(D6-MA, Sullen Moon Tavern) Mud & Myst in Sigil

[Cyprian Kircheis]

One meeting leads to another. Somehow time and space had brought them together again. Perhaps to settle accounts? Perhaps their fates are bound? Either way, they had unfinished business. So Cyprian had proposed meeting at a tavern just up the street. Not to distant a walk. It was also conveniently placed in the direction of home.

The 'Sullen Moon' is a hang out for Tieflings, with dog-skin rugs and abstract sculptures. Around the time he arrives the... mud storm? What in the nine hells?? Huh... the mud storm starts. He hoped Mysti had arrived before him.

[Mysti]

Mysti was sitting in a corner - so typical of a rogue, but not necessarily Mysti. She was the hunter, after all. Not the prey. She had no reason to hide in dark corners. Yet that was precisely what she was doing. In fact, the shadows in the bar seemed to -- pull -- toward Mysti as if she were trying to harvest them. She may have been successful to a limited degree given that the corner where she sat was preternaturally dark. Far darker than the natural light should have permitted.

When she saw Cyprian enter and look around, she tensed. The little hairs at the nape of her neck were standing on end. Something was telling her that this meeting was not going to be a couple of friends sharing a drink; when this little get-together ended, so too would a great many things. A part of her wanted to wrap herself so securely in shadow that no one would find her, especially Cyprian. She was tired of so many things. Or maybe she was just ... tired. Living for centuries was taking its toll on her spirit.

"Over here." Tendrils of darkness slithered away like snakes allowing Cyprian to see Mysti sitting there, her posture demure as it usually was. Just in case Cyprian hadn't heard her, she picked up a cork and whipped it at the bard as hard as she could -- which would just about get it there.

[Cyprian Kircheis]

He backed away from the prevailing mud storm. 'Is this... normal?' He thought to himself.

Then he heard Mysti's voice. "Ahh, I'm glad you weren't caught in..." the cork hit him and he blinked, "...that."

He walks over and joins her, signals for an ale to be brought over. In his hands are a few bags that seem to suggest domesticity. The contents of which are toiletries, sundries, and various preserves likely procured in the nearby apothecary or market stalls.

"Well. Here we are." He puts the bags down with a sigh.

[Mysti]

Mysti eyed the bags of what seemed to be rather mundane items with an air of suspicion. Her dark eyes rexamined each bag and every detail she could see without actually peeking.

Normally she would have been more animated; every shift of her weight, every movement of her arms or hands would be performed with exquisite grace and fluidity of motion. Now, however, she sat rigid and still -- as if she were waiting for a mark to walk through the door. But it wasn't that, of course. Everything was bad news. And so was this. Whatever "this" was. She was absolutely certain of it.

Her eyes drifted back and forth from the bags to Cyprian and back again as if asking a silent question -- until she finally decided to look somewhere else entirely. Watching the mud, for instance, a rather confused expression on her normally calm face.

"Here we are, indeed. Though in Sigil even something so basic could be called into question." It sounded like some kind of a joke, but there was no hint of mirth in her tone. "Am I to ..." then she stopped and simply shook her head. "Never mind."

[Cyprian Kircheis]

The ale arrives before he speaks again. He ponders it for a spell, his face impassable before he grabs it, and starts drinking. Then he sets it down with a clank.

"I..." he starts. Then as soon as it arrived all of the momentum spilled out, and he stared once again at the mug.

A breath, then another. Akh would call it an atavism. To him it's a way to remind himself that he's not dead. At least not inside. He wears a pained expression before summoning up the courage to speak again. "I really did love you, once."

[Mysti]

\Mysti wrapped both her hands around the mug, staring into it, watching the light of a nearby torch sparkle and dance across the surface. For some stupid reason, she found herself wondering if there was a portal down there -- and if she could somehow access it. But even if number one was true, number two was not.

While Cyprian had his atavism or searched for the right words -- as if there were any -- she could not have been more still and rigid if she had been fashioned from a block of granite. If she had been physically strong enough, she would have imploded the ale such was the pressure she was putting on the mug. At this point in her life, if she had actually received good news of any sort, she would die on the spot with disbelief anyway -- so there wasn't much use in expecting anything fortuitous ever happening.

When Cyprian did fianlly say what he did, there was virtually no reaction from Mysti at all. She was as rigid and unmoving as ever.

Only once did she ever even look up at him, instead keeping her focus inside the mug of ale, those raven spirals of hair blocking Cyprian's view of her eyes.

"Once," she repeated. Mysti had never been a loud or boisterous person, always maintaining a quiet air about herself. But her next words were said so softly that Cyprian would have to wonder if he had even been meant to hear them.

"At least I was good enough until the real thing came along"

Only then did she bother moving when she ever so gently placed her silver flute onto the table.

[Cyprian Kircheis]

"Don't say that!" He gritted his teeth. "It was real. It was real to me, and I know it was real to you." He couldn't look at her. He looked everywhere else but not at her. "I cherished you, and our adventures together. There are a million excuses I could throw out as to why it didn't last. But at the time I cared deeply for you!"

A part of him still did. But not enough to try and pick up the pieces. Whether she felt that or not was irrelevant to him. When he finally managed to look at her. What he saw broke his heart. Bitterness and self-loathing consumed him as he continued.

"We grew up in a world filled with sorrow, and pain. You were comfort and stability that I had long desired. But our world never left us be and we were torn apart constantly." He sighed. "Had things been different I would have never left Zobeck. We could have stayed in that apartment forever. Prowling the streets, feeding on murderers, bandits, crazed cultists. I would have been fine with that."

Was that the truth? Perhaps in a way. But it's also true that he would have never been faithful in the traditional sense. He knew it and so would she.

"I don't want to lose you, but we can't be as we were. There's..." He sighed. "... someone else. Someone who I want to be better for."

[Mysti]

"Of course there is someone else." Mysti's tone was like someone saying "no duh" or "no shit Sherlock" had they lived in another place and time. She knew there was someone else the moment she walked into this bar. She knew there was someone else when she saw him at the New Sensation senorama or whatever the hell it was.

She hated ever having stepped foot into that place -- watching Cyprian dancing with some other woman. But that's not what bothered her. It was how he never said a word to her. He ignored her like she wasn't there at all. Of course, so did everyone else. Then she watched as Akh entered - and left in a huff. Everyone trying to win over Cyprian. She was better than that - she wanted to be better than that - but she was so horribly tired of being alone. There was a massive difference between being a stealthy infiltrator -- and persona non grata.

Like a servant in a noble's bedroom -- she had been there, but no one saw her. Every person in the place seemed to be having a wonderful time. Including Cyprian. But she wasn't. In fact, that was the moment she had decided to put all of her resources to bear on finding a portal away from here. She didn't care where. Some Prime world. Toril, perhaps. Or Oerth. Or Mystara. She had even heard some vague talk about a world almost completely devoid of magic called Earth. No magic but technology that resembled it. Or so it was said. Anywhere but here.

Cyprian, of all people, should know what Mysti was able to do. Well, no, that wasn't quite right. She had been here for 20 years. The Mysti he had known back in Zobeck was but a mere fawn compared to what she was capable of now.

And perhaps because she was like that unseen servant standing alone in the shadows -- she had seen Cyprian dancing with that other woman. At least Mysti had never demanded full-on monogamy from Cyprian. Just wait, my dear. Just wait until you'll have to spend this side of forever never touching another woman but her. Can you do it, dear Cyprian? Because when he ultimately failed in a moment of weakness -- good ol' Mysti would not be here this time for him to run to.

Because she had also seen the blonde enter the room. The one with the little siglls and runes flying around her head. What the hell was that all about? Not that it mattered a whit to Mysti. It just reminded her of drawings she had seen when someone took a blow to the head -- stars and birds and sparkles could be seen floating around their heads. Just like that blonde who arrived. Alone.

No one arrived alone. Well. Except her, apparently. The blonde had expected to meet someone there. A certain Cyprian someone. Because Mysti couldn't help but notice when the blonde had arrived, the moment she saw Cyprian dancing with the other woman, she turned and left the building in a disgusted huff.

Perhaps ... perhaps Cyprian would have, at that point, discerned a somewhat amused smirk on Mysti's face. The very tips of her two elongated canines could be seen against her lower lip, giving her a decidedly wicked, feral appearance. Something amused her at that moment. But whatever it was, Mysti wasn't giving anything away to Cyprian.

Had Mysti been the blonde -- if Mysti had arrived to see Cyprian dancing with someone else, the most she would have done was ask to join in. Perhaps inquire if anyone knew a three-person dance they could ALL enjoy together. Would Mysti feel jealous? Of course. But she understood Cyprian -- unlike the blonde apparently -- and knew never to act on that jealousy.

But ... heh. Heh heh heh. Cyprian had decided to dump her for a battleaxe. The feral smirk disappeared as quickly as it had come. So ... he preferred a battleaxe to her? Someone who was intolerant and rigid? THIS is the person Cyprian wants to "better himself for?" Well fuck me for not getting out the whip and demanding Cyprian conform to how she expected him to live his life. Mysti could have been a ball-breaker, a dragonlady, a taskmaster and demanded that Cyprian give up his philandering ways. She could have insisted that Mysti be the ONLY woman in his life, and by god, mister, if that little rogue caught him with someone else ... yes, she could have stormed out of buildings in a disgusted huff without even a, "Hello Cyprian ..." just like Rune Lady with the weird ring around her head.

But she hadn't thought Cyprian would have been happy that way. All Mysti had ever cared about was that Cyprian remembered the way home. And his happiness, of course. How many times had she endured the humiliation of Cyprian with someone else? The flirting, the intimacy ... and with her, the jealousy, the feelings of doubt -- and fear. Yes, the fear that he would find someone else and forget where home was. She lived with all of that ... and so much more for the sake of letting him be happy, letting him be who he was.

However -- never before, not until this very moment as she sat there studying her mug of ale -- had she ever felt ... inadequate. And the fact that he made her feel that way made her ... well, forget it.

Because, see, the most damning piece of evidence, of course, was watching quietly from the sidelines as Cyprian immediately dumped the first woman with the barely-understable accent and rush after the blonde battleaxe. Yes. It wasn't the first woman. It was the second. THAT was who our illustrious bard was courting now ... and yet Cyprian had cheated on this woman with herself and now was dancing with a third woman.

That's right, Cyprian. Make promises to the devil you cannot possibly keep.

All of these thoughts and observations flitted through Mysti's head in but a few seconds. No one could have known -- and doubtless even if they did, no one would have cared much -- that something snapped in Mysti at that point. Something that would irrevocably change the dhampir rogue on a fundamental level. With all the times Cyprian had played the field, she had never once raised an objection. He was who he was -- and unlike most women, Mysti wasn't out to "change" Cyprian as if he were some kind of "fixer-upper opportunity" she had found for cheap. Somehow he had always come back to her -- and when he was ready to settle, she would have been there for him. Would have. Would. have. Emphasis on past tense.

Of course there was someone else.

My god did she feel used. Especially for that last night they had spent together. What had THAT been for? Just a "for old times sake" roll in the hay? And only after the fact does Cyprian bother to tell her, "oh by the way ..."

Cyprian wasn't ready to keep his hands to himself. In less than a week he had been with two different women -- she had seen them both because she WAS one of them. It was just a matter of time before Cyprian's ... heh ... domestication house of cards blew away in the wind. And bags of domestication that -- for some bizarre reason he had brought with him here -- wouldn't save him. Was he moving in with her? The blonde? Is that what those bags were about?

And if so ... if so ...

Of course there was someone else.

Someone he wants to be better for. But not for Mysti. No. He hadn't cared enough to be better for her. Only to this blonde with the blow-to-the-head stars and planets circling her head.

She sat there looking into her ale. She could have boiled it with the glare she saw on her own face reflected back at her. Outwardly, she was as calm as a placid rural pond. Inwardly, she was raging. Her self-control and discipline at that moment were positively phenomenal.

After all of that ... all of those thoughts running through her head. Thoughts and emotions that Cyprian would be completely unaware of ... all Mysti asked was:

"How long did you say you've been in Sigil, Cyp?"

[Cyprian Kircheis]

"Of course there is someone else."

"How long did you say you've been in Sigil, Cyp?"

He leaned back. She had always been smarter than him. Now he would suffer her biting wit. He'd expected as much. But he didn't hate her for it. It was nothing less than he deserved, and he knew it.

"A week."

He looked at the mud spattered windows and ruminated on how much time it had felt like. Almost a year inside the sensorium. Having Akh tear out his memories one-by-one felt like a lifetime. But in truth it was a week. One week. Before that he'd been on thin ice with her in Zobeck. Sure she'd tolerated his infidelities, looked the other way when he'd spend nights out. But she hadn't forgiven him disappearing for months while he was stuck in Barovia. Convinced he'd likely run off on some adventure with a paramour named Rowan, or Ellysienne. For a whole month he'd strived to get back in her good graces. Only to disappear again. For good this time. Yeah... he deserved what was coming next.

[Mysti]

"Mmhmm. That's what I thought you said. I just wanted to make sure."

A week.

Mysti ever so slowly raised her head. The motion was almost painfully slow. Until those dark, fathomless pools that were Mysti's eyes locked on Cyprian's face -- whether or not he was looking directly at her. To Cyprian, it would have been like looking into two portals straight to the Abyss.

She screamed obsentities at him. Every word she knew. She yelled threats and promised she would dog his steps, never leaving him in peace, until that day when neither were expecting it, an arrow would fly from the shadows. Cyprian and his lover better keep to the sun -- because Mysti could be lurking in any shadow, her bow in hand, arrow nocked -- one of them the target. But which one? That was for her to decide. Which one would have to live with the sorrow of the other's passing.

For now, she tossed blades into the wall. She overturned the table, threw the ale mug at the barkeep. She fired arrows indecriminately into the bottles behind the bar, all the while still thundering her threats and promises of woe yet to come. She kicked the chair away, sending it sailing through the air where it landed on the table of a group of other patrons -- but they knew better than to object. She smashed another chair, hauling it over her head and slamming it on the floor where it broke into dozens of pieces. The barkeep threatened to get the Hardheads in here -- but Mysti showed him she WAS a Hardhead, which put the matter to rest.

Well ...

That's what she did -- in her mind.

Cyprian, on the other hand, simply saw her staring at him, saw those two dark wells of intense emotion resting on his face. She was as still as a painting. She didn't even blink.

She wanted to do those things -- because as before -- she was raging. But she had no one to run to. No one to comfort her. No one to give her a hug or to tell her all would be well -- even if she didn't believe anything would be "well" ever again. She could yell and scream and make threats and throw things and make an ugly scene. Twenty years and all she had to show for it were a few business acquaintences and some colleagues in the Harmonium faction. It had never really bothered her before. But now it did. And not because of Cyprian. It had started to bother her even before he had arrived in Sigil. Which made it seem all the more to Mysti that Cyprian and she were together again for a damn reason. And it wasn't so Cyprian could set up house with someone he's known for 72 goddamn hours.

And at the end of it all, when she was a panting heap on the floor devoid of energy, weapons, and magic. After she had made a colossal fool of herself and, quite possibly, gotten herself arrested by her own people -- nothing would change. Nothing.

Cyprian would walk out of here and into the arms of his week-long love interest and Mysti would still be alone.

So where did that leave her?

It ... would have been different if Mysti had walked through a portal to Sigil and found that Cyprian had been here for years. It would be different if Cyprian had been with this woman for a long time -- and that they were having this whirlwind romance -- but only because he never thought he'd see Mysti again. She could understand it if Cyprian did not want to break off a good thing that he had had for some time ...

But a GODDAMN WEEK!? It meant that this person, whoever she was, managed to usurp everything she and Cyprian had had for years. Why had he not ever wanted to settle down with her? They could have. They had spent enough time together in Zobeck even before these annoying mist and portal games kept splitting them apart.

And ... you know what? When you truly love someone, you try to find your way back to them. Right? RIGHT? You don't just shrug your shoulders and decide to settle down with someone you've known for a bloody week -- when you didn't and wouldn't settle down with someone that had been at your side for years!

And it was obvious to Mysti that Cyprian wasn't going to stop his fooling around. And judging by Rune Girl's reaction to Cyprian just dancing with another woman -- just DANCING -- not kissing or caressing or being intimate, per se, just dancing. And that sent Rune Girl out of the room in absolute anger and disgust. She was a woman, too, Mysti was. She knew.

Mysti, at least, tolerated his indescretions. Would Rune Girl? No. In addition, Mysti was not particularly religious. She knew nothing about priestly magic and would not rely on the fickle nature of prayer. However, she had seen occasions when it seemed perfectly obvious that gods were gently (or in some cases rather violently) nudging people in certain directions. That never happend to her, of course. She figured the gods had as much use for her as she did for them.

But this ... was different. What were the odds that she and Cyprian would both end up in Sigil? With the planes being virtually infinite -- if they aren't literally infinite -- and yet there they were, back together. It didn't matter how long they may have been separated or where they had been. The point was, they were together. NOW. Even Mysti could see divine influence in such ridiculously long odds.

And Cyprian was going to squander another chance to make things work ... and with someone he's known a whole whopping week. Someone he barely knows, with no common history, someone who can't possibly understand him -- because you don't understand someone in .... wait. Wait. Maybe she was using some kind of mind fuckery on him. Some spell or another. He might not even be aware of it ....

Because ... no. No. She was grasping at straws now, and she knew it.

Mysti held Cyprian in her gaze for only a few seconds. Long enough for all of those thoughts to flutter through her mind -- which wasn't long at all.

"A week ... Cyprian." Her words were whispery, the sound reminiscent of a summer breeze rustling the leaves of verdant trees. "I really don't know what you expect me to say to that. Good luck? Or maybe ... just good-bye."