Smoke billows up from the hole between Jarl’s boots where his soul may have just briefly ventured to.
The sound of the rifle that caused the hole echoes through the clearing, reverberating in Jarl’s head and heart, as the sight returns to their general vicinity. It’s possible that means the wielder’s a bad shot, but…
Jarl’s not sure he wants to bank on that.
His hand trembles around the note in his hand—the only thing belying his confident and protective stare and stance as his other is holding perfectly fine, somehow—as he raises both in armed (super powers aside—because, he learned the first day, they’re all hand-to-hand based—Gina’s words, spell or not, are powerful enough to count as a weapon) and unarmed surrender. He subtly keeps the other two behind him, instinctively seeing them as smaller and thus in need of shielding (although Áesta’s a literal daemon and Manus can probably hex the shooter to oblivion…), as he bellows across the front yard, “We seek passage!”
“Ta hWere‽”
“Yer yard’d be good enough!” Áesta lightly bumps Jarl’s elbow as he peers around the brick wall of a priest. There’s an impish grin on his face and mischief in his eyes; but there’s also a tense hand on Jarl’s belt, gripping the back of it so fiercely that the holy man is surprised it’s not snapping.
Who exactly is protecting whom, here?
“We jus’ need it ta teleport!” Áesta waves the board for travelling the Axis Mundi around before them, showing it off to the man (? Jarl thinks it is, anyway) behind the shotgun.
Slowly, it lowers; “… Ah know you?”
“Ah, last saw ye as a kid.”
(… Seriously?)
~
“That were t’e year we ‘ad an isalated famine, weren’t it?”
“Mhn,” Áesta grins as he nods and follows Tanin Jr into his home. It’s a large, two story manor-like abode with ash wood everywhere. The natural grain remains in the floor but the slices used for the walls are white and any accessory in the home is stained dark to stand out and match the hunter memorabilia hung abound.
It’s not what Manus and Jarl would have expected of a farmer’s home.
It makes them wary—or warier since they both just had the other man’s shotgun pointed at them for so long (even if it was really just a few minutes)—as they trail after the little daemon whom fears nothing at all. “Som’time in t’e great war, yer taters caught som’in’ fierce and Gina ‘ad ta call me in ta get rid ‘o it.”
“Right, right…” the man replaces his gun on the rack above his hearth as he nods along with Áesta’s words, “T’e Ever Green Daemon, right?”
Aforementioned evil grins, “Ceart!”
~
“Wait, so what exactly did you do?”
Áesta laughs at Jarl’s question, seeming amused that he’d even ask it. Jarl thinks it’s a good question, though; because, as much as he’s come to understand how beneficial magicians can be, daemons fixing a blight…
That seems… (Jarl isn’t entirely sure WHAT it seems but too kind comes to mind…)
“Remember hWen Ah used Mariti’s herbs ta hold ye?” the tiny daemon asks back, gesturing vaguely east. Vivid memories of hot hands chocking an even hotter neck under the hottest of rages flash in Jarl’s mind; but it’s cooled by the suggested remembrance of gentle vines encasing his body with ethereal strength and grace. Swallowing thickly at the reminder—at the memory of him succumbing to the sin of wrath—Jarl nods. “Well, a lot o’ t’at were fertalizin’ t’e herbs so t’ey could do hWat Ah want.”
“He’s literally a fertility god,” Manus jokes, grin wide and playful even as he taps Jarl’s clenched fist, reminding him of the note he’s carrying.
“Basic’ly,” the daemon allows. “But, really, Ah’m jus’ makin’ ‘em strong an’ big enough ta suit me needs. Or, t’e Tanin’s, in t’at case. T’at’s hWy Gina called me back t’en; she could kill off t’e blight in t’eir crops, sure; but, she couldn’t just magic ‘em back inta growin’ like t’ey asked; so, she asked me ta do it.”
“And… you did?” Jarl’s not entirely sure why, but the nonchalance in that shocks him.
“‘Course! Anyt’ing fer Gina! She’s a friend and she helped me! Plus: it’s a free meal!”
(Of course: if Áesta is willing to go along with Jarl’s insane scheme to rescue Jasey…)
(Wait… how was it free???)
~
“Ah t’ink Ah were two fer t’at.”
“Somet’in’ like t’at, yea.”
“Ye really saved us.”
“… Ah’m glad.”
~
“He’s nicer than I was expecting…”
Áesta snorts when he notices where Manus’ eyes are straying: from the hung brown bear heads on the wall to the laid out brown bear pelts on the couches and floors. Jarl, himself, winces when he remembers how, technically, they’re an endangered species in Ireland. “Most o’ t’is is family stuff. ‘Is daidí did huntin’ an’ sellin’ on t’e side ta help subsidize t’e lot hWen t’e farm weren’t so good. T’em were good pelts, too! T’is,” Áesta gestures around them to the literal displays in what could only be called the Tanin’s living showroom, “Were hWere t’ey did most o’ t’eir advertizin’; hWen people came ta visit, t’ey saw and TOUCHED all o’ t’is and bought it not only ta have fer t’emselves but ta also ‘elp t’e Tanin’s out o’ t’eir predicament.
“Ye may see a lot o’ pride an’ greed, but all ‘e sees is t’e love and perseverance o’ ‘is family.”
Neither Manus nor Jarl had anything to say to that.
(Although, Jarl was a little apologetic—internally.)
~
“‘Ere, some tea.”
Tanin Jr sets a plate of four bear paw print mugs on the coffee table between the fireplace and the sofa. Áesta’s quick to grab the one displaying RAWR! over two small paw prints while Tanin, clearly unconsciously, takes the one with Son written beside a small paw print. Jarl begins to suspect there’s a Goldilocks theme going on when he gets Papa with a large paw print after Manus picked Mama with a medium paw print.
Idly, he wonders if this was also something sold by this family.
He sips the tea carefully, getting a strong sense of Assam (which makes him think it’s Irish Breakfast Tea; which is funny because it’s after noon, already), before setting it down and procuring their note from Gina. He offers it to Tanin Jr, so he can read it, “Thank you, but we were actually not intending to disturb you long.”
“Teleport?”
“Yes,” Manus, probably because he’s the magician, picks up for Jarl. “We’re using the Axis Mundi.”
“Ah, so ye ARE magic folk;” Tanin Jr sips his own tea before nodding to them, “‘Suppose Ah can do t’at much; as t’anks ta Gina: owe a lot ta t’at ol’ witch; t’is ‘ere farm wouldn’t be none if it weren’t fer ‘er; go ahead.”
So surprised by the ease and genuine affection the man has for her, Jarl almost forgets to say, “Thank you.”
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