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A Heretic Named Mapmaker

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Riven Riven Find all posts by this user Member Posts:211 Joined:Jul 2015 Character:Riven Astralyas Linkshell:Ishgard LS Server:Balmung Reputation: 15 A Heretic Named Mapmaker: Family Ties | #2 10-22-2015, 04:51 PM (This post was last modified: 10-23-2015, 09:56 AM by Riven.) [Right. Sorry about that, my formatting went nuts.] --------------------------------------------------------------- The bells were sounding the third hour of the morning when Riven opened her eyes for the fourth time.  Next to her Vahn was a temptation to snuggle into, but the brunette sat up, sliding her legs out of the bed.  Pulling her robe tightly around her, Riven tied off the sash and left the bedroom. Maybe some warm night-milk…  Rounding the corner, Riven came to a surprised halt.  Reinhardt was already at the stove, pouring some milk into a glass.  His head turned. “Miss Riven.” “Reinhardt.”  Riven greeted, making herself smile.   She watched as the teenager turned to face her. Twelve, would it always be this awkward when they met? She supposed she could somewhat blame Vahn for their initial meeting, but then at the same time, she couldn’t.  “Had a hard time sleeping?” “Yes. I hope you do not mind, I…wanted some warm milk.”  Reinhardt said.   “No I don’t mind.”  Riven quickly reassured him.  “This is your home too.  If truth be told, I am the stranger here.”  The teenager shook his head. “I don’t think Ser Vahn sees it that way.”  He said softly.  Riven flushed, twisting her fingers together.  Silence hung in the air for several minutes, and then Riven squared her shoulders. Oh for Twelve’s sake woman, get it together!  “Reinhardt, you and I need to talk.”  She said aloud.  “In fact we should have talked days ago.”  Exhaling to try and get rid of the nerves that were suddenly twisting in her stomach, she gestured to the kitchen table.  “Here, let’s sit down.” “I would prefer standing.” Reinhardt answered.  His body had become tense-almost automatically, Riven noted.  A wary look had settled on his features, and the older midlander pressed her lips together.  Every time an adult speaks to him, he seems as if he’s expecting a fight…or it could just be me.  I would be unsettled too-gods, I have been unsettled, knowing there’s somebody with my face and my eyes running about.   Riven bowed her head, mentally going though what she could say to start the conversation… “Fat chocobo.”  Reinhardt suddenly said.  Riven looked up in surprise. “Beg pardon?” “Fat chocobo.  In the room.”  Reinhardt gestured with his mug.  “You.  Me.  Whatever…we might be.  Fat chocobo in the room.”  The phrase was accurate, and Riven felt her lips curve up into a smile. “A very fat chocobo.”  She agreed.  A shy smile tugged at Reinhardt’s features, and he looked down at his mug.  “Reinhardt…is the fact that you could be…”  Trailing off, Riven exhaled.  “Or probably are related to an outsider…does that cause you grief?”  Reinhardt pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “Halone knows my family is all swived up.”  He said.  “Already had the worst happen, what other trouble can come about from having an outsider in the tree?”  Lifting his gaze, he glanced over at Riven.  “Nay, tis not that.  I…”   “I what?”  Riven gently urged.  She watched as the teen bit his lower lip. “It makes you question, miss.”  A tremor rippled though Reinhardt’s frame as he spoke, and he lifted his head once again to look at Riven.  “Question about your parents, you know?  My father loved my mother—they were solid, up until…”  It was his turn to trail off, and Riven nodded in understanding.  “And I heard you talking to Ser Vahn.  Only way I make sense is if your father and my mother went off, or your mother went off with my father, and you’re saying that it might be the first.” “I was stuck with my mother in the slums of Ul’dah for the better part of my life.”  Riven replied, crossing her arms.  “Trust me; I would have known if she became pregnant.”  Like she would have let that happen.   Reinhardt’s jaw worked, and he looked down at his now-cold milk. “I used to dream of having someone come and take me away.”  He whispered.  “Just…someone, anyone, you know?  I’d pray to Halone every night.”  The admission struck Riven in the heart, and she lowered her arms.  “Told Her I’d be good, I’d do everything right when I became a man, I’d make up for my uncle’s sins against Her…”  Then he stopped as a pair of small arms reached up to him, pulling him down into a gentle hug.   “You poor boy.”  Riven whispered.  Grief and pity welled up inside her; she could remember those same feelings with her mother.  Only she’d been lucky enough to have somebody who had at least cared for her, but Reinhardt, all alone as a ward of the city?  Riven tightened her embrace, pouring all the comfort she could into the hug.  Reinhardt closed his eyes, letting the unfamiliar emotions wash over him.   “I don’t know where I am, Miss Riven.”  He admitted.  “I’m afraid.”  Riven pulled back at that, going up on her toes so she could cup Reinhardt’s face in-between her palms. “Listen to me.”  Her voice was gentle, and Reinhardt looked into a mirror-like pair of blue eyes.  “You are in a good place now.  Vahn is a good man; he’ll keep his word to you.”  Reinhardt exhaled, nodding.  “You are not your family’s troubles.  You must get over that.”  Dropping her hands, Riven took the mug of cold milk and moved over to the stove.  Reinhardt moved away so the small midlander could work.   “I’m not used to having nice things happen to me, Miss Riven.”  He said.  Riven poured the milk back into the pot. “Then I would suggest you start getting used.”  She said, moving to poke at the embers inside the stove.  Reinhardt watched her work for a few moments, and then sat down at the kitchen table.  A small warm feeling was worming about in his gut, and it felt rather good. “…Thank you, Miss Riven.” “No Miss.  Just call me Riven.”  Satisfied with the fire, Riven adjusted the pot on the stove-top, and then turned around.  “We’ll share the milk, and then go back to bed.  You have training tomorrow.”  To her relief, Reinhardt muttered something that sounded like profanity-which was normal, considering Vahn’s training regime.  Moving over to a cupboard to get another mug, she paused. …I never asked.  “Reinhardt?”  “Yes?”  Riven turned around, holding the mug. “You said your family got in trouble because they were related to someone accused of heresy?”  She asked.  Noticing the milk was threatening to boil, she hurried to take the pot off the stove.  Reinhardt nodded, watching her. “That’s right.  My uncle.”  He accepted the mug of re-warmed milk.  “He was the See’s chief suspect.”  Riven turned back around, pouring out the rest of the milk in her mug. “What was it they accused him of?”  Reinhardt had a sip of milk, closing his eyes and letting the gentle heat wash over him. “They believed him to be a heretic sympathizer named Mapmaker.”  Riven nearly dropped her mug, eyes widening in shock.   “They never were able to prove anything but just the accusation was enough.”

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A Heretic Named Mapmaker - by Riven - 09-22-2015, 05:04 PM A Heretic Named Mapmaker: Family Ties - by Riven - 10-22-2015, 04:51 PM A Heretic Named Mapmaker (timeline!) - by Riven - 10-26-2015, 03:09 PM A Heretic Named Mapmaker (interlude): Old Ghosts [part 1] - by Riven - 11-04-2015, 08:30 PM A Heretic Named Mapmaker: IC Developments - by Riven - 11-16-2015, 08:35 PM A Heretic Named Mapmaker: (Interlude 2) In Before Dark - by Riven - 12-02-2015, 07:40 PM A Heretic Named Mapmaker: The Wrong Type Of Attention - by Riven - 12-05-2015, 04:53 PM

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