Inn Between Posts

Let’s check in on the adventuring members of the Gang, shall we?

*

“Do you ever think we’re in the ‘happily ever after’ stage of our lives?” Fina said, keeping her voice low.

Velune hissed back, “Is now really the time?”

The three of them were in the rafters of a large dining hall that currently contained two officials, having the most boring conversation Fina had ever heard in her life. Something about exports. Fina couldn’t make herself concentrate on it. They weren’t here for this anyway, they were here to do some snooping on an illegal slave trade that the lord of this hall might be involved in. It was just bad luck that a couple of accountants got in the way.

“Relax, we’ve got Pass Without Trace on,” Fina murmured. “Just don’t roll a 1.”

Let’s! Get! Sad!

Trigger warning for this story time: It contains examples of emotional, financial, and verbal abuse and neglect. Please take care of yourselves.

* * *

Pheobe was a baby.

She didn’t know anything much consistently. She knew the care of loving hands, but never the same hands, passed from person to person. She never wanted for anything except consistency.

This story time takes place during 5.12, as in, in the middle of 5.12. Like, right in the middle. I like this story time for a few reasons, most of which you won’t find out until season six. So please, take this story and speculate.

Let’s go!

*

Larkin was used to tension. His magic was held in difficult balance, arguably the hardest and most important balance he held. It should get easier, holding tension like that, the longer you did it. Muscles got stronger when you exercised them.

It should get easier, but it didn’t, not when the tension was constant.

“I have…I have time now,” Rukes said, standing up, looking pointedly at Larkin.

“O-oh!” He stood up as well, aware of a sudden release in tension. Relief. Why relief, why in this circumstance? “Uh, sure.”

“I ought to practice buffs, anyhow,” Rukes said, with a casualness that belied how much they’d been working on it when they and Larkin were alone. Still though—

“I…I’d rather you not practice on me, um…” Larkin protested weakly.

Rukes stared him down, inscrutable. “Well someone has to be my victim.”

Regrettably, this was true. Buffs had to have a living target in order for Larkin to evaluate if they worked, and Rukes always insisted on an evaluation. He didn’t know how they stood up to the critique.

First story about one of the Lowlifes from their perspective! This story is for people who have already listened to 5.6, so if you haven’t done that, go on over and do that. See if you can connect the dots. Enjoy!

*

Idzy Rukes’ mind was made up. And it was honestly…really exciting.

They could feel the tremor of energy at the table like the beginnings of an earthquake, as their family chattered about travel plans and preparations.

“Oh, you can’t forget your nice set of quills,” Mom told them.

Idzy suppressed a smile. “They have quills and ink at the temple, Mom.”

“But these are your nice ones,” Mom urged, and Mother laughed.