Open that sign can't stop me, because I can't read

They called it the Red Spring.

It was located an old elven ruin, built back when the deadlands had been forest. Once a mosaic fountain, the red and yellow swirls of tile were now mostly covered up by sand drifts. But the water remained, bubbling out from the center of the fountain, fed by some lost source deep underground. Flowering chamise bushes laden with hundreds of little white flowers dipped their fronds into the fountain water. Quails cooed and rustled in the chaparral grass. Pawprints from coyotes and sun-eaters stalked the soft clay along the outer edges of the artificial oasis.

And all around the place, words painted on the broken ruins. Warnings from fellow travelers.

DO NOT STOP

Boots crunched into the dirt next to the fountain. Nere Ashorn, sweaty from a hard day's ride, swung off her horse. A dusty, impatient snort came out of the horse as she went to loosen the cinches. Saddle and pack slipped off, and the horse dropped into a doggish roll.

Nere let out a laugh. "You and me both, buddy."

She stepped toward the fountain. Leaned down and dipped her hands into the cooling stuff, and drew up a clear, sweet-smelling cupful. "Good thing we found this oasis when we did."

There was something that needed to be found. Etoile had awoken from a dream that would have frightened many, but instead it had made her heart beat. No, not that her heart had never beat before, it was beating now as she climbed up and along a path beneath the heat of the sun. Rather, Etoile became acutely aware of her heart in her chest, the way it beat beneath her ribs like a bird singing inside a cage.

It was a fairytale dream, the knight rescuing the damsel. Forget the prince, Etoile thought no royal finery could compare to a cheeky grin and a bloody sword. No Tempestari would have been considered a damsel, but Etoile fit the bill. She was slight and willowy to the point it was wimpy that she was out of breath despite only walking a mile from where the kind merchant had dropped her off. Her inky black hair was wavy and shiny and long, but a lot of the shine came from the lack of a shower and the waves only came to be thanks to dry desert winds. Maybe she didn't look like a princess after all.

Though the bright blue sky hid the stars, Etoile could feel their whispers needling the back of her head, tenderizing her scalp with riddles made from rhymes and reasons. The half-elf fixed her wide brimmed hat, tugging it down at the front to give her face more shade, her cheeks flushed with exertion. She could feel that the bridge of her nose was hot, the telltale sign of sunburn. She really was not well equipped for this journey.

If she wanted to, she could have made the sky fill with clouds and bask in the delight of a hot rain that would have offered her some relief. She wouldn't do something so careless. Freak weather incidents brought far too many eyes. So further and further she went, mouth dry, lips chapping, sweat heavy on her brow that got soaked into her hat until finally the stars started to become silent. Only one whispered to her, turn here, go there, now look up.

"My hero." Etoile's smile was wide. "I knew the stars would lead me to you."

A shroud mirage apparated before Nere. Had to have been, from how quietly the other woman swished into being, and how diaphanous her form seemed, with the refraction of waterlight shimmering against pale skin. Nere let the water she'd been cupping pour from her hands, some of it dribbling on her lap. It seemed a scene from a dream, and as Nere stared a little too long, she thought, haven't I seen you before...?


"Ah," Nere exhaled in surprise. Mirages didn't normally talk. She smiled back in a quizzical way. "But it's broad daylight."

She didn't have much time to ponder the mysticism of this, however, as another thirsty traveler appeared. The oasis was bustling today... at least by deadland standards. Two other entire people were at the fountain with Nere, and neither of them looked like they were going to kill her. What a lucky break.

"Sure, there's plent of water," she responded to the newcomer. She couldn't get a good look at him, with him laid flat in the dust like that. "Don't mind the signs none," she said cheerfully, nodding towards a skull, with X's for eyes and its tongue sticking out, chalked in white against a tall foundation stone. "They're almost always a bluff. People put them up all the time, to scare away competitors from a good spot."

The fountain bubbled invitingly. Nere's horse, free of its saddle and reins, had wandered off to the edge of the oasis to browse on the leaves of a windswept mountain mahogany tree. It had skipped right past the fountain, but that wasn't so strange. There was that saying about leading horses to water...

Beneath the glistering sun, Etoile turned to stare down the man that decided to be a third-wheel, no, a cockblock in her love story. The stars hadn't told her that she'd have a rival to contend with, they had only told her that her hero would be here. Perhaps she had nothing to worry about then. He sure didn't look like much of a rival. And he kinda smelled.

"You're no hero." Etoile said quietly, like her voice was a breeze. She pointed at the woman that had saved her from the belly of a beast. "That's a hero." Sure, Etoile had rather liked being swallowed whole, and now when she thought back to it the snake's had given her a nice massage before eating her. The only painful part was the burning in her lungs as she tried to breathe. The smell also wasn't very pleasant inside. Etoile b. linked, suddenly aware of how much she was sweating.

Maybe she was the one that smelled? But that was silly, everyone knew elves didn't sweat. Well, perhaps some water would help with that. Etoile stepped over the man, kind enough to not accidentally kick him in his side. Coming up to the woman's side she knelt down to the fountain, leaning over the side of it and putting her hands in the water. It was cool to the touch.

Get away.

Etoile squinted up at the sun. This was the celestial body she liked the least. It always burned her, it always made the stone embedded in her back throb, and it always woke her up when she was not ready to. She turned her head, looked at the picturesand warnings. She could read, had been taught at an early age. No water? Maybe that was written during a drought.

Get away.

"No," Etoile said. Clearly the sun was jealous of Etoile and her soon to be lover who was drinking plenty of the water and seemed fine - no radiant. As if Etoile could turn her nose up at a chance to flirt. She used the water to splash her face, wiping her cheeks clean from dirt and dust. She glanced towards the woman, took a drink with one hand, trying her best not to slurp. Oh, was she the sort that liked kind women? She had been kind to Etoile, saving her and all. The tempestarri cupped her hands together, getting as much water as she could before standing up. She moved quickly to splash the water all over the man's face.

"Here you go, some water." Etoile was smiling. She went to back to get more water, uncupped her hands so it could all fall on his face. Most of it was directed on his nose instead of his mouth. Her smile seemed far more cruel than kind as she said, "drink up."

His adventure thus far had been made up of bad choices, all to lead up to the moment the helpful woman thought to drown him. Duscan was spluttering, from the first attack before the next came up his nose.

"Oi," he rolled over to push himself half up, grumbling as he grabbed his sleeve and wiped his face. "Fucking smart arse..."

He had to endure it now, his poorly state after spending many hours of past evenings drinking. Duscan pushed himself up to his feet, slowly, very slowly, and stood upright for a moment. He stared, at the sign, and the watering hole, and when his wits came back to him, he frowned heavily.

"Uh, why the fuck does it say that though? This," Duscan strode forward, finger pointing at the skull warning and tapping three times once he reached it, "looks like a universal sign of absolutely fucking not."

His eyes, bright against the ashen tears marked on his face, looked upon the woman who waterboarded him. "Did you use that water?" Duscan's voice rose an octave in disbelief. What was going to happen now? Was he going to die?!

The other woman splashed the cooling water up into the air, and some of it got on her face. It made the little twists of hair at her temple curled into dripping waves. Dark tendrils framed her face like the slithering coils of inked eel and squid that framed her... something else. Nere blink, blinked. The soggy sight caused a single drop of memory to flash against her hot brainpan.

You, and I. Covered in blood.

Quickly, Nere grabbed up her flask and dunked it into the fountain. Watched too keenly as it filled with thick glug-glug-glugs. Don't look at her drawing the water up with slender fingers. Those weren't nice things to think about strangers. The last bubble of air escaped, and the flask was fully drowned. Nere pulled it up, dripping and heavy.

Overfilled, that precious first sip spilled down the flask's leather stitching. Lips pursing forward, Nere slurped loud to get the water level down. Felt the cooling liquid slake her throat. Took a proper drink and got her head feeling a lot clearer. Of course she didn't know that other lady, she must have been heat-addled from the long ride. They were just two travelers at the same watering hole.

Oh, right. Three travelers.

The man on the ground seemed to be having some sort of panic attack.

"It's fine, really," Nere tried to assure him. Squatted down next to him and held out the flask. Mabye he'd like drinking from a real container better. "Tastes clear as daylight."

All of a sudden, the flask felt heavy in her hand. She let it sag against the man's chest. Nere let out a big yawn. "Wow, I'm beat. It's about time for a lay down..." It was the middle of the afternoon, which was not an unusual time for the average Cinderite to sleep through the hottest parts of the day.

She pointed at a shady spot under a flowering fig tree. "Let's put our stuff together so..." Another yawn overcame her, longer than the last. "...so we can watch it in one spot while we rest."

A snicker came from somewhere behind the oasis trees. No, surely that was just the dry grasses shifting together in the breeze. The wind had picked up and was playing the gentlest of tunes, promising rest on a lazy afternoon.

The grin curved sharp as it did wide, if it were a blade it would cut through its own sheath, would slice skin with a soft touch. She used both hands to triumphantly push her dark hair off her brow in silent victory. The heat was still beating down on her, sun humming it's warnings. She ignored his shouting at the sign.

"Yes," She said simply at the dirty man. "I did. You should wash your face with it. You'll get pimples if you don't." It sounded more like a threat than a warning, or perhaps the tempestarri saw something in his future. Or maybe she were just jealous that he would share an indirect kiss from her savior. Did he realize how stupidly lucky he was? "She says it's fine so it's fine. Get over it." Etoile's hands were on her hips, as if she might keep scolding. The look softened as she turned back to yawning woman.

Her yawn was infectious. Etoile caught herself copying her brave knight. She knew it was normal, it happened everywhere. All it took was one person to yawn and then the entire crew on a flying ship was yawning above and below deck. Of course it wasn't a sign that their souls and hearts were interlinked by fate and destiny, a long looping thread hooked on stars. Eyelids fell heavy, darkness softening the scorch of the sun. Another yawn. She forced her eyes back open. The fig tree was inviting, no wasps or bees fighting over the flowers, the shade looked like absolutely relief.

"I just need to close my eyes for just a second." Etoile lied, still staring dreamily at the fig tree. In the shade... the two of them... cuddling -- no, it was too hot for that, but they could fall asleep holding hands. "I didn't bring much." She never did. "I always find what I need." Etoile looked back at the melodramatic man. "And what I don't need."

Maybe it was because he was still feeling the effect of deep cups, or that he was decidedly stubborn, but Duscan fought against the yawn.

Before his eyes, the ladies were practically falling asleep mid sentence.

His hand groggily came up to his chest, where the flask of water sloshed over his shirt and clung to his chest as the woman offering him more water got sloppy with holding it. He only took it from her to keep it from spilling onto him more. No one liked a wet shirt.

He looked between the two, face scrunching with mild annoyance at the face the violent lady was giving him.

"Is this some new thing? Where you ladies pretend you are tired in hopes that the men carry your things?" But he sighed, dramatically, and rolled his eyes. "I am a gentleman and would have carried your things if you had asked outright."

But he began to mutter under his breath. He pushed the stopper back onto the flask, patting it twice before dropping it onto the woman who couldn't read. It was time for him to steady himself onto his feet, a task proved difficult as he swayed and nearly stumbled into the woman who drowned him. To her, Duscan the Bastard frowned. "Maybe not for you. There's a bad vibe about you that I am beginning to not like..."

"I have a horse to carry my things," Nere said, bleary-eyed, already too tired to trail the malice in the man's conversation.

The flask was denied. She found enough energy to stand after her generosity was rejected, but not enough to pick up the leather vessel properly. It dragged through the dirt, clutched only loosely by the strap, as Nere managed to get herself from one end of the oasis to the other. She passed by the two other travelers at the fountain, only stopping to gather up the rest of her things. Single minded in her need to sleep shady under that tree.

"My pa always told me you should meet rudeness with kindness," she advised, though she wasn't entirely sure which one of the two needed the advice more. "At the first slight, anyway. After the second slight, all bets are off." There was this nice, soft patch of dirt in between two big roots of the tree. Nere claimed it as her own, settling her back against the trunk like it was a cushioned armchair in a parlor. Personal effects piled against one leg, so she'd notice if any rifling occurred. No amount of fatigue would keep her from remembering the deadland basics. "Pa's the human one, so you don't have to ask." She pulled a length of her scarf up to cover her eyes, and folded her arms across her chest. "Everyone always asks..."

Her breathing was getting slower. It might be the last thing she said.

Imperceptible thought shifted and rustled around the underbrush. The lad's still standing. Not really words, more like intention in the air. He didn't drink enough of the water. Where it came from, no one could say. The sun blazed high and hot above. Leaving no shadows to hide in.

No matter, he won't be defending anyone in that state.

There was never much that Etoile carried with her, much like how her room on the floatilla was empty. Trinkets always felt like clutter without a purpose and books were heavy and never filled with knowledge that she couldn't get outside. As long as she followed after the stars everything would be provided for her. Water, food, a helping hand, the stars would lead her to where she was always supposed to be.

"Men? What men? I don't see any men around much less any gentlemen." Etoile hummed thoughtfully, looking towards the sky for an answer, as if she could see her thoughts wafting about her head like early morning fog. Playing well into the part, when her sharp shoulders shrugged, she yawned, long and dramatic. She waved the idea away as if she could scoot the third wheel out of the picture. "Must have been someone's imagination."

He was right to think of her as something to be cautious of. The stars whispered to her, gossiped about each other to her, told her secrets. They'd never do that with him. She moved slowly to the shade, tentatively after the woman of her dreams.

"One of my parents is human, too." Etoile said, glad they had more things in common, even if they were inconsequential. The hot sun coaxed her deeper beneath the fig branches, the large, rough leaves keeping the area much cooler. The tempestarii was too shy to cuddle up, instead choosing to sit upright on a root, leaning her face into the trunk that felt smoother than the tree's leaves. This way, she could watch her fall asleep. Not in a creepy way, in a romantic way.

Staring at a peaceful face falling asleep had Etoile fluttering her eyes in defeat.

The lad's still standing. Etoile didn't care about him, she wished the stars would just shut up. Which star was it? She usually gave names to the whispers, but this one sounded different. Etoile also didn't care about there, breath slowing alongside her thoughts.

That voice that did not seem to belong to anyone else present confused Duscan. Sure, his drunken state was slowly sobering up and morphing into realisation he would have to bear with the antics of these two women sober, alas, there was nothing else for him to drink other than the body of water used to drown him.

He had thought it was the rude one speaking to him.

"No man around but you call me a lad? I have not been called a lad since I was a lad!" Duscan groaned, running a hand down his face. "What do you mean I won't be defending you? I don't even know you. Either of you!"

Then he did not need to stay. They were both being lulled to sleep by the heat, and he certainly was not wanted here...

But he could not. It would go against who he was. Duscan the Bastard. He who had risked many times to bring someone in need shelter, food, and protection. He made them family.

"Oh fuck this." He stayed. Sat himself down a foot away from the ladies and scowled at nothing but himself and his bleeding heart. Probably frowned and gave the blistering sun a glare of it's own for making it so hot, a nap was beginning to sound like a good idea.