Ioannes rolled over in an unfamiliar bed, his head screaming in pain the likes he’d never known before. He groaned and squeezed his eyes hard, hoping that he could somehow divert the pain if he scrunched his face hard enough.
His body shuddered, and a wave of nausea slapped the gunsmith across the stomach. He felt sick, but not in the usual feverish way. There was no equivalent to it that he had ever felt, and all he wanted was for the sharp, throbbing headache to go away so he could sleep away the churning in his stomach.
A pathetic whine slipped from Ioannes and his body shuddered again.
Why had this happened? Who had done this to him?
The laicar tried to remember what had happened the night before. The effort alone seemed to cause more pain, but a few memories returned to him.
He remembered the bar -- as celebration for surviving the suicide mission to stop the Black Gate -- and he remembered nearly being dragged to dance with the overly friendly spurii woman (her name escaped him). There had been another woman, young-looking, and full of an abundant of energy who had saved him from the embarrassing moment of not being able to dance.
It had happened so fast, and Ioannes had been at a loss of what to do or much less say.
After that….
Ioannes remembered Kaeso had come back for him. Shoved a strange brew into his hands with a wide grin. The enlil warrior had said something -- something crass and joking. Ioannes just remembered being embarrassed, and encouraged to drink the brew to the last drop.
No.
Kaeso had all but forced Ioannes to drink, all the while chanting, “Chug, chug, chug!”
Groaning again as another wave of nausea rocked him, Ioannes muttered, “I should shoot him.”
“If you mean me, just not in the face.” From behind Ioannes, on the same bed, Kaeso chuckled.
Ioannes tried not to think too hard, and instead said or asked whatever came to his mind first, “Dare I ask why are we in the same bed?”
That earned another chuckle from Kaeso, and for half of a second the gunsmith expected the enlil to give one of his usual quips. Instead, the man offered a rather honest explanation, saying, “I’m a cheap bastard. And you needed someone to look after you with all that dribble you were spouting. You’re not exactly a lightweight when it comes to drinking, but man do you start talking when you’ve gotten rosy.”
Ioannes pushed himself up onto his arm, and slowly sat up. Bad move. The nausea returned three fold, and sent a shiver running down the length of his spine.
He was going to vomit.
Bleary-eyed, Ioannes sought out a bucket he could use. The room was spartan, but unmistakably belonged to an inn or tavern -- probably the same one they had been drinking at. Faint light slipped in between the cracks of the window shutters, and tried to fill the room. It was a new day. Maybe mid-day.
No bucket.
“I’m going to be sick.”
Kaeso barked a laugh and Ioannes flinched. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“Wha-?”
“You said it yourself last night. You’re a dead man.”
The nausea started climbing. Ioannes stumbled away from the cheap bed and to a corner where he hurled a sickening concoction that had been churning in his stomach all night.
Kaeso waited patiently. When Ioannes had seemed finished, stumbling back away from all the sick now on the floor and pressed his back against the opposite wall, the warrior fixed Ioannes with a hard look, weighing him. Softly, cautious in a way that Ioannes had assumed was impossible for the gladiator-turned-mercenary, he asked, “Was what you said true?”
Ioannes closed his eyes. As much to think as to fight back against his headache. Pitifully, the terran replied, “I don’t know. I don’t remember what I said.”
“Well you missed a little cat fight. It was about that time when I grabbed you and dragged you back to Flavina and the good Brother. We started reminiscing about our homes….” Kaeso trailed off, and Ioannes knew where the conversation was heading.
“...And I started talking about Eidolon.” Grey-blue eyes peeked out from under heavy eyelids, and met the enlil man’s own. There was a sympathy there. A knowing of pain of losing something. A slow creeping worry settled into the pit of Ioannes’s stomach, as he wondered if he had spilled the secret of his bracers along with his history.
“Kind of a heavy subject, honestly. We weren’t expecting it from you. Not when you’re always starry-eyed, lost, and indecisive.”
“What did I…,” the gunsmith began. The words died quickly, too afraid to say what he was worried about. Instead, he changed his question, “Where are the others.”
Kaeso ran a hand through the crown full of feathers. He looked like he was trying to decide what question to answer, and Ioannes thought the man had never really had to stop and think about what he was going to say. Kaeso always seemed care-free, and willing to speak his mind.
“When you got done telling us, I couldn’t just let the night stay that heavy.” Chuckling to himself, Kaeso puffed out his chest, “So I challenged the old bird to a drinking contest.”
Ioannes furrowed his brow and fought back another wave of nausea. “Old bird?”
“Damn right. She dropped them back, drink after drink, but--” He paused long enough to beat his own chest, “--there ain’t no one who out drinks me. Drank her right under the table. It was so bad,” he barked in laughter, “the good Brother had to escort her up to her room. He came back claiming she wouldn’t remember the night!”
Ioannes rolled his eyes, “But you do.”
“I’m Kaeso.”
“Right….”
“And you? Dead man?”
“What?” Ioannes broke out into a cold sweat. Suddenly, the worry was becoming more and more real. Had he told them more than the razing of Eidolon?
“You said you died.”
Suddenly, Ioannes wasn’t in the dimly-lit inn room in Terminus. Instead, he was thousands of miles away, across an ocean, sitting in the ashen remains of his hometown, watching a fire eat away at the wheat fields and a small army standing around a handful of hooded men.
Then he was back in the room, his mouth dry, and trying hard not to--
Ioannes turned on to his knees and began to lose the rest of the contents in his stomach. When he was done, Kaeso didn’t press him by asking the question again. At least, not immediately. Graciously, he waited until the gunsmith had wiped the spit off his mouth.
“I did.” Not a question, but an affirmation. Ioannes tried to remember the moment by closing his eyes, but nothing. Just a searing white light and an unbelievably warm feeling that flooded him. It pushed down the nausea and headache for a brief moment, but then passed. Instead all he could remember were the moments that led up to the light. “I don’t remember it well,” he went on to say, “but I don’t think it was a pleasant death… or a very good one.”
“Any death you can walk away from,” The avian began as his heavy footsteps carried him to the gunsmith, “wasn’t a good one.” Placing one hand on Ioannes’s shoulder, the enlil warrior picked him up and looked him square in the eyes. “And by my eyes, you walk just fine. A finer death awaits you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Kaeso rose a questioning brow, “Doesn’t that bring you comfort? You are not dead. Your death is yet decided. Though. I would like to know how you walked away from it.”
Ioannes bite his tongue. When he said nothing, Kaeso shrugged and set Ioannes down.
“Fine. Keep your secrets. Can’t have everyone walking away from their deaths.” The enlil barked a laugh. “Stay as long as you want,” he went on to say. “I’ve got the room for the week. But, uh… maybe find a change of clothes.” Kaeso went about dressing himself in a clean pair of pants and threw a shawl-like fabric over his shoulders before he left the room.
That left Ioannes in the room, alone, with his memories. He really didn’t want to be alone with his memories. He didn’t really want to be alone.
Groaning, Ioannes rose to his feet and shuffled across the room. He needed to distract himself. He needed to find his rifle, and go out and be with Palamedes. Some time with the vistra-hound was sure to keep him on his toes, and the gunsmith had always found himself to be more focused with a rifle in his hand.
There was a fresh pair of clothes on the table that fit Ioannes, and the gunsmith found it uncharacteristic of the warrior to have laid them out.
Regardless, Ioannes threw them on and stumbled out of the room. He’d worry later how ridiculous they looked.
His body shuddered, and a wave of nausea slapped the gunsmith across the stomach. He felt sick, but not in the usual feverish way. There was no equivalent to it that he had ever felt, and all he wanted was for the sharp, throbbing headache to go away so he could sleep away the churning in his stomach.
A pathetic whine slipped from Ioannes and his body shuddered again.
Why had this happened? Who had done this to him?
The laicar tried to remember what had happened the night before. The effort alone seemed to cause more pain, but a few memories returned to him.
He remembered the bar -- as celebration for surviving the suicide mission to stop the Black Gate -- and he remembered nearly being dragged to dance with the overly friendly spurii woman (her name escaped him). There had been another woman, young-looking, and full of an abundant of energy who had saved him from the embarrassing moment of not being able to dance.
It had happened so fast, and Ioannes had been at a loss of what to do or much less say.
After that….
Ioannes remembered Kaeso had come back for him. Shoved a strange brew into his hands with a wide grin. The enlil warrior had said something -- something crass and joking. Ioannes just remembered being embarrassed, and encouraged to drink the brew to the last drop.
No.
Kaeso had all but forced Ioannes to drink, all the while chanting, “Chug, chug, chug!”
Groaning again as another wave of nausea rocked him, Ioannes muttered, “I should shoot him.”
“If you mean me, just not in the face.” From behind Ioannes, on the same bed, Kaeso chuckled.
Ioannes tried not to think too hard, and instead said or asked whatever came to his mind first, “Dare I ask why are we in the same bed?”
That earned another chuckle from Kaeso, and for half of a second the gunsmith expected the enlil to give one of his usual quips. Instead, the man offered a rather honest explanation, saying, “I’m a cheap bastard. And you needed someone to look after you with all that dribble you were spouting. You’re not exactly a lightweight when it comes to drinking, but man do you start talking when you’ve gotten rosy.”
Ioannes pushed himself up onto his arm, and slowly sat up. Bad move. The nausea returned three fold, and sent a shiver running down the length of his spine.
He was going to vomit.
Bleary-eyed, Ioannes sought out a bucket he could use. The room was spartan, but unmistakably belonged to an inn or tavern -- probably the same one they had been drinking at. Faint light slipped in between the cracks of the window shutters, and tried to fill the room. It was a new day. Maybe mid-day.
No bucket.
“I’m going to be sick.”
Kaeso barked a laugh and Ioannes flinched. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“Wha-?”
“You said it yourself last night. You’re a dead man.”
The nausea started climbing. Ioannes stumbled away from the cheap bed and to a corner where he hurled a sickening concoction that had been churning in his stomach all night.
Kaeso waited patiently. When Ioannes had seemed finished, stumbling back away from all the sick now on the floor and pressed his back against the opposite wall, the warrior fixed Ioannes with a hard look, weighing him. Softly, cautious in a way that Ioannes had assumed was impossible for the gladiator-turned-mercenary, he asked, “Was what you said true?”
Ioannes closed his eyes. As much to think as to fight back against his headache. Pitifully, the terran replied, “I don’t know. I don’t remember what I said.”
“Well you missed a little cat fight. It was about that time when I grabbed you and dragged you back to Flavina and the good Brother. We started reminiscing about our homes….” Kaeso trailed off, and Ioannes knew where the conversation was heading.
“...And I started talking about Eidolon.” Grey-blue eyes peeked out from under heavy eyelids, and met the enlil man’s own. There was a sympathy there. A knowing of pain of losing something. A slow creeping worry settled into the pit of Ioannes’s stomach, as he wondered if he had spilled the secret of his bracers along with his history.
“Kind of a heavy subject, honestly. We weren’t expecting it from you. Not when you’re always starry-eyed, lost, and indecisive.”
“What did I…,” the gunsmith began. The words died quickly, too afraid to say what he was worried about. Instead, he changed his question, “Where are the others.”
Kaeso ran a hand through the crown full of feathers. He looked like he was trying to decide what question to answer, and Ioannes thought the man had never really had to stop and think about what he was going to say. Kaeso always seemed care-free, and willing to speak his mind.
“When you got done telling us, I couldn’t just let the night stay that heavy.” Chuckling to himself, Kaeso puffed out his chest, “So I challenged the old bird to a drinking contest.”
Ioannes furrowed his brow and fought back another wave of nausea. “Old bird?”
“Damn right. She dropped them back, drink after drink, but--” He paused long enough to beat his own chest, “--there ain’t no one who out drinks me. Drank her right under the table. It was so bad,” he barked in laughter, “the good Brother had to escort her up to her room. He came back claiming she wouldn’t remember the night!”
Ioannes rolled his eyes, “But you do.”
“I’m Kaeso.”
“Right….”
“And you? Dead man?”
“What?” Ioannes broke out into a cold sweat. Suddenly, the worry was becoming more and more real. Had he told them more than the razing of Eidolon?
“You said you died.”
Suddenly, Ioannes wasn’t in the dimly-lit inn room in Terminus. Instead, he was thousands of miles away, across an ocean, sitting in the ashen remains of his hometown, watching a fire eat away at the wheat fields and a small army standing around a handful of hooded men.
Then he was back in the room, his mouth dry, and trying hard not to--
Ioannes turned on to his knees and began to lose the rest of the contents in his stomach. When he was done, Kaeso didn’t press him by asking the question again. At least, not immediately. Graciously, he waited until the gunsmith had wiped the spit off his mouth.
“I did.” Not a question, but an affirmation. Ioannes tried to remember the moment by closing his eyes, but nothing. Just a searing white light and an unbelievably warm feeling that flooded him. It pushed down the nausea and headache for a brief moment, but then passed. Instead all he could remember were the moments that led up to the light. “I don’t remember it well,” he went on to say, “but I don’t think it was a pleasant death… or a very good one.”
“Any death you can walk away from,” The avian began as his heavy footsteps carried him to the gunsmith, “wasn’t a good one.” Placing one hand on Ioannes’s shoulder, the enlil warrior picked him up and looked him square in the eyes. “And by my eyes, you walk just fine. A finer death awaits you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Kaeso rose a questioning brow, “Doesn’t that bring you comfort? You are not dead. Your death is yet decided. Though. I would like to know how you walked away from it.”
Ioannes bite his tongue. When he said nothing, Kaeso shrugged and set Ioannes down.
“Fine. Keep your secrets. Can’t have everyone walking away from their deaths.” The enlil barked a laugh. “Stay as long as you want,” he went on to say. “I’ve got the room for the week. But, uh… maybe find a change of clothes.” Kaeso went about dressing himself in a clean pair of pants and threw a shawl-like fabric over his shoulders before he left the room.
That left Ioannes in the room, alone, with his memories. He really didn’t want to be alone with his memories. He didn’t really want to be alone.
Groaning, Ioannes rose to his feet and shuffled across the room. He needed to distract himself. He needed to find his rifle, and go out and be with Palamedes. Some time with the vistra-hound was sure to keep him on his toes, and the gunsmith had always found himself to be more focused with a rifle in his hand.
There was a fresh pair of clothes on the table that fit Ioannes, and the gunsmith found it uncharacteristic of the warrior to have laid them out.
Regardless, Ioannes threw them on and stumbled out of the room. He’d worry later how ridiculous they looked.