2015 can die in a fire. But I'm still alive, and a rage-fuelled night was channeled into a little something for me. Another little gap-bridger for Blood And Water here for you now, since I've definitely not forgotten about these characters. I can't wait to revisit them, but I've got a lot to attend to first. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this little piece!

 - Master Meridian

Blood And Water Mini

Testing The Waters

Even though he knew Deacon would give him hell for it, Bain luxuriated in being amongst civilization once more.

Sure, the little town of Iounis in the south-west of the Noctus Imperium wasn't exactly civilization in the strictest sense of the word. It sure wasn't the capital, full of nobles and finery and well-to-do types that the young otter had only ever heard of in his mother's stories. It wasn't even Makralla, the eastern trade city that brought exotic spice and animal and people to the Imperium.

Even so, the bustle of the Iounis marketplace was a far cry from the tiny village the otter had grown up in. Surrounded by the sights and smells of hundreds of bodies packed together in this little crossroads town in the middle of nowhere, Bain savoured every moment. He knew he was not likely to see it again for some time, if Deacon had his way.

He shouldered his pack and adjusted his travel leathers before he waded into the sea of fur and flesh that was the market. All Deacon had wanted to do in the weeks since they'd dispatched Oswell was work on his magic. It was growing tiresome for Bain. More and more of the fox's time was being swallowed up by his pursuit of his creator's powers and, though Bain tried hard not to let it get to him, he was starting to feel a bit neglected in turn.

But perhaps this little trip would be enough to help Deacon get a better handle on whatever it was that was bugging him. The supplies had been easy to find, but one thing eluded him still. Alhiin root wasn't a common thing to find at a marketplace – and he knew well that some markets banned it as a poison, after all – but the right amount brewed into a tea would help Deacon sleep a little better. At least, if Deacon was truthful about his alchemical knowledge. Bain didn't want to deliver the poison that his lover would take to off himself, after all.

Still, it was hard to focus on the task at hand when faced with so many stalls full of wondrous things. One stall outside a butcher's shop was shouting offers for delicious-smelling roasted meats stuck on wooden skewers. Another boasted the finest silks, purportedly woven by Ahron-enchanted spinning wheels. One dared even cry out that true love lay in the bottom of a vial; a potent potion that could win the heart of any one could desire. For Bain, so isolated from the real world and after the disaster that had been Oswell's experiments on him, it was beautiful. Perhaps when he returned he could convince Deacon to come back with him for another visit.

It was only on his second, mouth-watering glance at the meat vendor that Bain saw it. There, just on the other side of the baker's shop was what he was looking for. The sign was in a text he didn't recognize – Deacon had started teaching him to read, but it was slow going – but the runic symbol for alchemy was something he'd been shown before the trek. He knew he'd found the town's apothecary.

He was surprised when he made his way over to it to feel a strange, almost magical tingle at the door. It set his fur slightly on end under his leathers, but Bain shrugged it off as he pushed the door open. Magi might have been secretive, but alchemists were allowed to blur the lines between the physical and the metaphysical more readily. Perhaps this one had some magic in their blood! Bain felt new excitement at the prospect, even as he reminded himself that he was to tell no one about Deacon specifically.

Entering the apothecary's store brought a new rush of scents to Bain's nose. He inhaled deeply of the herbs and incense that tickled his sense of smell, and a pleasant warmth drifted over his mind as he started toward the counter. Be wary, Deacon had warned him, some alchemists fog the thoughts of their potential clients to ensure a better sale. Be alert, Bain.

That warning seemed almost a trifle at the comfort that washed over Bain, and he smiled broadly as he saw a young-looking male ferret slip out of the back room and make his way over to the counter. He watched as the ferret finally noticed him and offered a broad smile of his own. “Welcome to Barka's Alchemical Solutions, traveler! I'm sorry if you're here to pick up an order from Barka; he's unavailable at the moment!"

The enthusiasm from the shopkeep was infectious and mingled with the warmth in the air. It made Bain chuckle to himself as he shook his head. “Actually, I was looking for something if you don't… hey, how'd you know I'm a traveler?"

One of the ferret's eyebrows lifted as he glanced up and down Bain's body. “Well, I'm guessing you'd bathe more regularly, and wash those leathers out if you were from around here." His smile didn't fade; indeed, it seemed to grow. “So, you're looking for a little something? Maybe we can help you. Barka has the best range! Might I have your name, please?"

That was good news! Bain stepped right up to the counter and slipped his pack off his shoulder. It hit the ground with a quiet thump as Bain leaned one arm against the counter. “Bain's my name… heh heh…  Uh, I have a friend who's having some trouble sleeping. He sent me out here to pick up some Alhiin root to help. Do you have any?"

That set the ferret's smile flickering slightly. One of his ears flicked back for a second as he regarded Bain more closely. “Well, Bain… yes, I'm pretty sure we have some Alhiin root, but… well, taking Alhiin root for sleep is like drinking a lake to slake your thirst." His brows furrowed slightly.

This much Bain knew; his mother had been very clear on the dangers of Alhiin root. “Oh, I know! But he's got a pretty good knowledge of alchemy himself. Just doesn't have the time to go out and get it all on his own, you know? He's busy with…" Bain had to catch himself before he said magic. “Well… work."

As he spoke, the ferret began to flick to sheets of paper stacked neatly beside the counter. “What kind of work would he have if he's not an alchemist himself?" he muttered to himself as he skimmed the text.

Bain had to try to think fast, which was harder than usual with the haze of the store's delightful smells keeping his mind under a thick blanket. It took a couple of seconds, and then another as the ferret looked up from the papers before he finally came up with an answer. “Uh… he's a scribe! Well, sort of a scribe. Delivers missives for… well, I really don't know. He doesn't tell me much about them."

“Well, I hope he's not in league with any criminals, Bain. Alhiin root's an important part of a great many deadly poisons and the like." The ferret ran his eyes up and down Bain again, almost as if he were studying him for any sign of that very kind of criminal activity. “It would be very bad for business if Barka's Alchemical Solutions was found to have delivered poisons into the paws of… well, assassins."

The otter's paws immediately flew up as if to ward off the accusation. “Oh, no! No, we're not assassins! I never… I mean, I would never want to hurt anyone. Unless… you know, they were really trying to hurt me." Bain felt his teeth grind. Oswell came to mind.

But Oswell was dead, and that thought gave him a moment's comfort as he tried a smile on the shopkeep. “I promise, it's only for my friend's teas. He's…" Bain bit his lip for a moment before he sighed." He doesn't like to let me see it, but he's been having nightmares. Lots of bad nightmares lately."

“Nightmares, hmm? Well… those do disrupt sleep." The ferret slipped around the counter and began to scan one of the shelves to the left side of the store. “What kind of nightmares? Did he say?" He glanced back over his shoulder with a sheepish sort of smile. “Dream interpretation is a bit of a hobby of mine."

Bain shook his head before he knew exactly what he was doing. He just felt so comfortable, like he could tell this friendly clerk everything. “He doesn't tell me," he admitted after a moment. “I wish he did. I bet it's his m… his father. They had a sort of… falling out."

The shopkeep hummed to himself as he nodded and scanned the different jars on display. “Family trouble's the worst kinda trouble," he said as he plucked a small jar from the shelf. Within it rested about five little reddish-brown roots, thick as a finger and covered in little nubs. “Still, I hope he sorts it out. I never really knew my father." He smiled as he held up the jar. “Alhiin root. Your friend's sure lucky to have you looking out for him, Bain."

“He could stand to say it a bit more often," Bain countered with a little chuckle. He felt the inside of his ears burn with his blush and hoped that the shopkeep didn't notice. He didn't need to be outed right there in the middle of the town, after all. They'd summon the watch on him if he wasn't careful about what he said. “How much do I owe you?"

The shopkeep smirked as he glanced toward the door to the back room. “Tell you what. You see about bringing your friend over here sometime in the next month or so for me to see about his dreams, and we'll see if you need more root then. This should more than last you that long, and we can sort it out there. Okay?"

Normally, such generosity would have set alarm bells off in Bain's head. Oswell's entrapment of him had hinged on being generous after all, and Bain was shy of being bitten again. However, right there with the pleasing warmth of the store wrapped around his thoughts, all he could wonder was why there weren't more lovely people like that ferret in the world. “That's so nice of you; thanks! I know De… I know my friend'll really appreciate that. We'll see about coming by sometime soon, if we can!"

“You do that. I'll be around!" The shopkeep smiled as he helped the slightly addled otter fit the jar into his pack. “You have yourself a good day, Bain. I'll be looking forward to meeting your friend when you come back!"

“Thanks, and take care!" Bain all but skipped over to the door, thrilled with the acquisition he'd made. It wasn't until he reached that door that he paused and turned with a smile. The ferret had almost headed into the back room again. “Hey! What's your name?" he asked.

The ferret's eyes widened a moment as he glanced back at the otter, and then his features softened with a smile. “Ransley," he replied. “I'm Ransley."

“Well, thanks again, Ransley!" Bain said with a bow of his head. He swept out of the store with his head held high and clutched tightly at his pack. That had gone so much better than he'd expected. Now, he only needed to return to Deacon with the root and hope that it helped the way Deacon said it would.

That fox would need his rest, with what Bain planned to do with him!

As the shop door closed, the smile slipped from Ransley's face. He tapped his chin thoughtfully as he watched after Bain. So that was the one who'd helped Deacon kill Oswell. He'd not been too impressed.

Still, Bain had given away surprisingly little. The enchantment that he'd woven into the front of the store would have made him completely pliant to information gathering, but the otter had resisted it somehow. Ransley had sensed it; caught a glimpse of the power that lay mostly dormant within the otter's blood.

Mostly dormant, of course, was the problem. There was something powerful lurking within Bain, and Ransley could sense its desire to be free. Not normal magic, to be certain; not the ilaen water magic that he'd been informed lay within him. This was something greater. Something devastatingly powerful. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought there was a touch of Ahron sorcery about the otter.

Still, the venture hadn't been entirely fruitless. The ferret had spent an awful long time before Bain's arrival, tagging every item in the store with a magical marker of ulurn energy that Deacon should not be able to detect.

Even that had been a coup. The powers innate to the Ring of Fate and its initiated few gave glimpses into the future. Ransley had spent weeks trying to locate Deacon and Bain based on half-spotted dreams and misremembered visions. It was almost, infuriatingly as if fate itself was shielding them from his view. It was only when they had separated for a brief moment that Ransley had been granted the vision of Bain's arrival. He'd had to accomplish much in the three days before Bain arrived.

And still had much to accomplish before Bain returned, if the suggestion he'd planted in the otter's mind took root. But that was a problem for later. As he strode into the back room again at last, he smiled down at the shop's owner. “Don't worry, Barka," he told the elderly wolf wrapped in living, constricting vines from neck to footpaw, “I promised you that I would do you no harm, and I intend to keep that promise. Small comfort, I know." Beneath him, Barka growled from around the vine that wrapped about his muzzle and clamped it firmly shut.

“Hold tight to that comfort, though. I may, unfortunately, have understated how long you will be hosting me for…"