Private Friends with drawbacks [dropped]

[Edd]

Winded, and wet in more than a manner, he searched the street ahead with half-crazed eyes. Each new alley bled his dwindling hope. The north was supposed to be a new start – turned out that just meant new debt. The muddy main street was no place for performance, but Edd wasn't the god of timing. The sign on the way in had probably said the name of the town, but he hadn't bothered to read it.

The last sharp turn had nearly claimed his ankle as collateral. And if they ever caught him, they'd take more – he had seen their knuckles, brass and otherwise, and their enthusiasm. He had need of teeth. It wasn't all that charming, selling alms through gaps. And he wanted to like what he saw in the mirror. The nose was bad enough.

He moved with the grace of wet cloth caught in a gale, sharp and sudden. Felt like cloth too, twitch accompanied with a snap. There! Perhaps he could buy time if there were witnesses. People were possibilities. Understanding that was key to survival.

Beggars couldn't be choosers, so he simply locked onto the first appropriate target. Armed and armored – the pale blonde didn't look like someone you fucked with. Perfect!

„There you are!“ Edd shouted, his voice cracking on the first syllable. He staggered forward with a manic sort of glee. They were close now. But this was the correct gamble. He'd never outrun them on foot. „You magnificent bastard!“ his arms flared wide in habit.

The background grew heavy with boots and anger. Fast, then skids, a voice between them: „That's him. That's the rat.“

Edd didn't even look back. Too busy closing the knight. His unfinished hand twitched towards the stranger. A touch on the upper arm would sell this better, but he couldn't risk the other man shrugging him off. „All this time and you still... You remembered me! You...Ha...You kind hearted brute.“ The grin only grew more manic as he glanced over his shoulder. It looked grim. „My oldest companion. Haven't seen you since...Agvendash? Agvendash!“ The last word hit like a question, but it wasn't one. It was sales. „You still as terrifying with a sword?“ Loud enough to carry. The scene demanded it.

Then, soft and quiet, out the corner of his mouth: „Please go with it. I've got one good lie left in me. Don't let it end here.“

 

[Isander]

Having spent the morning walking off a hangover, idly counting the cobbles of this backwater city's streets, Isander found himself both out of sorts and off balance in the flurry of activity that had sought him out. His tongue was fat in a mouth that reeked of wheat, and his eyes yet dazed by the crest of dawn's first kiss. Even so, it took nary a moment for readiness to fit him. It slicked off his shoulders, an accompanying accoutrement to match the maille and gambeson that clung damp to his flesh.

Easing a boot into perch against the stone, balance set and shoulders taut, he addressed the voice accosting him.

"A sword?" he asked, cocking his head back to the encroaching pursuit. These he feigned ignorance of, as though even a parting notice lent more credence than they deserved. Instead, he narrowed his focus on the lank figure before him and adopted what passed for a familiar grin. More lip than teeth, with little of it conveying levity to his eyes, but it held some measure of warmth, he hoped.

"Depends. You still good with a purse? I've dropped my sword some time back, but"—he unfurled the sheath from the tip of his spear, rolling the haft about calloused palms as he brandished it—"I dare call myself a dab hand at the spear. Perhaps a matter these suitors of yours have come to contest?"


@Edd

 

[Edd]

Read him like a fucking ledger. The square of his shoulders, the way readiness slipped back like a cloak. It wasn't anger or panic – but composure. Satya bless the north.

He almost got too excited when the stranger's lip curled up. Some habits were hard to break. No tear in his eye, sure, but he could cry with his mouth too.

„Purse? HA! You still remember that mess in the Isles, eh?“ No such thing, but the loud voice sold it better. And then came the spear. By the Eight, that was even better. All drama and pointy end.

Edd half turned, hand between shield and gesture. Behind him, the pursuit had lost momentum. Picked up curses. And time – it thinned.

„Suitors – ah yes! You could say that. One's still sore about the goats. The other's romantic, I think. Hard to tell with brass.“ Hands wide, tone mocking. A bit too hopeful that Blondie knew which end went in the bastards. But it was important to keep good spirits in life, especially when the alternative was... well, shit.

„You're a wonder. Just twirl that fucker real good and look scary. I'll dig us out.“

 

[Isander]

Isander snapped his gaze past the lanky elf and counted out the pursuers: a pair of men, bodies thick and waists tucked over their trousers with cudgels taut in hand, a woman all solid lines and a glimmer of steel, and a bare fisted deva that towered over the rest. By the cut of their cloth, the general disinterest exhibited towards cleanliness, and the lack of shoes on the deva, Isander surmised that had he been a pace nearer his nose would have crinkled by the reek of booze about them.

"Four of them this time? My aren't you a tawdry one." He rocked back a chuckle while flickering his eyes between each of the thugs. He permitted himself nary a blink even as he maintained some measure of levity. At least none of the toughs sported much in the way of protection aside from the deva's hide. That went far in assuaging any nascent fears of his.

Couching his spear, he shifted his weight about feet planted in readiness of the charge. Not much of a threat from this distance, but it made for an intimidating facade.

"Why don't you fine fellows fuck right off?" he said with a smile. "Weather's fucked enough as it is, no need to add your blood to this muck."


@Edd

 

[Edd]

Tawdry? Who the fuck was Audrey?

He didn't have time to ask. Probably one of the spearman's exes. People liked talking about bed buddies and such. He could ask when they were out of the woods. Later. Maybe.

For now, there were boots and faces. A woman with a sword and a horny fucker who looked like he could break Edd's nose back to its original position. Odds weren't good. Performance or bust.

His spear brother took to his role like a natural, and it gave him hope. His hands shot up. Not in panic. Oh, no. In diplomacy. Maybe if he looked scared for their wellbeing, they'd bite and piss off.

„Look, I get it.“ He called out with a newfound confidence. „You're all very scary. And people poofing before payday is some horrible shit.“ His hands moved like he was pleading. For their sake, obviously. „But let's all be adults, eh? No need for blood, bruises, or whatever passes for romance with Miss Brass over there.“

One of the cudgel boys scratched at his face. „Did he say romance?“

His friend squinted: „Think so. Looks like one of those emotionals.“

The woman exhaled louder than necessary. Could've been amusement. Edd hoped it was amusement. Hard to tell with her types. „Shut up, Morn.“

But that didn't stop Morn. Nothing ever did.

„What?“ Cudgel back to Edd. „He's got the look. Desperate and slimy. Like he writes poems after a good muggin'.“

Edd blinked. Slowly. Aha!

„Y'know.“ Voice pained. „That might be the meanest thing anyone's ever said to me.“ Grabbed at his chest in mock offense. The imaginary arrow had struck deep. „And I've been slapped by a leper's boot once.“

His eyes flicked to Isander, making sure the backbone of his argument was still there. „Anyway. Glad we're talkin'. Shall we jump to the part where you all fuck off?“

Smile wide. Posture straight. Edd terrified.

His arms moved to present.

„Before my good friend here gives you all matching splinters.“

 

[Isander]

The voices nattered on, shuffling forward, and Isander stopped listening.

He honed his attention to their shoulders and hips, eyes flicking wide among the group. Against his judgment, he found his gaze lingering on the Deva; a shiver of anticipation wriggled up his spine.

He sucked in a breath, steadied his hands.

"What'll it be?" he asked, forcing out a casual shrug. "Fuck off, or die?"