The Trials and Tribulations of Travelers

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

No pressure, no judgments.

Wren almost believes he means that.

...she does believe he means that. Where exactly had Rand come from? He was clearly no stranger to violence, and seemed to have a lot of experience on the road, had traveled-but he was just so...easy about things. It makes her worry about him. Even this, his staying-she feels a little guilty about it.

He recognizes the name of her former master and Wren pays close attention to what he says-making a slight scoffing noise at the words ‘if he didn't prize you before’ before listening to the rest and seemingly thinking hard on it.

So...if Anders had sent men, wanted her back under his control-it must mean he hadn’t alerted the Priesthood to her existence. A dangerous decision, but one that might have made sense if he hoped to write her off, yet another run away laborer dead in the wilderness-but trying to bring her back?

To what? Make her an agent of some kind?

Wren’s lips pressed together. Of course the man was willing to risk punishment if it meant an ‘asset’ to get ahead. Well, too bad-she’d sooner cut her own throat than serve him in such a capacity-in any capacity.

She’s not his slave anymore. She’s no one’s slave.

The serious faced young woman accepted the waterskin with a distracted nod and followed his instruction-she was rather thirsty-before sitting up just long enough to retrieve a hard roll and a wild carrot from her own pack. Rand had been carrying most of the food stuffs she’d purchased from McCallister, but just as she’d told him outside of the inn-she’d kept some behind in case he ‘ran off’.

She almost offers him the carrot, but he has his own lunch-or was it breakfast? It’s so overcast she’s not sure what time it is-and is quiet as she nibbles at the roll, lost in thought.

"How long exactly have you known that you are a Mistborn?"

Wren swallowed, seemingly studying the roll a moment, contemplating the matter as one might a leaking roof or a hole in their boat. Olive green eyes flick from it to him, a rueful quirk to the corner of her mouth. “Same amount of time I’ve been running, Rand.”

Her gaze drifted to the far wall and for a moment, for all her determination and blunt practicality-Wren looked a little young and a little lost. “I didn’t know, but looking back, there were...clues? Hints? Beatings I probably shouldn’t have survived, or trouble I was able to avoid. Old men or angry overseers, people changing their mind about hurting me-times I thought I was just ‘lucky’. I...I must have actually been burning trace amounts of metals, and just didn’t know it. I only ever mentioned being ‘lucky’ to my mother...and before she was taken away, she always assured me I was imagining things, or that Lord Varric was looking out for me-and encouraged, always, that I be quiet.”

“Maybe it isn’t that way in the cities, but...out in the reaches, the plantations-nobles send for female laborers, sometimes. Slaves-we’re essentially slaves, Rand. You work, and the owner of the lands you work on, they have power of life and death over you. They can do...they do whatever they feel like. Whatever they want.” Her gaze was a million miles away, voice trailing off into it.

“The night I left, a guard came to the longhouse looking for a girl because Lord Anders had sent for one and...decided on me. I tried to be as small and slouched as possible, as always-but still, picked me. Froze up, Rand. Didn’t know what to do.” At the time she’d been both terrified-and numb. Shocked. She could feel some of that now.

“They never come back. None of them. No one likes to talk about it, so it was a long time before I put together what the reason for that was, that we never saw any of those girls and women again. Why I never saw my mother...my mother again. A long time-and when I did, I was afraid of being sent for, too. And...I was. Always tried to be small, always slouched, always kept my hair cut and my eyes somewhere else, used all the luck I could on the guards who came after a girl-but it didn’t work, that night. Nothing I could do. Nothing anyone can ever really do. It didn’t even...honestly feel real.” It really hadn’t. They didn’t even pick her up or tie her up for the trip-just pulled her out by her arm, walked her down the dusty road and towards the manor house, to her fate.

Her ‘fate’.

Wren’s fist tightened on the roll, crushing it into her palm as the faraway look shifted to something fierce and almost feral, clear and obvious anger.

“Until it suddenly did, on the road outside the manor house. It was real, looking up at the candle lit windows, seeing him looking back out and at me.” Wren threw the roll at the far wall, where it flattened with a hard ‘splat’-and stuck. She scowled at it, then shook her head. “I don’t belong to Anders. I don’t belong to anybody. I don’t remember exactly what happened-I just remember one of the guards trying to hand me a nightgown, telling me where to wash up and what room to wait in-when I decided I wasn’t going to be his whore, either. Everything turned a kind of blue color before I pushed with muscles I didn’t know existed on the guards’ metal breast plates. Sent them through the wall, and when Lord Anders’ appeared in the hall-pushed on his stupid pipe, too. He got embers of tobacco into his eyes, they got concussions-and I got going, for obvious reasons.”

Wren took a bite off her carrot with a bit of temper, a firm nod. “I stole proper vials from the neighboring plantation a day later. Laborers whisper about Mistings and Mistborn and tell each other stories...so I knew what I was looking for, and knew Lord Schuke’s son was one-and that they weren’t home. Then I kept heading in the same direction through the fields until I found a road-and eventually, woods.”

 

[CoSurvivor]

Rand listened to her story, he could feel the details of what she must have gone through, he'd never visited a plantation, never been a slave. He'd never been beat, never been forced to do the bidding of someone else who controlled your life and could end it at the snap of their fingers. At the end, he wondered just how much Anders would pay to try and get her back, would he be foolish to try and inform the priesthood? If he did, he'd end up dead, and the priesthood would be aware of her... But then they'd have to find her. Rand could only hope that Anders wouldn't be stupid enough to try and send more men looking for her. He'd maybe figure it out that bringing the attention of the capital down on his little world probably wasn't a good idea. Priests were..... resourceful, oh who was he fooling, priests were blunt instruments, they scared the shit out of everyone by their presence, and size. They'd kill you for hiding a mistling from them. and if you did turn one in, oh.. you'd be spending a good time being questioned about it. Memories of what he'd heard were not pleasant.*

Witnessing her sudden flash of anger, throwing the opposite wall, watching the poor thing stuck there. Ok... She had power... but was she any good at controlling it? or was she just acting on instinct.? Rand wasn't sure, and there'd be no way to be sure unless they could find some way for her to practice.. get better. But Rand couldn't let the silence just stay there between the two of them. and in an offer to keep her talking, Rand pulled open his bag and tossed a new, fresh roll to her as she chomped down on the carrot...
"So part of your survival to this point has been sheer will and some very good luck. Time and life have taught me two things, Luck will eventually run out, and then you are left with what skill you have, and no amount of sheer will can save your ass when you are unable, or unskilled enough to use what you have. I've seen a lowly stable boy in the muck trying to defend his home, he was scared, unskilled, and unable to defend himself when the time came to protect what he loved. He got lucky, ONCE"

Rand raised his finger for effect, but he curled it quickly and clenched his hand in a fist immediately, dropping his hand to his lap as his voice took on a more drawn in... almost.. sad tone. As if he'd been wracked by a memory of someone long gone.

"WHen your luck ran out back there you had enough skill to save your life and mine against hired killers... But I don't it makes me curious Wren... Why do you want to go to the Capital... if all the family you seemed to care about is dead, meaning your mother... are you going there to try and find him? Why are you so dead set on the capital when you know if the priesthood finds you... they'll kill you on sight?"

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Rand talks about luck and skill, and Wren isn’t sure, entirely, what he means. She’s doing what she can with what she’s got-and while she’ll admit it isn’t much, maybe-it’s something. Any fate would be better than what almost happened. If nothing else, she had denied Anders something he wanted, something he had thought he should have.

Mostly, it sounded like Rand knew a lot of sad stories. Maybe he thought she’d be one, too.

Maybe, he was right.

But she hadn’t escaped the fate of her mother in order to forget about her-or anyone else she’d seen caught in the wheels of Varric’s ‘great’ empire.

Why do you want to go to the Capital... if all the family you seemed to care about is dead, meaning your mother... are you going there to try and find him?"

“Find who, my father?” Wren gave a slight shake of her head, that bit of scowl wrinkling the bridge of her nose, lips pressing together as she picked a bit at the new roll. “No, I’m not looking for my father. If I’m a mistborn, then HE’S one of them. Noble, I mean. Doubt it’d go over well. I know enough to know my existence is a...a problem, according to Lord Varric, his Priesthood. That’s why plantation owners kill their conquests-to prevent mistakes like me.”

She’s quiet again, not hungry for the roll or the rest of the carrot, wrapping them carefully in a clean cloth for later, she guesses. After a moment, she speaks again, a little softer, less certain.

“Can…can they tell what I am, Rand? Just by...just by looking at me...?” The thought was unsettling, and she honestly doesn’t know, isn’t sure. Her kind-mistings of non noble birth, bastards-weren’t to be suffered. And Wren knows bad things happen to those that earn the priesthood’s ire.

“And is Lord Varric even real?”

She hadn’t said why she was going to the capital.

 

[CoSurvivor]

Rand heard her words, and it created a swirl of emotions in him when he heard her talk about her mother and her father. She'd grown up in one of the worst ways imaginable, as something just a half step above being a slave. Nothing more than a tool. or a play thing for Anders. If what Rand suspected would happen 'may' happen, whatever end came for Anders would be well deserved. He was only concerned about the innocent lives back on the plantation, of those slaves left behind might be lost.

He'd seen so much death, so much loss, he should be insulated and cold to it by now. it was one of the reasons he refused to stay in one place for any serious length of time. But now Wren was in his life. Part of him loathed it, enjoying his solitude, he could do as he liked when he liked, pick up and leave if he just felt like it. But he'd let her into his life, Damn it if he didn't even encourage it by his subtle or not so subtle eagerness to lead her to the Capital.. This new situation wasn't thrust upon him, he could have said no, and made her find some other guide to take her to the capital. No... It happened for a reason. Now, they were stuck with each other. There would be no running in opposite directions, where one went the other would as well. At least that's how Rand saw it simply put they were now together to survive whatever came next. To deny that their future was now intertwined, was pretty much like denying that the sky was... gray.. or a pale blue. If he projected his feelings about his misfortune to Wren it would be mistaken, and he wasn't one to shy away from taking responsibility for his own actions. No.. Rand had made this situation, Now he had to live with it.

His heart did hurt for Wren through, losing her mother, never knowing her father, even if he was a complete jerk for leaving her out there, maybe he didn't have a choice? Maybe he didn't know that her mother got pregnant in the first place? He wasn't sure who the man was, but Rand wasn't ready to pass judgment on a total stranger even if he was nobility. Those were thoughts he'd keep to himself normally, but for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he felt himself talking to Wren openly. More so than he'd done in years. Rand could tell her all of this, but before he went off on a tangent of her parents, he should address her actual questions.
"I don't think they can detect you just by looking at you, but depending on what metal you are burning yes, they can detect you. Depending on the power of the priest of course. If my memory serves me right. if you burn nothing, they can't detect you at all seeing as there's nothing to detect. And, if you are say burning Copper, it's more like a masking agent, Priests can't sense you."
Taking a drink from his waterskin, he licked his lips and continued.

"Additionally, be careful of what you burn, just like food, if the metal is rotten or has impurities in it, you could get sick. You've probably gotten lucky to this point with what you've been burning, small bits here and there, but don't trust that what you pick up is going to be fine. I've heard of Nobles tainting vials of others, Poisoning what they burn and causing one or many to get ill. Years ago there were two families who were in a dispute over property and ended up poisoning the whole family. At least that's what I always suspected. From what I've heard Nobles are a prickly bunch, and when one has power they'll do anything to protect it. Murder, cheating, conspiracy.. name it and they've probably done it. All in the name of serving themselves, or Lord Varric. and make no mistake, Varric is real. Very real..."
Rand had answered her questions and watched her for a moment. He had to say it, on behalf of himself as a parent..for as long as he had been, he had to say something. With a touch of regret in his voice, as memories from his past flowed through his mind, Rand looked at Wren, and spoke earnestly.

"Wren, I can't speak for your father, I have no idea what kind of man he was, if he be alive or dead, if he knew about you or if he loved your mother. This may be hard to do, but try not... to try not to judge him without knowing if he's worthy of it or not."
Rand paused, then continued before he lost his thoughts.

"Life is never straight, never black or white, I'm certain I don't need to tell you that considering where you grew up but..people do things, they fall in love with people maybe they shouldn't. and in the end they live with the regret of their actions."
Rand broke eye contact, looking at the floor and a slight tear in the blanket he was sitting on. it was a wear spot in the blanket which had finally come loose. Rand fumbled with it..pulling at a thread. then stopped, and continued in a voice from far away.

"Sometimes things happen, that prevent us from being where we want to be. Maybe he couldn't. Maybe no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get there before it was too late... I'm very sorry for your loss, for the loss of your mother, to grow up without parents, people who will do anything for you, people who would die to protect you. I'm sorry you didn't have that."

Rand's comments surely didn't make any sense. He was babbling.. His own experience of losing what he loved so much, knowing he'd trade everything to get back one more day, one more day would've made all the difference... At least he would've been there... Shaking his head, Rand tried to shake loose of the memories, squeezing back his own tears, refusing to allow himself to break down in front of her, this girl he didn't know, Rand brought them both back to reality.

"You still didn't quite answer my question Wren... Knowing the danger, Knowing that* if they find out about you, that they'll kill you, why do you want to go to the capital?"

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Wren zeroes in on his explanation of Copper-how it could hide her from scrutiny when she was burning metals. She doesn’t have any of this-but luckily, if she was empty-then she was safe from detection in the first place. The rest of what he says-taking care not to consume and burn the wrong kind of metals, advising caution-she takes in as well, nodding-and then nodding again on the corruption of nobles (because that was something she obviously knows very well) and on Lord Varric’s confirmed existence, her lips pressing together again as she frowns at the far wall and flattened roll she’d thrown.

”Wren, I can’t speak for your father-”

She almost interrupts him, because he’s right-he couldn’t. She allows him no excuses-none of the nobles deserved excuses-and would have said as such, forcefully told Rand her mother was dead because of his indiscretion-but something about his voice keeps her quiet, and when it twists with regret and feeling-well, the venom and the anger melt away, because Wren doesn’t think he’s exactly defending her father, after all.

She looks over at him and his voice drifts even further away, the man looking not at her but at his blanket as he continued into the quiet early morning of this desolate, hidden place.

Wren’s quiet as she watches him, piecing together, maybe, some of what Rand himself had been through. She can’t know for sure, or entirely make sense of what he’s saying-but the regret and the sadness are obvious-as was his suffering.

She moved to close what little distance was between them, and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. If he chanced a look at her he’d see sadness and compassion there, empathy. The night before, she’d assured him it was okay not to talk. Now, she quietly welcomes him to, allows him to finish in that half embrace, what little comfort she can offer. She’s a stranger, but she’s here.

Poor Rand-he had suffered. And for as young as she was Wren had also known suffering, but something in him ached in a way she wasn’t familiar with and couldn’t understand, but saw the shape of, heard in his voice and saw on his face.

The young woman was smaller-small even compared to Rand-but warm, and there was some assurance to be found just in sitting next to her, her side pressed against his side, quiet understanding of the ways life could twist in and hurt you.

“You still didn’t quite answer my question, Wren…”

When he speaks, she can feel his voice resonating through his chest and back. No, she hadn’t, and no, he hadn’t forgotten it, either. Her arm falls away and Wren tucks her hands back into her lap in front of her, and while her gaze moved away from his face and back to that far wall again, face forward-she stays close, hip to hip on his blanket as he finishes asking his question.

Somehow, it didn’t seem right to keep her silence, now.

“Because that’s where Lord Varric’s fortress is.” Wren states simply, her green eyed gaze drifting back to his face, watching for his reaction as she drops the unthinkable. “And I am going there to kill him.”

She's dead serious.

 

[CoSurvivor]

Wren's arm around him was welcome... he hadn't realized she'd moved closer to him, until she touched him, in the silence of the barn he could hear his own heartbeat, feel his eyes well for tears that he swore he'd never let anyone see again. Rand wasn't one to shy away from emotion or to prevent himself from feeling, it was just easier for him to shut down that part of himself when it came to the memory of his wife and son. Too often did he see families in towns, villages and farms, quick to remember something he'd long since thought he'd buried. Only to have it all come up again.

Wren answered his question...all of her comment was lost to his ears save two words.

".....kill him...."

With all she'd been through all that was either done to her or done to prevent her existence, all the control and subversion that had been placed on her and the people she knew, this is what her grand plan was..

Wren wasn't crazy... no... she wasn't insane either. she was deadly sane. and what's more, he could see the levity in her comment. He could see the reasoning, If you want to effect change, start at the top.. But would that end it all?

Rand only had to look at her eyes one more time to realize there was no way he was going to convince her otherwise. What was the point... But that didn't mean he had to go along with it did it? What alternatives did he have? Run? Sure but where? Once the plantation was found and Anders interrogated, it wouldn't take long for the priests to track her to Mason. Then to the River and beyond.

The bodies, the battle, all of it would eventually be found. Priests were not always resourceful, they were blunt instruments. so they'd bully their way into finding out the information they needed as up until this point, they hadn't been quiet or careful about what evidence they leave behind. How long would it take for the priests to find them? days? a week? a month? it would be a matter of how well they blended in, how much they looked like everyone else. But he was getting ahead of himself here. Would Wren go with it? Would she listen?

All he could do is question her, and explain what he is thinking. Speaking evenly, careful to make sure he didn't come across as condescending, Rand turned and sat right in front of her, his body language was direct, not a challenge, but he wanted to appear unavoidable.

"OK Wren... I don't question your survival skills, at least not in a sense of keeping yourself alive. But let's talk about your plan. What were you planning? Allow me to guide you all the way to the Capital, paying me along the way, either with someone else's money or money you'd liberated..Because I don't think you have the money on you to pay me beyond one stop So let's say you get someone else to take you, That guide doesn't believe you, and you end up on your own. The Priests catch up to you, because they will they always do. Nobody can run from them forever. But let's say you do make it through, you get to the capital or you don't ditch me in the next town over. Let's say we actually make it to the capital. We hide safe enough, we mix in well enough to get you all the way there. Once in the Capital what's you plan. You can't just waltz in to the fortress, one of the most heavily guarded locations in the land, go in and start a fight. and hope to Kill the single most powerful man anyone has ever seen."

It was a suicide mission, surely... but that didn't mean that Rand was just going to let her go in there and not have a chance.

Rand let that sink in.... then he looked at her with a mischievous sort of smile...

"But....if you really want to do this. If you REALLY want to burn down his house, and kill him, then you need to do it right, have the right materials. have the right skills. I look at you... and I see.... I see someone who will not be deterred so I know I can't talk you out of it. But I'm not going to just let you throw away your life Wren, not without knowing you have a chance."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Rand turns to sit directly in front of her, and while his seriousness and to the point demeanor is something Wren can respect-the young woman remains silent and somewhat opaque as he runs through the risks and the insanity in even saying such a thing.

She does not expand on what her plan was. She doesn’t elaborate on just how exactly she DID intend to afford his services, or what it was she hoped to exactly DO once-and if-she reached the capital-nothing. She says nothing, keeping her own counsel and her own thoughts to themselves.

They’re both silent when he finishes. There’s a decided look of grim to her, though no less determination than there had been before, no dismay. As if nothing he said was news to her. The stroke of grim surety in that stoic expression was enough one might wonder if Wren herself had any hopes of surviving.

Wren imagines that this is probably the part where Rand wishes her luck and points her in the direction of the next town. Certainly what she would have done, if their positions had been reversed. Such talk was punishable by death-treason of Lord Varric in your heart, any hint of conspiracy. A ‘loyal’ bastard mistborn was no safer than a treacherous one (and Wren was most certainly a treacherous one, no love for the ruler or his chosen caste)-but for normal, freer people, people allowed to self rule to an extent-why risk it?

She’d have abandoned herself to the fight even, maybe. Wren’s honestly not sure-she’d come back for Rand, after all. Maybe she’s not as smart as she’d like to think.

But instead, and in spite of all he’d just revealed he understood about the risks-he smiles, and Wren is briefly suspicious of that smile, her eyes narrowing on it despite the open and, as ever, friendly demeanor the man carries, his gentle tone of voice.

”But I'm not going to just let you throw away your life Wren, not without knowing you have a chance."

Olive green eyes widen, a clear look of surprise. She glances around with a slight furrow to her brow, the ‘conspiracy’ stronger now that they were speaking of it aloud, something Wren had never done before. “What do you mean?” She almost whispers, though she thinks she has a pretty good idea. There’s a pulse of excitement she has to wrestle with, a flicker of hope she tries to temper back-but he has her attention and the young woman leans in slightly, stoic cynicism utterly failing her.

“You’ll really still help me, Rand?”

 

[CoSurvivor]

Rand gave her a short nod. then spoke,

"Yes Wren, I'll help you."

Rand sat back a little, his demeanor relaxed yet a touch serious. He felt for a moment like he was giving a pep talk to

But if you want a chance... we do this right. If we are going to survive we have to look the part, it'll be difficult to act the part, but at least we'll pass for what we need to be from a distance."

Rand ran his hand across his chin and could feel the week-old stubble and noted that they'd both need to be cleaned up a bit if they were going to pass off as what he hoped they could.

"Once we get you healed up we'll visit a friend of mine, She's helped in the past, made me a few things, that well helped keep possessions from a prying eye. She'll take care of you for sure. I think she'll take it as a personal challenge. Me on the other hand, she might bark at me quite a bit, let's say her and I parted unwillingly... so it could be humorous, or you might see someone try to bite my head off. Ok well not literally, but she might yell at me a lot. I mean... a lot."

"So, now that we know that you aren't gonna ditch me in the next town, and I'm not gonna rat you out, will you please let me help you? Let me look at that wound of yours and make sure you are healing up ok. Not that I don't trust Allomancy, but I don't rely on it to heal up. Me being just a boring guy with no abilities to chew on a piece of pewter and get any benefit of it."

Rand thought for a moment about Allomancy and had to laugh at himself. The idea of someone pulling the brass knob of a bedpost off a bed and trying to chew on it gave him a silly visual. Rand couldn't remember if brass had any burning qualities at the moment, but something told him they'd have to find some sort of book on it. No matter how careful Wren might be, having something in writing to guide her where he couldn't, would be helpful.

Scooting closer, Rand tried not to be too pushy, but he did want to get a closer look at her injury.

"Wren... sensitive question here, especially since you grew up on a plantation. You've said conditions are pretty rough there. But, can you read?"

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"Yes Wren, I'll help you."

A pulse of excitement makes her feel almost dizzy-and for once in her life, Wren’s almost giddy. Her stoic facade slowly crept back into place, but the young woman’s eyes remained bright and companionable, nodding along to her co-conspirator’s words with seriousness, absorbing every word.

Rand knows things, and people-people who wanted to apparently yell at or bite him, but still-useful people. She was grateful to have run into him, that he’d let her ‘hire’ him.

This didn’t feel like much of an employer/employee relationship anymore-now, they were partners of a sort, and Wren found she preferred that, maybe.

It might be nice, having a friend.

"So, now that we know that you aren't gonna ditch me in the next town, and I'm not gonna rat you out, will you please let me help you? Let me look at that wound of yours and make sure you are healing up ok.”

Wren was amused by the first bit of that, the statement as good as a handshake-and leaned back a little so her left hand could snag the hem of her torn and bloodied, oversized tunic- drawing it up to once again expose the slashed hem of her boy’s breeches and the bloodied bit of bandaging he himself had applied the night before.

“It feels better than yesterday.” Wren notes, looking the bandaging over with care she hadn’t been capable of last night. He’d done a good job, she thinks.

Wren frowns. “Was a stupid thing I did, bringing that dagger down through us both.” She’d essentially stabbed herself. Not the best of defenses…

She’d just been reaching, maybe. Reaching, outmatched, and more than a little afraid, unable to breathe and pinned down by someone so much larger than she was.

Wren tries to stay strong enough to look-but if he reached to remove or reapply or do anything at all with it-she paled a little, and had to look away. She’s never liked blood very much. “...letters.” Wren begrudgingly answers, slowly. “I know...some letters. Mother drew them, in the dirt? Kept practicing for a bit, after she was taken away.”

Wren reached just past the blanket and, with her index finger-carefully wrote the letters W-R-E-N. She paused, as if uncertain whether to share-and then after a glance to him, she added more beneath it with a bit of extra care and softness-something that mattered to her.

“A-M-A-R-Y-L-L-I-S was...was her name. I guess, a long long time ago...there were prettier leaves on some special plants, something grown for decoration- and that that was one of them. Flowers?” Wren’s not sure, and feels somewhat exposed for having shared her mother’s name-something precious, and secret, a person no one knew anymore, because she was gone.

But somehow, she feels she can trust Rand with her. “...she was beautiful, and knew things she wasn’t supposed to. She came to Anders plantation from somewhere else, I was told.” A shrug. “Can you read?”

 

[CoSurvivor]

Carefully he removed her bandage, not touching Wren any more than he absolutely needed to . Inspecting the wound, he noticed it was mostly healed, "It looks really good, mostly closed, a little weepy at one spot, but whatever you are doing, keep it up..." Re-bandaging the wound so as it wouldn' bleed on Wren, he listened intently as she talked then backed up to where he'd been sitting.

As Wren carefully wrote out her own name, then her mother's name in the dirt, he watched the dirt smudged on her finger. She was practiced.. but the whole thing seemed... private as if Rand might have unknowingly pried open the corner of a box of secrets she wasn't quite ready to open all the way.* It wasn't fair to her that she'd lost her mother like she did, it wasn't fair what happened to him. But it had happened... The only choice the living had was to keep going and live with it. There was some measure of discussion that could be had regarding the word 'living'. Had Rand really been living these last 10 years? had he tried to move on? or was he stuck there...Maybe that's why he was so intrigued by Wren, so willing to join her on this mad caper... At the moment he wasn't sure what the real answer was.

Focusing on her mother's name, it wasn't one he recognized, he tried to think back into the recesses of his mind to see if it might be one he did have a glimmer of recognition. No, he didn't, and part of him was sad that he didn't. It seemed her mother was a special woman. She knew things she wasn't supposed to, so did that mean she wasn't from the plantations? That she'd moved there? or hidden there? More questions... less answers in that direction. But that wasn't the way they were going.

Pulling himself back to Wren's question, he replied calmly and nodded,*
"I can read, I was expected to learn that back in my youth. Times were different then. I wasn't always this traveling vagabond, sleeping in a*pile of hay."

Rand realized how insensitive he'd sounded. "I'm sorry Wren. you probably think I'm a joke. There's no amount of hardship or pain in this world that can measure against the loss of a loved one." Rand tried to follow that up with a compliment, and any attempt to change the subject.

"You write your letters perfectly, I'm sure given the opportunity you could learn how to read in no time. I'd be happy to teach you.." He smiled at that, then remembered the reason why he'd asked in the first place.

"I ask if you could read...because when it comes to Allomancy, I'm more an observer, I've seen a lot, and I can educate you on what I know. but if we can find some books, maybe liberate one from a less than deserving Noble, well..."

Rand smiled.. "you might just surprise the old immortal bastard." The wheels started turning in his head, he thought of who might know where such books might be liberated.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“I don’t.” Wren responded simply, a one shouldered shrug as she filed the information away for later. Rand had been someone else too, once. She’s not sure what that might have been, exactly-and it didn’t entirely matter now, but he was no joke.

She knew well enough to know he too had known pain-and she was unoffended, scattering the dirt back over her and her mother’s names, quiet. “It was a long time ago...but I remember her.” There’s greater care when she obscures the second name, and a bit of softness to counter her usual blunt nature.

She knows it’s not a unique story. Many wives and daughters, mothers and sisters had been lost to the lusts of their ‘betters’-but it couldn’t continue. Not forever.

Her heart felt hard again, the flash of anger remembered-but Rand was still going on over there, distracting her with an easy confidence in her intelligence, offering to teach and trusting she could be taught. He had offered to teach her how to read the stars, too. He was apparently set to show her all sorts of things he knew, free of charge and in the hope it’d help her somehow, this doomed mission of hers.

“Just might surprise the immortal bastard.” Another one of those rare smiles bloomed on the young woman’s lips, olive green eyes glimmering with a spark of delight.

“Maybe.” She tells her co-conspirator and...friend. Rand was her friend, and wherever he had come from-he had her trust.

She trusted him. And it had been a long, long time since Wren had dared to extend such a thing to anybody. It leaves her oddly...happy. She’s happy to have met him, and to be friends.

It’s an oddly cheering, good thought to have after so long and downtrodden an existence. Her fingers strayed to the bandages beneath her torn clothes. “You think this will be healed tomorrow, then? Enough for travel?”

 

[CoSurvivor]

Rand quickly nods to her concerns. "I do, I think we can be on the road early morning, although to keep putting a distance between our last campground and where we are now, we should keep riding. If you're ok with it, we should probably keep riding together." He said it more matter of fact as if there wasn't really any other choice. He could try and teach Wren to ride, but that would have to come at a much later date. For now, it would be safer for both of them if they rode together.

Rand pulled over his pack, flipped open the cover and pulled out a leather cylinder which was closed with a tied knot. Rand opened it to roll out a fairly detailed map of the country they lived in, some spaces were more detailed than others but it was hand made and done over a long period of time, possibly years. Pointing to the map as he talked, Rand gave her a general idea of where they were. "We're here..and we need to be... here... I'm hoping we can cross that distance tomorrow. Here's the Capital that we intend to get to, and it's not as easy as it sounds. Knowing what I do about you now we have to be a couple of sneaks to get in. No way are we going to be able to just walk in there. But, we'll discuss that later, you should get some rest since we'll be traveling a lot tomorrow."

Through the rest of the day, Rand concentrated on watching out while Wren rested, but if she did join him, he welcomed her company. No matter what, he tried to make sure she didn't feel that she was a burden on him and he tried to be sure she understood that if she didn't get lots of rest, her healing would slow down. Rand hoped that would or maybe, could convince her to keep her butt in one place, but he doubted it. Wren was a very strong-willed woman and not one to completely listen to him. Either way, he made sure to make the as stress-free as possible.

That evening, he suggested they turn in early and not build any sort of fire so as not to attract attention, they'd have to rely on their blankets, and surely Wren 'burning' would keep her warm. Before he did turn in, Rand made sure Wren was comfortable, but he slept closer to her than he might have under other circumstances. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he did; but if he had to protect her in the middle of the night, he wanted to be sure he was close by.

During the night, Rand was troubled by the same nightmares that always came for him, his wife and son would reach for him, beg for him, and ask why he didn't save them as they were consumed by a pool of blood. Sometime during the night he woke, remembered where he was and quickly went back to sleep. Within minutes the cold chill that had been creeping through his body began to fade, he felt warm, comfortable.. almost too much so. When he woke, he realized that either Wren had moved on her own.. or he'd moved toward her.. but neither of them was in the place they'd been when they went to bed last night. Instead, he had Wren wrapped in his arms sound asleep. That wasn't the problem. it was that their shared position put him close to her, not 'too' close as might've happened if there had been any sort of attraction but it was still more than a little embarassing on his part. Now that he was awake it made him freeze and flush a bright red. He'd never imagine pushing himself on her, never once had he thought to make an advance on her. That just seemed... uncomfortable, and it wasn't how he saw her anyway.

It was of it was in a way very nice to hold someone, to have that 'contact' but still, it felt embarrassing that here he was the bigger, older of the two and he had his arms wrapped around her. That wasn't to say that Wren wasn't attractive. She had a pretty smile and eyes that could look into a person's soul. And, part of him wondered what she looked like under the ill-fitting mess of clothes she wore. But, if Wren woke.. and he was holding her as he currently was, she'd be well within rights to slug him, and he wouldn't blame her.

He'd have to find a way to slowly pull himself away from her. without waking her.

"Yea... good luck with that Rand... good luck.." he thought to himself.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Her new friend’s tossing and turning causes the runaway laborer to stir-lifting her head and turning to her face him in the dark, blinking blearily in the empty barn.

“Rand?”

He mumbled or growled...something over there, but Wren couldn’t make it out and she wasn’t subjecting herself to burning Tin again just to try. She doesn’t have that much left of it to use, anyway.

“You cold?” The woman sleepily guesses. No fire, and while she doesn’t notice a chill herself-she’s sure there was one, she’s just burning too much pewter to tell. That was an idea.

“Here-” She picked up the corner of her blanket and shimmied closer, dropping back down to press her back to his back in a practical, sensible bit of problem solving. She’s warm because of the Pewter, and body heat was free, smokeless warmth-might as well make use of it. Should help, and probably what they should have done in the first place. Mostly, seemed to quiet him down. She’s tired, bone tired-it wasn’t really deep sleeping when you were burning metal on top of it, she guesses.

~*~

Rhythmic breathing turned to a deeper sigh and a furrowed brow as Wren came to-fingers straying to spread over her injury and the slightest of grimaces on her lips as she sat up, casually shrugging Rand’s arm off, unbothered.

It’s not at all how one might expect a young lady to react to being held by a stranger in sleep, but Wren seemed utterly unperturbed, olive green eyes flickering open and a lazy slant of a smile on her lips.

“All healed up, I think.” She hadn’t looked yet, but it felt much, much better than it had. Bit tender, an uncomfortable tinge when she tightened her muscles-but no stabbing jolts of pain, anymore.

Rand though, he looked a little...she’s not sure what. Frozen? Wren regarded him with curiosity and puzzlement rather than suspicion-head tilting a fraction.

 

[CoSurvivor]

Rand was more than a little embarrassed, he'd felt he was a little too close..and when Wren looked at him completely unassuming that his closeness during the night was 'too' close he blinked, looking at her as if he'd been staring off, daydreaming about something or other.* It was a relief that she didn't just reach out and take a swing at him, he still wouldn't blame her, but it did leave a bit of a question on his mind all morning, one that he thought he'd have to ask her about later. Much later.

The good news was, her wound had healed up, healed up enough that Wren was giving him a hint of a smile. He could feel his heart lift just a bit that she was in good spirits, he always woke up, haunted by his nightmares, never quite able to shrug it all off until he'd gotten up and moving.

"That's, that's fantastic Wren. " Rand's voice took on a more encouraging tone, and he'd caught her looking at him curiously while he'd sat there longer than he should have after she'd just shrugged him off.

"Well, let's hope you are healed up enough for travel, we need to get on and moving. I'd like to be in Edgerton before nightfall."
Making swift work of it, Rand went about cleaning up, putting his stuff back in his pack and then looking at how the two of them could travel together on the same horse. Thankfully the horse they'd 'liberated' from their assailants the night before had saddlebags,* and after tying their bags to the horse, Rand offered to help Wren upon it, steadying her and reassuring the horse. Once she was on, Rand walked them out to the road, taking one last look at the barn and got on the horse. Adjusting himself behind Wren, he gently put his arms around her, took the reins and guided the horse down the road, After a bit, he encouraged the horse to increase its speed, which it did. In the heat of the moment when they escaped their fight in the woods, Rand hadn't thought much about trying to balance Wren in the saddle with him, he'd picked the biggest horse there was simply out of practicality since he figured the weight of the two of them together would probably be a lot less than the giant of a man who'd previously owned the horse. A good luck of the draw it was too, because otherwise at the speed they were going, one of them or both of them could end up getting thrown, and that wasn't good for them or the horse.
The countryside changed as they rode, from wheat fields to more planted farmland, it was only when Rand slowed down near a brook did he comment to Wren that they were getting close. Their break lasted for at least an hour, maybe more as Rand had originally intended, but he wanted to make sure the horse was well-rested on the way in. And he had to talk with Wren before they proceeded into the small town.

"Edgerton is like most towns and villages, they have a strongly imposed fear of what they don't understand, and what they think of as 'off' remember, not everyone goes sneaking around in the fog, most people aside from us crazy people actually think there are monsters out there who will suck you into the fog. While that's not true, well, for the most part, these people have a healthy dose of fear. So put on your best face, and try not to say much till we get to Madeline's Once we're there, and we get you a change of clothes that actually fits you, we'll fit in and nobody will be the wiser. Any questions before we continue on?"

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Wren had been too hurt and shell shocked the first time they’d ridden together to make much note of horseriding, but with the terrible events seemingly put firmly behind her she was set to make up for it.

She didn’t pepper Rand with questions exactly-she’d ask one, think on it a minute, and if he didn’t expand on his own she’d ask a second-and that was no small part of their early morning adventure. She learned the horse was a gelding, and large enough he suspected a cross breed-that the white streak and nose made the horse ‘bald’, and that the animal was probably around four, five years old.

By the time he slipped into the saddle behind her, Wren was excited to go faster-and she learned what a trot, a canter, a lope and a gallop all looked-and felt like.

It was a tiny bit unsettling, but not sickening, not if she kept her eyes ahead-but he’d see her lean back a little into him, peering beneath his arm and down at the blurring ground below more than once.

The changing scenery drew her attention too, and while it made her slightly nervous to be looking at rolling farmland again-it was clearly different than the plantation fields further away, and she’s a long ways from there, anyway.

When he slowed the horse and hopped down-Wren initially waved his helping hand away. Her small hands gripped the pommel of the saddle and she slid back to where he’d just been sitting-leaning to one side to try and catch the stirrup-which she couldn’t quite reach.

With a huff, Wren slipped free to the ground without use of it, fluffing out her tattered, threadbare cloak and eyeing the stream with distrust as he spoke and the horse watered.

“Always good to keep quiet.” Wren agrees with a serious nod, followed by a shrug. “Get into less trouble that way.” No, she wouldn’t consider herself a big ‘talker’, not to strangers, anyway. The less attention she drew the better, especially now.

“...how do you know this...Madeline?” Wren wants to know, curious. Rand seemed to have a lot of friends out there.

 

[CoSurvivor]

Rand gave Wren a bit of a quirky smile and signed. "Who is Madeline? Well, she's... She's a mystery to me as most women are but that's not saying a whole lot. Our history goes back to more than a few years ago. Let's say we were both running in the same circle of people for about 6 months and both of us decided for a change of scenery. She set up shop in Edgerton as one of the more reliable and reputable shops in the area, A number of the nobility will go to her shop for the latest fashion. She's also got connections, and should know of a few safe places we can go to. Maybe even a few locations we might be able to get books that will help us. Besides that, Madeline is, Feisty.. you'll love her. I think she'll take quite a liking to you as well. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure she will. Just... don't be surprised if she is a little unhappy to see me. Like I said earlier, She's feisty, and while we are friends, she might also be.. a little.angry with me about how we went our separate ways." Rand didn't say much more beyond that, he wasn't sure it was a good idea to tell Wren a whole lot more. The past is best left in the past as they say. Although, in Rand's case, he's had a hard time allowing some parts of it from following him everywhere.

Once they were back on the road, they made good time getting to Edgerton. When they'd reached the outskirts, Rand hopped off the horse and walked them the rest of the way in, urging Wren to stay on the horse. Once they'd started beyond the first streets, the village had newer buildings that seemed to have been built out of the old. And, a few he could remember as being burned out, were actually torn down and replaced. How long had it been since he'd been here? Couldn't have been more than.. a year maybe two? As far as Rand could tell from the last time he was here it seemed that the population of the Village was doing well for itself. How he wasn't sure, he couldn't remember any mines or anything of the sort that would actually make Edgerton into a boomtown so it made him curious. Rand did keep an eye out for priests, and well-dressed nobility but thankfully he remembered his way to Madeline's shop traveling through the less well to do parts of the village. Surprisingly enough, even those parts were in better shape than he remembered. As they turned the corner on to the street the shop was located, Rand looked for her shop, finding it about halfway down he spotted the sign for the entrance, a wooden sign painted purple sign with the name "Madeline's" in beautifully carved gold calligraphy. The shop windows on the first floor were adorned with a "general store" appearance various nicknacks and tools displayed in her windows. but when Rand spotted what he was looking for he kept on leading Wren past the entrance to the place without another look. He did, however, give Wren a cautious look, one that surely meant for her to keep her eyes about her. Once they had rounded a corner, headed behind a few blocks back behind Madeline's shop, Rand spoke up.*

"She has visitors and not the kind we want to meet. We'll have to circle around the to back, the front entrance isn't safe." Rand continued, "Did you see the wind chimes in the window? there's a stained glass piece in the center which can be switched out, The color in the chime is blue, it's normally purple which is her favorite color. I know this only because I bought that chime for her years ago. Anyway, we'll head around the back and go in that way."
Taking another 10 minutes to weave their way through a back alley, Rand found the entrance he was looking for and pulled at a short rope which slipped through a small hole just above the door frame. Within a few minutes, a young woman, no more than Rand's age opened the door. She was dressed in purple. crushed velvet pants, a white shirt under a deep purple jacket of what looked to be very high quality, She looked at both of them and narrowed her eyes at Rand, but when she spotted Wren her eyes brightened, ushering them in.*

Once inside, Rand could immediately feel Madie's eyes on him boring holes through him. "Well well well, what brings you to my part of the world Rand?" Madeline poked Rand in the chest with a long manicured finger. There was a fire to her eyes, despite her polished appearance.

Rand raised his hands, "I'm here, so you can help Wren. Wren this is my old friend Madie, she's the best. Madie, Wren needs your... skills. With an eyebrow raised at Rand, Madie turned to Wren and took her hand in her own, not giving Wren a chance to pull away. "I'm sorry you have to put up with Rand, he's a bit... rough around the edges.. but he's right...let's get you taken care of. "

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Wren actually scowled.

“I like Rand.” The girl said pointedly, a small tug on her captured hand-but Madeline doesn’t let her go. She just nods her head in a somewhat condescending manner, her other hand moving behind the smaller woman’s shoulders. “All women do, dear.”

Wren’s scowl only deepened. “I like him the same as a man would, then.”

“Then you’re wise beyond your years. Come along now.”

~*~

Rand WOULD show up not to make amends but with a project, but that was hardly any fault of girl's, and Madeline agreed-Wren badly needed help. Those clothes had a date for the furnace, as soon as she finished the new ones.

It took some doing and some time, but Madeline was used to working miracles-and a miracle was exactly what she worked. She altered an abandoned project meant for a noble’s teenaged son in record time, after spending a solid half hour measuring and remeasuring what felt like every circumference and length there was on the girl in a separate room. She exited only once to send Rand after some Lunch-a little softer than she’d been. “It had better not of been you starving the poor dear.” She tutted.

Eventually and after some time-her labors bore fruit-and the door opened again for an...almost hesitant, and still slightly suspicious Wren to exit.

She looked...different. In her loose fitting, mismatched and torn clothing, it was a lot easier to write her off as a raggamuffin surly teen, hardly more than a child. But, as the tight fitting doublet clearly outlined, the fact of the matter was Wren wasn’t a child. She was very much a woman, with a woman’s nubile form and bloom of youth, and-well.

Bloom was a very accurate word. Wren was more attractive than her previous attire and shaggy hair style had revealed. The doublet’s deep red color contrasting sharply with her pale skin and highlighted her olive green eyes, while the black thread that formed the tessellating brocade matched her dark hair. Hair that, rather than a shaggy, unevenly chopped mess-was now a sleek symmetrical style. Atypical still, but sharp and now fashionable-it framed her face and contrasted that much better with her eyes now.

It was the hair that seemed to have Wren the most uncertain, though the finely threaded brocade was also something of a laughable luxury. Her fingers moved through the sleek dark strands, the feel of the evenly trimmed ends. “I’m not supposed to cut it myself ever again.” She tells Rand, frowning. “I guess ladies wear it long, out in the cities.” She seems dubious about the merits of that.

But Madeline STILL wasn’t finished with her creation-she swept back into the room after a wincing Wren-apparently done being fussed with-holding a small barrette aloft, a painted wooden piece made to resemble metal.

She swept the right side of Wren’s hair back neatly, then clipped it into place to add a final feminine touch.

“There. You look like a proper young lady, now-hardly recognizable!” A sigh. “I’d take all the credit, but you’ve a natural beauty to you, my dear.”

Wren frowned, looking back down at the clean puffed sleeves of the white under shirt, the fine brocade doublet and simple pants. The swell of her hips and chest wasn't even close to disguised now, and that made her uneasy. She hadn't been able to pass for a boy for a long time now, but...still.

“Better to avoid the trouble that goes with notice.” She grumbles uncertainly.

Madeline gave a consoling pat to her shoulder, then whirled back to Rand. “You’ll need to get this young woman better boots, and a proper cloak. A dark green would be the most fitting-don’t fuss up the look I’ve crafted.”

 

[CoSurvivor]

Rand had tried to make himself useful, but as soon as Madie took Wren behind the curtains of her workshop, Rand pretty much resigned himself to the fact that he'd be waiting... for a while. After searching through the various fabric sample charts for about the twentieth time, Rand was brought out of his fog of thought by Madie wandering in looking for a stool, finding it and thumbing him in the side to get his arm off a bolt of fabric. She gave him a look, and spoke a bit kinder than she had when he first showed up.

"Find us some food if you would.." As she walked back to the curtain she harassed him, accused him of not feeding Wren, and when he attempted to reply wanting to defend himself he found himself alone, the curtains swaying as she'd left him behind.

"Food Rand. There's a shop two doors down. They'll know what I want, just... don't take forever." She mumbled something else, then nothing. Surely that was Madie's way of punishing him for not apologizing the moment he saw her, but the apology would have to wait. Letting himself out the way he came in Rand walked out to the street and noticed the streets were mostly empty, he wasn't sure if it was due to events in the village or some other reason, but he moved quickly and looked for the shop Madie talked about, (aka followed his nose) As he walked, Rand thought of his own appearance, he looked like he could use a bath, the few nights they'd spent out on the trail hadn't helped, and well the battle left his clothes a bit tattered. Once Madie was done helping Wren, he might need to ask for her assistance with a new jacket, and the axes Mason had given him would need a wearable scabbard, something easier than tucking them in the folds of his pack. Madie 'might' help, but she'd make him grovel for it no doubt, however, he wouldn't put it beyond her to throw him out on his ear.

The shop indeed did know Madie by name and her order, Rand got a sandwich for Wren, and himself, which brought him to think of Wren, what 'did' she like? He'd have to be more observant, she'd mostly eaten dried meat, rumpled bread, and some biscuits. He really did need to pay more attention to that. Which made him think more of her. She really was... a very independent woman, There was no way that Wren was a 'girl' she surely had the youthful appearance, but there was just something about the way she carried herself that said she was more than he suspected. But what seemed to pull him in was her eyes. Those olive green eyes that seemed to stare right through him. Wren was pretty in her own way, she took little care in her own appearance and he wasn't sure if that was on purpose, or if she just didn't care. But that's not what attracted Rand to her if you could call it that. No, Rand found her interesting for her directness, in the world around them, so many seemed to be out for only themselves. Sure, farmers still tried to toil the land, men and women still fell in love, but there was something that he always sensed was selfish about most people he met. To meet Wren who was so independent, so headstrong, he felt drawn to her. Rand thought about that on the way back, he knew he had to find a way to save her because in his heart he hoped such a bright light could be happy. Rand could see her happy someday, maybe with children of her own... Children.. little small people who could bring such laughter and joy to the world. And, who's light often was snuffed out far to quickly. Rand resolved, that he'd help her but also try and save her life. Although something told him inside that eventually all roads would lead to the capital. But that didn't mean he had to take the straightest, most direct route.

He'd Returned to Madie's shop, snuck in and delivered their food and ate his own. Madie slipped out from behind the curtains, smiled and thanked him, then rushed as she rushed back behind her curtains, once again leaving Rand alone, with only his troubled thoughts. He'd taken to pulling out one of his books, reading through his journal entries regarding any place that might contain a relic or something that might teach Wren a thing or two about Allomancy as he was no expert on the subject. He heard Madie pull aside the curtains in a sense of finality, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught a woman, then heard Wren's voice as she spoke.

“I’m not supposed to cut it myself ever again.” She tells Rand, frowning. “I guess ladies wear it long, out in the cities.”

Rand hadn't spoken yet because he was completely in shock regarding her transformation. Gone was the gunny sack shape of a woman Wren appeared to be, her hair was done up, held back and he could tell Madie had cut her hair. She also now looked like a woman. curves, her chest, everything.. it was very difficult for Rand to not look at her so differently, she looked like an entirely different person. Watching as Madie made one final addition to Wren's new look, Rand folded his arms approvingly, smiled warmly at Wren and commented.

"Madeline's right, you do have natural beauty, you do..." His eyes stayed on hers, and Madie's final comment regarding boots and a cloak brought him back. "Can you make her one? like something, you made Casandra, a few years ago. Something... special."

"It'll take a few days, I don't have the materials, but who I'm referring you to should be able to get you something in Green. If they don't come back, I'll figure something out."

"And a cobbler? same conditions?"

Madie nodded, "Yes... I do, where are you staying?"

Rand quickly replied, "We haven't set up lodging yet, thought I'd ask you about the same thing, seeing as you live here and all."

Madeline looked at Rand like she was going to scold a younger brother, instead, she gave a wry grin. "Whatever would you do without me, Rand."

She took two slips of paper from her desk that Rand had been sitting at the whole time, wrote a few messages on them and handed them to Wren. Turning to the young woman, she smiled warmly.

"Those two addresses will get you boots, a cloak, and lodging. Seeing as you are the more approachable of the two of you now Wren, I suggest you two make haste and get lodging while there's still light. Give the note to the front desk, they'll situate you. And, I suggest if you have a horse, let Wren ride it, it'll keep with appearances."

Rand nodded, he leaned in and kissed Madie on the cheek and whispered something to her Madeline smiled in return, hugged him chastely, her hands on his biceps. Looking at Wren, Madeline finished, "Keep an eye on him, he's reliable, despite being a bit broken. I tried to fix him but he didn't want to be fixed. Here's hoping you have better luck"

Shooing them off, Rand led Wren out the back, helped Wren up on the horse who neighed and nuzzled at Rand, he took to giving the horse a reassuring pat and a rub of his neck as he leads Wren back out on to the street. Within moments, a man at least in his late 30's well dressed on his horse came galloping down the center of the street gave Rand a dirty look, attempted to admonish Rand by yelling at him "Watch where you are going... You could've run into me." He then nodded to Wren, commenting "Good help is so hard to find these days. Good day, Miss."

Rand nearly picked up a clod of mud and threw it after the man, but he thought better of it. Instead, he simply bowed his head and watched the man leave. Turning to look up at Wren perched upon the horse, he asked. "So, where's Madie suggest we board up?"

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Wren was openly staring after the man, thrown off both by the acknowledgment and the fact that, indeed-Madeline and Rand’s plan was working. That man had confused her as someone with status, just because-what?

She was dressed nicer? An illusion that’d probably end as soon as she opened her mouth, but luckily-Wren didn’t intend to talk any more than she normally did, if she could avoid it. Still, her heart quickened at the realization that with the farce came the chance of its discovery, but how was that any different than what she had already been doing?

Discomforted, Wren’s eyes drop to Rand’s as he speaks, absently stroking the horse’s neck. After a suspicious look around Wren produced the papers she’d been given and squinted at them.

“I...her writing is all…” She recognizes a few letters in the swoops and swirls of what seemed to be very artistic lettering-too neat to be scribbles, but at the same time, Wren half felt they were. She frowned, handing down the papers with a shake of her head. She’s not sure she likes Madeline much, despite the apparent favors she was doing for them-calling Rand broken, talking about fixing him.

Wren’s not sure what that means. So far, the friends she’s met of his always seemed to have a backhanded...something in their dealings. Well. Not Mason.

Just the women, then? Wren felt a little curious on why that would be.

“Hopefully somewhere with a bath for you.” Wren notes with a shrug. “You look dirty.” She’d gotten cleaned up, but he was still rough from the road.

Good old blunt Wren.

 

[CoSurvivor]

Taking the letters from Wren he thought of their conversation back in the woods, Rand didn't want to assume that she couldn't read Madie's and writing, Looking at the two pieces of parchment, even he had a bit of trouble making out where Madie had directed them.

"I wish her handwriting wasn't so pretty, I can barely make out her writing. I think she's sending us to Jamesons and to an Inn called "The Red Sparrow". I think I know where Jamesons is, Let's just hope it's easy to find the other."

Looking down at himself Rand was accepting of his disheveled appearance. Normally he didn't much care about what people thought, but they were going to have to play up to a certain level now and that meant he'd have to be a bit more presentable. After Wren's comment about his grubbiness, Rand made a show of sweeping his jacket sleeves, then billowing out his jacket. A lot of dirt came off him, enough where he had to wave his hands around him to disburse the dust cloud. Looking a bit sheepish, Rand finally commented. "OK ok... I suppose I could use a bath. Once we get your cloak and boots sorted out I'll figure that out."

As he lead them down the street, the reigns of the horse's bridle in his hand, Rand grumbled to himself, "Miss high and mighty, girl gets all cleaned up and haircut and now 'I'm' the one who's a mess..." His comments were mostly in jest, but if Wren was going to give him a little ribbing, he'd do the same.

There were a few groups of people who they came across, all kept to themselves while a few gave Rand an inquisitive look, which he ignored. Most of the buildings they could see were in good shape, nothing appeared freshly painted, but as they traveled further toward where Jameson's shop should be the Village seemed to be in good condition. They'd traveled a few streets, and as Rand lead them around the last corner, he was pretty sure he could see Jameson's business sign off in the distance. a hanging 'J' which just so happened to be in the shape of a boot. Rand was trying to look like he was 'not' looking at everyone else while he kept his head forward, and nearly missed seeing a large wooden sign under an overhang which lead to the entrance of a two-story building on his left. On the sign was a beautifully carved and painted red bird perched on a branch. which was made to look like it was part of the overhang. Below the bird, in carved block letters painted gold was the name "The Red Sparrow".

Rand shortened his stride and kept walking, it wasn't until they were at Jameson's and he had the reins wrapped around a railing that he nodded back down the street. Rand also noticed that the horse of the man who'd threatened him was attached to the same railing. Hopefully, he was off in another shop, but as Rand's luck was turning out that was highly unlikely. Turning to Wren, he spoke,

"Leave it to Madie to make things easy on us. I'm sure you spotted the place it just as I did when we passed it, at least we know where the Sparrow is."

Rand looked up at Wren as he waited next to help her get off the horse, when he did, he was still taken by how beautiful she really was. He chided himself for not seeing her beauty at first, her eyes, those green eyes of hers seems to stare at his soul, but Wren probably didn't even care to notice the effect her new appearance had on him as she was so focused, or maybe she didn't care. Either way, Rand would try to remain continually professional, he was hired to do a job, albeit now it was more personal than that, but he had to act honorably. She deserved that much.

The doors front of Jameson's shop was simple, two windows with display cases of high knee boots, on the left, women's styles, there were a few that Rand thought would look good on Wren but he kept his opinion to himself. In the window to the right, Rand could see men's boots and a tall mannequin with a heavy black cloak, the style was something he'd seen closer to the capital, but he could see why Jamesons displayed it in the window. Those who have money will want to look like they belong somewhere else more important. The front door was a metal wrought iron creation, artistic and functional, the door handle was shaped like a 'J' and a metalsmith had created a massive 'J' out of one single piece of twisted iron bar. At another time he might've inquired with the owner who made the door, but they were not here for him, they were there for Wren.

Stepping close to the door he grasped the handle and started to pull when the door was unceremoniously slammed into him. The same man who'd nearly hit him previously, now had. His original observation of him was right, he was in his mid 30's well dressed, of some sort of noble stature. he was dressed in light brown, head to toe with a massive hat on his head, one long feather which looked more like a tail was waving around as he moved, nearly smacking Rand in the face as he moved out of the way.

"Get out of the way!" The man said, his eyes squinted at Rand, his long pointed mustache curled just as his lips contorted into a snarl.

"Pardon me.. just getting the door, meant nothing by it Sir." Rand replied continuing to hold the door while trying to get out of his way but also knowingly frustrating this ass. Rand's eyes went to Wren as the man turned his back to her. while Rand finally took a few paces back. The man looked him over and snarled again, "Your Mistress should have you fired. Manners."
Rand paid no mind to the insult and calmly replied: "I'm sure she'll think of something Sir, my apologies again."

Storming off, the man untied his horse and rode off. Rand looked at Wren and gave her an amused look before he waved her in.

"Now I see why I'll never measure up to be upper class, I can't pass for being an asshole in a hat."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Wren curiously studies the decorative design of the door, and tries to decide if it art was better when it was incorporated into practical, needed objects-or still a frivolous waste of time and money; something nobles always had a lot of, so it made sense their shops would attempt to cater to it.

Wren’s about to ask Rand how they manage to twist metal like that-when the door flies open and nearly takes him out.

Astride the horse she’d been more removed from the scene, too shocked at his assumption of her status to react. On foot the young woman visibly shrinks away. She doesn’t scramble-quite the opposite; just a smooth, small few steps back, seemingly trying to be as unnoticeable as possible. Her body language was meek and mild, eyes busy with the stonework of the ground.

She’s anything but, however. Back turned to her and spitting nastiness at her guide-Wren considers tripping him. She’d started burning just the barest bit of iron, little blue lines leading to the buckles on the man’s shoes...but also a jumble in his pocket. ...hm.

Rand holds the door open, and Wren slips through after noting the man’s departure. Rand would be able to see that while her slumped shoulders and bowed head had given the illusion of submission-her eyes were hard and even a little hateful.

The spindled door closes, and Wren drops the instinctive act with a single nod of finality-and then drops a drawstring pouch of clinking coins into his hand. It was the same light brown as the rude man’s outfit and-wait, how on earth had she stolen that? He couldn’t have brushed by her for more than a second!

“Thought of something.” Wren states flatly, remembering his ‘I’m sure she’ll think of something.’ response to the man’s assertion she should fire him. It makes her uneasy being thought to be of similar standing to the bluebloods-she doesn’t think she could imitate such haughtiness, not in a million years and certainly not against Rand.

“Hello miss.” An owlish man shuffles out from the backroom somewhere, blinks at Wren from behind his spectacles. He seemed to be trying to place her, but it wasn’t unusual for him to have new customers-plantation nobles sometimes owned houses in town, kept their families there. He assumes Wren was the daughter of one of these, and while he might have probed to find out which one-she didn’t really respond-just set a note of some kind on the counter and left it there, watching him.

Ah, the clothier Maddie. He reads over the note, then folds it up and pockets it. He owes the woman a favor for managing to please a difficult customer of his, having managed to sell him on cloaks and boots for his entire household. The note promises yet another favor should he help the young woman before him, and Jameson had no doubt it’d be be a lucrative one.

“Boots and a cloak eh? It’ll take a bit of time to shorten something for you, but I’m sure I can accommodate.” He disappears briefly behind his counter, stoops low-and resurfaces with two seperate boots, each with a bit of heel and an uncomfortable amount of straps and buckles and burned designs along the side.

“A style of cowl for the cloak? What length do you prefer? Would you like quilted, pleated, or flat? Have you a brooch design in mind?”

Wren glances at Rand with an opaque expression, then back.

“Warm.” She states her one and only requirement, then remembers the one Madeline had given, and uncertainly adds- “And...green?” Being allowed to have preferences was...odd, and the man doesn’t even blink at the fact-just busies himself by moseying around the counter and to some of the displays.

Wren watches him go, then suspiciously eyes the two offered boot designs. She picks up one, holds it aloft about three inches-and drops it. It thuds against the wooden surface. She repeats the action with the other one, and frowns when it too makes a noise. She’s also uncertain about the thickness of that heel.

Glancing down at the basic wraps on her own feet, Wren shifts to the balls of them, as high as she estimated the heels to be-and finds herself very off balance. “Too noisy.” She murmurs to Rand, low enough the much older Jameson couldn’t hear. “And weirdly shaped.”

 

[CoSurvivor]

Rand quietly looked at the small purse that Wren handed him, and while he'd suspected that Wren had been able to get money in some way to fund herself, actually seeing her in action, or rather the lack of 'seeing' it happen was amazing to watch. She was quick, quicker than he'd think possible, maybe it was her skills with Allomancy that gave her that edge? or just an innate ability to just be quicker and quieter than others? At the moment Rand didn't really care. She'd liberated the man of his troubles, and he'd be lighter for it. However Rand would need to clean himself up if they wanted to avoid any suspicion when the man finally did figure out that his money bag was missing. Palming it, and placing it in a pocket, Rand decided he'd make good use of this little gift. He also filed away his knowledge of Wren's skills for use at a later date. She was practiced obviously, and a natural.

One thing worried him though, she was slouching, making herself look smaller which was not what nobility normally do, and if they were to pass for them in any sort of manner, she'd have to make certain not to do that. But he was sure there were other ways she could make herself mix in, less obvious, and the further they got to the capital, the more she would have stuck out like a sore thumb. Now, now Wren was beautiful. He could say that to himself never out loud. Rand would need to keep his honor, continue to treat her and talk to her as if she had never changed clothes.* Watching Wren feel awkward about being fussed over, having so many options, and not being able to make a decision made Rand speak up. He took the opportunity to stand next to the old man as Wren looked about. Twitching the old man's elbow, Rand caught his attention as he stood right next to him. The old man looked at Rand and was about to say something when he started to speak.

"We'll be traveling, she'll need something light enough to not weigh her down, but also warm enough to keep her bones from going chill. The hood, give her a full hood on the cloak, but not billowy if you get my meaning?"
The old man nodded, touching his chin with a finger, then asked in a quiet tone. "Anything else?"

"Yes, She'll need pockets, er compartments. At least I think she will."*

Rand kept watching, and as the old cobbler went to fetch Wren a few pairs of boots. As she looked at each one, dropping each pair, and looking at them with what Rand could only think was a bit of frustration, Rand spoke up.
"They are all the ladies fashion, they are not quite as functional as you probably want. Try them on, for the fit,"* Rand looked at Jameson and commented, "Can you cut the heel? We'll be traveling quite a bit. Maybe make them like the pair you made for me all those years ago."

The old man looked down at Rand's boots and noticed the scuffed tattered brown boots he was wearing and raised an eyebrow. With a touch of scolding in his voice, the old man pointed at Rand's boots. "And, I notice you are not wearing them, what happened?"
"Afraid that's a long story, and I don't have the time to tell it at the moment. Maybe someday. How quickly can you make the alterations?"
The old man fixed his glasses on his nose and looked at his son a few times as he talked. "As I mentioned, a few days should be ready by the day after next. Now, Miss. I'd like to take a few measurements for the cloak, and the boot alterations.. if that's alright with you?"
Old man Jameson fussed over Wren for a good 20 minutes while he measured her this way and that, asking her to stand still while he did so. Once he was done, scribbling it all down he handed the notes to his son, who'd been staying out of the way. When they were done, Rand, Wren and Old Jameson walked to the front desk to his shop as he was escorting them out.

"Now, Where are you staying?" Old Jameson asked.

"Just down the street, at the Red Sparrow, We'll put up in a few rooms and see the rest of the village."
Nodding, the old man commented "Ah, good. I'll have my son fetch you there when we're done, if you are not at the inn I'll leave word for you."
Rand nodded, opened the small satchel and paid him in a few coins out of the liberated purse, thanking him for his help. Looking to Wren, Rand added, shall we go see about a few rooms?"