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Crosstrack
Characters: Owen
When: Shortly after One More Goodbye and Heart's Yearning
Wordcount: 797
Summary: Owen begins a new adventure, and sets off on the wrong leg.
Notes: Crossposted to![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fic_promptly
Out of the fine coat and back into traveling gear. Fresh-pressed, mind, but nothing fancy. Owen had checked the saddle bags a dozen times, had secured the special insignia and papers that Brandili had given him, his ticket to the parliament across the sea that Brandili had been born to govern. He had misgivings about this whole long trip; a year and more to make a full circuit was rather further than he tended to roam. On the other hand, he had to admit that he felt buoyant, being in the liminal phase of a new adventure. He liked those, for they only came around once or twice a life-time, though he strived not to hide in his library for years at a time.
Before he could dream of red sand and far shores, he also had a few things from Elder Gannette to drop off in the King's court, and making this familiar trek back to what he considered home base would set him up properly for the longer journey. He had some things that needed tidying away.
Boyce came to mind; he knew that the man could go months without seeing anyone, but he worried about him all the same. This winter had been different. Owen considered how the hermit hadn't seemed entirely human, which left his heart fluttering with hope and worry both. Everything he knew about the dryads that Boyce had become close with told him that they were not harmful, but he couldn't trust what he didn't know or understand. He didn't even trust Boyce's strange symbiote of a tree-house, Trellis, though the plant-like creature had seemed docile enough.
He would have to stop by, one last time. He wanted to check in on Boyce and leave him something nice to remember him by, and maybe see if the man were willing to flirt a little more closely to the open flame than were they usually able to get. It had been five years and some since they'd first met, and that was a longer dance than Owen usually allowed for, but... well, he was pining again. Other than a visit to Boyce, he'd need to carefully plot his route back down the river road. Akadine's friendly thugs might be paid to take care of any rivermen who liked the look of clean-pressed travelers, but he didn't like paying for protection when he could find more interesting paths that were more people-free. Too, his coin purse had come up more empty than it had been when he'd arrived at Urdsvale by a not insignificant amount. He had a feeling that the young girls he'd been keeping watch over had managed to squirrel away a few more coins than the ones he'd gifted... he could only hope they kept the more rare ones safe, since the town wasn't hopping with trade.
This was all to say that he was feeling a little bit in need of taking the path less traveled, even if up here in the mountains the more-traveled path was little more than an overgrown wagon track. He decided to ford the stream that would take him to the glacier lake just a little way out of town, before it could give way to the wider river road. Before he well and truly embarked on his year-long round-trip, he wanted to stop by the black-shell shore under the shadow of the Dragonskull, a mountain that loomed directly over the lake and fed it the milky white waters that made it so distinctive. If he was lucky, he'd find some wave-polished onyx scales that washed up now and again from the giant wyrm that lived at the bottom of the lake, and maybe he could bring them to Boyce as a peace offering.
If he'd stayed the course of the wagon track, he'd have encountered the distinctive gold and white brocade that belonged to the servants of the Duke of Snowedash, on their cremello mares, the proper pair of them followed by a raggedy bunch of the kind of thugs that Akadine did not tend to make friends with, and perhaps things would have gone very differently. He'd spent a long time ensuring that their lot didn't think much of Urdasvale; he'd downplayed the value of the place to the Duke for years. There were good reasons to keep Urdasvale out of the Duke's mind, ones that were a much higher priority than onyx shells and hermits and even round-about trips far across the sea.
Instead, he took the road less travelled and missed their officious arrival, and so would be out of date on a sudden and very poor change of events for some time.
Adventures only happened once or twice in a lifetime, and he liked to meander.
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When: Shortly after One More Goodbye and Heart's Yearning
Wordcount: 797
Summary: Owen begins a new adventure, and sets off on the wrong leg.
Notes: Crossposted to
fic_promptlyOut of the fine coat and back into traveling gear. Fresh-pressed, mind, but nothing fancy. Owen had checked the saddle bags a dozen times, had secured the special insignia and papers that Brandili had given him, his ticket to the parliament across the sea that Brandili had been born to govern. He had misgivings about this whole long trip; a year and more to make a full circuit was rather further than he tended to roam. On the other hand, he had to admit that he felt buoyant, being in the liminal phase of a new adventure. He liked those, for they only came around once or twice a life-time, though he strived not to hide in his library for years at a time.
Before he could dream of red sand and far shores, he also had a few things from Elder Gannette to drop off in the King's court, and making this familiar trek back to what he considered home base would set him up properly for the longer journey. He had some things that needed tidying away.
Boyce came to mind; he knew that the man could go months without seeing anyone, but he worried about him all the same. This winter had been different. Owen considered how the hermit hadn't seemed entirely human, which left his heart fluttering with hope and worry both. Everything he knew about the dryads that Boyce had become close with told him that they were not harmful, but he couldn't trust what he didn't know or understand. He didn't even trust Boyce's strange symbiote of a tree-house, Trellis, though the plant-like creature had seemed docile enough.
He would have to stop by, one last time. He wanted to check in on Boyce and leave him something nice to remember him by, and maybe see if the man were willing to flirt a little more closely to the open flame than were they usually able to get. It had been five years and some since they'd first met, and that was a longer dance than Owen usually allowed for, but... well, he was pining again. Other than a visit to Boyce, he'd need to carefully plot his route back down the river road. Akadine's friendly thugs might be paid to take care of any rivermen who liked the look of clean-pressed travelers, but he didn't like paying for protection when he could find more interesting paths that were more people-free. Too, his coin purse had come up more empty than it had been when he'd arrived at Urdsvale by a not insignificant amount. He had a feeling that the young girls he'd been keeping watch over had managed to squirrel away a few more coins than the ones he'd gifted... he could only hope they kept the more rare ones safe, since the town wasn't hopping with trade.
This was all to say that he was feeling a little bit in need of taking the path less traveled, even if up here in the mountains the more-traveled path was little more than an overgrown wagon track. He decided to ford the stream that would take him to the glacier lake just a little way out of town, before it could give way to the wider river road. Before he well and truly embarked on his year-long round-trip, he wanted to stop by the black-shell shore under the shadow of the Dragonskull, a mountain that loomed directly over the lake and fed it the milky white waters that made it so distinctive. If he was lucky, he'd find some wave-polished onyx scales that washed up now and again from the giant wyrm that lived at the bottom of the lake, and maybe he could bring them to Boyce as a peace offering.
If he'd stayed the course of the wagon track, he'd have encountered the distinctive gold and white brocade that belonged to the servants of the Duke of Snowedash, on their cremello mares, the proper pair of them followed by a raggedy bunch of the kind of thugs that Akadine did not tend to make friends with, and perhaps things would have gone very differently. He'd spent a long time ensuring that their lot didn't think much of Urdasvale; he'd downplayed the value of the place to the Duke for years. There were good reasons to keep Urdasvale out of the Duke's mind, ones that were a much higher priority than onyx shells and hermits and even round-about trips far across the sea.
Instead, he took the road less travelled and missed their officious arrival, and so would be out of date on a sudden and very poor change of events for some time.
Adventures only happened once or twice in a lifetime, and he liked to meander.