and swirled back into his chest. “… Go back Declan…” There was something familiar and nurturing about the gust. It was not cool as it should have been. It was warming and energizing. Declan proceeded toward the bare weeping willow and sat on the snow covered rock. Patience, a calm heart and a firm tug on the willow branch closest the rock chair would beckon the Dvergar. Patience was not a trait that Declan had learned to hone in all his years traveling the world. He pulled out his Birkan Flute he hides away in an outer pocket lining his right sleeve. More often than not he uses the hard bone as protection from harm in fight. This morning, its true purpose would call his friend and former enemy. Raising the flute to his mouth like a recorder, he plays a warbling dissonant sound. It resembled a high pitched sickly bird.
-
Mr. Mayor put down his fork from his left hand and dropped his toast from his right. His partner in life dropped a fresh plate of pancakes, all sticky with butter and Vermont Maple Syrup. They knew the sound and looked each other in the eye, “Declan’s back,” both frowning. The last time they experienced his kind, they had just been married, saying their “I do’s.” But they had reason to worry. Declan brings trouble, or rather, finds it. The mayor’s wife sat down and waited for the inevitable. Declan doesn’t waste time.
-
“…Declan flee…” The wind swirled. And he recognized the voice. *No, it can’t be.* he thought to himself.
-
The willow swayed and announced the arrival of his friend. “Declan, you promised not to return so soon. Why do you call me?”
-
“I need to borrow your Hoplite xiphos and some powdered Rindr.” Declan pleaded. He kneeled and held his arms outstretched, “…please Va…”
-
“YOU - may NOT speak my name!! …your grievance is not with Beckley? This bodes well for you.” She turns, “I will return in a moment.”
-
The swirling wind calms him and whispers “…you are indeed a lucky man…” *I know it’s her, it has to be* “Justine? ...Sister?” a moments pause, “Yes brother.” “This is father’s work?” The wind twirls tormented “No!”
-
Returning from behind Declan, he is startled at her appearance in armor and thinks *enemy* “I’m not here to fight you, old friend!” Declan cowered. “I am here with your requests and offer my assistance Declan.”
-
“No, Va…, …f-friend. I must see to this matter on my own.” Declan accepts the xiphos and Rindr. The powder is in a flat bladder pouch to preserve its potency and fits nicely into the side pockets of his cargo pants. The xiphos is not so easy to hide. “Declan, the xiphos responds to your needs” instantly the xiphos compacts itself to fit connected to the chain on his belt loop. “Thank you. I now owe you and will return the favor some day.” He kneels and turns away. Justine follows quietly without notice.
-
64 East is all wet with slush, but it’s the easiest way toward Lynchburg at the moment. Looking at his map, he figures he can stop for lunch in Lewisburg. Declan is oddly warm, but appreciative not to be cold. Justine is holding tight to her brother as they race into the wind.
-
“You are faithful to that man. Better than he deserves, but he is making up all. He still needs us. He’ll have trouble getting in. He requires more than he’s considered. Come, Hati! – we must hurry and take the short-cut into the city.”
-
The Mayor and his wife are left with no answers and a feeling of dread.
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