3Delarian awakens in a cold sweat, memories of last night lingering in his sleep. The sun, now up, pours into his room, forcing him to keep his eyes partially shut. He gets out of bed and stumbles across the room to his dresser. Looking through his clothes, he selects a gray, silk shirt, and slides it on, buttoning it from top to bottom. He decides he doesn't need to change his pants that he's still wearing from last night, and shuts the drawer.
He replays the events of last night in his head, remembering how Celestia had kissed Lorn, and how his stomach had knotted up when he seen her. "I'm not going to accept this," Delarian says aloud, yet to no one. Sliding into his boots and cloak once more, he leaves his room, walking past the Great Room meant for dining, feeling the eyes of all those eating breakfast watching him, and out the front door.
He now walked along the road, instead of cutting across the lawns, and figures that by now, everyone in the city knows what happened last night. He could tell by the way a group of ladies would start to whisper to one another as he passed, or how maids or servants would point a finger at him and lip the words, "That's the one." But he ignored this for now, wanting only to clear things up with Celestia. We'll fix this, he would think to himself. Or This is just one big misunderstanding, he'd say, although he couldn't see how it was.
When he arrived at the mansion, he decided it best to knock on the door, and shortly after, it was answered by a servant who let him in. Delarian climbed the stairs and made his way around the corners and through the halls, a path he had taken many times before and had no trouble making now, until he finally came to her door. Delarian, figuring politeness was the best way to go about things, knocked on Celestia's door and waited.
For the moment he stood there, he wondered if their relationship was even worth salvaging. If he should ask for her back, or cut off any chances of getting back together with her. Yes, he decided. I love her too much not to try again, Delarian thought to himself.
Celestia answers the door and, seeing Delarian, stands directly in the middle of the doorway, refusing to let him into her chambers. "What do you want?" she bluntly questions.
"I think that we need to talk," Delarian says, trying to figure out how upset with him she actually is.
"Who is it?" Delarian hears Lorn's voice from somewhere inside the room, and is infuriated.
"Who do you think?" Celestia says, never taking her eyes off Delarian.
"What do you mean, 'Who do you think'?" Delarian asks her. "Do you think so lowly of me that my name is no longer worth the breath spent to speak it? Does the thought of me now disgust you?"
"I told you yesterday, Delarian, that I no longer wish to see you. Why did you come here? I didn't invite you, and I know that Lorn didn't invite you," she says, coldly.
"No, you didn't. I was hoping that we would be able to talk about things and straighten this out. But now I see that there is no longer anything for us to straighten out."
"That's right. And there never will be, either. Now leave me before I get someone to escort you out." She waits in the doorway, watching Delarian watch her, until he finally turns and leaves. Celestia shuts the door, and Delarian walks away, head down, back to his own room.
(astarix's won't show up here on this site... :-/ )
Delarian paces about his room, talking to himself, and throwing items onto his bed. "I told her I love her. He said she loves me. But now, she doesn't love me. She never has. She was just using me. She just wanted someone that she could toy with until she was bored with them." Onto the bed, he tosses clothes, furs, water skins and books. Everything he thinks that he needs. "She's not going to be using me anymore," he says, ripping his sheets off of his bed and tying the corners around his belongings.
He moves to his wall, decorated with weapons ranging from daggers and swords to maces and battle axes. Delarian selects from these the finest in quality, balance, and the keenest edge. The rest he plans on selling, knowing the gold coins he will receive would be less cumbersome than the weapons. Besides, he thinks to himself, it will be easier to get the full value here than anywhere else.
Delarian removes what he believes to be his most exquisite sword from the wall and studies it. The long, double edged silver blade with elvaan script engraved the full length. The twin dragon neck-and-head cross piece with large, white pearls in each mouth. And the two handed silver hilt, laced with gold and platinum. He liked the weight of it, and thought the balance to be superb. This one, he sheathed and put at his waist.
"I'll be needing this," he says, pulling a bracer from the wall. The bracer of Kiatta, he thinks. With the magical ability to increase the wearer's own speed and strength, this will truly come in handy. Delarian runs his fingers across the golden arm-piece, feeling it's magic working it's way up his hand and into his arm. This, he places in a satchel to be carried on his back.
Delarian gathers all that he decides he will want as well as what he thinks will sell, and sets off for the market to get as much gold that he can for the items he has to sell.
(astarix's won't show up here either... :-/ )
"A good haul," Delarian says joyously aloud, tossing a large sack of coins in the air and catching it again. He had been able to get forty-one gold pieces, twelve silver pieces, and a small wooden cart. Unfortunately, he had to give up a rather exquisite dagger and sword set he was hoping to keep in order to get a fine horse to pull the wagon. But he was happy about it none the less.
He set what he had left of his belongings in the cart and harnessed the horse. The wagon has no seat for a driver, so Delarian just leads the horse to the border of the town. The people in town all eye him suspiciously, as if they knew he planned to leave and never return. For a second, Delarian thought about staying and about everything he would be giving up if he left. But only for a second.
Before he knew it, he was at the edge of the Elvaan city, looking beyond into the Dust Plain to the West. The phrase, 'The beginning of the end,' flashed through his thoughts as he pauses and looks over the rough landscape. Delarian takes a deep breath and steps onto the dirt ground, pulling the horse after him.
The ground beneath his feet, dry, barren, and hard, was unlike that of the forest's, moist, soft, and full of plants. He checked his water pouches again, knowing that water would be hard to come by. The wagon wheels rolled easily on the dirt roads, given the exception of a couple of rocks that occasionally got into the way.
Delarian traveled with one hand on the horse's reins, and the other on his sword's hilt. The plain was a dangerous place to be, no matter what race you are. And if you travel alone, you were considered a fool. Delarian, however, was no fool. He kept his senses alert, looking here and there, listening for just the slightest sound that would warn him if someone was coming. He was ready to defend himself and his belongings at any time.
He walked for hours before he stopped to rest. The wind had picked up, and he now had sand and dirt in all of his clothing. He took his boots off and turned them upside down, hitting the sole with his palm to knock the dirt out. After putting his boots back on, he rummaged through his things, finding a bowl and taking it out. Delarian poured in water and held it up to the horse's mouth to drink, then drank his own fill from the water skin.
Looking to the horizon, Delarian can just make out the Lesone Mountains. "We still have a long way to go," he says to his horse. "Once we cross those mountains, we will be halfway to Belgross, the thriving city at the ocean's edge. Once there, we can get a ship to take us anywhere we want to go."
Delarian sighs then, wondering where he will go. He lets the horse drink once more from the bowl before pouring the remaining water back into his water skin. Then, taking the reins, he continues walking, again, towards the Lesone Mountains.