Bales and Tales

The rain has cleared on this side of the river, and the clouds have parted to reveal a wan winter sun. The Temple District this afternoon is a busy place, and off to the side of the mighty Temple of Daeus, there's a wooden cart, drawn by two strong draft horses still in their traces, a ramp dropped off of the back of the wagon to the cobblestones near a side door. Next to the ramp sits a short stack of wooden crates, and next to that several bales of hay.

Up on the wagon, Dolan, stripped of cloaks and wearing sheepskin jacket over woolen shirt against the chill, hefts another bale of hay and drops it over the back of the wagon to join its brethren. Sweat beads his brow, but he appears to be a good deal calmer than he was.

Aya knows not all the palces where Dolan might go when all is happy and bright, much less his prefered places to sulk or scowl. She only knows enough that the temples seem a good enough place to begin. If all else fails, taverns and pubs are a solid secondary option. Given the busy occupation of the square, she may have made a circuit or three of the same before she spies the man tossing bales. That is not what she expected, though it is not so foreign in hindsight. Her sister, and even herself, have taken to punching boulders in the past.

The mul'niessa makes her way to the wagon and unloader, keeping to the side opposite the cargo landing zone. "Furthering your good works for the people, putting your ire to good use, or both?" she finally inquires once near.

The cart is nearly empty, and it's at about this point that a couple of strapping acolytes emerge from the side door with the dragging of feet that says only too clearly that they've been sent out here rather than any desire of their own, and one of them walks to the back of the wagon. "Um, Corona, Sunguard Morello told us to finish the unloading for you."

Dolan, who had looked up at Aya's call, and was about to answer, turns his head and body towards the acolyte. "I'm okay. I'm almost done. Take those to the stables, would you?" He points at the haybales, and the acolytes swallow, but nod. Then, he turns his attention, and himself, back to Aya, favoring her with his full attention. "Supplies for the Temple. Someone's got to handle the work." A quirk of a smile follows, and he jerks a thumb at the retreating acolytes. "Work's good for the soul, says Papa, and I agree with him. What brings you here? Come to yell at me, have you?" He's about half-joking.

Aya's eyes shift from Dolan briefly to the help that has conveniently arrived just as the work is all but complete. After they depart, she nods. "Yes, someone must, and that someone does not look to be either of them. Not with any reliability." She then looks back to Dolan with full focus and shakes her head. "No. You were not wrong; not in your words nor the reasons behind them." After a pause, she adds with an exhale and light shrug, "Neither was he. There can be disagreement without any being wrong... or right, for that matter."

"I came to..." she pauses again and considers her words. "I cannot apologize to you for him, nor should I, but I understand his pain, his anger. I am not happy that you became a target for those."

Every trace of smile Dolan had been wearing vanishes. He hefts another crate, teh act of lifting clearly nothing new to him, and he's been taught how to do it correctly. The crate is set down at the back of the wagon next to the ramp, and he jumps off the back, then moves to heft it off the wagonbed and onto the cobblestones, with a grunt of effort. "Think I don't?" he answers roughly. "He thinks I ain't been where his brother is. He ain't know shit," he snarls, hefting himself back onto the wagon bed. "'F he asks I'll fucking track that devil of his down an' kill it. I ain't so proud that I ain't gonna put that first. That's the kind of shit that devils and demons and their ilk do, though. They'll put you in those situations where you think you ain't got a choice. But you do. You make that choice, you pay the price." He straightens up and looks down at her. "I ain't know all your story, but something tells me you know what I'm talkin' about. Am I right?"

"I know very well what you speak of," Aya confirms with a quiet neutrality. "I have stood where he stands, now. You aided me with that, and I am ever grateful. Before that, I was not so different from his brother. All of this from believing I did whatever needed be done to stop the fiend."

She exhales a breath. "A price I shall continue to pay."

Sobered, and listening, Dolan abandons the work, and sits down on the edge of the wagonbed, letting his legs dangle, clasping work-soiled hands on his lap in front of him. "What happened to Daed was part of that price, wasn't it." It's not a question, and the flesh-and-blood brown eye in the mobile half of his face is open and serious. "You were trying to stop one and got sucked into its trap." Real sympathy laces the words.

"But - you own that. You ain't trying to get out of the consequences. Shit happens. Those fuckers can catch anybody. It can happen to anybody."

Despite the understanding and sympathetic tone, Aya's eyes lower to a wheel upon the wagon. "Yes, though that was only part of the consequences to him... and he was not the only one who suffered for my choices. I am grateful for all that I was given anew," she now lifts her eyes back to him, "but I don't know that I will ever -earn- the rights to it in a lifetime."

She takes a moment and shifts topic slightly. "I will never condone what his brother did, but I hope that he might one day recover some semblance of life and family, as I did."

Still that open, quiet gaze rests on Aya. "I'll still help the man, if he asks. I can't get him out of jail, but I ain't mind tracking down that devil and sending it straight to the Void. I'd do that for anyone. I just ain't like being told it's my fault he signed his name in blood, yeah? Especially not after a whole bunch of people risked heir lives for him and for every other living soul in that tent."

Aya nods. "I expected you would help him, and most certainly want to send the fiend back to the Hells. Maybe it will be polite enough to remain there." If only, but it is still a pleasant thought. "Aelwyn is angry, frustrated. He chose to lash out at you. He should not have. I wasn't so different when we found Daechir, in truth. You were able to hold his attention, while he was terrified of me. No matter how reasonable that was, given all that happened, it was still painful. I was envious."

Something he mentions belatedly brings something to mind. "After you left, Aelwyn mentioned others had spoken to his brother, and that there was no contract nor pact. That could mean that the fiend will no longer be involved."

Dolan listens carefully, and only after a moment does he speak. "You know something?" he offers, openly and frankly. "I ain't hold Daed. I ain't reach him, where he was. Not directly." He stops, a shudder rippling through him at some memory, his own gaze dropped. "No. I ain't reach him. The Sunlord did. All I did was summon His light. I think it was a moment of hope." He shuts up, staring at the cobblestones. "I ain't stupid enough to think that fiend won't try again. Fiends ain't like being thwarted, and it saw faces. My coin's on seeing that pile of shit again, his brother or not. But if he ain't have a contract - that means ain't nothing forced or manipulated him to do that. That ain't good for him, Aya. If he did that of his own free will - any domination magic or shit like that?"

-To Be Continued-