Though Marth was not exactly looking directly at her, Dalanesca could feel that he was at least listening to her.  It was clear that he had understood what she had masked behind her words when she spoke of her home - though she found herself a bit surprised when she saw a grin creep across her soon-to-be partner’s face.  Relief washed over her as she watched the man grab the dram of gin, and she could see the aura resonating from the magic within him.  When he looked back at her, she could see something in his eyes - something different, something far more alive than she had yet to see in him.

She nodded in agreement, clinking her own drink against his and taking a deep swig from the warm liquid.  When she set the flagon down with a dull thud, she caught his gaze once more.  She could tell that Marth was studying her intently - perhaps it was because he seemed to be in a solid state of mind finally?  She could not blame the man - she was studying him just as much as he was her.  Once she could see his posture relax and his gaze unlock from her own eyes, she relaxed as well, and listened to him carefully.

With a nod, she confirmed that she seemed to understand the basics of the mission.  Redemption was something she knew all too well - after all, she had been making a living off of killing others for money.  When Marth slammed the slip of parchment down onto the table, she reached out and slid it towards herself, shifting her gaze down to take in the words.  Whoever had written it had a loose grasp of language, but it was enough where it made a bit of sense.  After re-reading it a second time, she slid the parchment back across the table to Marth and leaned back in her chair, taking a drink of the remaining meade in her flagon.  

“He’s not the only one with contacts,” she said, the tone of her voice taking something different on all together.  “And eradication… eradication is not a problem,” she said.  “I will not resort to violence, but I will not hesitate for a moment if the need arises,” she added, her gaze meeting his own.  “And stealth… well, I’ve got us covered, there.”  

She could see that Marth was allowing her to take her time in deciding whether or not she wanted to accept his ‘mission.’  She didn’t need the time - her mind had already been made up.  “Of course I accept,” she said, leaning forward slightly on her chair and draining the flagon of meade she held.  “Now my only question becomes… do we head out tonight?  Or do we celebrate this new partnership with a few more drinks and hit the trails at sunrise?” she said, raising an eyebrow at Marth.  As itching as she was to get to the mission, she thought to herself that the pair of them spending a bit of ‘bonding’ time together before they departed on such a long and dangerous task.  

Marth listened to Dalanesca, pondering her proposition. "Well, I suppose we can take a few more drinks. I need to get a few small things done before we leave, but I'd rather cover as much ground as possible on our first day. So I suggest we have a sit-down, talk for a bit, and after that, we both make our preparations." Marth thought for a second. "I'll need at least an hour before I go to sleep to make preparations. Which leaves me roughly an hour to chat. Hang on." Marth walked over to the bar counter, and got a bottle from the barkeep. He left some coinds and returned to the table.

"Hope you don't hate wine," he said, putting the bottle on the table. It was nothing special, not cheap nor expensive, a fair vintage. He sat down, pouring himself a drink. "Well, is there anything you wish to know about me? Or anything you'd like to tell me about yourself?"

She hid her delight when Marth accepted her idea of staying in the tavern a bit longer.  “Sounds like a plan,” she said, finding herself feeling even further relaxed knowing that she would be able to get a night of rest in before the events of their mission unfolded - though she knew that a night of rest would not consist of sleeping, but rather lying in her bed in her room, staring at the ceiling, and thinking about what was to come. 

“Have you a place to stay tonight?” she asked.  “You can use my room, if you want.  Myter can get me another, or I’ll fix a cot,” she said, offering her quarters as a gesture of goodwill.  “And an hour is good, it’ll give me time to talk to Myter a bit and let him know that I won’t be around any longer,” she added.  She’d miss the daft barkeep, and she knew he would miss her as well.

She moved to get up to go to the bar when Marth beat her to the punch, and she found herself chuckling quietly.  He seemed to enjoy drinking as much as she - perhaps the two of them would get along just fine on this mission.  

When he returned, she couldn’t help but laugh out loud.  “I’ve been drinking meade all night, wine’s even better,” she said, reaching for the bottle after he had poured one for himself.  She poured a good serving into her flagon and sat back in her chair.  “Well, you’ve told me an awful lot about yourself already,” she said, taking a drink of the wine and pausing.  “And honestly… I don’t know what I can tell you about myself.  I, uh… well, I used to be an assassin,” she said, before realizing that that information had already been apparent.

“And, to be honest,” she said, leaning back with a sigh.  “I can’t really tell you much about myself.  I can tell you everything about myself since I got to Canelux… but that’s about it.  Stuff’s starting to come back to me in flashes, but I’m pretty sure I used to be somewhere else… actually I think I used to be someone else.”  She shook her head with a bit of a laugh, realizing how crazy she must sound to Marth.  “Sorry, I know that probably makes absolutely no sense to you,” she said, pushing her hair back with one hand and taking a drink with the other.  “But I guess it’s part of who I am?” she said, shrugging.  It was quite obvious that the uncertainty had an odd barring on her persona.  “Anything you want to know about me?” she asked.  “I mean… anything I might be able to answer, that is,” she added, laughing again.  

MArth watched Dalanesca pour wine greedily with a slight grin. She began talking about herself, going on about memory loss and personality changes. Marth nearly burst out laughing when she apologised for not making sense. "You heard my story, and saw how I acted, not five minutes ago… And now you worry I will think you are crazy? I'd never have pegged you for being so self-concious." He took a good, deep drink of his wine, chuckling lightly. "Well, let's see…"

Marth thought about what to ask. There were many things he was interested in knowing, but most might be more suited to a different time. Marth took another swig of wine, before speaking. "Well, I already feel like I have a lot of the information I need. But there are a few details to hammer out." His tone got serious all of a sudden. "As you've probably understood, I get… Unstable, at times. Mostly they're just nervous breakdowns, but…" He sighed.

"I need to know how you'll handle these two scenarios." He slid his cup away for a moment, showing he was serious. "One, I curl up, unable to act for fear, hallucinations, whatever. It's important that I am taken elsewhere - not too far, but elsewhere. For example if I get a panic attack in a city."

His voice dropped a key, and his facial expression got grim. "Two: I unhinge completely and become hostile to everything around me." He looked at Dalanesca, awaiting her response with a life-or-death expression.

“I’ve always prided myself on being totally level headed!” she said, with fake offense.  She let out another chuckle, glad to see that he was indeed capable of humor.  At mention of his actions earlier on in the evening, she brushed it off with a wave of her hand.  “Don’t even worry about it, Marth,” she said, grinning.  “What’s done is done and nothing more will come of it… except for when it does, but we will deal with it at that point.”

She watched him carefully as he seemed to intensely think about what information he could share with her.  After he finished, she was quiet for a moment as she thought of what to say.  “Instability is nothing I can’t handle,” she said, matter-of-factly.  “Everything will be fine,” she said, though her assuredness seemed to trail off as he continued on, his air taking a more serious tone.  He explained the first scenario, which she found it easy to answer.

“In that situation I would protect you until it was safe to relocate you, at which time I would safely get you to another location, and I would not leave your side until the episode had passed.”  She was astute and to the point, and it was clear that she would indeed make his safety the number one priority in such a situation.  The next scenario, however, proved a bit more difficult to respond to.  She took a moment to quietly contemplate before replying.

Her voice was serious.  “In that situation I will neutralize you, which believe me, I would be capable of doing,” she said.  It was clear that she felt confident she would be able to do such without any harm coming to Marth.  “I would then relocate you to a safe location until you regained composure,” she added, matter-of-factly.  She looked at him, hoping that his reaction to her answer would be positive.

Marth heard Dalanesca's answer out in full, his expression not changing with her answer to the first question. For the second, however, he looked down with a slight frown. "Protecting me is all well and good. But I have to tell you, if you think I'm about to have a violent episode, you're better off incapacitating me before it starts. I don't know how bad I might be - it's never actually gone that far - but if I am even remotely comparable to the thing that's destabilizing me, it's bad. As in, natural phenomenon bad."

He grabbed his cup again, and emptied it. He looked up at Dalanesca again, smiling, to show he was still on track. "Not to worry, though. I am confident I can give you a warning before it happens." He filled his cup again. "Well, shall we swap information on special talents and abilities? I can go first."

He had a swig. "Like I mentioned, I was a captain in the Wyllmochvarian infantry. And a battlemage. Naturally, that means politics, command, tactics, strategy, navigation, and close-range combat are all things I am familiar with." He thought for a moment. "I'm especially talented in the subschool of elemental arcane magic known as dracomancy. Most of my spells are arcane derivatives of dragon abilities. Don't confuse them with replicas - I have real dragonfire, not the cheap knock-offs many magi use for the visual impact." He thought some more. "I've also been taught a few cleansing rituals. The clergy that finally caught me agreed to teach me a thing or two after I woke up." Another swig of wine. "Not powerful stuff, but enough to protect campsites and such." He patted one of his satchels to make sure his little instruction manual was still there. "Finally, I am - believe it or not - a pretty good tailor. many Wyllmochvarian battlemagi take pride in customizing, repairing, and embriodering their own robes and armour. I'm familiar with leather, too, which might help both of us in the long run."

After he finished talking, Marth looked down at his own poorly-kept robes with a frown. "Speaking of which, I should probably get around to making myself look respectable again." He held up the sleeve of his robe with a smile. "Wouldn't want my work to go to waste from poor maintainance, would we?" The fine embroidery and nigh-invisible stitches and patches on the old battle-worn robe aside, Marth's cheeks were getting a little flushed. Clearly, it had been a long time since he last drank his fill.

“I would not hesitate to do so,” she said, her tone and her expression quite serious. Though her memory was still spotty from her time before coming to Canelux, she knew that she had dealt with many things in her life. Neutralizing an unnaturally horrible enemy would be nothing new, it would just be adapting to how horrible the enemy actually was. “And, if you can give me warning, as you claim to be able to, we will be able to head it off before it comes to pass,” she said, though the confidence in her voice wavered.

Glad that the subject had taken a lighter turn, she listened intently as Marth described more in detail his history with the Wyllmochvarian military, and then ventured into his abilities as a tailor. Truth be told, she had not paid much attention to Marth’s clothing, but now that he had brought it to her attention she did, in fact, notice the tattered state of his robes. She didn’t say anything, but she glanced down at her own clothing. She had never realized until just now how much pride she actually took in her appearance - it seemed to be a subconscious action on her part. Looking back up at him, she let out a chuckle as he mentioned his adeptness with leather. “Is it that obvious I’d need leatherwork?” she asked, gesturing down at her clothing, which was comprised of leather leggings, leather boots, and a leather corset over a black tunic. “It takes a beating sometimes, I’ll give you that.”

She drained the remainder of wine from her cup and reached out to the bottle on the table to fill it again. The pale color of her cheeks had taken on a hint of a blush, thanks to the meade from earlier combined with the current wine. Maybe she would get some sleep this night after all. “Do you need tools?” she asked, after a long silence. She let out a strange laugh, realizing how out of context the question seemed after their discussion had already ended. “For fixing your robes, I mean.” She looked quietly contemplative for a moment before continuing to speak.

“Like I said earlier, feel free to use my room upstairs to prepare. I’ll get another from Myter, and then you’ve not got to spend the coin on it,” she added. “It’s got a decent size table in it, might be useful for your repairs,” she continued, taking another drink of wine. “I’ll just need to get my blades out of there - need to sharpen them ‘fore we go,” she said, her speech taking on a more relaxed and casual tone than previous. “Assuming, I mean, that you’ll want me with weapons on this quest!” she added. She gave him an awkward smile and sat quietly, unsure where their conversation was going to head.

Marth finished his wine while listening to Dalanesca, letting her finish. "Of course I want you along. I'd be able to make good use of your talents, and now that you are, shall we say, initiated into my little predicament, it'd be stupid of me not to." He stood up. "I won't require your room for repairs, however. I'm staying in a local temple, and the clergy there has everything I need. I suggest we meet by the easternmost gate of the city, at seven bells tomorrow morning. That'll give us both time to prepare." Marth took a bow, smiled ever so slightly, and turned to leave, leaving the rest of the wine bottle behind for Dalanesca to enjoy.

Coming back to the temple, Marth greeted the clergy, whom had agreed to letting him stay when he showed the badge of the Fellhunter Fraternity. His room was nothing special - a bunk, a table, and all the basics like shaving kit, ink, quill, some rolls of paper, and, by Marth's request, a tailor's kit. Marth was slightly tipsy, but not tired. He decided it was time he looked more repectable. Not trusting the stability of his own fingers, he began by cutting his hair, then went on to shaving, then to tailoring as the alcohol subsided. Marth kept on working until midnight had already passed, but he knew he'd rest well tonight. He requested that the priest on night-duty had him awoken in time to leave the next morning, then went to bed.

For the first time in nearly two years, Marth slept through the night, uninterrupted by nightmares.

She nodded in agreement with Marth.  “Alright then,” she said, as he explained that he did not need to use her quarters.  Though she would have gladly given them up to him, she was silently grateful that she would not need to.  She had everything she needed in that room, and she would not have to bother Myter for another room for the night - though she knew he would have been more than happy to give her one.  As he mentioned the timing and location of their meeting in the morning, she gave him a crooked smile.  “Sounds like a plan,” she said.  He left with a bow, and Dalanesca was left alone at the table, her gaze following him out.  When he had left, she sank back in her chair and reached for the bottle of wine left on the table, opting to finish it by drinking straight out of the bottle rather than pouring the remainder into her glass.  

Myter joined her at the table after the evening had worn on.  He must have overheard at least the part of her conversation with Marth about her leaving.  “When’re you gonna’ be back?” he asked her.  A note of sadness was apparent in her voice that she had never heard from him before.  She looked at him, setting the now-empty wine bottle on the table in front of her, and simply shrugged her shoulders.  She said nothing, and got up from her chair and walked to Myter, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. 

After a moment, she let go and gave him a quick smile.  “See you around, friend,” she said, and headed for the stairs to her room.  She inserted the key into the lock and stepped inside her room, shutting the door quietly behind her.  Without undressing, she flopped down onto her bed and closed her eyes, falling into a sleep much deeper than she had anticipated.

-

The ringing of bells outside her room’s window woke her the next morning.  A dull throb pounded in her head, a result she was sure she could blame on the meade and wine she had drank before.  Silently, she counted the bells in her head.  One… two… three… four… five… six…  She closed her eyes, grateful that she still had another hour before she was to meet Marth for their journey - but she bolted out of bed when she realized she needed to meet him at the eastern gate of the city.  She hadn’t gathered her things yet, and she sped into action gathering her weapons and adjusting her clothing.

In record time, she made it out of the room and through the now-closed tavern, weapons strapped in their proper places and clothing secured in the way she liked.  She was dressed in the garb she once would have worn for an assassination.  She had found that the garments made stealth much easier.  Ebony fabric covered her nearly head to toe, with a hood drawn over her head and a guard covering her mouth.  

She made it to the eastern gate before the bells began to chime seven, and leaned against a brick wall behind her.  Though the sun was beating down in its early stages in the sky, the air was brisk and cold, and she was thankful for the cloak at her back.  Her hands free since her weapons were all strapped to various places of her body, she drew her hood more tightly around her head, a few stray strands of hair jutting out from below it.  There she decided to wait, watching in the direction of the temple that she assumed Marth would be coming from, and struggling to decide how she would hide the fact that she was not feeling at her best.  

Marth was awakened by the priest with a humble breakfast after mrning prayers. Marth got up and stretched, noting that he'd indeed slept well. Before the Reaver event, Marth could typically get by with no more than five hours of sleep each night - this night he'd had more than six, so he felt better than he had for a long time. He ate his breakfast cheerfully, got dressed, and prepared to leave. He thanked the priests for their hospitality and understanding on his way out, leaving a respectable donation in the charity box. He had already packed the night before, so he was ready to go in mere minutes.

Spotting Dalanesca proved no difficult task, despite her stealth-friendly clothing. A female character standing idly by a city gate, clad all in black and geared for travel and combat, Marth spotted her from some distance away and approach. As the bells began to chime, Marth called out her name. "Miss Dalanesca!" At this point, Dalanesca would notice a few things: His stubbly beard had been neatly cut and groomed, his wild, tangled hair had been cut short in Wyllmochvarian fashion, and his robes and weapon was clean, and without any tatters. In stark contrast to the weathered, stranded veteran he looked like the night before, he now appeared a respectable mage.

"Glad to see you're punctual," he said with a smile when he was close enough to really confirm it was her. He gave her the briefest of glances, and his experience as a troop commander kicked in. Ever so slight slouch. Upper eyelids lower than usual. Eyes slightly reddened. Fresh scratches on scabbards and belts - somewhat unsteady hands. He didn't make a fuss of it, though, beyond joking around a little. "I see you finished that bottle I gave you last night," he said with a crooked grin. "Well, I'm hope you're ready to walk. I want to put at least ten miles behind us before we stop for a rest." He gestured towards the road, letting Dalanesca go before him.