Chapter Text
Yashee loved to wander around when her parents performed- she loved to watch them perform too, but she watched them practice, and practice, and practice, and practice… They always laughed when she complained, reminding her that practice makes perfect, but how could that happen when they were already perfect?
At that, her mother told her that practice was still needed once perfection was reached, but once you reached a certain level of skill, practicing was fun. Yashee was pretty sure that was a grown up thing, like saying that taxes are important or vegetables being good for you, but she listened anyway- after all, her parents were the smartest people she knew, and the bravest, and generally the best.
Sometimes, people asked her if she wanted to grow up to be like her mom, and she always said yes. after all, her mother was fearsome and tough- nobody ever messed with her, and if she saw somebody messing with somebody weaker than them, she made them stop!- but she was also kind, underneath that barbarian rage. Other times, people asked if she wanted to be like her father, and she always said yes. He wore his kindness on his sleeves, and he always thought the best of people, and helped people smaller than him- and his music was amazing, the way he could make people get up and dance with a simple drumbeat.
But as amazing as his music was, it wasn’t enough to keep her still during the actual performances. Her parents were nice about it, and didn’t push her about sitting still, or even staying with them while they entertained- they trusted her to stay near the caravans and out of trouble, and so they let her stay around that area as long as she promised to behave.
And she did! Mostly. It was just that, well… the caravan wasn’t exactly that interesting without her parents there, and she’d already played with all her toys and read through her books and even did all her learning stuff and they still weren’t back yet. There’s only so much a girl can behave!
And well… those flowers seemed close enough to the caravan, and it would have been a really nice thing for her to do for her parents, to have them come back to their nice sweet daughter who picked flowers for them. It was as good a reason as any to follow the trail of flowers, and pull them up- carefully like her dad taught her, leaving the roots so that they can grow back later.
The funny thing about flowers like this was that not everybody likes them- a lot of people think these are just weeds, and maybe they were, but they were still really pretty! They were stronger than people thought, and they grew back real quick, and Yashee liked them, so that’s what was important, not what other people thought. Other people sometimes thought she was too loud, or her mother was too rough, or her dad shouldn’t be a bard when he didn’t get a fancy degree from Strumlotts. Other people can be kinda dumb like that, but she tried not to judge because she can be kinda dumb too.
Like, all she wanted was to pick the flowers- that’s all, they were super close to the caravan so she was staying near it! But… when she was done, there weren’t enough flowers for her, and her mom and her dad, not if she wanted to make flower crowns. There were more flowers, she could see them easily, but they weren’t as close to the caravan.
Well, how close was close really, when she thought about it? She had gone this far away, and nothing bad happened. What was a few more feet? As long as she could still see the caravan, it would be alright!
With that problem solved, Yashee set off on her path again, picking flowers as she went. It seemed like she had enough, but really was there ever enough flowers? Still, she was thinking of maybe turning back once she had a good armful- really, it was getting hard to hold them all without dropping any- when her foot slipped and she went tumbling down and down and down.
She closed her eyes in fright and didn’t open them again until she hit the ground- It was softened by mud and leaves and all her pretty flowers, but it still hurt. Slowly, she got to her feet and looked up, and up, and up, all the way to the top of the hole she fell into.
It looked like a pretty big hole, at least from the bottom of it. From where she was standing, it was about two Yashees tall and too tall for Yashee to get out on her own. She tried to climb the sides, but the dirt was too loose and she just kept pulling out fistfuls of it, and she worried about going too far and having it all just… collapse on top of her, which would have made this even scarier, and it was already pretty scary being down in a deep dark hole and having her parents not know where she is because she wandered too far away from the caravan like they told her not to and-
Yashee burst into tears, panic rising in her chest. She was gonna die because she couldn’t get out of this hole and her parents wouldn’t even know until later because she had wandered off and why did she go looking for those stupid flowers in the first place, they weren’t even pretty now that they were covered in all the mud and dirt…
Kicking the flowers didn’t make her feel much better, but anger was better than sadness and fear… at least, until the anger ran out and she just felt… drained. Hopeless. Empty. And that was even worse than fear and sadness, because fear and sadness you can do something with, but this feeling just sat in her chest and made her insides feel sour.
This is what she got, wasn’t it? For being such a bad girl who didn’t listen to her parents and just ran off while they weren’t around. It was like in the fairytales when bad children did bad stuff and got punished, only instead of a little halfling in a red coat talking to strange wolves, it was a halforc who didn’t stay put and so she fell down a hole and she was stuck down there until she died.
…It wasn’t a really good story, honestly. Most fairytales were a lot more exciting, or they at least had a happy ending. But it was the story she got, at least the falling in the hole part…
Yashee wiped the tears from her face, even if it meant she was just spreading more mud on it. It was her story. Maybe she didn’t know all the twists, maybe she didn’t know how it was going to end, but she was the one who was writing it. It was up to her to make sure she had a happy ending.
Then, a light began to fill the hole. It begun high up her left arm, glowing softly in the darkness, then for a brief moment it lit up the entire area- showing Yashee the muddy dirt walls, the little bits of roots and grass stuck down here, the flower petals scattered over the bottom of the pit, and one young halforc girl with dirt streaked over her face.
Yashee may be dumb, but she knows what this is- she’s spent hours staring at the giant hammer sprawled all over her father’s back, and the mallet trailing up her mother’s arm. She tried to find matching signs on other people she’s seen on her travels, pointing them out to her parents as subtly as she could (which wasn’t very subtle, honestly). She knew what a soulmate mark was.
It was just… for some reason, she never really thought about having a soulmate herself? Most people had them, and this was kinda the time where she’d be getting it… but her parents didn’t share her enthusiasm over it, telling her she’ll get her mark when she gets her mark, and that she’ll find her soulmate when they’re both ready, whenever that will be.
This seemed like a really bad moment for getting her mark, being stuck at the bottom of a hole and all… but also it was a really good moment, in a way? Because it meant she was gonna get out of this hole, unless her soulmate was one of the worms down here.
Yashee checked her mark, but it was in a weird place on her shoulder and the light faded too much for her to see it. It still didn’t look like it was a worm mark, so she was probably good there.
She was still scared, just a little, but not as much as she was before- she had a soulmate, and she was going to meet her soulmate, and it probably wasn’t at the bottom on this hole. And anyway, it wouldn’t be so bad even if they were down here, as long as they were here with her.
Yashee got lost in her thoughts for a bit, wondering what kind of soulmate could be found underground. Definitely dwarves, they liked to live underground and play in the dirt and stuff, and that could be pretty fun… as long as they cleaned up after themselves, obviously. There was one of those smaller races that built little burrows underground, either gnomes or halflings or something like that- probably halflings, that just felt right for some reason- and that would be good too, although Yashee didn’t think she could fit into a halfling sized hideyhole. But maybe she and her soulmate could build their own? It wouldn’t be so bad if they made it with her, and made sure it was brightly lit and cozy…
She was just thinking about molepeople, and whether they actually existed, when she heard somebody call out ‘Yashe’rak! YASHE’RAK!’ and she grinned wide, even though they were far away. Her mother could shout loud, but she could shout louder.
“MOM! DAD! I’M HERE!” Yashee stood on her tippy toes and yelled out, loud as she could. “I FELL DOWN A HOLE! I’M HERE!”
It took a while, and her dad teaching her about a game called ‘Marco Polo’- which took awhile too, since Yashee didn’t get it at first and kept yelling ‘YASHEE’ instead- but it wasn’t scary at all, since Yashee knew her parents would find her eventually. And of course, she was gonna get in trouble once they stopped being so scared, but as soon as they managed to pull her out of the pit, it was all hugs and kisses- even though she was all dirty and covered in mud and flower petals- because that’s just what parents do.
In all her excitement at being aboveground and being back with them- she was okay being in the hole before when she was waiting, since she knew either somebody would come save her or she’d meet her soulmate down there, but being back with her parents was much better- and their relief at having her safe and sound, nobody really noticed her new mark until she was all washed off and her dad was fussing over her left sleeve being torn off her dress.
“Yashee, your arm…” He trailed off, fingers tracing the new mark just under her shoulder. It felt almost tingly.
Yashee blinked, and then felt the wide grin form on her face. “Oh yeah, I have a soulmate! AND a mark!”
Her dad hugged her again, even tighter than before, and tried to pick her up… only she was too heavy and so he settled for putting her back down and calling out to her mom. “HONEY, YOU NEED TO COME SEE THIS… AND BRING A MIRROR!”
Her mom rushed in- with the giant, full sized mirror because she was just that cool and could lift a ton of weight. She almost dropped it when she saw Yashee, especially her arm, but she caught herself just in time (because she was so cool) and put it down smoothly. “Yashe’rak, that is impressive. You… have had a very long day, I take it.”
Yashee rubbed the back of her head. Everybody always said barbarians were super angry- and sometimes her mother was, too- but never with Yashee or her dad. Not even a little angry, not at all. Instead, she just got cold and still and really intense. Yashee would almost say it was worse than just being angry, but she’s seen her mom get super angry at people before, and she definitely didn’t want that.
Still, her mom had this tone that let you know you messed up, and that she expected better than that, without ever saying any of it aloud. You just KNEW. It was a little scary, but Yashee felt more disappointed in herself than sad about it. She was being pretty dumb, following the flowers and not looking where she was walking, and she made everybody scared, even her parents.
Yashee felt somebody touch her forehead- looking up, she saw it was her mother, who gently pulled her closer until their heads bonked together, which always made her giggle even if it was An Important Orc Tradition. “You were very brave down there. I know it, even if you do not. Your soulmate will be lucky to have someone like you in their life.”
Yashee made sure to smile at her mom, even if it was a little shaky- she was right, at least about Yashee not believing she was brave, but she liked that the bravest, toughest woman she ever met thought she was brave.
“Have you seen your mark yet?” Her mom asked, reaching out to take Yashee’s hand- it was her left arm, the one with her dad’s mallet trailing down it, and Yashee would be proud if her mark was even half as cool.
She wouldn’t have to wait long to find out, as her mom lead her over to the mirror and Yashee could see it- honestly, it wasn’t anyway near as cool as either of her parents’ marks. It was a teddy bear, surrounded by flowers and with a music note sewn on its tummy. It was cute, yeah… but Yashee never thought her soulmate would be ‘cute’.
Her father caught her frowning as she flexed her arm. “Is everything alright?”
“I guess…” Yashee rubbed her arm. “It’s just… not what I expected?”
“What did you expect?” He asked, sitting down next to her. It was an honest question, like he couldn’t see what was wrong with her mark. “It’s a good mark.”
“It is, it’s just…” it’s not the mark of a fighter, or somebody who can take care of themselves. It’s silly and childish and Yashee got it by being silly and childish, so obvious her soulmate has to be silly and childish too. “It’s not me.”
“Of course it isn’t you,” her father told her, “it’s your soulmate.”
“But… how do I know I’ll like them?” Yashee asked.
He paused, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Yashee… Many people will tell you that you’ll know your soulmate when you see them, but it’s not usually that easy. It’s hard to tell sometimes, even with the marks. But I promise you, you’ll enjoy being with your soulmate from the moment you meet.”
“…can you tell me about how you got your mark?” Yashee asked, giving him her best puppy dog eyes. “I mean, it can’t be worse than mine…”
This got him to laugh. “Oh, you’d be surprised, my little music note. It all started when I was a lad, and-“
Yashee saw her mother’s stony face crack into a small smile as she settled in to watch her partner enter into one of his infamous tales, and she knew everything will be alright.
-----
Raz’ul didn’t leave Mount Tain much. As a prince, he had too many responsibilities and obligations- plus, people were afraid he’d get eaten by a wolf or something and then they’d be missing a heir. (He liked to think that they’d be upset he died just because he was dead, but Raz’ul was pretty sure they would mostly be upset that one of the princes was gone- if they were even upset at all, since that was the whole point of having a heir and three spares.) Still, whenever he had an hour to spare- which was becoming increasingly rare as he got older- he snuck out into the forest nearby.
Raz’ul loved the forest. He loved Mount Tain too, but it could feel cramped and suffocated, like a collapsed mine tunnel or a set of armor two sizes too small. This was different, the feel of dirt under his feet, the greens and browns around him, the smell of nature in the air… and the lack of responsibilities.
In the forest, he wasn’t Prince Raz’ul, son of King Daz’ul, one of the heirs of the Odallali Clan. He was just… Raz’ul, a young dwarf out in the woods. And… he was lost.
He didn’t mean to get lost! He just… he got distracted following a frog to its pond, and then he watched a little rodent burrow into its hole, and then he saw a goose and the goose chased him through the trees, and by the time he lost the goose, he… got lost too.
Raz’ul wrapped his arms around himself. This was bad, this was really bad. If he didn’t get back soon, people would notice he was gone, and they’d come after him- or worse, they wouldn’t, and he’d die out here, alone in the woods and-
He closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath. He was young, and scared, and lost, but he wasn’t alone. If he listened, he could hear the frogs croaking, the birds singing, the rustling leaves. The forest had a music all its own, and Raz’ul’s thundering heartrate and rapidfire breathing had no place in it. His heartrate slowed, and his breathing calmed.
Slowly, Raz’ul opened his eyes to find himself face to face with a bear, and then all his calm was just… gone, evaporated like water poured over molten metal. He scrambled backwards until he tripped over a root, scraping his back on the bark of a tree, and then he started to cry.
The bear… did nothing. It just gazed at Raz’ul with an unnaturally intelligent look in it’s eyes, and then it spoke. “Uh, hey… you alright, kid?”
“Wuh-what?” Raz’ul blubbered, wiping at his face with his sleeve. It didn’t do much more than get snot and tears everywhere. “Bears… bears can’t talk!”
“Nope,” the bear agreed. It’s-her?- voice was gruff, but soft and soothing as she carefully approached him. “Bears can’t talk, got that right.”
“But you’re… right now you’re…” Raz’ul stopped crying, more out of confusion than lack of fear.
“Yep!” She stopped in front of him, crouching down so that she was on eye level. It should have been scary, having such a predator close enough that she could eat him in one bite, but she was just… there, not really doing anything.
“So… if bears can’t talk, and you’re talking to me…” Raz’ul tried to puzzle it out. “Then I must be dreaming!”
“…no, but good guess?” The bear shrugged as best a bear could shrug. “Want to try again?”
Raz’ul looked at her suspiciously. “…am I going to be eaten if I can’t figure this out?”
“What?” The bear’s eyes went comically wide. “No! I’m not going to eat you, kid! I’d a vegetarian!”
“But… you’re a bear…” Raz’ul paused. “…aren’t you?”
“There! Now you’ve got it!” The bear grinned toothily, and even if she promised she wasn’t going to eat him, it was still a little scary. “That earns you a ride, if you want it.”
Raz’ul did want it, a little bit. So, he clambered onto the bear’s back, holding tight onto her fur as she stood up on all fours. “So uh, if you aren’t a bear, then what are you?”
“Oh, I’m a druid!” The bear- or druid, apparently- said. “I’m all in tune with nature and shit- oh SHIT, I can’t curse in front of kids! I mean… shit.”
Raz’ul clung onto her with wide eyes as she clomped through the woods. “Um, do you mind taking me to Mount Tain… or at least out of the woods?”
“Yeah, no prob! We’re real close, kid!” The druid said cheerfully. “I’m Lox, by the way.”
“Raz’ul, son of… Raz’ul.” Raz’ul started to introduce himself, but quickly changed his mind. Lox was the first person Raz’ul had ever met who didn’t… know who he was, and he found himself desperately wanting to keep it that way. “So uh, does being in tune with nature mean you curse a lot?”
Lox laughed heartily, and Raz’ul found himself laughing too, loudly and with a force that shook his whole body. It filled him with this strange sort of feeling that started in his stomach and ended up at his lower back. And- it would have worried him, but it felt… it felt good. Like how a hug probably felt.
Once Lox finally stopped laughing, she started explaining what a druid actually did- having a natural connection to the world around them, understanding and respecting nature, and also what she called ‘the cool shit.’
“Being a druid is basically amazing,” Lox boasted as she plodded along through the woods with Raz’ul. “I can fight, I can heal, I can turn into shit- well, animals, I can’t turn into- you know what I mean.”
“You can heal?” Raz’ul asked, leaning forward. Not that she mentioned it, he felt his back still stinging a bit from when he hit it before- it wasn’t enough that he’d ask for help back in Mount Tain, because he shouldn’t show signs of weakness, but if he returned home with an unknown injury…
“Can I heal? Pfft, of course I can heal, why is that even-” Lox scoffed at the thought, before her tiny ears pricked down. “Wait, kiddo, are you hurt?”
“Well, I mean…” Raz’ul fidgeted where he sat, not quite sure how to ask for help. “A little…”
Lox stopped walking immediately. “Get off.”
“What, but-“ Raz’ul scrambled off her back, mentally berating himself for reaching too far- she was already doing so much by giving him a ride and letting him ask so many stupid questions, and then he ruined it by asking for too much. “I’m… I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Lox stood up, facing away from him. Then, she started to shrink, shedding a foot in height and hundreds of pounds. “Why are you sorry? You aren’t the dumbass who finds a scared little kid in the woods and doesn’t think to check if he’s hurt?”
“Huh?” Raz’ul blinked up at her as she spun on her heels- she didn’t shrink, she transformed- back into a half-elf, just wearing a bear’s pelt like a hooded cloak. The expression on her scarred face was of the utmost concern, although Raz’ul couldn’t think of why. “It’s okay, really.”
“No, it isn’t.” She knelt down to face him, eyes intently locked onto him and scanning him for injuries. “You’re a kid, kid, and I’m an adult. I gotta make sure you’re okay and shit, and you don’t seem okay? You said you’re hurt? Can I see?”
“Uh… just my back?” Raz’ul nodded nervously- Lox was somehow even more scary as a half-elf than as a bear, but she seemed earnestly concerned for him. “You can look if you wa- AH!”
As soon as he said that, she slinked around him like a lioness stalking her prey, and ran her fingers down his back carefully- none of it on his injuries, but it still startled him. The last time somebody touched him this causally was… he didn’t know when. “Well, it looks like you scraped up your back something fierce, and torn up your fancy clothes, but I can fix that. Both thats, actually, now that I think about it, but hey… it didn’t hit your soulmark so that’s something!”
“My what?” Raz’ul didn’t have a soulmate- at least, he didn’t the last time he saw himself. Confusion and excitement swirled around in him. “I don’t have a… what?”
“You didn’t…” She blinked at him, then lurched upwards before dragging him with her to a nearby creek. “It’s on your lower back, bud, see if you can see it in the water?”
It’s hard to look at his own back, especially when he’s trying to use running water as a mirror, but eventually he could see it- or at least a blurry form, a darker brown than his skin with glinting silver cutting through it. “I… I see it.”
“It’s a pretty nice mark,” Lox stated, dropping down next to him. “It’s uh, it’s a bear holding a big staff thing, I think?”
Raz’ul looked at her awkwardly, this strange adult wrapped in bearskins, who showed up as a bear, and she was nice, but… “Uh…”
“Shit kid, it’s not me!” Lox blinked at him before scrambling to pull off her rough moccasin. “Look, see, I got a shoe-“
That was weird, even considering how she was acting so far, and Raz’ul was going to say that of course she was wearing shoes, when she finally managed to pull her moccasin off to reveal a tattoo- or a soulmark- of a pretty silver-blue slipper, right there on her ankle. “I don’t think this is the kinda thing you’d wear, Junior, so we’re good. I’m pretty sure we ain’t meant to be.”
“Oh, that’s- good?” Raz’ul realized what he was saying, then blushed. “I mean, you’re great but-“
Lox let out a loud, growling laugh. “We’re cool, buddy. I’m a lesbian, and you’re like, a little kid. I’m not that kind of weirdo.”
With that, she leaned over and tapped his back twice- the first time, Raz’ul felt his minor scrapes and bruises heal up, and the second time he could feel the back of his shirt become more restrictive. “There, you’re golden, kid. Ready to go home?”
No, he wasn’t. Honestly, he’d rather stay here with this weird forest lady, instead of going home to his father and brothers and the cold, distant feel of the mountains. But he had already stayed too late, and if he waited any longer, people would get suspicious. So sadly, he nodded.
“Alright… want to see me turn into a deer?” Lox asked, and before Raz’ul could respond, she shifted into something big, and hooved, and horned- whatever it was, it wasn’t a deer. “Shit, I think I’m a moose? …eh, good enough!”
Deer or moose or whatever ungodly forest creature Lox turned into, she was able to run pretty fast- fast enough to take him to the edge of the woods, close enough that he could make it to Mount Tain easily. Lox turned back into her half-elf form, and asked “You good from here, kid?”
“Uh, yeah…” it would take some sneaking, but he was pretty sure most of the other dwarves in the castle were willing to turn a blind eye to him. “Hey, how often are you in the forest?”
“Shit, all the time, kid,” Lox shrugged. “I actually live there?”
Raz’ul couldn’t meet her eye. “So… if I go wandering in the woods again… can I visit you?”
“Uh…” Lox didn’t react for a long moment, and Raz’ul tensed, waiting for her rejection. “I mean… shit, if you want to? I don’t know why you’d want to visit the weird bear lady who traumatized you and shit, but- actually yeah, come visit whenever. I can teach you some sweet druid shit, if you want, or hook you up with some other teacher dude?”
Raz’ul smiled, and before she could say no, he grabbed her in a hug. There were an awkward few seconds, but eventually she hugged him back, so warm and so tight that he never wanted it to end.
He got caught sneaking back in later, grounded to his rooms for a week, but when he finally got the chance to really see his soulmark- a surprisingly cuddly brown bear, holding a strange silver staff with a rounded top that has a music note etched into it- it was all worth it.
---
Randy never really thought much about soulmates- he was much too busy thinking of survival, of keeping Joby safe, of the grueling training Rhiannon and the other Nowhere Man put him through. He never really… felt what he was supposed to, anyway. He’s seen the pictures the others kept, women and men wearing next to nothing, and he felt… nothing. It was like looking at cardboard. It proved that there was something wrong with him, something broken in him, that he couldn’t feel love like a normal person. That was probably what the Nowhere Man saw in him, and why they chose him, even if Randy never mentioned it to anybody. He was enough of a target already, considering Joby, he didn’t need to add more to it. (He loves Joby, though, and he still loves all he lost so much that it hurts, even if that ache lessens day by day. He even loves Rhiannon, in a way- but he loves like a child, selfish and weak, which just proves his heart grew wrong.)
Rhiannon wasn’t like him- she had a soulmate, although she never talked about him. Randy only knew about him due to the rumors that went around camp- “Rhiannon’s soulmate was a copper, he tried to hunt her down, so she murdered him.” “No, he was a thief in a rival gang, the boss found out and killed him.” “He wanted her to settle down, raise a family, but she refused and ran away.” “He died tragically and that’s why she joined the Nowhere Man to get revenge.”- and he saw her mark once. Just once, when he got in a lucky hint when she was attacking him and he cracked her mask in half. He saw the scars, and he saw what was hiding under them- what looked like it could have been a bird, only warped and marred along with the rest of the flesh.
Rhiannon made sure that he paid dearly for that, and had Randy swear to never bring it up again. He never did, but sometimes he wondered…
But he rarely thought of his own soulmate, who probably didn’t exist. After all, he was broken, and tied up with the Nowhere Man and if they were somebody who he liked- not even loved, not in the way that Rhiannon loved her lost soulmate, or the others loved the people in their pictures- then he didn’t want them to have to deal with the danger he was in. He couldn’t leave this life, so the least he could do was not pull anybody else in.
There were times he didn’t want to leave, of course- after all, this was all he knew, all he was good at. Even more than that, he enjoyed it, sometimes: the rush of fleecing some rube, or pulling off a daring heist, or the twist of pleasure when, after all the pain he’s went through, he can bring some of it down on somebody else. He had no choice, anyway- nobody could leave the Nowhere Man, unless it was in a body bag, so it was better to at least pretend it was his choice to stay here, that he would rather be here than back in a home he only barely remembered. Any dreams of making music instead of chaos were just that, dreams.
He wasn’t a Nowhere Man- not yet, but at this point he either would live as a Nowhere Man or die as a failure- but he thought he might be moving up the ranks of trust. The training missions were getting harder and harder, and he was trusted enough to be out in public, although he still had a ‘babysitter’.
Speak of the devil, Randy winced as Rhiannon slapped the back of his head to snap him out of his thoughts. “Focus, Randall. What if I was somebody else, hmm?”
‘Then maybe they’d get my name right?’ Randy made sure not to say, since Rhiannon was already in a bad mood and the knives might come out if he pushed her too far. He also made sure not to rub the back of his head, since Rhiannon is definitely the ‘two for flinching’ type. Instead, he just said what she’d want to hear. “They would have killed me.”
Rhiannon ‘rewarded’ him by tousling his hair roughly, as if he was a beloved pet. “That’s right, so aren’t you glad it was just me?”
Randy just shrugged, already tired of this game. He had no idea if Rhiannon liked him and had a messed up way of showing it, or if she hates him and this was her way of toying with him, but right now he didn’t care. He spent all night with Maldark training his stealth skills, and he was already bruised and sore from when he was caught. There was barely time for a short rest before Rhiannon literally dragged him off his cot to bring him on another mission, this one was just a simple breaking and entering job at an old mansion. Rhiannon didn’t need the help, but apparently he needed the experience more than he needed sleep.
So here he was, trying not to yawn as he picked the lock with ease. Honestly, even Joby could get through it, so it wasn’t exactly practice when it was just this easy. It pinged something in Randy’s mind, that a rich old biddy would have such a cheap lock to hold all her valuables, but he knew Rhiannon would just laugh off his suspicions if he brought it up. So instead, he just stepped back and turned to Rhiannon. “Ladies first.”
Rhiannon just rolled her eyes as she stepped inside, and immediately triggered a tripwire trap. Randy watched as she was suspended from the ceiling by her ankles, and tried not to laugh at her misfortune. She still saw him smile, and just glared at him upside down. “You forgot to check for traps.”
Rhiannon didn’t check for traps either, but instead of pointing it out to her, Randy just threw a dagger lazily at the rope holding her up to the ceiling. He was hoping that she’d land flat on her face, but instead she landed in a handstand and tumbled safely on the floor before Randy. Which, he had to give her props, was pretty damn awesome.
They were much more careful going through the rest of the mansion, collecting any valuables in custom Bags of Holding. There were more traps littered around each room, nonlethal but devious in their own ways- trap doors under rugs, cages dropping in the hallway, stun darts shooting out of the mouths of statues… Randy almost got caught in a Rug of Smothering, and for a few moments he was afraid that Rhiannon would just leave him to die there, before he felt a sword thrust roughly to one side, then at his other side, then just above his head. He had scarcely a minute to realize what was happening before a hand reached through and pulled him out into the open space.
Randy watched, breathing heavily as Rhiannon kept stabbing at the rug, only returning when it was in shreds. “Well, that was a waste. Take a five minute break, and we’ll keep going.”
He could only nod, looking up at her with wide eyes. “I…”
“Don’t say anything,” Rhiannon snapped, not able to conceal all of her concern. “It’ll ruin the moment.”
Randy nodded again, looking down and focusing on breathing. When his time was up, Rhiannon just tapped her staff on the ground to get his attention, and pulled him towards the kitchen. “I already checked for traps, just focus on getting the silverware.”
This lady was apparently rich enough that her silverware was literal silver, or gold, or even platinum, and honestly, it was more of a crime to have a fork made of platinum than to steal a fork made of platinum. Randy just casually kept shoving all of the silverware into a bag, although he was careful not to cut himself with any of it, or rip the bag because it was worth more than he was.
He paused, catching his reflection in a tarnished spoon. Looking back at him was a thin halfling with bags under his eyes and bruises under his clothes, reflection distorted but his frown was clear in the curve of it. He didn’t look like a Nowhere Man, or even any sort of criminal. He just looked tired and lifeless, and he didn’t like it.
Looking at himself in this stupid silver spoon in this stupid old house, Randy had a sudden moment of just ‘I don’t want to be here’. He didn’t want to be in this house, he didn’t want to be with the Nowhere Man, he didn’t want to be away from his family… but most of all, he wanted to be anywhere other than where he was in life.
Suddenly, Randy’s reflection was blocked out by a bright light- looking down, he could see it was coming out through his shirt, and his first reaction was to cover his chest in a panic, looking around to see if Rhiannon noticed. Apparently, she hadn’t, or at least she was too busy trying to crack the wall safe hidden behind a set of decorative kitty plates to care about that weird light.
Still, Randy kept his hands over his chest until the light faded, at least until it was gone. With a stray thought about whether he ate something that would cause him to light up like a March of the Toys Tree without realizing it, Randy carefully removed his hands to look down his shirt.
The light had disappeared, leaving only what looked like a strange tattoo of a silver spoon wrapped in vines and blooming flowers. There was a symbol on the rounded part of the spoon, which he vaguely recognized as a music note. Tattoos don’t randomly appear on halflings… but soulmarks do.
“Randall!” There was a familiar pain blooming against the back of his head as Rhiannon hit him again, although it was nothing compared to the headache- and the implications- his soulmark was causing. “Hurry up, we need to be out of here in an hour, and we haven’t even gotten upstairs yet.”
Automatically, he hid the spoon in his sleeve before Rhiannon could notice it, and numbly finished shoveling the rest of the silverware into the bag before trailing after Rhiannon. His mind was full of possibilities, about how he had a soulmate out there somewhere, somebody who matched him on every level for better or worse, and who was stuck with a two bit thief stealing cutlery as part of notorious crime gang. He didn’t know if they’d be ashamed of him or proud of him, and he wasn’t sure which was worse.
Was he proud of himself? Ashamed of himself? Both? Randy wasn’t sure what he felt- he wasn’t even sure he wanted a soulmate or a soulmark.
But there was one thing he knew now. He had a soulmate, somewhere out there in the world who was his perfect match, and when he met them, he won’t be a Nowhere Man.
Randy casually looked down his shirt, to make sure his soulmark was still there, and staring back at him was the music note, almost like a face looking back at him. He wasn’t sure if that meant his soulmate was a musician, or that he was meant to be one, but either way, music was his destiny. And no thief could steal that from him.