The wind had picked up a little as the sun rose and drifted its way across the sky to stand at it's highest point. It was turning out to be a very crisp and pleasant spring day, but by the time Tristaan made it to the docks and saw all the ships lined up to port, he wasn't sure he would be able to enjoy it as much as he'd like to. Considering thoughtfully to where and what he'd be shoving off to shortly, the passive still managed to keep a wry smile on his aristocratic features, which were once again obscured beneath his familiar hat and weathered half-cloak.

Hooking the thumb of his left hand in the broad leather strap that held his sword across his back, Tristaan sucked up his aversion to once again finding himself on a boat and stepped out onto the docks, hoping to catch a glimpse of his doctor of a co-conspirator and set their slightly convoluted adventure into motion.

Ivan had finished loading his gear onto the boat and was enjoying a thoughtful smoke on the pier, while keeping an eye out for his passive mercenary.

With him he brought six small medical crates. Evenly distributed in the bottom of each was the morphine. Packed flat on the top of five were thin opium bars, and the other had generic medicines. The opium was present incase the Bad Brothers wanted to check the contents at the drop, and the generic medicines were there incase Tristaan needed convincing the mission was about stealing medicine, but also for any wounds they might incur.

For defence he brought scalpels, a reduced surgeons kit (with the focus on corpse disposal), garotte wire, ethoxyethane, and his pistol.
The irony of the pistol was not lost on Ivan. It was a tool he had to keep hidden from Tristaan until absolutely necesary; the personal engraving on the barrel would give the game away somewhat.

He looked up and down the pier approach, and for the moment the swordslinger could not be seen. Another puff. Ivan considered the events of the last few days, in particular the developments at Theraldon Manor.
It had been a nice lazy day, helping the wick families settle, doing some food shopping, checking security and the like. It had been an equally lazy night, and Ivan recalled the warm feeling of curling around her sleeping form. He took a long, slow drag on his pipe, hot thick smoke filling his lungs like memories.

Looking around once more, Ivan caught sight of Tristaan, who's face had a little of the darkness he saw when he first mentioned their mode of transport. To get his attention, he yelled from the side of his mouth, the other end pinching the pipe in place,
"Ahoy, over here Tristaan! How's yer sea-legs?"


----


"I ent got any, but for this short trip, I'll pretend. Just for you." The passive laughed, hiding his discomfort behind a bit of self-depreciating humor as he pointed at the doctor firmly with a mischievous grin.

Still chuckling, Tristaan stopped a few steps in front of Ivan, straightening and tipping his hat, much to the displeasure of the rainbow puff of a whice who perched upon it, "Present, accounted for, an' at your service, doc. Are y'all packed an' ready t'go? It's best you shove me on board 'fore I change my mind. I ent too fond of boats."

The bird ruffled it's feathers and chirruped a little, eying the human with little black eyes. For once, the runt didn't seem to have anything shocking to say.


-----




"Haha, I'm sorry to hear that Tristaan! Unfortunately for you, it works out cheaper than chrove carriage for the type of cargo I'm moving. On the plus side the Arova is quite sluggish this time of year, and seems particularly calm today, you might not even notice it."



"Yes, I'm all set to go. Captaaaain!"

The cargo ship was Captain Nimrod's pride and joy, and it wouldn't be moving an inch without his say-so. Ivan motioned for Tris to hop aboard.

"So, why don't you like ships? Bad trip?"


----


Captain Nimrod eyed the two passengers with a beady eye. He sniffed haughtily, hands clasped behind his back.

"Get up here then! We're not a bleeding pleasure cruise you mongrel banders." The lanky, well dressed man looked at the sky with a smile. He had deep red, almost black slicked hair and a thin black mustache. A very regal looking hat sat on his head.

"Ahh, I guess it will be a nice one today."


-------




The passive tucked away his last lingering reservations with another laugh at Ivan's invitation, deftly hopping on board without a second thought. Smirking at the doctor, he shrugged, "Oes. My last job before th'Circus was onna ship ... an' it was nothin' but terrible weather, bad food, an' worse company for mung near three weeks."

Tristaan offered a hopeful grin as he added jokingly, "So, no pressure, doc, but you'd better be damn good company, at least ... good food an' fair weather are a bonus, I s'pose."


"Well, that's comfortin' at least." The passive replied, unsure of how to feel about being called a mongrel. It was only slightly uncalled for, but the captain's impressive hat may or may not have made up for his ignorant slander, "I've never sailed from th'Harbor t'Vienda. How long's th'trip, anyway?"



---




That was classic sea-talk, and the Viendan equivalent was probably "how-do-you-do?". No sooner had he finished berrating them than he was talking idly about weather prospects.



Ivan winced empathetically.
"That's sea work for you. I've never had anything quite that bad, but I did some short term medic work on the Blue Hingle eight, nine years ago. Pay's good, but when it goes bad....well, you can't exactly storm off, can you?"



"Hah, think of it as a pleasure cruise, despite what the captain says. There's no work needs doing yet."

He spied an unattended Kingdoms table on the deck, with travel-peg type pieces and benches either side. A relaxed time was what Ivan wanted, and it sounded like Tristaan did too. He wondered if he played.

"Ever played Kingdoms?"


-----



The passive chuckled at the doctor's form of empathy, suddenly curious as to what the human hadn't done in terms of a career before ending up practicing in Vienda with a need for drugs from the Bad Brothers as supplies. Strange, indeed.


Tristaan eyed the board and then looked back at Ivan, "Oes. I know th'game, but it's been quite some time since I've played. It ent somethin' you pick up on th'streets, of course." His smile was roguish, but it belied a twinge of what could almost be called regret, "I have my nostalgic moments on occasion ... You up for a go?"



----


Nimrod stood at the helm of the rather small cargo ship, hands behind his back, stiff as a board. He looked around, satisfied the last of the passengers and cargo was aboard. He nodded to the crewman by the gangplank and the young, tidy man saluted and pulled it in.

"Alright boys! Release the moor! Swing the boom! Anchor up, sails down and cast off!" He took a few steps to stand behind the wheel of the ship. The crew moved at a fast pace to complete his orders. As the sails unfurled a strong breeze caught them, and helped along by the current, The Niner slowly pulled away from the dock.



-----




"No indeed, it is a surprise to see a board on a ship captained by a wick, too...but I picked up the rules at least. I learnt in Mugroba, so let me know if I make any non-Anaxai moves."

Ivan gestured to the board.

"Which colour you prefer?"



Ahh, on the move. The sooner I get this done, the sooner I'm back...



----



Tristaan decided not to mention that he'd seen stranger things aboard cargo ships before; surely the human had his fair share of "stranger than" stories. It seemed to him that the captain might have had a taste for finer things and that perhaps the game was there as a testament to such a statement. Or, the wick wasn't much for conversation and needed a way to keep guests entertained and out of his hair. Either way, it seemed fitting enough.


The passive paused at the motion of the ship, at once content enough to leave Vienda for as long as possible and yet not necessarily so happy to be leaving particular things behind. He quickly realized that sitting was preferable to standing, especially since it was a welcome option he did not have the luxury of during his last voyage by boat.


"Dark's fine." He replied, shrugging off his sword from his shoulder to lean it against some rigging to make sitting a bit more comfortable. He smiled wanly at Ivan from under the brim of his hat, adding with an almost apologetic flair, "That way, y'get t'go first an' I can pretend I know what I'm doin'."

Whether he was creating a clever ploy by claiming to lack skill or he was honestly as ignorant as he hinted at, however, was obviously Tristaan's prerogative to enjoy for the moment. His voice did not give anything away.



----




"I'm no grandmaster, don't worry. My move it is! Uhhhhh..."

He feigned a little stupidity, but made it obvious it was in jest, dragging his hand in the air slowly above the pieces on the ivory side.

Ivan didn't much like opening - he preferred to react, even if it meant he was technically a step behind. Still, it was just a friendly game, so he started with a double forward step of the noumenon seven, from a gambit opening he was taught in the desert.
Ivan always found gambits to be the most realistic strategies - sacrificing a pawn for positional advantage of the more important pieces. He named this one Alstair.

"Your turn. When did you learn to play?"


----


Tristaan watched bemusedly, considering whether or not there was a need for an actual strategy. While he tended to forsake defense for offense in much of life in general, he had chosen the defensive side of the board with the idea to observe the doctor more than anything else. While he wasn't studied and was far from knowing any official strategies, the passive recalled that it could be a beneficial start to work towards controlling the middle of the board from a distance with pieces, breaking down his opponent's center over time. It would make for a longer game, but they had nothing else to do anyway.

Instead of mirroring Ivan's move, he brought out the opposite chroven to rest in front of his untouched wall of sevens, letting his fingers linger on the piece thoughtfully at the human's question.

"When? Hmm ... Well, I s'pose I was a boy, really." He released his piece to indicate his turn was over and reached up to rub his chin, "It must've been before ..."

He scowled a little, less at the fuzziness of his memories and more at the discomfort in remembering, "Oes, I couldn't've been older than five or six. But, I ent sure I'd call that learnin' t'play. My sister let me win, I'm sure." He said his last sentence with more of a frown than a scowl, realizing it had been a very long time since he'd spoken to anyone about his family or his previous life as a galdor, "Th'rest was here'n'there growin' up. We had some spare time on occasion in th'factory, but not much."

"You learned in Mugroba ...?" Tristaan let the end of his words hang as if he didn't know where to go with his question. Had the doctor studied there? Served in the army there? Or just visited there? He found himself unsure of where to make the connections; apparently Ivan had difficulties staying stationary for long periods of time as well.


-----


The chrove response was a stonewall - the sevens remained in rank, and the mobile crove could easily knock over Alstair at any point.
Maintaining momentum, Ivan pulled out the Everess on the right side diagonally. He usually kept the everine separate to keep them from being forked or skewered, and liked to use one to support the midfield. The left side of the board was his for now.



It was a galdor game, and passives were galdori too. It was probably before his testing. Ivan wondered what kind of life he'd come from.



"So, you worked, what, a textiles mill? You're in pretty good shape all things considered. I get children from the district come by the surgery, lot of 'em got growth problems, malnutrition, back pains, missing fingers...
That and emergencies, the only time I work for free."

Ivan remembered his pipe, which produced the same feeling as finding a tally in a pocket that you didn't know about. He sprinkled some flakes in, cupping his hand to stop the precious content being taken away by the wind, which was no easy thing.



His posture shifted with his thoughts as he retrieved an often recited piece, as was the case with many military types.

"Yeah, I was with the AAF. Medical Corps, 3rd Mixed Battalion, Everine company. We were deployed in Mugroba mainly for aid purposes, they had a foreign plague brought over by ship, population had no resistance to it.
Saw some action too, pirate gangs and looting had gotten out of control 'cause of the weakened government.
Uhh sorry, rambling!
Yeah I learnt Kingdoms from a few galdor buddies out there. I think the mugrobi version has a couple of end moves that aren't in the Anaxi rules."



----



Tristaan smirked at the doctor's Everess; it was early yet. He considered his second chrove, but instead moved the seven that would mirror Ivan's already in play. It was safely protected by his active chrove, but still available for the taking. He waited to see if it would be fodder or if he would be allowed another round to set up.


"Aye," The passive ventured quietly, "Alioe smiled on me, for whatever her reasons, I s'pose. I kept my limbs but lost some good friends. I worked quiet an' fast an' got myself out of most of th'floor labor because I had a brain an' someone noticed. Prolly saved my knees that way, lookin' back, if not a finger or a hand. I can't say I don't have an ache or two t'remind me of where I've been, but it ent so bad compared t'what I could have. I did have quite a mind of m'own, though, so I didn't avoid my fair share of beatings an' skipped meals."

He chuckled, adding with a bit of nostalgia in his gray eyes, remembering the event very clearly that sent him over the edge, "I didn't give my life to th'mill, though. I, uh, well, I escaped when I was about sixteen." He looked back down at the board briefly, "If I remember correctly, I tried t'go home t'Muffey ... but th'Crows found me first."


Tristaan couldn't help but arch a slim eyebrow at the kind of camaraderie Ivan implied with galdori. It was a rather interesting thought, but one he knew was not impossible. If nothing else, combat did lend itself to crossing boundaries for companionship, and there was probably a certain level of respect one with medical training was able to earn, regardless of their race, "I'm sure Mugroba's an interestin' place. In th'Harbor, you hear some rich stories ... Did you join th'Army t'be a doctor or were you a doctor who joined th'Army for a different reason?"

The conscription process for either race was entirely unknown to the passive, who was for obvious reasons, totally exempt from service.



-----


Ivan smirked a little. The seven advance deadlocked the middle board, leaving neither in a capturable position. Again he chose a fresh piece to move. He selected the 'g' file seventen and pressed it onwards one; his tower could not be seen now by the opposite queen, as the seven Tristaan had just moved blocked her diagonal. It seemed Tristaan was playing defensively, or maybe just playing possom for now.



It seemed his companion carried scars and a sad story, but at the same time he had to admit it was an interesting tale, and there was nothing like misery for building character.

"Aye, I'd have taken you for a Wick sooner than a galdor, but your features say different. You're from Muffey originally?"



"I was training for it beforehand, but I had to go into the force because of my family. There isn't much of a mafia left in Vienda anymore, seventen smoked 'em out. The army was my way out."

Ivan looked faraway, but not upset, just...stirred.

"Your move, anyway."



-----


The passive brought his hand back up to his chin, now curious about where to move next. Tempted to once again mirror the doctor's move in order to further clutter the middle, he instead chose to set free his second chrove, moving it away from the middle and towards the outer edge of the Everine-side of the board.


Tristaan scowled a little, but not at Ivan. With a sigh, he shrugged and leaned back from the board, removing his hand from the piece to relinquish his turn, "There's wicks without vroo, too, but I'm sure you know that, doc. I ent sure I mind bein' mistaken for either - though I guess I took to th'spoke life an' it shows. Th'Crows're th'family I never had." His scowl faded into a small smile. While he enjoyed the advantage of a questionable identity, he was far from willing to ever forget who he was or where he came from.

He looked up at the human from staring at the board, "I was born in Muffey, but I ent from there. Not any more. My folks made sure of that." The passive wondered briefly if they even thought of him or if he had been forgotten entirely.


The passive sort of blinked at the mention of mafia, but his expression didn't really change. He hung there a little, letting the silence sink in and noting Ivan's reminiscent expression. For the second time that day, he wondered what the doctor hadn't done before he arrived in Vienda to open a practice. He looked back to the board, wheels sort of churning in his mind, wondering how to voice one or two of the questions that slowly rose to the surface.

All he could manage, however, was, "Wait. You went from ... th'Mafia to th'Army? Are you ... tellin' stories t'me?" Tristaan grinned a little, not revealing his surprise, "If not, I don't even know where t'begin wonderin' how your story unfolds exactly."



----




It was moments like this Ivan didn't miss being upperclass. He could never fathom how a family could put their reputation before their progeny.

"So, you haven't seen any relatives since?"



And I'm not even telling you about the Bad Brothers or the resistance!

"Haha, no I was never 'in' the mafia. My father was a Capo for the Di Credico crime syndicate. 4th in line to the throne. When I was 16 the seventen started an aggressive campaign against the families, and when I was 17 I enlisted. Haven't seen my parents since."

Ivan looked down at the board, and mapped out a few possible future moves. Two chroves in play made him nervous, they could penetrate locked up formations, offer mutual protection and fork valuable peices. Ivan spotted one possible fork, and moved his 'f' file seven forward a space to compensate.

"I had an easy childhood, 'specially compared to you, from the sounds of it. And I've been around, many places, but normally it's not so much out of choice as necessity, like now for example. If I had the option I'd probably settle somewhere for good."



----



Tristaan managed to keep his countenance from darkening, but he looked at the board instead of meeting the doctor's gaze, "Ne, doc. I s'pose there's just things you don't do once you're marked ..." He trailed off a little, realizing he'd long since lost the desire to see them face to face. The years of confusion had passed into several years of anger, but those had finally been tamed by steel and wick patience into a very rough form of acceptance. The galdor dreams of his youth had faded considerably.

"If I'd want t'see anyone, it'd be my sister. She's a few years older'n'me. I was–" He paused; it wasn't very often he brought himself to recall the emotional distance of his parents' suspicions and the fear of his secretive, early testing, "My folks were always afraid I was a passive, especially my mum. I was tested early. It wasn't right; an' it was terrible. I was eight. After my sister passed, I guess they just had t'know what t'do with me."

He looked up at Ivan steadily, "I ent got anythin' t'say t'em anyway. At least they didn't send me t'Brunnhold t'be a servant. They found some seedy alley far from home instead, which in'a'ways I s'pose kept me free – if only in some semblance of th'word. I can't say it was an act of kindness s'much as it was shame - my father was a professor."


The passive smirked at the doctor's credentials; he was definitely quite the interesting individual. There were apparently many layers to the human, and Tristaan had the feeling the man had hardly even begun to peel back very much of the surface.

Lifting a seven that would free his own Everess, he pointed with it before placing it parallel to his first active seven, allowing both his chroven to provide their coverage, "Well, there's one thing we have in common then, Ivan." He chuckled, "Though, that might be it, eh?"

He glanced back down at the board, noting that he could say he had sufficient control of the center, even with only two sevens out of their places. The chroven were decent protection, but they were precarious. He would have to stop cluttering the board and make an offensive move.


The passive ventured a grin, "Wo chet, I take it back. There's two things we have in common, then." He chuckled, adding with a hint of wry regret, "Only, you're much more free t'do as you like, when it comes t'settlin'. Even if I knew what I wanted, I couldn't quite have it, anyway, legally speakin'."



-----




"Tch, the fuckers. Well that's upper class Anaxas for you. Least you can say you've landed on your feet though. Ever wonder where you'd be now if you had the spark?"

Ivan saw a bold option left open to him. Taking it with perhaps not much thought, he took the seven placed in play with Alstair. It left him in attacking distance by the outermost chrove, but he was covered by Ivan's everess. She'd be left fairly exposed if he took the bait, but Ivan could afford to spend a round pulling her back if it made him a chrove up.



"Yes, there is that...but if you aren't particularly interested in legalities, I know at least a couple of the Bad Brothers are passives with their own homes. Or of course you could try Mugroba, if you can stand the weather. The imbali are treated pretty well there, all things considered."



----



The look of tame displeasure on Tristaan's face belied the extent to which Ivan's question made him uncomfortable. He'd had such fantasies beaten out of him as a child in the Dives, and whatever lingering hopes he'd clung to had been put away over time as the passive came to appreciate who he was regardless of his heritage.

"Ne."

He sighed, visibly, and watched the doctor take his freshly assigned seven, "I mean, sure I did. What passive doesn't once they learn th'full extent of their loss here in Anaxas?"

Shifting his gaze away from the game and the human, he watched some of the river and the landscape wash by, speaking wistfully. "I'd prolly be whatever my folks would've wanted. A good student. A decent heir. A teacher. A Seventen. A husband. A father. If none of those, then just another damn golly abusin' or wastin' th'freedom he doesn't even know he's got. I can't say I'd have fallen too far from th'tree if I hadn't been cut off, so't'speak."

With that, he looked back to the board. He noted his newly missing seven, deciding against creating a larger gap in his own middle defenses, Tristaan slid his 'g' seven forward two spaces. He let his hand linger doubtfully, or at least lost briefly in thought, before releasing the piece with a shrug.


The passive allowed himself to be amused by the suggestions, "I ent sure I was made for Mugroba, though I've heard that my kind're treated with a more proper perspective. Unfortunately or not, I've been slowly comin' t'believe that if most of what I want outta life's on th'other side of th'law, then maybe my employment might as well be ..."

Then again, Tristaan knew he could also just go back to living with wicks if he wanted to. If he returned to the Red Crows, however, he'd be back to dealing with the tribal fighting, which was something he wasn't sure he wanted to be a part of.

He cleared his throat, , "An' what keeps you restless, doc? You can't tell me bein' a doctor ent able t'afford you a family if you wanted. 'Specially with th'gollies willin' t'keep throwin' patients at you whenever they try t'clean up their own messes."



-----




"Heh, well then, I guess that makes you lucky then, doesn't it? If nothing else for some perspective, which is one thing the galdori are short of. And I doubt you'd be with that wick either. She's a pretty one."



I could probably put a good word in, you know...



"Hah! That they do. Yeah the pay's not bad, no troubles there...but I'd have to move again if I wanted to start a family. My kids would be wicks, wouldn't be allowed to stay in Vienda."

Ivan wondered what Tristaan would make of that. Ivan didn't much know what he made of it himself - he wasn't seriously considering that already?
He looked back at the board. It had either been a long time since Tris had played, or Ivan was about to be stung from somewhere unexpected. His queen swept out diagonally to take out the new seven and challenge the chrove. Tristaan's next move would be defensive, and a counterattack at best.



----



Tristaan looked down at the board almost shyly, but he couldn't hide his broad grin at Ivan's words. Mocking offense, the passive scoffed, "Pretty? That's quite an understatement, mujo ma ... But, ne, there's more than a few things I don't regret 'bout what I've been given in life, an' Sarinah is definitely one of 'em. Unexpected in many ways, but I ent complainin'."

"She was there, you know, with me at th'B&B ... Talk about first impression." His grin faltered a little, but almost imperceptibly, "It was worth it."


There was a moment of obviously awkward silence, as if he needed to process exactly what just came out of the doctor's mouth. Tristaan looked up from the game to arch a slim eyebrow at the doctor quizzically. Then, slowly, recognition spread over his features, starting in his eyes and working outward onto his face in weathered lines until he laughed. A lot.

"Wo chet, doc. I s'pose I didn't realize you an' th'Lady Theraldon were so ... serious." He chuckled some more, shaking his head, "Well, another thing we have in common, then. Upward mobility, perhaps?" It wasn't meant as an insult or an implication, but it was simply the recognition that a good woman could make any man's situation seem brighter and more promising.

"Wick life ent so bad, really, but I think you'd have a hard time convincin' that lovely, gentle galdor lady t'become a spoke ... 'Sides, leavin' Vienda's not such a bad thing. That mung law's just th'start of things, I'm afraid."

He smirked, leaning back a little to study the doctor carefully from under his hat, "But I'm sure you know that."


The passive returned his eyes to the board, watching Ivan's move. He'd have to move defensively, though he realized he had very little ground to defend. With a smirk, he moved the seven in front of his king forward one square, keeping his other pieces in their place despite the growing threat.



-----




"Impressive! How far from you was she went you went off? It must have affected her too, surely?"



Ivan made a "so-so" gesture with one hand.
"We're not at that point, but things are going good so far. I guess I have a predisposition towards galdori women, though don't ask me why."



Ivan frowned. That sounded an awful lot like an accusation.
"Its nothing like that. If anything I'd drag her down. I couldn't say she has a great deal to gain from being with me."

He wondered at her reasons. She was risking a lot being associated with Ivan. His best years were probably behind him, he had no money, a powerful drug habit, and enough skeletons to fill every closet in Theraldon Manor. Was it the danger of a resistance member? The comfort of an older man? The rebellion of being with a human?

He had to dispel his own dark calculations, and so cast his eyes back to the board. Advancing that seven exposed Alstair to his queen's diagonal. The chrove, meanwhile, remained pinned infront of his noumenon by Ivan's queen. Rather than dally around for a positional advantage, Ivan made a material trade, capturing chrove with queen and challenging the noumenon suicidally.

"Sorry, hate chroves!" he shrugged apologetically.



----



Tristaan winced subtly at the question, more at the act of remembering the event than anything else. He managed a neutral expression, tainted only by a slight drawing together of his slim eyebrows, "She was as close as you'n'I are; maybe closer. An' oes, I don't think there was anyone in th'room who wasn't affected by my diablerie. Although, apparently, her experience was far from unpleasant ... She said she remembered very intense sensations of her home, as if she was really there, but was otherwise unhurt."

And he was genuinely thankful for that.

He shrugged, a sign that he couldn't possibly begin to fathom the choices of the mona when it came to his life. Did they really care about his feelings after all?


The passive couldn't help but let a hint of amusement creep back into his face, but he spoke without humor, "Everyone's got their weaknesses, an' it sounds t'me like you've got a predisposition more towards - er - dangerous situations ..."

He smirked, knowing it was a statement that was not mutually exclusive, considering who was speaking.


"Dze, you take me too seriously, I see."

Tristaan chuckled, shaking his head and holding up his hands away from the board defensively, "I ent so good at thinkin' too far ahead, doc, so I didn't mean t'imply you had it all figured out."

He watched Ivan struggle with his own thoughts for a moment, "Th'line you walk is only slightly more precarious than mine, socially speakin', but both aren't without their risks ... An' rewards. 'Sides, you aren't th'only one with choices ... I'm sure she's got 'er own mind t'make up, ye chen?"

The passive looked away briefly, once again watching the scenery wash away, "Not that I can pretend t'speak for her, havin' only met her twice, but I have a feelin' she's not shallow." He thought of the awkward scene at the bakery in Brunnhold, narrowing his eyes at the horizon, "Seems't'me she's capable of seein' past what she's been taught 'bout race t'actually notice who folks are instead of just what they are. You may want t'give her more credit when this is over, given she's hopefully aware of th'implications – as a golly."

He sighed and returned his gaze to the board.


Tristaan took his time considering his move, though in reality he had long since traded conversation for strategy. While moving carved pieces about in their pegged places was an interesting way to pass the time, the passive was unsure as to what aspect of the doctor's personality winning or losing would really reveal any more effectively than an exchange of words could.

Without the knowledge that the poor seven had a name and a history, he moved his queen from her place and finally removed Alstair from the game with wordless finality, still a little unsure of how to deal with the mess that was building on the left side of the field.

That interested Ivan. The study of passives was a precarious and elusive one, down to the difficulty in determining the cause and the ethics of setting off that type of magic, and the social impact. He made an active effort to secure literature on the subject when he saw it, and Khymarah had mentioned something about some current research being performed at Brunnhold.



He was right of course. Ivan probably held onto his gloomy disbeleif for fear of a rejection like the one ten years ago. He realised he had been preparing himself for the worst to protect his own feelings, but something deeper told him Khymarah's affection was pure.

Meanwhile, the game was falling apart. Ivan smirked and captured an everine with his queen. It had obviously been a long time since he'd played a serious round.