Accusations and Actuality
Sat Nov 4, 2006 20:13 (XFF:

She walked into the rain ignoring the feeling of the cold droplets soaking into her clothes. The wide brim of the hat protected her from the worst of the water leaving only her shoulders and arms to bare the weather. It wasn’t too far of a walk back down to the docks, and if she hurried, she could be there and onto the boat she had chartered before the cloak became saturated with the precipitation. There were few people out on the street for it being an early afternoon, but most of them would be indoors, huddling by a fire or eating their noontime meal waiting for the weather to let up. Even those who walked by her as she headed toward the sea had most of their eyes to the ground, watching for holes in the street or soggy areas full of mud. No one wanted their best boots soaked in the icy water while they were still in them. Wiley however had her eyes forward and her arms inside the cloak. Her mind was still on the way the meeting between she and Calvin had gone.

The man had been chasing her for nearly a year, all the while insisting that she was guilty of a conspiracy involving her late friend. How Orlan gotten mixed up with the company of White Cloaks, she had never figured out, but perhaps that was because she hadn’t stayed around long enough for Calvin to explain it to her. His way of solving the dispute between the two of them was to invite her into his bed as an even “trade.” He would settle the manner under the table so that the Children of the Light no longer wanted her, and she would get to keep her neck. Despite his constant urgency to see that this was solved, she didn’t trust him. Calvin was handsome as he was tricky and Wiley had no intention of being caught in a fit of passion or unawares so that he could charge her. In their previous meetings there had usually been a little bloodshed and some property damage. It was only the ridiculous merit of his “proposal” that allowed her to get away unscathed before there had been a confrontation.

And though they had not fought physically this time, their verbal sparring had angered Wiley and set her thinking introspectively—which she did not usually enjoy. Their relationship had never been a good one, though they had been familiar with each other for a number of years. Calvin’s father had been a Child of the Light, one of the many men who had been responsible for her father’s death. While she and Orlan had been playing in the streets of Amadicia, Calvin had been brought up in a nice home with friends of social rank and with fathers of high regard. Their two groups often met one another in a quick fit of animosity over a part of the city resulting in more tension between the two social groups. Wiley had grown up remembering that she was not the same stock as children such as Calvin and his friends. She did not wish to be reminded that she was scum by being locked behind steel bars.

It was no matter, she decided. He would not catch her unless he also wanted to catch the sharp side of her knife. She was no Darkfriend.

“Wiley, stop,” Calvin brought his horse to a halt beside her. She was not pleased with the interruption to her thoughts. The huge animal swung his head back to look at her, shifting back and forth on his feet and causing the man in the saddle to give a brief tug on the reins to bring him to a heal. “Perhaps we can work something else out between the two of us. Aren’t you tired of running yet?” She ignored his question and instead reached out to fruit cart that held among other things, a basket full of yellow apples. She reached inside her cloak for the knife that was hanging at her hip in order to slice the apple in half. One side she held flat out on her palm to the horse, while the other she began to eat once she had pocketed the knife and paid the farmer for the fruit.

“How has he been treating you?” She patted the soft nose of the beast with the back of her hand once the horse had taken a bite. This was not the first time she had met the dark red animal. Her mother’s new husband had been a constant gambler and talked about horseflesh at every spare moment. Wiley had learned to pay attention, and could remember this horse when he was still just a colt.

“Crusader is a fine horse. He—“

“I was talking to him.”

Calvin frowned and dismounted from the roan, unhappy to see that the horse was so easily won over by a stranger. He was meant to be trained for battle, not for being petted and given treats. “Now listen here, Wiley, I’m beginning to lose my patience with you. Either we find somewhere to talk about this, or I make you come with me. I’ve been generous long enough.”

“And we both know why don’t we?” She tossed the rest of the uneaten apple into the road in front of the horse and parted her cloak so he could see her hips once she placed her hands on them. But it was not hips alone that she allowed him to see. Along with the knife she kept a whip about her person, and around her slender waist was a belt that was full of pockets holding a great number of things from dried herbs to lines and hooks meant for fishing. She had created the contraption herself after growing tired of having only one belt pouch and the need to carry many things. “I’ve already told you, I’m not interested in going anywhere with you, Calvin. If you want to me to come with you, you’ll have to catch me first.”

“Actually,” a new voice interrupted their conversation. “You’ll have to go through me as well. I’ve got business to settle with Miss Darwish.”

The two of them turned to the newcomer. A tall man that Wiley had never seen before was waiting patiently with his hands inside his pockets. His rain-soaked tunic indicated that he didn’t mind the weather. Behind him, Walter was just beginning to walk away, his coughing echoing off the closed in street that they were standing in.

“Ah.” Wiley turned to Calvin and back to the stranger. “Considering I don’t know who you are, I’d greatly appreciate anything that keeps me from being arrested by a Whitecloak.”

“You know who I am, Wiley. You’ve just forgotten that I even existed. Just like you’ve forgotten my brother.”

“Who is your brother?” She really did not more men to add to her long list of failures and disappointments when it came to the other gender. Functional relationships sadly began and ended by counting the same finger, and she wasn’t sure that one counted anymore, considering.

“My brother was Orlan Jarrick, and I believe you killed him.”

Wiley Darwish

  • Business LuncheonWiley Darwish, Sat Oct 28 09:03
    "Well," she continued after a brief moment of silence. If someone were trying to find her, Walter would not be a good person to hide with. His stench gathered flies and rumors alike. "I suppose it is ... more
    • Accusations and Actuality — Wiley Darwish, Sat Nov 4 20:13
      • Not That GirlWiley Darwish, Sun Nov 5 20:09
        Three Years Ago… “Why did it have to be her?” Orlan looked down, no longer to meet her eyes. They had filled with tears. In their years of friendship he had only seen her cry once or twice before.... more
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