Count to Ten

The mountain path is well trodden, and one would expect to see travellers moving across it most days. But with the chill and the rain, hardly a person is in sight. One small colourful form moves against the mountain backdrop, Simony holding a leather cloak to her tightly, though the copper and blue of the front of her robes is still visible.

The Goblin walks slowly, her expression distant and slightly dispondent. It's only when she almost slips on a flat rock that causes her to perk up a little, and she gives her head a good shake.

It's a trek that the once-guard was used to making. All the way up the Mountain Road, hang a right eventually, go into the Vardaman Temple for a few hours, pay respects, leave. Warrick is lost in his head as he ascends the road, hands clasped around the strap for his longsword as his grey overcoat is buttoned closed to ward against the occasional gust of wind from altitude.

Sudden noise of slippage draws Warrick's attention, him looking over and down. "Simony?" he calls out, almost having missed her. Adjusting his course, he approaches. "You alright? Almost fell there."

Simony blinks, looking surprised at the, to her, sudden appearance of Warrick. Her expression is suddenly full of emotion, and she stumbles her way to the man. At the edge of being reduced to tears, she slips again, reaching out to grab for the man's forearm to steady herself. Where the Gobbo simply breathes, trying to wrestle whatever's bothering her to a point where she can speak without breaking down.

There's a rote manner of expressions that cross Warrick's face: surprise, morphing to confusion, melding to worry before settling on a passive concern. He kneels down to put a hand on her shoulder and offering an arm. "Be sure to breathe deep, and count to ten," he says quietly.

It takes a few minutes for her to gather herself up, even sobbing uncontrollably for bit. Eventually, she's able to take a breath and let it out slowly. "Sorry, I am usually better at this, I had thought I was used to seeing injuries and blood. I was foolish to believe so." At this point, she hugs at the man.

"Ous came back to the Ox, I'd gone there t.. that's not important. He sat and talked to me for a bit, and.. and..." Panic rises up in her expression, and with effort, she pushes it back down. "The whole time he was there, he was badly wounded. I had... I had to pull out three crossbow bolts. He nearly died."

Warrick is, surprisingly, rather well at handling someone breaking down. He doesn't say much else except for the occasional mention to breath, as well as wrapping an arm around the gobbo. Even accepting the hug.

But he pulls back to listen. Watch. His eyes widen, slate eyes holding each word. "... he... was jumped in the Ox?" he tries to conclude. "You did well. I'm... sorry that happened."

She shakes her head, "No, I don't think so. I was... I didn't see anyone with crossbows and certainly none pointed at Ous. He.. he said, before he went unconscious that he uh left something out."

Simony lets out a long breath. "The people who'd killed his dad, and the others in his unit. They are based HERE in Alexandria."

Warrick blinks. Sighs. And shifts to sit on his haunches. "Well that is... complicated," he lamely opines, but its rife in a lot of feelings that aren't well expressed. "What is Ous's current state?"

The Goblin straightens, sniffles a few times, and rubs at her wet cheeks. "He is alive and resting, at Navos' temple. Out of sight, out of mind, was my thinking. I basically did the work at the Ox, and then carried him out of there."

Warrick looks down the Mountain Road, then back up it before giving a low whistle. "That is... a feat," he compliments. "Stable and resting. Good. And in a temple is good as well, if any others were wishing to finish the job, then they'd have to deal with librarians."

Librarians are the true danger.

He rifles around in his jacket before pulling out a clean but worn out rag. "Here," he offers it. "I know you're worried, but you did very well."

For the briefest moment, Simony looks exhausted, but then she grins, and strikes a pose, pulling one of her sleeves up, and flexing. She's no muscle-bound barbarian, but she's also not scrawny. "Navos asks us to not only have mental fortitude, but also physical discipline. I have trained as a monk. I also have a spell which increases my strength, and it was enough for me to carry him out of the city... I uh kinda dragged him a bit, but only his feet were dragging, I carried his upper half. Mostly.

She takes the rag from him after a few moments. And then the tears really start.

The false bravado gets a faint smile out of the grizzled man. "That is the way to do that properly," he nods in affirmation. But then the tears start flowing freely. A light sigh escapes him, and he puts an arm around her once more. "It is hard when those we care about get grievously injured as so," he empathizes. "I know how you feel."

The Goblin does manage to look embarrassed to be in such a state, and she struggles to get it back under wraps.

Nodding, Simony moves to lean against Warrick. "I am not usually the weepy type. I just... I was already feeling a little out of sorts, and seeing Ous so badly hurt was too much. I... I had gone to the Ox to drink. Not something I usually do... and I had to do all that last night with alcohol buzzing around my head."

Warrick blows out a sigh at that, him none judging the crumbling Navosian. "Neither am I. But with drink in you dealing with all that? Yeesh." There is more said than spoken with Simony's words, and he simmers on it a bit, letting some silence fill the gap. Then he prods, "What had you feeling out of sorts to get you to drink?"

Her eyes widen, her mouth opens, and then closes with a click of teeth. "I would rather not say.", she says, hoarsely. "I had hoped to just feel fuzzy and warm. Maybe wake up in the morning with the pain of a hangover as punishment for drinking. It really did not turn out at all like I thought it would."

Warrick gives her a blank stare. Followed by him shaking his head and pulling his arm away to sit down on the ground, eye level with Simony. "Right, because a dedicated Navosian drinking to forget is any way different than all the soldiers and guards I've been with when dealing with stress," he says deadpan. "I mostly feel bad that you had to deal with a situation inebriated. Which I've had to do before."

He waits a beat. "I'm going to hazard a guess it has some part in me shutting you down yesterday?"

Her expression seems to go through a few different emotions, and she takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. "I have not drunk to such excess before. I did not know how to deal with.." Simony throws up her arms in a 'I surrender' motion. "Yeah, it feels okay til you have to actually accomplish something, and then you're wondering why your feet aren't listening to you, and where did all the blood come from and so on."

Her pained look, and the fact that she looks away after a moment answers Warrick's question pretty plainly. "Less about being shut down. More about that I was hurting you. Upset with myself."

"Yeah. Like I said, I've had to do that before. It's not a fun manner," Warrick echoes. "I don't drink very much just in case because of that. Just... make sure you have lots of water next time. Makes the sobering up during the process less painful."

He gives her a flat look. "I was not hurting," he says, honest. "I was mostly annoyed at being asked to open up in the /Ox/ with someone I don't really know. There is a time and a place. That was not time nor place."

Another beat. A sigh, him rubbing his face. "But this is the time and the place."

The Goblin peers down at the ground, nodding lightly. "I thought that... no, nevermind. I shouldn't have pushed you at that point in time, in that place. For that, I apologize. I understand it was inappropriate."

Simony pauses, looks up at Warrick, and then looks around at the wide open, empty place that the mountain road runs through. She peers at him. "Okay." The Gobbo gestures to her ears. "You talk, I'll listen."

"Apology accepted," Warrick says easily, and readily. Seems like he wasn't one to let something small like that fester at all. And at the beckoning to continue, he closes his eyes and slowly exhales as he turns to look out over Alexandria. His throat bobs, trying to find the start, but finding it difficult.

"I essentially was not going to elaborate on how me and my captain had to put down the entirety of my old squad in the middle of the Ox around people I don't know well," he intones, voice strained.

Simony nods to him, and then bows from the waist, holding it for a five count, before straightening. Her expression remains calm and neutral, but when the realization of what Warrick is saying is understood, her eyebrow twitches slightly. She reaches out to pull herself closer, hugging gently.

Warrick sticks his elbow out to block Simony from drawing close. "Please, don't. Not right now," he apologizes. "I don't like it when people... when I tell.... you'll see why."

He folds his hands in his lap, his right hand clamping a tremor in his left. "When the wights came, I was a part of the Alexandrian Arbalest division. We specialized in mixed unit tactics, a bit unorthodox, but with military training. People changed occasionally, but we had sixteen at the time. We were very good at pelting something down and swooping in to clean up the mess."

Explains his role in all the fights they've been in.

"I... we got called to drop in on the villages to clean them out at the tail end of the wight invasion. Right when the siege was about to happen. It... it was supposed to be empty."

The Gobbo remains relatively emotionless, with a slight tension when blocked. But she nods her understanding as he explains himself. His story, especially as he gets to the empty village, tests her impassiveness.

"Go on.", she says softly, a tone of deep sadness welling in her voice. "Tell me everything."

A simple prod gets Warrick's jaw to clench. Carefully, he rolls his left arm out of the jacket, and shows the four jagged scars that go down his arm, cutting through the tattoo of Serriel's holy symbol. "Ifan... he... clawed me..." Tendons flex, and the arm shakes. "O-One of the wights burst out and got him. We... we were spread, checking.... checking houses in groups of four. I..."

He looks off, gaze glassy, not there in the present. "... other squads got ambushed, we tried... retreating. One became... became two, became five. Captain Slatesteel, she and I.... we... windmill. Destroyed the stairs. Kept... shooting them, my friends... ran out of bolts and ammo. More... kept coming just... below us."

He's got a death grip on his tattoo, breathing ragged but deep. But still pressing forward. "Three... three days later. Reinforcements. Got us out. Captain and I, we, she... we couldn't. Not anymore. Not after that. Brass let us... us go."

It seems like he's at an apex of losing it, but he ends up holding his tattooed arm close and whispering quiet prayers. "Maiden of Battle, cresting light, may y-your solace reach Ifan, Kravis..." he trails off into wordless prayer.

Simony cannot remain impassive any longer, but she does keep silent while he unpacks his grief. Tears roll down her cheeks as she lifts up her hand. She holds it there for some time, til his prayer becomes wordless. Warily, the Gobbo lets it fall to his shoulder. But it is not a gentle touch, she instead grips it firmly, mustering as much of her strength as possible. I am here.

Warrick mildly flinches from the touch, but it seems to get him to cease repeating the quiet prayer, him getting to the end of it before reaching up to hold Simony's hand. Silent tears have ran across his face as he lifts his head to the sky. And he deeply inhales. "O-One. Two. Three," he starts shakily before finishing with a firm, "Ten."

He exhales slowly, then rubs his face. Reeled back in. "Thanks," he intones tiredly, patting the hand before letting it go. "... I needed to do that..."

Simony nods slowly, her grip weakening, and then letting go. "You're welcome. And thank you. I will keep this to myself. Not just as your friend, but as a priestess." She moves then to sit down beside him, leaning lightly against him. Sniffles are heard and she wipes her face once more with the cloth given by Warrick.

"I appreciate it. The Vardamians get the earful too," Warrick murmurs, letting Simony lean against him. He doesn't return it, but by now, its clear that he's not much of a physical person. Perhaps due to this ordeal, as well as in general.

He takes a light breath. "Right. So, I hope that explains some things, Simony. I'm not... very good at some things after that."

"It does help explain a few things, and it helps me understand you more.", the Gobbo says softly. "I am sorry for making things awkward, to say the least. And... I forgive you."

"Forgive me? For what?" Warrick asks, a tinge confused as he looks down at her. "Being emotionally blunted to most things? There is nothing to forgive about that. It simply is."

"For any slight, real or trifling. Just as I am apologizing, whether or not I have done anything that would oblige me to apologize." Simony stands again, and offers her hand to him. "You just bared your soul, basically, and while my contribution pales in comparison to yours, I did also reveal something of myself. We may as well forgive each other whatever transgressions the other has committed. Let it all go, right?"

Warrick looks down at the hand. "Pain is relative," he says quietly, reaching forth and taking the hand to shake it firmly. But also using it to help pull himself up to his feet. "But nevertheless, it is still pain. I apologize as well. You are forgiven. Correct in that manner that we should let such minor things go."

He pulls his hand away. Exhales again, looking positively exhausted after all of that. But... perhaps just a tinge less burdened. "Thanks. For listening."

Her laugh is bright and cheery, as he shakes her hand. As he goes to pull himself up, she leans her back into it, helping him up. "May I walk you home, so that I know you've made it safely to bed?", she asks quietly. "I promise not to show up unannounced."

Warrick looks back down the Mountain Road, then back up to the bend towards the Vardaman temple, a faint crack of a smile on his face. "I have to pay respects first," he replies. "After I tell my wife and friends about my week, you can do so. I will be about an hour, but I understand if don't wish to wait that long."

"We all have honoured dead to pay respects to. I would wait and bid hello to lost friends. And be thankful to share such an homage." Simony offers her hand once more.

Warrick looks to the hand, gives it a joking low-five, and puts his hands into his pockets. "Sure, come with," he nods, starting to stroll that way. "I think they've got a lot to hear as of late."

-End Scene-