Work Text:
This was not the fresh start she had envisioned.
When Tabitha had journeyed to Caladon and boarded the Zephyr, it had been with a satchel bearing pages of want ads, neatly circled, for Tarant and few smaller cities nearby, and the hope of employment as a governess or research assistant. She had no experience in those fields, true, but she was possessed of an eagerness to learn, a firm but respectful demeanor, and miraculously restored vision that made her grateful for any opportunity. Said miracle was, in fact, why she had boarded the airship with hopes of a fresh start and not much else to her name.
Being the sole survivor of a fiery crash had not been part of the plan.
Tabitha mournfully fidgeted with the singed sleeves of her good blue dress, donned for an afternoon tea and now the only clothing she had left in the world. A swath was ripped from the skirt, the collar and breast were covered in soot, and the bustle was... deflated, to put it kindly. A woeful picture, to be sure. Some savior I make, she thought wryly, with a glance at the silhouette guarding the mouth of the cave refuge.
Being the reincarnation of an ancient elven god had definitely not been the plan. Much less her alleged deity coming with a handily present devotee. Although, no matter how convenient his presence--or recent his affiliation with the Panarii faith--Virgil had set about making himself invaluable with all haste.
The wolves and other dangers she had no illusions of surviving on her own. Aid scavenging the wreckage for survivors or anything useful. This had mostly amounted to several bottles of good wine--one now open but barely touched beside her--and personal effects valuable as closure to loved ones and not much else. Helping dissuade that stranger. (Even if she did wonder what made Virgil so adamant he was... trouble, she couldn't deny the man's behavior had become suspect when confronted.) And he'd been the one to find this small cave for shelter when night fell en route to Shrouded Hills, and even volunteered to guard the entrance.
From what, Tabitha was uncertain. More wolves? They did seem to be quite prevelent in these mountains. The stranger returning? Bandits? A small, cynical part of her wondered if he was keeping threats out or her in. She shushed it; he'd been nothing but helpful. Regardless of what Virgil thought might happen, she was grateful for the company, and protection.
She shifted, leaning against the wall in an attempt to get settled. Far cry from the usual comforts, she thought wryly. Sleep wasn't coming, so she pulled up the small compact on her chatelaine, now empty of cosmetics, and withdrew the ring that had been pressed into her hand by a dying gnome. It was hard to study it in the dim moonlight that managed to filter inside the cave, but after her time spent blind, her fingers 'saw' almost as well as her eyes for things like this. There didn't seem to be anything especially dazzling about the ring. Simple silver band with an engraving and the maker's mark inside. No air of magical power, good or ill. No sense of small hidden compartments. Just a ring.
Then why had it been so important the gnome--Radcliffe, if the passport in his pocket was correct--had spent his last breaths pressing it on her? Why the warnings about a child and an 'evil one'?
Honestly, that almost lent credence to Virgil's belief in her being this 'Living One' from his faith's prophecies. After all, if there was an 'evil one', it followed such an entity would take whatever steps necessary to thwart efforts against it. Such as attacking a passenger airship, never mind the casualties. And it also followed, one would hope, there existed a counter to the evil. Someone who could stop it. She just never would have expected that to be her.
The formerly blind daughter of formerly rich parents. Well-off until recently, but nothing special, as the world went. Weren't legendary heroes supposed to be special? They certainly tended to be in books. How could he tell? What made him so sure? Was there a chance he was wrong?
Tabitha sighed and returned the ring to the compact and the compact to her chatelaine. Such questions were making her head hurt. Best to save them for the elder Virgil had mentioned waiting in Shrouded Hills. Hopefully this Joachim would know what was going on. What it meant for her to be the reincarnation of an elven god. Maybe even why someone would attack the Zephyr.
She grimaced at the thought as she settled in to try sleeping again. Another hope: Shrouded Hills having some manner of post system so she could write to assure her parents she was alive. Given the Zephyr's route from Caladon to Tarant, surely word would spread of its crash. Father would be beside himself with worry, Mother clinging to pragmatism as one did a life preserver.
She thought about asking Virgil, since he'd come from the town, but that seemed a silly thing to nag about now. Especially since she couldn't tell from his silhouette if he was asleep or just very good at sitting still. If the former, she hoped he was a light sleeper, given he'd taken guard duty on himself. Either way, she didn't want to disturb him. She'd find her answers tomorrow.
Which was the status of many things about this 'fresh start' of hers. Tomorrow. Best to get some sleep and hasten its arrival.
Tabitha snugged herself into a divot in the rock and finally, as if her resolve made it happen, drifted off to sleep.