Is That Lavender In Your Pocket? Or Are You Just Happy To See Me? (Open) (TW:Blood/Violence))

[Ford Edevane]

2nd of Glade, 4623

Just outside of Malevin, in Westjorik, two men, one younger and one older, were scrambling to fix a wagon used to haul goods in the rich farmlands of Westjorik. The younger was clearing away what seemed to be wooden spokes and thin strips of snapped flat steel while the elderly of the two were pulling the axle out from the hoisted wagon. Once the pair had cleared the debris, the elder lifted a new axle and slid it into place while the younger carried a new wheel and slid it onto the axle. The elder gentleman, wearing tattered brown trousers that came only to his knee, wore a pair of wool socks, grey with a pair of leather shoes, a bit frayed but quite functional on his feet. He wore a plain white shirt to his upper half with a slight v-line at the neck and suspenders. The younger of the pair wore similar clothes; only his trousers were black, as were his shoes.

Once the boxing for the wheel was in place and fastened, the wheel was made sure to spin without impediments, and they quickly moved over to the second rear wheel and replaced it in a much similar fashion. Only when the older man and younger did both would the elderly of the pair wipe his brow and give a breath out before nodding towards the wagon. “Alright, you can set ‘er down there.” Slowly, the wagon was lowered, careful of the new axle and wheels to ensure it could wear the weight of the emptied cart. When it was deemed entirely safe, the wagon was released, and both of the men moved around to the backside of the wagon and purveyed their thanks to someone.

Behind the wagon stood a nearly seven-foot-tall hulk of a man. For the moment, his biceps were relaxing from having lifted a wagon, as it seemed he had raised and held the wagon up by himself without help. “Thank ye for helpin’ out again, your Lordship.” The big blonde waved a hand and offered a contained chuckle as he turned, wiping his hands off with a couple of quick swiping pats to his palms and fingers.

“Do not mention it, Sers. You have been kind enough to me in the past. I would never think twice about helping someone who needs aid.”

Just about then, a woman of similar age to the older gentleman was dressed in more homely attire. Her brown dress had patches and an apron stained with green and brown spots, but she had the kindest face with the rosiest cheeks. ”Oh, Lord Edevane, you always show up and have the mightiest hands to help us poor souls.” Her husband nearly rolled his eyes hard enough for them to pop out of his head, and the Griscian laughed once more, flashing teeth with a charming smile.

“What can I say? Your family always has what I need; it is the freshest I have ever seen. I would never think of straying to anyone else ever again.”

The older woman let out a noise of surprise and whimsy, and her husband offered out his hand as did what would appear to be his son. ”Our gratitude again. We know we cannot offer you much, but…” Once Ford shook the man’s hand and then his son’s, he shook his head and regarded the three of them together.

“I am not interested in making a coin off of you. Coming across your family while I travel to Malevin is always a pleasure and brightens my day.”

Turning to the woman, who was handing over a giant bushel of something that she wrapped in what seemed to be butcher’s paper with twine tied around it, and a smaller bundle in a white cloth with a light green tie around it, Ford took the items from her and set them aside as he took her hand in his and the poor old woman blushed. The Griscian always found it comical when he received specific reactions, and the woman, loyal as can be to her husband, never failed to blush whenever Ford greeted her or bid her farewell. Taking her hand in his, he raised it to his lips as he knelt and kissed the back of her hand.

Giddy with excitement, she paused when she noticed a ring on a particular finger, and she gasped. Snatching her hand away from his, for an older woman, she was quick. Her hands slapped to his chiseled, beard-lined jawline and pulled him closer with surprising strength. The blonde’s brows rose in question, and she squidged his cheeks forward, forcing his lips to pucker out like a fish, and she leaned closer. Her husband immediately tried to move closer and remove her death grip on his face, and their son felt his heart sink entirely from his body.

”Is he treating you right? Does he take care of you? You are in no trouble after that business, right?”

In the background, as the older man tried to pull her off, Ford’s face remained softer, even smiling, as comical as it may have looked. ”Ge’off him! He’s a Lord, and you can’t just… You have your own ring! Look at that! It’s none of your business!”

“He is what has always been missing from my life. He completes me in ways I can not explain, and I assume he would say something like that about me instead. Something about saving one another. It’s really boring and dramatic.”

Ford felt her hands loosen in strength for a split second and lifted his own to take hers into them. It seemed enough to quell the woman’s sudden attack, and she nodded to him.

“A Kyng throwing a temper tantrum is nothing compared to what we can handle.”

Ford offered this above a whisper and stood up, releasing the woman’s hands.

”My apologies Lord Edevane. Please do–”

The Griscian offered a final chuckle and shook his head to the family patriarch.

“It was the most motherly thing that has happened to me since childhood. I would never dare to have someone so genuine held accountable for being human.”

Gathering the bushel and smaller bundle, he placed them in a cloth-draped half dome with two leather straps. Eventually, waving to the pair and their son as he began walking off into the farmlands of Westjorik, Ford was seemingly alone, save for the items he was carrying. Aside from that, he wore a collared shirt, half buttoned and light blue, with a pair of dark brown slacks and boots. The deep, blue-eyed blonde began traveling South, taking his time as he passed by various farmlands and fields of lavender. Which, if anyone was close enough to smell, was the larger bushel, with a sweeter aroma of chamomile as well.

The smile remained on his face even as he walked. He could still feel her hands on his face and the look of concern on her visage. Having seen many people, having seen many faces. That family, though, were souls he would never be able to forget.

[Ford Edevane]

The trek had been slow and steady. As his feet carried him with his lavender and chamomile in tow, the Griscian was happy to see the sights as they came by. The company he kept was himself, but his thoughts bounced between different things. Some of the things he thought about were fleeting and took only a few seconds to consider. Other things had his mind lingering. With his mind remaining on a particular thought, he had not considered his surroundings as his walking had brought him through a small village. Nothing of import could be seen, but as he walked, a sound caught him by surprise, which pulled him from his reverie. The sound of a woman screaming was followed by another person, a man, yelling and laughing. Immediately, the blonde's booted feet turned in the direction of the screams, and the muscular mass of a Griscian headed toward the source of the noise. Turning a corner, he found a man being pushed off of a woman whose skirt had been lifted and forcing it back down. The man had tripped over his feet and fallen to the ground, to which the woman began to kick him. A single blonde brow rose as he watched the scene before the woman ran off, leaving the man injured, and eventually turned back to head off from the location. One thing Ford had come to know since he began living in Radenor was that the people, no matter gender, age, or life choices, were hearty people who did not think twice about defending themselves.

With a half-smile, Ford wandered back to the main road and headed back toward his home. Only a few minutes after that, as he passed a sign named the village he had been at, Ford's vision suddenly blurred, and his vision of the world as he knew it had begun to fade out. His eyes adjusted in a flash of blinding light, and he was back in the village, but it was not the village he had just seen. The buildings had eroded, roofs had gone missing from some, while others were utterly demolished. Very few small houses remained intact, and the village sign lay in shambles on the outskirts. The sky was covered in clouds, and only the clouds seemed etched into it with a hue of searing hot, burning light behind them. It caused an eerie glow from the sky to be shadowed out, and almost no sunlight came down. Occasional flecks of ash or debris flew by on the breeze. A familiar laugh could be heard, and as the breeze blew the hair on his head, disheveling it just slightly, the blonde wandered toward the laughing, much as he had done before. With each step, the laughing stuttered as the sounds of something colliding into something else could be heard. With each step, the collision sounds became louder and louder, and the thudding of the two things hitting grew heavier and wet. Turning a corner that looked familiar, but he could not quite put his finger on, the scene he saw before him had him stopping cold in his tracks.

Ford's hands relaxed, threatening to drop the flowers he had gotten ahold of, only to realize he no longer had them. That was the least of his concerns because the sight he had come across was a gruesome scene. A man whose face was unrecognizable was lying on his back, looking as if raw meat had been pulverized and chopped, blood seeping to the ground beneath. A trail of blood ran from the victim's groin area and landed a short way away from the body in a mangled mess of flesh and cloth. The aggressor of the attack was hooded but was a prominent person. His bare fists were annihilating what was left of the man. It was then that the laugh he had heard clicked in his mind and made a connection to why it sounded familiar. The clothing was similar, but the face was unrecognizable, as the man Ford had just witnessed attempting to assault a woman. The hulking man was punching him until. Finally, the man went motionless; even the dying nerve endings in his body had quit twitching by the time the aggressor had finished. Slowly, the man stood, and Ford was confused. It was rare for him to find someone around the same height as him, the only person that came close was Taelian, and he knew Taelian when he saw him, and that was not Taelian.

The hooded figure had blood dripping from his fingers and had turned its hooded head in Ford's direction. Instinctively, Ford cursed in his head, feeling that he was next on the list of the assailant's targets. The man was walking in his direction, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Ford could feel an emotion building up within him. It was not anger, and it was not even fear. It was vengeance because as the man approached, one of those tainted breezes blew the hood back, and the fact that he saw it shocked him. It was his own; only his eyes were centerless, glowing a bright white, golden light. He had taken vengeance for the woman, who had meted her own justice, and with his face, this man had punished the man on unneeded levels.

While Ford was involved in this seemingly alternate universe, the Griscian, in reality, was leaning up against the signpost to the village, fists clenching his items, and his eyes were wide open. Glazed over, the bright blue eyes seemed to have reddish light lined through them as the man's body was present, but his mind was not. Luckily, his shirt was thick enough because had anyone passed by him at that moment without proper clothing, something unique would have been seen on his body.

After a moment of realization in the alternate world, Ford's consciousness bled back to reality, and the lines of red light faded from his eyes, and the blonde did not move. His chest was rising and falling in silent but heavy breaths. Tilting his head forward, he looked to the ground and the flowers and herbs in his hands. Realizing what he had just seen was not real, his head turned back, and he looked back to the village, thinking of the man who deserved what he would get. Ford knew he deserved it but also knew the woman had been unharmed. Grunting, his heart rate was racing, and instead of heading back to the village, he turned away, his feet carrying him more urgently away from the town and in the direction he needed to go.