The walls of Tristanfell sure were a sight for sore eyes. What with the week of travel before the escapade with the Kra'koa even began, the additional day and a half spent wandering the road begging for enough copper pieces (which Ilya temporarily transmuted to gold) to ransom Kit, and the additional three days of travel since then, every member of the party was footsore and weary of long days on the road.
Of the four of them, Ilya was probably the least used to it. She had only been out adventuring for a few months, while the rest of them seemed to have made a career of it. She practically stumbled through the city gate and couldn't tell whether the looks she got from the town watch on duty there were because of her revealing attire or the thick layer of dust, sweat, and filth covering her body. Either way, she was too tired to care.
As soon as she crossed the threshold into the city proper, however, a strange feeling came over her. A common goal and the confines of the road had kept the four of them together for the past two weeks. Now that they were here in the city, what would keep them from falling apart?
Nothing, a voice inside her whispered. Despite grumbling, disagreements, and ill-fated adventures, Ilya realized she was fond of their little crew and desperate for them to stay together. Each of them in turn held a special place in her heart, and the thought of them drifting apart saddened her greatly.
"What's wrong, Ilya?"
The comment caught her by surprise. She looked up to see Kit looking at her with concern. "Oh, it's nothing," she deflected. "Just a little tired, is all."
"You can say that again," Sixto grumbled goodnaturedly. "I'm beat." He mopped his brow with the back of his hand. "No offense to any of you lovely people, but I need a break from you all. And," he conceded with grace, "I'm sure you could use a break from me."
"We still have the box to deliver," Kit said. "Don't forget." Kit couldn't--she was the one carrying it.
"Oh, I'm not forgetting," Sixto assured her. "Believe me, I don't intend to let the past two weeks go unremunerated. I just need a little space and a chance to let go for a moment."
"That's fine," Kit replied, "but I still think we should know where each of us is staying, so we can be in touch if something comes up."
"That's not a bad idea," Ash chimed in. "I, too, will be out and about tonight, so don't expect me for dinner." She had a mischievous grin that made Ilya suspect she already knew exactly what she would be doing.
These people know so much more about life than I do, Ilya thought ruefully. Ash and Sixto both seemed to know exactly what they wanted out of life, and how to get it. It felt to Ilya as if they had already explored all there was to experience and had decided on the subset that interested them. Ilya was desperate to explore the world herself, yet somehow being around them made her feel a little left out, excluded, as if she was late to the party.
"I'll be at the Hearthstone," Ash said. "At some point tonight, anyway."
"That's not a bad choice," Sixto nodded, approvingly. "I'll grab a room there myself, eventually."
And with that, they both strolled off in different directions.
The city of Tristanfell was laid out as a walled octagon straddling a rather broad, slow moving river. The companions had entered from the west, and in addition to the main road they were on heading into the heart of town, two side roads bent away at angles on either side, running parallel to each of the adjacent sides of the octagon. Sixto and Ash had gone left and right, respectively, leaving Kit and Ilya standing in the main thoroughfare.
"Well?" asked Kit, looking over at her remaining companion. "What do you feel like doing? We have all evening." The address they had been given to deliver the box was a business--an artisan clothier and workshop--that was almost certainly closed by now. The sun had slipped below the horizon as they entered the city, leaving them in a city of considerable size for the first time in two weeks.
"I don't know," Ilya replied. "I've never been to Tristanfell before." She looked around her. People of all kinds were headed in every direction, some on foot and others on horseback. Handcarts and wagons pulled by mules and oxen passed by her. Most of their drivers--of every race imaginable--looked weary, some wary, a few eager for a warm meal or other entertainment at the end of the road.
"What's exciting about this place?" Ilya asked.
"Exciting about Tristanfell?" Kit replied, somewhat taken aback. "I don't know if people typically describe this place as exciting, exactly." Then, sensing Ilya's novice eagerness, she decided to put a positive spin on it. "The marketplace is always fun, though," she offered. "Merchants bring their wares here from all over the Sunshine Coast and well beyond. It famously stays open late, too. Let's go take a look." Kit smiled and cocked her head toward the center of town.
"Sure!" Happy to have someone to explore with who wasn't completely jaded, Ilya went along gladly.
Ilya liked being with Kit the best. In fact, the two of them had joined forces prior to meeting Six and then Ash as part of this delivery job. Now, though, the momentary silences between them felt a little awkward. Ilya didn't know what Kit was thinking, but she had a hard time not recalling images of her friend all tied up and almost completely naked. Up until the adventure in the swamp, she had always seen Kit as a protective, big sister of sorts. That felt comfortable and safe, and she liked being the little sister looking up to her.
That feeling was harder to maintain after holding a rope tied to Kit's neck, looking into her eyes, and saying "You're mine now, slut."
It had been an act, for sure--on Ilya's part, anyway. She didn't actually feel any desire to own her friend. But Kit had been an honest to goodness captive at the time--tied up, helpless, exposed. Watching Kit in that moment had awakened something in Ilya, though she still wasn't sure what, exactly.
Though the sun had set and the sky was fading to turquoise and deep blues, the main roads of Tristanfell were still rather well lit, and busy. Nowhere was this more true than in the center of the city. On either side where the main road crossed the Sansa river sprawled a bustling night market, lit brightly with paper lanterns. Numerous vendors standing behind small, portable stalls shouted and hawked their wares--mostly fried foods, desserts, and trinkets. A young-looking woman with long, wild gray hair sat cross legged on the ground near the bridge, a mat in front of her and a stack of cards at one side.
"Care for a fortune reading?" She asked in a surprisingly deep, dry voice. She was looking at Ilya, but her eyes flicked to Kit as they approached.
Ilya at first didn't notice the comment had been directed at her, what with all the undirected shouting and the general hubbub from the market. Once her eyes locked with the young fortune teller's, however, her face broke into a smile and she strode over. Perhaps it was recognizing another young woman with a wild mane of hair. Perhaps it was a deep, intuitive something Ilya could not explain. Either way, the fortune teller smiled back. Kit rolled her eyes but said nothing, unwilling to ruin Ilya's naive enthusiasm.
"Have a seat, stranger," the raspy voice continued. Its owner had a narrow, pale, face with almond eyes and sharp features. Besides her wild mane of hair, she wore a dark tunic, colorfully embroidered vest, and baggy linen pants. She wore no shoes. Her smile seemed genuine and harmless.
That's what they want you to think, Kit thought to herself warily. She had been burned enough times by con artists to know to be suspicious of just about anyone you met in a big city. Or anywhere else, for that matter.
Ilya, however, plopped down in front of the fortune teller, mirroring her cross legged style, and offered her palm.
"Oh!" The woman said. "You want a palm reading, then?"
"Oh!" Ilya inadvertently copied. "I thought that's what you did."
The fortune teller smiled. "Of course I can. I personally find tarot cards to be so much more exciting, though." She reached for her deck and set it on the small mat between them. Ilya could see the cards were worn from much use. "Let me show you. This first reading's on the me." She gave Ilya a wink.
With a practiced grace, the young woman rapidly shuffled the cards, then flipped over the one on top. It revealed a tower--right-side up from Ilya's perspective--with a glow of fire or magical radiance from its topmost chamber. Around it, on either side, gathered storm clouds flashing lightning and rain.
"Hmm..." the fortune teller mused. "The tower. That's one I don't see too often. It usually indicates disaster waiting for you in the future or trauma from the past. It can also imply dark secrets yet to be revealed, or a shadowy past that haunts you."
Ilya looked dismayed. "That's not good at all! I thought this was supposed to be light hearted."
"Hah!" The wild haired woman laughed at her customer. "If I were a charlatan, merely out to make a few coins at the expense of the gullible, that's exactly what I'd do." Kit rolled her eyes, but no one saw. "I'm the real deal. A bona fide fortune teller. Savras channels his divination through me and my humble cards. I am merely the vessel." She spread her arms wide and shrugged.