A Trial by Fire: The Legacy of Hollis Maeby

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Hollis.Maeby
Posts: 76
Character: Hollis Maeby

Re: A Trial by Fire: The Legacy of Hollis Maeby

Post by Hollis.Maeby » September 12th, 2022, 10:37 pm

Just Breathe Through It

Hollis awoke alone in Quincy's large bed, the same way she had spent the whole evening. She had come over to see his mural of Heston. But when she required some assistance getting up the stairs due to her leg, Quincy had insisted she stay. Ever the gentleman, he'd given her his bed and slept elsewhere. Hollis had protested and assured him they could share the bed given its size, but he couldn't be swayed.

She had laid awake part of the night obsessing over what she could have done differently, if she should have been more direct or if her subtle innuendos were too subtle. She'd never been turned down by a man when she'd suggested they spend an evening together and she wasn't too proud to admit her ego was bruised. It wasn't her, she assured herself, Quincy was just being polite and concerned for her well being.

Hollis laid in the bed for several more moments, listening to the sounds of the house for any signs that Quincy stirred within. The home was silent, almost eerily so, a feeling that made her mind wandered again to the previous evening. What had that thing been?

The two of them had just arrived and Quincy was preparing to help Hollis up the stairs when suddenly, the front door opened of its own volition. Quincy went to investigate, but finding nothing, closed the door and came back to her side.

Hollis saw it before he did, a small object that glinted in the light like it was made of glass. A marble perhaps? But why was it floating off of the ground? The object spun and as it did Hollis noticed that it appeared more like a human eye than anything else.

In a flash it was gone, though it had made a final appearance on the second story of the home; darting every which way before flying down the stairs. Quincy spotted it this time and left Hollis upstairs to go investigate below. There were no further incidents for the rest of the evening, but Hollis still couldn't shake the feeling that they had witnessed something paranatural.

Reluctantly she rolled out of the bed, it was far more comfortable than her own, and would have only been made better by someone to share it with. She collected her clothing from the vanity, her leg was feeling much better today which was good for what she had planned.

The day before, Hollis had noticed a flier advertising boxing lessons and through correspondence had arranged to meet the instructor. They were to meet outside of the fort in the fields between the Foundry and Miltown. She dressed in her work clothes; a blue Midlands kilt and a brown shirt and made her way to the stairs.

Hollis was a little disappointed to find that Quincy had either already left for the morning or perhaps had even slept somewhere else. She pursed her lips together and hoped it wasn't the latter. Before her self doubt could start to chip away at her confidence Hollis selected a piece of fruit from the basket in the kitchen and headed out.

During her walk to the fields Hollis realized she didn’t even know the name of the person she was meeting. She started to daydream and catastrophize as she walked. What if this was a cleverly laid trap by someone who knew that the people answering their ad were ill prepared for battle? She tried her best to push these thoughts aside. There were good and altruistic people in the fort, she’d even met a few of them.

Hollis approached the field, it was early and the haze from the morning still lingered above the soil. In the distance she could see the shape of a man standing in the grass between two of the paddocks, his back turned to her.

“Er- Is this the place for- I mean, are you the boxing instructor?” Hollis said, her confidence beginning to wane.

The man turned to greet her and looked perplexed to see the average sized blonde woman before him. He appeared a bit older than Hollis, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties with shaggy brown hair, green eyes and an athletic build. His head tipped curiously and he nodded with a smile.

“I have to say, you don’t at all look like my typical student”, the man grinned at Hollis as he teased her and she could already tell that they were going to have problems.

Hollis drew in a deep breath and sighed audibly. If she had met this man two months earlier she absolutely would have allowed him to waste her time as he strung her along romantically. But given her recent growth she found his antics more annoying than she did charming.

“Are you willing to teach me or not?” She responded in a flat tone, her face set to match.

“Woah!” The man held his hands up and chuckled, “I never said I wouldn’t teach you, I’m just used to young men showing up, not young women. I didn’t mean anything by it”. He held his hands before him in surrender and offered her a winning smile that she responded to with a glare.

“You can call me Maeby and I’ll pay you your rate after the session.” Hollis was tired, physically, mentally and emotionally. She had nothing left to spare to pretend to be pleasant towards this fool. Besides, if she burned this bridge she was sure she could get lessons from Constantine or another instructor.

The man kept his hands up before him, they were expertly wrapped in white cloth and as Hollis looked closer at the man she realized his nose had been broken at least more than once. “Your name is maybe? And I thought I had it bad, mine is Kit.” The man continued to grin, trying to win her over.

To be polite Hollis gave him a slight chuckle and nodded. “It’s Maeby. M-a-e-b-y” She spelled the name out for him as she had done so many times before, “Nice to meet you Kit”.

“You’re feisty Maeby, I can already tell that I’m going to make you a fine boxer” He lowered his hands now and slung his bag from his shoulder, tossing it next to the fence of one of the paddocks. Hollis followed suit and stood before the man at a loss of what to do next.

“Alright, let me see your best fighting stance.” Kit said, folding his arms across his chest with an amused smile.

Hollis sighed and spread her feet apart leading with her right foot and bringing both of her fists up. She tried her best to mimic the posture she used while mining, feeling it was a sturdy one. Kit looked her over, his bottom lip protruding in contemplation before he shoved her shoulder roughly with his hand.

She stumbled back, catching herself before falling and swore loudly into the air. The man circled her with a chuckle, stopping once he was behind her and moved closer. Roughly he kicked her feet apart, “You need a wider stance” he said, reaching over her shoulders and taking hold of her wrists, “And your hands need to be up here to protect your face”.

Hollis looked over her shoulder, she couldn’t help but wonder if this man would take this same approach if she were a man instead of a woman. Kit circled back around to her front and patted his stomach, “Keep your core tight”, he said before shoving her shoulder again. This time Hollis stood her ground and deflected the blow by twisting with it.

“Good!” He announced and clapped his hands together once, “Now, let's wrap your hands and go through the basics.”

The morning turned into the afternoon as the pair relentlessly ran drills. Years of physical labor had prepared Hollis well in the way of stamina, but not in constitution. She found that she had no problems keeping up with the man, but every blow that made it past her defenses chipped away at her resolve; and there were many.

Bruises were forming on her arms when her instructor called for the end of their session. She knew that every punch that he landed had been pulled, which made her concerned about how she’d handle a real assault.

“You’re going easy on me”, she said as the pair slid down into the grass opposite of eachother. She leaned back against the fencing while Kit propped himself up on his hands.

“It’s your first lesson, of course I’m going easy on you.” The man smirked and reached for his worn leather bag, producing a water skin and holding it out to Hollis.

She declined and pursed her lips together, watching the man as he took a mouthful of water and spit to the side. “Would you be going easy on me were I a man?” The irritation in her voice was unmistakable. Hollis had lived most of her life being looked over due to her sex and even seen as a less capable smith due to it; she'd be damned if a man she was paying treated her less than.

Kit took pause and studied her, brushing a hand through his hair to slick back the messy strands falling into his face. He drew in a breath and sighed, “Look, I don’t like hitting women”, he said, making a vague gesture towards her, “and particularly not ones as pretty as you”.

Hollis growled under her breath and raised her hand to point a finger at the man, “Don’t fucking flirt with me”, she snapped.

Kit laughed and laid back flat in the grass tucking his hands behind his head, “Damn, you really won’t put up with my bullshit will you?”

“I’m low on patience for ‘bullshit’ these days, in recovery from bullshit if you will.”, Hollis sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees and rolled her eyes. Kit was handsome in a rugged sort of way, she’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t attracted to him. But she knew that whatever part of her that fostered that attraction was only pining for the toxic qualities he masked behind those grins.

The man sucked on his front teeth and nodded, turning his head away from Hollis to look up at the clear afternoon sky. She couldn’t help but chuckle a little, she could tell he wasn’t used to women being immune to his “charms”.

“Alright then”, he said and sighed before moving to stand, “If you want me to take off the kid gloves then so be it.”

Hollis watched him and quickly scrambled to get her legs under her. They’d been practicing defensive stances and blocking all morning so she naturally slipped back into that posture. Kit brought his hands up to his face and bobbed and weaved on the tips of his toes, a large grin on his face. Hollis kept on her toes, ducking her head low as he took a swing at her; their height difference was to her advantage.

While the man had his arm extended Hollis weaved under it and got in a left hook that glanced off of his chin. Kit shrugged the hit off and nodded several times with a smirk; he was obviously proud of his student.

“Alright Maeby, alright” he said through a chuckle.

Hollis backed up and kept her fists before her, watching him for his next move. Kit moved in closer and shifted his weight as though he were going to throw his right hand, but pivoted last second and threw his left instead. Hollis had pulled her arms up to block a blow coming from the right, leaving her left side exposed and as his fist collided with her ribs the air held in her lungs expelled rapidly.

She cried out in pain but remained on her feet, stumbling backwards several steps to regain her composure. Before she could even take in a breath he was back on her. She managed to block his next two hits, the first with her forearms and the second with her shoulder before gasping to refill her lungs.

“Very good, Maeby, remember to breathe!” Kit called out from between strikes, the jovial smile still upon his lips.

Hollis could see the enjoyment on the man’s face as he got the upperhand on their sparring and for some reason it enraged her. She let out a primal noise that was close to a scream and advanced on the man in almost a run, her fists flying towards him with more power than skill. Kit blocked every one of her punches save for the last which landed somewhere close to his ear.

The man stayed on his toes but it was obvious the blow rattled him. He shook his head several times and rubbed his ear with his shoulder, not willing to take his guard down. “Ah, fuck! Why the ear?” He hissed through his teeth and advanced once more on Hollis who was still seething with misplaced rage.

Kit held his hands up as though he planned to strike at her but instead swept his leg behind her knees taking her down instantly onto her back into the grass. Once more the air was forced from her lungs and she laid there, curling into the fetal position. She held her ribs with an audible wince as they throbbed from the initial blow.

“That is no kid gloves”, Kit said, crouching to balance on the balls of his feet and looming over her.

Hollis took a feeble swipe at him and the man leaned back to avoid it with an amused laugh.

“You’re a strong girl, I’ll give you that.” He said with a grin, “You have a lot of power and instinct, we just need to channel that appropriately. You need to learn not to take a fight personally and get swept up in your emotions.” He waved a hand vaguely as he talked and she glared up at him.

Kit offered Hollis his hand and she took it begrudgingly, allowing him to pull her to her feet. The anger she felt earlier was ebbing and now, and standing before the man she wasn’t sure where it had come from. It wasn’t in her nature to get particularly angry and even in times when she had every right to she was never one to yell or make a scene. The burst of anger was energizing and intoxicating, she could tell it was something she needed to be careful with or it could easily overtake her.

Hollis was wobbly on her feet and soon leaned over to balance herself on her knees, taking several deep breaths. “Never put the kid gloves back on”, she said breathlessly looking over to the man.

“Are you sure?”

“An enemy wouldn’t pull a punch just because I was a cute girl, you’re not preparing me for anything by treating me like I’m made of sugar.” Hollis coughed and spit into the grass while Kit considered her request.

“Just for the record, I said you were pretty, not cute.” Kit held up one finger and wagged it making a tutting noise with his mouth and then smirked. “You’re right though. I’m not preparing you for the world outside of that fort over there if I’m going easy on you.” The man sighed and looked over to Hollis who was digging in the pocket of her kilt.

“Here, for the lesson”, She held out the pouch of silver and the man took it with a gracious nod, “Same time tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow?” Kit pocketed the coin and lifted a brow, looking at her as if she were insane. “You don’t want a break?”

“I don’t take breaks. I’m leaving here for the mines. Then I’ll smelt steel for the rest of the evening, after that I’ll paint all night and see you in the morning.” Hollis stood to her full height and grinned over at the man, his expression was one of mixed shock and disbelief.

“You’re a smith, then?”, Kit asked, his brow furrowing with internalized questions.

“I am.”

“Then-” the man paused and shook his head a few times, his cloth wrapped hand coming up to rest on his face, “Then why choose boxing? You could have the first pick of any discipline you’d like.”

Hollis bent to collect her leather backpack and removed the metal water flask from within it, “I like the idea of not needing a weapon to defend myself. There’s something liberating about knowing that I can still stand my ground when I can’t have a sword or an axe.”

Kit smiled and nodded once, his expression easily revealing that he respected her answer. “Alright Maeby, I’ll see you here tomorrow morning.”

She took a drink of her water and waved a hand to wave to the man in goodbye as they parted ways.

As she walked the path up to the fort the bruise forming on her ribs throbbed as a reminder of a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget. The healing bruise on her leg was also acting up from the physical activity. She thought about stopping at the hospital to have Doctor Patel look at it again, but the glare she knew the doctor would have upon her face knowing Hollis wasn’t “taking it easy” prevented her from making the turn for the building.

Hollis continued about her day and at the end of it practiced the boxing moves she’d learned earlier, observing her form in the bathroom mirror by candle light. She’d be damned before she was a victim to any more circumstances.

Hollis.Maeby
Posts: 76
Character: Hollis Maeby

Re: A Trial by Fire: The Legacy of Hollis Maeby

Post by Hollis.Maeby » September 24th, 2022, 8:00 pm

There’s Something Wicked About This

The past several days had been tough ones for Hollis. Along with her usual daily chores she was now making time every evening for boxing lessons with Kit. She had taken to wearing long sleeve shirts and pants to hide the bruises from their sparring. Even though she was improving every day, Kit still landed more hits than she blocked.

Hollis wasn’t sure why she hadn’t told Quincy she was taking these lessons, but it felt like too much time passed to bring it up now. She tried to justify it by telling herself that Quincy was under a great deal of stress these days, what with preparing for his performance at the upcoming ball and with the odd things happening around his house.

One of the last times the two of them were together Quincy had brought her to his house and told her of the strange things happening there. Doors seeming to open and close on their own, the floating eye the two of them had seen and now, some sort of ominous package delivered to his mailbox.

Quincy had brought the package to show her and the moment she opened it her hand involuntarily released its grasp. Hollis recoiled, taking a step away from the bag where it laid, haphazardly abandoned on the kitchen counter. Her pulse raced and she had to fight the urge to flee. Perhaps Quincy was right; this place was haunted. It took her mind a lot of convincing to get her feet to approach the bag again, but once she did she wished she hadn’t.

Nestled inside of a leather bag was a crude wax figure shaped like a woman. The wax was dirty and had the evidence of twigs or leaves pressed into it. The most disturbing part of all was that the head of the doll had been dressed with bright blonde hairs. There was no doubt in Hollis’ mind that this doll was supposed to be her, there weren’t many other blonde women around the fort.

This had been days ago and Quincy had already done his due diligence to try to keep her safe. He’d gone out of his way to meet with a priest to get advice, and had even had one come to the house to bless it. Rikard was an odd and small man, someone Hollis would not have initially pegged as a priest or holy man. Perhaps Decus had sent this priest their way to teach both of them a lesson in humility.

Rikard had seemed dismissive of the wax totem, saying that they were common objects found with pagans and that sometimes people left them around as a joke. A joke? Hollis didn’t find any humor in the situation, and while she wouldn’t argue with the Priest to his face, she didn’t find comfort in his explanation.

As a precaution the Priest blessed the house and placed a line of salt on either side of the entryway to ward off bad spirits. She’d found the salt suggestions a little untraditional, but neglected to mention it upon seeing Quincy’s expression; distraught and conflicted with the salt himself. Hollis however knew that his discomfort in it being placed had more to do with salt being on the floor and less with its intention.

Hollis had realized once Quincy moved into the large home that he was a fastidious man. His dressers were overly organized and his armoire was arranged by color. She chuckled lightly at the memory before pursing her lips together in thought. The two of them shared many similarities and even more differences. She wondered what he thought of her when she stopped by to visit, covered head to toe in soot with enough grime in her hair to make her look like a brunette.

She pushed the thought aside, there were bigger concerns than these minute insecurities. Through all of the meetings and talks with the clergy Quincy didn’t seem any closer to figuring out the meaning behind the figure left in his mailbox. Who was there that had a problem with her enough to invoke witchcraft upon her? She could only think of one person, but having lived in the Province for nearly two months now she had learned things weren’t always as they seemed.

Hollis had tried to keep her mind off of things, but the only way she knew how to effectively accomplish that was through work. When she wasn’t working her mind wandered back to that bag and the effigy that resembled her only by hair color. She had begun to pick the skin off from around her fingers when they were not otherwise engaged, a nervous tick from her childhood that had resurfaced. The bloodied spots on her fingers mixed with her bruises made her quite the sight to see.

Along with slowly working herself to exhaustion, she’d also stopped taking the sedative Quincy had obtained for her from Doctor Sindelar. She didn’t have the heart to tell him, she knew he’d be worried. She was still sleeping two to three hours a night, or in spurts when taking breaks down in the mines.

Hollis found comfort in the small hours of the day when she was awake, alone and her time was her own. Quincy didn’t need another thing to worry about, but she still felt guilty when she thought about it. How many more things would she be compelled to keep from such an adoring man?

Hollis pulled her attention away from the painting she was working on and sighed. It was a desert scape featuring rolling dunes and a black sun hanging in the sky; a commission by a gruff man who referred to himself as “Locke”. Hollis stood and stretched, feeling her joints release with every pop.

She shuffled over to the mirror that hung in her bathroom and examined her physique with a quiet yawn. She was getting stronger and it was evident in how toned her arms were becoming. Days of mining, chopping wood and throwing punches were making her lean. She was quite happy with the progress, though she would need to stop meeting with Kit soon if she didn’t want to attend the ball in her strapless dress covered in blemishes.

Hollis leaned against the bathroom counter and stared herself dead in the eye in her reflection. Her eyes moved across her face, over her hairline and back to look into her eyes. She wished she could see herself through Quincy’s eyes, she wished she could see in herself what he saw, but the image was too far for her to grasp.

Sighing in exasperation, Hollis splashed water on her face and returned to her painting stool. She had to put her trust in Quincy, she needed to trust that he would resolve this issue with the effigy but even more difficult to muster, she needed to trust him when he said she was enough.

Hollis.Maeby
Posts: 76
Character: Hollis Maeby

Re: A Trial by Fire: The Legacy of Hollis Maeby

Post by Hollis.Maeby » October 1st, 2022, 9:47 pm

When the Sun is Coming Through

Hollis was exhausted by the time she made it back to Quincy’s two story house next to the Meddler’s Risk. She could have walked back to her own cottage from the museum where the ball had been held, it was probably even the same distance. But, she had hoped to catch Quincy as he came home.

The ball had been an extravagant production, one most people had been preparing for for days. Hollis had worn an off shoulder red dress that was perfectly fitted from the bust through the hips and then opened into a trumpet skirt that dragged the floor. She’d finished the look with ruby jewelry set in wrought iron, a black mask and black gloves.

There really was something intoxicating about the anonymity of wearing a mask and being unknown. She had figured it would be easy to point her out, her light blonde hair usually stood out among the fort populated by many Westerners. But upon entering the hall, Doctor Sindlar’s mouth fell open and he extended what she felt were excessive pleasantries.

The evening had been magical, filled with dancing, music, good food and company. Quincy had even gone out of his way to present her with a flower before his first musical act, leaving the stage and coming right up to her with it in front of everyone gathered. Yes, everything had been perfect.

Hollis moved up to the second floor of the house and into Quincy’s bedroom. Quincy had been detained by Jeane Harlow, the editor for the paper otherwise they would have left together the same as they had arrived. Hollis had given up on waiting for the man however and gave a message to several people to let them know that she had left.

Quincy’s bedroom was large, which was good because it required a dresser and an armoire to contain his wardrobe. Hollis opened the doors of the armoire and picked through the clothing until she selected a long sleeve shirt made of soft cotton.

Her dress was heavy and cumbersome to get in and out of but she managed after a brief battle with the closures and switched it out for the shirt. She neatly folded the dress at the foot of the bed and placed it next to her shoes and bag before climbing into it.

The bed was large and comfortable, something she’d discovered the last time she’d slept in it alone. Though her intentions for this evening were quite the opposite. Hollis laid on her side, propping her head up with her arm and waited for Quincy to return. She intended to surprise him, hopefully in a positive way though she did have her concerns.

Time ticked on and Hollis laid down on her back, looking up at the ceiling. His conversation with Harlow must have been going long, and after the last paper she could see why it would. She rolled over again onto her stomach and tucked a down pillow under her head. She’d just close her eyes for a moment to rest them, surely she’d hear Quincy coming up the stairs and have time to get back into a more provocative pose.

Hollis’ eyes grew heavier and before she knew it she was fast asleep in Quincy’s bed, wearing his shirt. She thought she’d felt the bed shifting at one point and the weight of another getting into it but it all felt far away as if in some kind of dream. The evening passed peacefully, amounting instead into some of the best sleep she’d gotten since coming to the fort.

The morning came and Hollis awoke with the sun’s light as she was accustomed. As she awoke she was surprised to find a blanket on her and when she rolled over in the bed she found Quincy. He was fast asleep, his features tranquil and his breathing rhythmic. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched him and as quietly as she could Hollis got out of bed and found her sketchbook among her things.

She sat cross legged and sketched the sleeping man, his shirt oversized on her smaller frame to the point of being quite modest. When she was done she got up once more and did her best to get back into her red gown. She had orders to fill and work to complete for the day regardless of how much she’d like to stay in bed with Quincy until he woke.

Carefully she hung the shirt back up and lingered by the side of the bed before leaning down to kiss the side of his face. Hollis moved through the house quite comfortably, almost as if she lived there herself. Going to the kitchen she selected a piece of fruit from the basket and a heel of leftover cornbread to take with her.

Hollis exited the house and stood on the front porch digging through her things for the key. She bit hold of the apple and held it in her mouth to free up one of her hands. As she locked the door she looked up the street to the Meddler’s Risk where much to her horror stood Constantine, behind the bar and staring back at her.

There was no hiding the implications. She was leaving Quincy’s house early in the morning wearing the same clothes Constantine had seen her in the night before. Hollis knew how it looked even if she knew the evening had been far more wholesome. Turning away from the bar she hurried along her way towards her cottage.

She could wait to be teased about this at a later date.

Hollis.Maeby
Posts: 76
Character: Hollis Maeby

Re: A Trial by Fire: The Legacy of Hollis Maeby

Post by Hollis.Maeby » October 2nd, 2022, 3:54 pm

Tonight You’re a Stranger Pt.1

“We need to talk”, four small words that elicit so much fearful anxiety.

She read the letter again, turning it over as if the back might hold some hidden explanation. The rest of it seemed simply mundane, a message passed for Mote through Quincy requesting leather made goods. Her brow furrowed as she scrutinized every syllable and the stroke lines of every letter on the page that had been signed “with love” from Quincy.

Hollis wouldn’t know what secret those words held until later in the day. What could he possibly want to talk about that he hadn’t put in the letter? They’d had an argument about Drusilla, but that was more than a week ago at this point. That couldn’t be it, could it? The possibilities and what-if’s circled through her mind the rest of the day, taking up every waking thought as she went through her chores.

The sun was setting in the west by the time she’d finished for the day and left her house to seek out Quincy. She didn’t have to go very far to find him, for as she cut through the small orchard behind her house she spotted the bottle blonde man sitting upon a tree stump, his back turned to her.

“Fancy seeing you here”, she said with a smile and walked around to face him. The moment she saw his expression, down cast and sullen, she knew this wasn’t going to be a simple conversation.

“Miranda”, He said in a hollow tone, rising slowly from the log.

“Are you alright?”, she asked, a smile still across her face in an attempt to salvage some part of this interaction.

“I believe we must talk. Would you follow me to a more fitting location?” His expression was fixed and difficult to read, his eyes heavy lidded and almost down cast.

“O-of course. .”

“This way please.”

Hollis followed Quincy from the orchard to the bridge that led into Old Town and to a small desolate and depressed park above the bath house. She was familiar with the area; she had once found Quincy and Drusilla arguing here. Quincy moved to the center of the park and stood across from Hollis who looked around in confusion.

The Midlander man stood awkwardly and removed the hat he was wearing, folding it up and tucking it into his back pocket. Hollis watched him with baited breath, a tightness building in her chest with every moment that passed in silence.

“How are you, Miranda?”, he finally said and she couldn’t help but scoff. All of this just to ask her how she was?

“I’m fine, other than the anxiety that this is bringing me”, she said motioning to him and then around to the park that was strewn with garbage and a few worn benches.

“I see. Would you care to sit down?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Quincy paused for a beat before taking in a deep breath and beginning his explanation. “I have something to say that I’d rather not fall onto unwanted ears. So this is the perfect place. Hardly anyone comes here anymore”, he motioned around them.

Hollis once more glanced around the park, her arms moving up to cross tightly across her chest in anticipation.

“I have quite a lot to impart on you, so feel free to claim a seat if you’re tired or uncomfortable.” Quincy’s words were even and his motions slow as though speaking took a lot of effort and energy, his eyes averting from her. “I have been keeping things from you, even if to somehow offer you what I would deem a semblance of protection. As if you weren’t able to handle it”, Quincy lifted his eyes back to Hollis who’s jaw clenched tightly.

“I’ve been dealing with Rikard a lot lately because I severed my ties with Drusilla”, Quincy continued with his explanation.

As she listened Hollis began to anxiously pick at the skin around her fingers, her eyes unfocusing just above his left shoulder. The world became blurred and she concentrated only on her breathing and his words, waiting for the other shoe to finally drop at last.

“I also know what that figure that resembles you is.”

Hollis’ eyes pulled back to Quincy, her left hand still idly picking at the cuticles of her right. “What is it?”

“It’s called a poppet and I know who put it there. It was her.”

She could barely hear the rest of the explanation as her eyes fluttered closed and she took in a series of long breaths. Hollis was doing her best to keep herself together, willing herself to remain calm through stubbornness alone. “How long have you known this?” She kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, taking the time to steel herself.

Quincy sighed as he looked across the six feet or so that separated them. “Weeks. She’d made me vow not to tell you and I am breaking that in telling you now. The secrets I hold from you are ruining me.”

Hollis fixed her face into a stony and unreadable expression as she forced herself to look at him, her exterior calm while internally she screamed. She could feel the range building in her, swelling up and clawing at her chest looking for a way out. She wanted to yell, she wanted to cry and part of her even wanted to lash out and strike him. But instead, she held her ground like an impenetrable statue and waited for him to proceed.

“I would also tell you that you don’t know who I am. .”, Quincy continued and retold her the story of his past, though this time instead of being a young man who joined with a troupe of like minded artists he was older and the group of like-minded individuals were thieves that had worked to part fools with their coin in the Eastern Baronies.

Hollis listened as he told the story of how he’d distract targets with his music while the others picked their pockets. She could see the scene in her mind; Quincy sat upon a makeshift stage and men, women and children alike gathered to enjoy his performances just as she had before. Though now the image was marred with the knowledge that those people were nothing more than targets.

The sensation of something slick across her fingertips pulled her attention back to reality. Hollis looked to her hands and saw the crimson of blood pooling around her thumb nail; she must have finally worried off a large patch of cuticle. Quincy also noticed and when she looked up he was holding out a pristine, white handkerchief to her. Reluctantly she accepted it and wrapped the fabric around her thumb, applying pressure.

“Miranda, it’s very taxing to relay all of this to you. But you need to know who stands before you, before you settle on the idea of who it is you believe you offer such nobile statements to. This is Quincy. The real, flawed person who lived in the streets and did well with the riches of others”. He drew in a deep breath and put his hands in his pockets, watching her, waiting for her response.

Hollis allowed the words to hang in the air, she needed the time to formulate a response that wasn’t an attack. His description of unearthing his real self as “taxing” rubbed her the wrong way and all she wanted to do was spit venom at him. This was taxing for him? How exactly did he think this was for her?

“I-I’m at a loss for words, Quincy”, she finally managed to say.

“Of course”, he once more motioned for the benches, offering her a seat but her feet remained planted in place.

“Why did you keep all of this from me?”

“Because you had a different image of me in your mind. It was gut-wrenching to think of ruining that image in my head. So I grew accustomed to the lie. I wish it was so, but it kept coming back and Rikard helped me see it.” Quincy’s voice was even, though she could hear where it cracked to reveal his shame.

Hollis tipped her head skyward and studied the evening sky. She was beginning to lose her battle with the anger, fear, and grief that were clawing at her, begging to be released like beasts in a small cage. She slowly forced herself to meet his gaze again, the whites of her eyes turning red as they filled with tears.

“How much of this does Rikard know?” she asked quickly and just as fast Quincy responded.

“None”

“How many other people were privy to this information before I was?”

“Drusilla also knows, but not the whole truth. Not all of what I told you; that I spent years in that life.”, Quincy said, equally as prompt in his delivery, his hands still in his pockets and his posture growing smaller.

“Drusilla?” Hollis spit the name out of her mouth like a bad taste, “Of course.” She shook her head in disbelief, slowly at first and then faster as her face was marred by anger she could no longer keep at bay. “We all have things that we’re embarrassed of!” Her voice was louder now as she threw his hands towards him, gesturing wildly.

“This is not embarrassment”, Quincy said after a brief drawing of breath.

Hollis ignored him and continued, “We all have parts of our lives that we rewrite as the stories are told and retold.” She motioned towards herself, touching her chest with her handkerchief bound hand. “I don’t care about the sins of your youth. The things you did before we knew each other is of no consequence to me.”

“What if I said I was responsible for the loss of lives?” Quincy’s gaze was level and his voice the same even tone as if he were delivering rehearsed lines instead of heartbreak.

Hollis opened her mouth to continue her tirade but the words fell short as his meaning struck her. Involuntarily her hands moved to the top of her head and perched there, her eyes closing for a moment. Hollis drew in a ragged breath through her mouth, exhaling out of her nose. He couldn’t have meant that. This was some hypothetical; he was testing her. Quincy, her Quincy, was not a malicious man capable of killing someone in cold blood.

“Were you?”, the words escaped her lips with her eyes still shut, she was unable to look him in the face. The seconds that passed between the last syllable leaving her mouth and Quincy’s answer felt like an eternity.

“A few times, when the mark was good.”

“Sweet fucking Decus” Hollis muttered, couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Who was this man? This wasn’t the Quincy she had gotten to know over the last few months, the man who handed her such an elegant greeting card and pressed his perfect outfits. No, this wasn’t Quincy, this was a husk of him, a cruel doppelganger sent to take his place.

“If you look closely back at my house you’ll find a couple of light but sturdy crossbows. I’m quite proficient with those.” Quincy brought his arm up, motioning where one would be attached. “They’re very difficult to spot until it’s too late. So it’s all about the right outfit.” His arm lingered in the air for a moment before he let it fall back to his side.

Hollis finally moved her hands from the top of her head to rest them on either side of her chest. The air felt heavy and her breaths were labored as her anger shifted to trepidation. “Is that what I would have been to you before? A valuable mark?” She hissed the words through her teeth between gasps, beginning to hyperventilate.

“I’ve never killed a woman. So, no.” The words came from Quincy so naturally and matter-of-factly it made the hair on her neck stand up. The longer they spoke the more he represented a predator and less the minstrel she’d seen recite such beautiful poetry.

“But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t have robbed me. A poor naïve rich girl with poorer taste in men.”

“Probably, yes. You’re tired, sometimes aloof when you’re engaged in your many activities. Somebody would have taken easy pickings.”

Her stomach churned as she listened to him, she’d never felt so vulnerable in the presence of someone she trusted before. He spoke of her like she was a small animal of prey, rife for the taking. Hollis groaned loudly and put her hands back on top of her head and tried to control her breathing. She began to pace back and forth with nervous energy, “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Quincy watched her with a placid expression, “I would too.”

She paused close to where she had started her pacing and put her hands on her knees, leaning over to take several deep breaths. She was battling against her fight or flight instincts that were demanding she run and not look back.

“I want to tell you one more thing”, Quincy checked his fingernails before looking back at her, a gaze that gave her chills.

“What?” Her voice was weak and strained. She wasn’t sure how much more she could endure.

“When I brought you those gems I went after while you were setting up shop”, he paused and Hollis’ eyes grew wide as she recalled the memory. “I didn’t get the bruises and scratches from a territorial crow, or whatever bird I said it was. I did meet my contact, but I was assaulted on the way back, and so I returned with the lives of two more men on my hands. Well. . I think they were men.” He pursed his lips together as he tried to recall and then shrugged as if it didn’t matter.

“Tha-that was self defense though, that’s different.” Hollis pushed off of her knees to stand, her eyes tracing his face pleadingly for any sign of her Quincy that might still be in there.

“I don’t care, they had it coming and I have no regrets. This is my point, they don’t matter to me, you see?” Quincy furrowed his brow, the first real sign of emotion he had displayed through the whole conversation.

“Why tell me these things?” She asked in a small voice, her throat growing tighter as the tears began to fill her eyes.

“Do you want me to tell you the truth?”

Hollis paused and opened her mouth, trying to make the words push past her dry throat but they wouldn’t come. Her eyes traced the familiar features of Quincy etched on this stranger and after a moment she gave a nod as her answer.

“Because I’m in love with you. I could have spent my whole life without exposing any of this, but it didn’t feel right.” His words were soft and for a brief moment she could see in him the man she knew.

Hollis’ eyes fluttered closed and the tears that had been forming there spilled over and down her cheeks. The words dug deep and found their home in her, giving her the familiar thrill of excitement dampened by that of grief. This is not how she had imagined him confessing his love to her. There was nothing that could have prepared her for this.

Hollis.Maeby
Posts: 76
Character: Hollis Maeby

Re: A Trial by Fire: The Legacy of Hollis Maeby

Post by Hollis.Maeby » October 3rd, 2022, 1:13 pm

Tonight You’re a Stranger Pt 2.

“Do you know why I brought you here?” Quincy spoke again, his voice back to the even and detached cadence.

“Why? So I could run?” She drew in a breath with a nervous chuckle that was more air than laugh.

“This is nobody's home, not yours and not mine. So if this is the last we meet eye to eye, there wouldn’t be awkwardness of forced pleasantries when leading ourselves out of an abode.” He motioned around him, causing Hollis’ eyes to drift around the rundown park once more.

She had never noticed before how calculated Quincy could be, but as she thought back about their previous interactions she couldn’t help but over analyze them through this lens. Hollis shifted awkwardly in the growing silence. She didn’t know what to say and she was hesitant to ask many more questions for fear of what new wound they might open.

“I am glad, however”, Quincy started and Hollis flinched at his words, preparing for whatever they brought, “I’m glad that we didn’t dwell in each other’s intimacy as well. I would surely never forgive myself if I had been weaker. At least I managed to protect you from this shame.”

Hollis’ head tipped to the left, her brow furrowing with confusion as she tried to process his meaning. Thankfully she pieced together his words before having to ask. It made sense now, why they hadn’t slept together when she had more or less thrown herself at him. Just as she had felt she wasn’t good enough for him, he felt he wasn’t enough for her. What a cruel comedy of errors.

She pursed her lips together, her brow furrowed in an expression of anger and sorrow. She should leave, she knew she should. But part of her knew that the moment they parted ways it was over and she wasn’t ready for that.

“Even if I could sweep the information about your past under a rug, there’s still you actively lying to benefit Drusilla.” She drew in a breath through clenched teeth, trying her best to control her tone.

“Not quite, I wasn’t protecting her. I was hopeful you would eventually patch things up with her if this never went out in the open. That was my reasoning. I promised her I wouldn’t tell you. My honesty, yet another virtue I soil on my conscience.” Quincy looked down and shrugged awkwardly, “But I’m done for when my time comes, I know it.”

Hollis scoffed, her nose scrunching up in disgust as her mind flooded with the memory of their dinner that had been sullied by his imagined slights. “You had the audacity to accuse me of keeping things from you, when you were sitting upon a throne of lies”. She clenched her hands into fists, the muscles in her forearms tensing tightly as if readying to strike.

“That’s right”, Quincy said in a quieter voice, his hand returning to his pockets.

“So I suppose we can add hypocrisy to the list.” She clenched her jaw, every muscle in her body was tensing under the stress.

“Along with everything in there, it won’t make much of a difference.”

Hollis shifted on her feet, her hands moving from her face to her hair and back down to her face again. She was overwhelmed, she didn’t know what to do with the information he was giving her. “FUCK”, the word, a manifestation of her frustration echoed off of the buildings next to them and Quincy flinched, taken off guard by her sudden outburst.

She began to pace again, moving back and forth between a small stripb of the park. Quincy’s eyes followed her as she moved left to right and back again, her hands gripping the top of her head. Hollis felt sick, she felt disgusted but she also felt conflicted. Regardless of what Quincy had been in his past, regardless of what he had kept from her for whatever reasons, the way she felt about him had still been real.

“I-” She began to say looking over at Quincy, but the rest of the words weren’t coming. “I- I-”, Hollis growled under her breath in frustration as she continued to pace, her voice failing her. “I loved you too, Quincy”, she finally managed to say and her pacing came to an end. She stood before him, the pain etched across her features, “Or- Whatever version of you I thought I knew.”

“That’s wonderful.” Quincy said in a small voice, looking down at his feet. “I’m glad to have heard the words once in my life”,

“Part of me still loves you now. But there’s a specter that hovers over us. I thought it was just Drusilla, but I see now that it is so much more than that”. Hollis gestured at him pleadingly, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “Why did you have to lie to me about that effigy? Do you know how many nights I stayed up because of it? How much skin I picked from my fingers?” She gestured to him with her hand wrapped in his handkerchief, “The anxiety I felt going about my daily life?!”. She was shouting now, not in anger but in grief.

Quincy raised his eyes to her wearily, cracks finally starting to be seen in his stoic exterior, “Because I knew that if you knew you’d never let it go.”

“How do you know it was what she said it was?”

“I don’t”

“Are you also a secret mage?”

“Of course not.”

“What would it matter if I couldn’t let it go?”

He shook his head, “I had hopes, that seem silly now, that eventually we could simply share breakfast together without the ugliness sitting at the table with us. So maybe if the matter was dropped. .” Quincy opened his mouth to continue, but Hollis cut him off.

“Oh, because you wanted your cake and to eat it too?”

“No, you know that’s not true”.

The pair shared an uncomfortable silence before Hollis chuckled lightly. Quincy looked taken back by her sudden laughter, and even took half a step back away from her. She shook her head with a small, involuntary smile across her face.

“You know, Quincy” Hollis started and paused to laugh again, “It’s sort of nice to know that even though I was forced from my home and sent here that there are things that can remind me of it.”

“Such as?”

“Such as my amazing ability to consistently pick men who lie to me.”

Quincy stared forward at her, unable to reply though he moved his lips as if he wanted to.

“I really thought that I had moved past that when I met you. But here I am. Though, maybe I have made some progress, the rest of them also cheated on me.” Hollis said the second part more to herself than to Quincy, her face casting down to stare at her feet with a final short chuckle.

She looked back up, their eyes meeting and an electric tension building between them. “Do you regret it? Do you regret the men you killed when you robbed them?”

Quincy averted his eyes, turning away from her as much as he could without shifting his feet. “Everyday. There were so many ways to do it without. . “ He trailed off, unable to finish his thought.

“How many people?”

He kept his face turned away from her, his voice strained and muffled as he answered. “I don’t know. Seven? Ten?”

“You don’t even know?” The words hit her like a rogue wave that washed away any sympathy for him that had been growing as his walls came down. How could he not know? How could he not know how many widow’s he had made, or how many children he had left fatherless? “How did you expect this conversation would go?”

Quincy’s face was turning a scarlet though he made no attempt to hide it, “The way they are now. I’d rather face the music than keep watching my ceiling every night and thinking about it.”

Hollis watched him, his stone exterior had chipped away and she saw more of the man she loved standing before her, a sight that made it all the more difficult to chastise him.

“I’m not sure what it says about me that I think I could forgive you for your past, but I’m struggling to reconcile myself with you lying by omission about that grotesque doll” Holls said breathlessly as she sighed.

“I didn’t ask for you to forgive me, I know it’s not my place. But I owed you the truth. I was not a coward at least for that. It’s a victory, albeit a small one” Quincy pursed his lips together and smirked, an expression that didn’t meet his sorrowful eyes. “It all catches up to you, you know?”

“What does?”

“The dirt. It stays with you, now matter how much you tithe or have clean clothes on your back.” Quincy cast his eyes down at his hands as though he expected to see the stain on them that lingered on his soul.

“As I said before, we all have things that we’re ashamed of. Though no matter how hard I think I can’t say I have anything similar that I find shame in”

“Of course”, he said in a small voice and rubbed his nose before moving on, “About the house. I won’t rescind the contract just yet, so feel free to keep doing as you were. I’ll just pack a few things that I know I’ll need.”

“I don’t understand” Hollis’ brow furrowed and she could feel her pulse start to quicken. He was leaving?

“Thank you, Miranda. For everything.” He offered her a small smile.

“That’s it?” Her voice trembled, “You’re just going to blow up my life and leave?”

“I can’t face you like this and you have a big show coming up” Quincy watched her carefully before adding, “Also, I don’t think you’ve been sleeping so well as of late”.

Hollis stared at the man petulantly, “Oh yes, I’m sure I’ll sleep much better now.”

“Please don’t do this. I’ve been forthcoming with you, don’t mock me”, The pain was evident on his face and she felt ashamed of herself for taking a jab at him. “I doubt you’d want me around after this, so I’m doing a favor and making this easy. Well. . Not easy. . Easier”.

She shook her head at him, “There is nothing easy about this. It feels like there are fingernails digging their way into my chest and threatening to pull me apart” Hollis’ hands moved to her chest, making the motion as though her fingers were trying to rip her chest open. “There is nothing easy about this.”

Quincy gave her a faint smile “They will fail. You don’t know how strong you are. I envy you.”

Hollis scoffed and even though it was ruined balled the handkerchief up and held it out for him to take back. Quincy closed the distance between them and accepted it, tucking it into his pocket.

“Yeah- Well.” she said quietly, “If you saw all of the scars you’d say otherwise.” As if the words elicited some power she felt the faint tingling of self-inflicted wounds long sense healed across her body. She couldn’t help but look away from Quincy as she dwelled on memories from her own shameful past. She’d always picked at herself in times of stress, she’d just never shown him to what extent.

Hollis wished she could look past everything, but the image of him cutting down a man in cold blood wouldn’t leave her mind. When she thought about it all she could see was Quincy drawing a crossbow bolt down upon her father or one of her brothers. In his past life, he wouldn’t have considered what his actions left behind.

“Thank you for telling me.” she said with a sigh, pulling herself away from the thought.

“I should have done it much sooner. But. . “ Quincy paused and pursed his lips together.

“But what?”

“But you bewitched me too fast and I feared I wouldn’t be able to drink that smile any longer.” Quincy looked at her longingly, waving a dismissive hand. A look and an expression that nearly broke her.

Hollis had to look away from him, she wanted nothing more than to sever the memories of this conversation from her psyche and go back to how things were before. She wanted to go back and hold him. She closed her eyes and sighed, wrapping her arms around herself instead.

“It really is times like this that I dread,” she said with a woeful chuckle, “When there’s everything to say, but nothing really left to be said.”

Quincy nodded at her, shoving his hands into his pockets once more. “I’ll linger here a little longer”.

Hollis heard his words and she nodded in agreement, though she couldn’t bring herself to leave. She wanted to hug him, to hold him or even just for their hands to connect once more in any way. She moved forward, closing the distance between them, an action that clearly caught Quincy off guard. The man looked back at her, mouth agape and brow knit in confusion as she raised her arms to embrace him.

“Miranda”, he uttered, his body tense and frozen.

Her cheeks flushed crimson at what she took as rejection and held her hands palm forward in front of her. “Sorry- I’ll go” Hollis managed to say barely above a whisper. She turned to leave and as she walked she could feel his eyes on her. She couldn’t help but look back and drink in his image one last time. The memory of Quincy standing alone in the middle of that park with a pained expression painted across his features was one that she knew would haunt her.

Awkwardly she gave him a thin smile and descended the stairs, following the paved road out of Old Town and back into the main fort. Tears flowed freely from her eyes and she paused to lean against the stonewall that surrounded the fort. She gasped, the air barely able to pass through her swollen throat. Hollis lamented into the evening sky, releasing her pain and frustration into the crisp air.

She pushed off from the wall and wandered listlessly through the fort. How had she gotten here? How had things gone so wrong so quickly when they had felt so right this time?

Hollis.Maeby
Posts: 76
Character: Hollis Maeby

Re: A Trial by Fire: The Legacy of Hollis Maeby

Post by Hollis.Maeby » October 4th, 2022, 1:22 pm

I’ve Been Here Before

Hollis groaned as she tried to sit up, her back was sore and she couldn’t understand why her bed felt so uncomfortable beneath her. With difficulty, she groggily opened her eyes that had been sealed shut with the tears cried the night before. The room around her slowly came into focus and the sight before her was not that of her bedroom but that of her bathroom. Hollis at some point had curled up in her bathtub, but she couldn’t be sure when.

She groaned, her hand reaching out and gripping the cool porcelain of her bathtub. Sitting upright felt like a mistake, the world shifted suddenly and her head pounded. Hollis leaned over the side of the tub and groped around the floor. The clattering of empty bottles echoed around the small room as she searched for a bottle that still contained liquor.

Hollis found her mark and retreated into the bathtub with the ornate bottle of whiskey in hand. She took a long pull of the bottle, draining almost all of it before stopping to take in air. Her arms wrapped around the bottle like a child cuddling a stuffed animal and her head propped against the cold glass of the bottle.

The evening before she left the park where Quincy had ripped her heart out and went straight to the Meddler’s Risk. Constantine was tending bar and Djemidor, Adalar and Drusilla sat before him. Hollis slipped in at the end of the bar next to Djemidor and managed to sulk behind a stack of books and papers. To his credit Djemidor had tried to console her, the pleasant man from Greatport with a stutter had even shared his drink.

As the evening came to a close, Hollis bought every bottle of Meddler’s Mark Constantine had for sale and stumbled home with him at her elbow helping her along the way. The pair had sat in her cottage and discussed her break up with Quincy, though through the conversation it quickly became evident that her fresh wounds were opening some of his own that weren’t quite healed. She was grateful nonetheless for the conversation.

Since Constantine left Hollis had been pouring herself into one bottle after the next of the Western man’s hand made whiskey. Judging by the morning light coming through the bathroom window, that was some time ago now. Sleep hadn’t come easy to her, even with her mind swimming in liquor Quincy’s image came to her involuntarily in flashes, his eyes downcast and broken as she’d left.

Initially she had taken his cold and reserved mannerisms to be yet another side of him she hadn’t seen before, perhaps even the side of him that had lashed out at Drusilla and declared her to be nothing. But now, after playing the interaction in her mind on a loop she could recognize that he had been wearing armor, steeling himself in his resolve to deliver the awful words he needed to.

Hollis sighed, and rolled over in the bathtub, willing the cold porcelain to be softer to no avail. Had she been too hard on him? Did she not have her own lies she told herself and others, her own shames she hid? Of course she did, she’d lied to Quincy, Drusilla and Constantine about her family. Though perhaps a lie about social status didn’t compare against lives willfully snuffed out.

With a grunt Hollis shifted again uncomfortably in the bathtub before coming to sit up right again. The world was less cruel now with the fresh dose of alcohol coursing through her blood. If she just kept drinking, she’d never have to deal with the consequences of a hangover. A dangerous thought indeed, though perhaps not the worst way she’d tried to destroy herself in the past. Liquor had always been her first choice, but when that didn’t work to quell her thoughts. . Well. .

Hollis sighed at the thought and pushed the fabric of her deep orange smock up to her hips. Her hand ran across a battlefield of long pearl white scars across her left hip and thigh, a reminder of a more shameful way she’d chipped away at herself in the past. Thankfully the liquor was working, for now.

“You don’t know how strong you are” The words came to mind in Quincy’s voice and she pushed the smock back down with a harsh flick of her wrist. He had no idea how weak she actually was. Any strength that he had seen in her was generated purely for the service of others, outside of that her constitution was quite low. How could someone be strong when they had such a distaste for themselves?

Shaking her head, Hollis tipped back the rest of the bottle of Meddler’s Mark. She didn’t even wince anymore at the burn from the liquor, it felt like second nature at this point. She knew she should get up, she should be organizing submissions for her art show, but that could wait. Hollis would allow herself one full day of wallowing before she forced herself back into the public. It was good that so many people were counting on her to organize this event, otherwise she’d spend the next several days locked away opposed to this one.

With a clank and a clatter of glass on glass, Hollis dropped the empty bottle into the growing pile. She knew she should get out of the bathtub, but not just yet, there was something comforting and familiar about its hard exterior pressing against her flesh and digging into her bones. She could stay here for a bit longer and ignore the outside world. Besides, what else did she really need to do today?

Hollis.Maeby
Posts: 76
Character: Hollis Maeby

Re: A Trial by Fire: The Legacy of Hollis Maeby

Post by Hollis.Maeby » October 11th, 2022, 4:09 pm

The Longest Hours

She shouldn’t have been there. Hollis was unsure of many things in her life, but as she followed Constantine, Mote, Adalar and the dozen or so other citizens of the First Provence towards the billowing spoke in the north, she knew without a doubt that she shouldn’t be there.

Hollis had spent the last few days since she spoke with Quincy alternating between drinking, working and wallowing. The hours before leaving the safety of the fort had been no different, and as they walked on, her head throbbed with a growing hangover. She continued to follow, too scared to turn back or stray too far from Constantine. Hollis had once said that her best battle tactic would be to hide behind the tall western man, a joke that had now become a reality.

The group approached Bright Lantern and the smoke rolled towards them in dense clouds. Hollis pulled the cloth mask she used for mining up over her face, but it did little to cut through the harsh smog. Ash floated silently and fell like weightless snowflakes upon them, sticking in their hair and eyelashes; a sight that would have been beautiful were it not for the potential horrors they faced.

They continued on to find that the bridge to the Templar camp had been blocked and barricaded by a massive wagon. She watched anxiously as several members of the group heaved at the makeshift road block, trying to free it from the bridge. If this bridge were so intentionally blocked, why should they try to move past it at all?

Constantine and Adalar moved forward, and Hollis followed them across the bridge, her feet moving her forward near involuntarily. The throbbing in her head was growing now, exacerbated by the polluted air and loud crackling of fire in the distance. As they grew closer the smoke lifted, drawn upward by the energy of the massive flames engulfing what had once been the expansive Templar Camp.

Hollis stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide and her mouth agape behind the mask as she took the horrific scene in. The palisade of the encampment was holding, but an inferno raged within its stubborn walls. Through gaps she could see something moving from behind them, and projecting from within was the most terrifying and guttural screams she had ever heard in her young life. Were there still people inside?

The group came to a halt and Hollis nearly ran into the back of Constantine’s maroon robes, her eyes fixed upon the flames. In the distance she could see Jean Harlow speaking with a High Inquisitor, but their words were swept away like ashes before reaching her ears. The moments passed like hours and the longer they stood there the more it felt like a mistake to be here at all.

The High Inquisitor must have ushered the crowd forward because soon she found herself swept up in the current and mere yards away from the drawn portcullis that separated them from those inside. Through the barred grating of the door hundreds of seething bodies were visible, each pressing themselves against the steel and testing its strength. Their arms were out stretched, some even reaching through the bars in a desperate attempt to get their hands on those congregated.

For a long while Hollis couldn’t move, she couldn’t even blink to save herself from the shocking sight. She’d heard so much about torment, she'd even been taught the warning signs and given instructions on prevention and safety. Though now she knew that none of that could ever prepare her for the bloodied faces, the gnashing teeth and the blood chilling screams coming from the afflicted who had all been human but one day earlier.

A wheeze, a whine and a jet of propellant igniting into a torrent of flame drew her attention away from the pulsating mass of afflicted. A flame thrower, how interesting; she’d never seen something quite like it. The High Inquisitor was singing the praises of the invention as another Inquisitor launched jet after jet of fire at the afflicted behind the gate, the screams from within growing louder.

Hollis had been watching the display from between Constantine and Adalar, but tall western men closed ranks and along with it her view. Moving around to the other side of the crowd she watched the flamethrower with wonderment. How did they work? Was there a pilot light that the fluid shot through to ignite? How much fuel did the tanks hold? Hollis’ mind whirled with questions as she moved to the right side of the group to get a better look at the device.

Around the eastern side of the camp’s burning walls was another company of Inquisitors standing guard. The armed and gasmask equipped soldiers stood stoically watching the fire, one amongst them reloading his flame thrower. Hollis felt a false sense of security seeing them so close and while Constantine was distracted consoling a distraught Adalar she moved closer to watch the reloading process.

The man knelt down and assisted by another in his troop they poured what smelled like kerosene into the tank of the flamethrower. Those around ignored her, too focused on their task and Hollis too interested in them to be aware of her surroundings. She was engrossed in discovering how these weapons worked and her senses were dulled by the pounding in her head and the smoke in her eyes. All of this amassed into a perfect storm.

Hollis heard them before she saw them, the guttural scream no human could make that was drawing closer now. She looked up just in time to see a blur of tattered flesh and gnashing teeth before it collided with her. Hollis was tackled to the ground on her back, her arms came up to protect her face and her knees moved instinctually to shield her stomach. Fortunately she had had the foresight to wear her studded leather armor and metal handwraps, but she was no match for what descended upon her.

The afflicted, more monster than man clawed wildly at her armor, blood pouring from its gaping maw and bulging eyes. Hollis didn’t scream, she was too shocked to do anything but react, to do whatever she could to save her life. The beast grappled with her, trying to tear into any soft spot it could get to. Thankfully the lessons she’d been taking kicked in and she managed to get her feet into the chest of the afflicted, and kick it up and over to give her a chance to run.

Hollis sprinted towards Constantine and the others but didn’t get far before a second afflicted sideswiped her and brought her back down to the ground. She kicked and swung her fists wildly, doing anything she could to get away from the beast trying to claw flesh from her bone. The first afflicted caught up and in tandem the beasts pulled at her hand wraps managing to strip them from her hands with her gloves.

Time seemed to slow down, the attack lasted seconds but felt like a millennia. The bloodied hands of the afflicted pulled at her leather arms, the skin of their fingers peeling back with no concern to them. She did her best to shield her face though her hands were now bare. For the first time since the assault began, Hollis drew in a breath and screamed at the top of her lungs.

In the distance she could hear the panicked yelling, the thud of running feet and suddenly she was free. She didn’t know how and she didn’t care. Hollis rolled up to her feet and ran with everything she had back to the bridge, turning back in the middle of it to watch for others who fled for safety.

“Don’t stop there!” Mote came across the bridge first, her fire-red hair trailing after her.

“Where is everyone else!?” Hollis yelled back, her eyes scanning the smoke filled valley for anyone else running for their lives.

“Jus’ go!” Mote shouted back as she continued sprinting.

She knew she should follow Mote but she couldn’t leave, Constantine was still there along with Adalar and everyone else. She couldn’t just leave them even if she knew she’d be more of a hindrance than an asset in a fight against those abominations. Finally Hollis was able to breathe a sigh of relief as Constantine appeared from the smoke, his massive hammer in hand and his gruesome bone helmet as imposing and macabre as ever.

Only after seeing Adalar following close behind him did she cross the rest of the bridge and join those huddled outside of Bright Lantern. Once in range Constantine rounded on Hollis, his eyes visible within the orbital sockets of the bone helmet were a mixture of fear, panic and anger.

“What were you thinking!” The words were more a statement than a question and as her eyes cast downward she noticed he was holding her hand wraps and gloves.

“I-” Her mouth opened but could only formulate the vowel before falling silent. Until now she hadn’t noticed how heavily she was shaking, or how much blood was pouring from her left arm beneath her damaged armor.

Behind Constantine, Adalar spotted her and breathed a sigh of relief before sinking into the ground to remove his face veil. She could hear the chatter around her as her mind raced, trying to process what had just happened.

“Did they leap from the wall?”

“Can they do that?”

“Are you hurt?”

“We should go, yeah?”

The words came from all directions and Hollis couldn’t tell if any of them were directed towards her. “I just walked to where the other Inquisitors were-” She started to explain but couldn’t finish her thought, going any further would require her putting into words the attack she had just survived something she wasn’t yet ready to face.

Constantine pulled his helmet off, concern deeply etched across his features as his eyes studied her, looking for injuries. Hollis looked up at the tall man, she wanted to thank him, she wanted to tell him she was sorry but all of the words were lost in her throat when her eyes fell upon the gash across his neck. His gorget hung loosely, had one of the afflicted wounded him?

Without another word, he passed back her gloves and handwraps. Her hands trembled so heavily she dropped one of her gloves and had to retrieve it from the ground. Hollis took pause to inventory her own injuries and found her left sleeve to be barely hanging on, one of the leather straps torn away by the afflicted. Upon further investigation she located the cause of the bleeding; a deep gash across her forearm nearly from wrist to the crook of her left arm.

The world suddenly shifted on its axis and Hollis felt like she was going to be ill. Had this happened when the afflicted had her pinned down? Was this from them or a rogue stud in her armor that caught the skin when they’d tried to rip it from her body? She didn’t know, she had no way of knowing, but the wound felt dirty and if she tried to wipe it clean with a scarf from her bag.

The walk back was a solemn one. Hollis stuck close to Constantine, the way she should have through the whole outing. She’d had no business being out here and her carelessness was just proof of that. If she hadn’t been so close to the wall, if she hadn’t wanted to see how the flamethrowers worked the afflicted would never have leapt over the wall. If she had just stayed at the fort Constantine and the half dozen or so other people would not have been exposed to torment.

A tent had been constructed outside of the fort gates and apothecaries waited to inspect each of them as they reentered. Hollis waited in the back of the line, wanting to see how each was assessed before volunteering herself to be poked and prodded. Constantine went ahead of her and gave her a supportive smile before walking into the tent. Soon it was her turn and a man wearing a plague mast asked her questions in a cold tone before waving her through, much to Hollis’ surprise.

The group stood in a circle, each with the same vacant and haunted expression upon their face. Hollis couldn’t stand to look at any of them and if it weren’t for the rhythmic dripping of blood pouring from her arm she’d have locked herself in her cottage already. The words spoken sounded static to her, all she could hear was the beating of her heart in her ears and the dripping of blood upon the street.

“Were these wounds at least cleaned properly yet?” Hollis recognized Drusilla’s voice through the murmuring and shook her head faintly in reply. The doctor’s tone was stern and worried.

Before she knew what had happened she was walking into the hospital, flanked by Constantine and Drusilla. Hollis had been worrying at her wound the whole walk back as if she could rub it away if she worked hard enough at it. Drusilla motioned Hollis into the exam room and instead of moving to sit on the table Hollis turned to the sink and twisted the nobs until water flowed from the tap.

Drusilla was trying to talk to her, she recognized the tones but couldn’t understand the meaning. Her eyes fixed on the flowing water and she plunged her arm into the basin, allowing the water to run over the open wound. Hollis rubbed at the gash, watching the blood mix with water and run down the drain.

Her mind whirled as she scrubbed at her arm, the gash still fresh and open. She had to get the infection out, she needed to remove any trace of the afflicted that had so much as touched her. Hollis’ breathing came faster now, drawn in ragged gasps. Her fingers turned inward as they dug at the wound, her nails now gouging at open and undamaged skin. Hollis' face contorted into a grimace, her fingers clawing away more skin from her forearm until Drusilla’s words finally got through to her.

“Come here” the woman said gently to her, “Sit down”.

She paused, seeming to only now remember that she wasn’t alone in the room. Drusilla motioned over to the table again and with some difficulty she tore herself away from the sink and moved back to sit upon the familiar exam table. The doctor spoke softly to her in a cadence Hollis wasn’t familiar with. Despite the shock she was in she still remembered the poppet and the lies Quincy had told her regarding the doctor.

The two talked as Drusilla gently cleaned and dressed the wound, not making any mention of the additional damage Hollis had done. She’d tried to explain to the woman what had happened out at the Templar Camp, but there really were no words that could put the event into focus for someone who hadn’t been there.

The conversation shifted and Hollis began to blame herself. She told the doctor about Quincy leaving, about how she didn’t know where he was or if he was even safe. She told her about her drinking and that she hadn’t even been sober when they’d started their journey. Worst of all, she explained to Drusilla how her actions had been the cause of Constantine’s injuries and perhaps half a dozen others.

Hollis had expected to incur some of the woman’s wrath, particularly due to Constantine’s injury given the twisted past the two shared. Though, much to her surprise, Drusilla was soft and kind to her. She didn’t blame her, she didn’t even scold her. Hollis hadn’t been prepared for this and didn’t know how to conduct herself.

Drusilla finished wrapping her arm and instructed her to stay quarantined in her house until the next evening when she came to check on her. She nodded along to the doctor’s orders and upon opening the doors to the exam room she was met by Constantine. He was sitting on the bench waiting his turn, his elbows were planted firmly on his knees and his head was in his hands.

Hollis couldn’t bring herself to say anything to him, she instead offered him a weak smile she knew he hadn’t seen and hurried herself home. How could she begin to write the wrongs from this evening? Would she even get that chance to, or would the infection spread through her blood before then? Or worse, through Constantine’s, or Kenna’s, or Avi’s or any of the other people she’d exposed due to her carelessness.

She thought on all of these things as she walked into her cottage strewn with papers, empty bottles and clothing upon the floor. Just as she had left it. She would have the whole next day to be alone with her thoughts and consider in what way she could find penitence.

Hollis.Maeby
Posts: 76
Character: Hollis Maeby

Re: A Trial by Fire: The Legacy of Hollis Maeby

Post by Hollis.Maeby » October 16th, 2022, 2:40 am

How Often Do These Nightmares Come?

“Hello?” The word echoed into the vast black expanse before her, reverberating off of unseen surfaces in the distance. "Hello?" She tried again, only to be answered once more by her own echo. Hollis was alone in this inky nothingness and all she could do was wander, unsure of how far she’d gone or if she’d moved at all. She wasn't afraid, in fact, it felt oddly familiar to her like a distant memory she couldn't quite access.

The clunky thud of a stiff switch issued from behind her and when she turned back there was a single spot light cutting through the darkness. Hollis was drawn to the light like a moth a flame and as she drew closer she realized there was someone standing in the center of the beam. She squinted, a hand rising to shield her eyes from the light and as she approached she recognized Quincy standing front and center in a three piece black suit trimmed in red.

Quincy stood in the light, his eyes staring forward unseeing. Hollis knew it was him, but he looked different, more like a stage performer who had taken on Quincy's likeness to play him in a show. "Quincy?" She asked in a small, unsure voice but the man didn't move, he didn't so much as shift his eyes. Hollis walked in a circle around him, she could see his chest rise and fall in shallow breaths but he stood like a mannequin.

She rounded back to the front and as her feet settled before him he sprang to life, moving as if he were animatronic, stiff and practiced. Quincy bowed deeply, his hand nearly brushing against the onyx floor before springing back up to stand. Hollis yelped in surprise and stumbled backwards, though quickly regained her composure.

The mannequin of Quincy continued, moving as though he were on a stage performing yet didn’t make a single noise. His facial features shifted from surprised to elated and sorrowful, his gestures wide and exaggerated. Hollis watched his mimed performance that never passed the border of the spotlight in a mixture of fear and confusion until he froze again, his hands outstretched with his fists facing upward.

Hollis took several uneasy steps away from him and Quincy's head tipped back, his eyes casting skyward silently. A single silent tear rolled from the side of his eye as his hands opened and scarlet ribbons unfurled from his palms like a torrent of weightless blood. Hollis gasped, her eyes drawn to the ribbons as they hung from his hands, a vestige of the blood she so often saw on his hands.

"Quincy!" She called over to him, trying to draw his attention in vain but his eyes stayed fixed and focused on the air. Quincy's breath came faster now, his chest visibly heaving and tears pouring from his eyes. Hollis was afraid and she wanted to run but her feet were heavy and the ground under her suddenly felt like sand.

I low growl issued from behind Quincy that quickly turned into a horrific guttural scream that so often haunted her thoughts. Stepping out from behind either side of Quincy were two afflicted, their skin frayed and their eyes bulging as they gnashed their teeth. She couldn’t help but notice their likeness to Constantine and Adalar.

The afflicted lunged for her and Hollis awoke with a start, sitting bolt right in her bed and screaming. Her breath came rapidly as she reoriented herself. The night terrors were coming more frequently now and they always came back to the attack at the Templar Camp.

Sometimes she was back at the camp watching streams of afflicted pour over over the walls and descend upon herself and those gathered, other times she'd be torn apart by an afflicted Constantine or Mote. The dreams were ever evolving and always distressing. This one however, was the first she'd had that involved Quincy.

It had been two days since they’d arrived back from the camp in the north and Hollis had since been given a clean bill of health. Drusilla had come by her cottage to check on her and the conversation had moved to Quincy. Apparently Hollis hadn’t been very clear during their last conversation at the hospital and Drusilla hadn’t understood her meaning.

The two women talked, hashing out details as Hollis had tried to dance around her questions. She hadn’t wanted to spill Quincy’s secrets, either for him or for her own dignity, she wasn’t sure. Drusilla however was relentless and in the end Hollis had poured her soul out to the woman in an effort to make her understand why she could no longer see him.

The look of shock painted so clearly upon Drusilla’s face was an iconic memory she wouldn’t soon be able to separate herself from. The Western woman looked how Hollis had imagined she had when Quincy told her all of those awful secrets; shocked, disgusted and conflicted. Only then did Drusilla stop trying to convince Hollis of Quincy’s positive traits.

She hadn’t seen nor heard from Quincy since their conversation in the park and with the latest events in the valley, she wasn’t even sure if he was safe. Hollis knew he hadn’t been at his house because she had stopped by the next day to retrieve her things and the house was abandoned save for a letter left on the table. She’d left her own and when she came back the next day it was still where she had left it.

There was nothing she could do to find Quincy, so she did her best to push the thoughts out of her mind. He was, after all, quite capable of defending himself she had learned and if he didn’t want to be found he wouldn’t be. Instead she focused her energy inward to deal with the immense shame she felt for exposing Constantine and everyone else.

With a groan Hollis laid back down in her bed. The sheets were pulled from the corners and her blanket was abandoned on the floor. She must have been thrashing in her sleep again. It often felt like she only got twenty or thirty minutes of sleep before the dreams would start all over again and she’d wake back up. Hollis wasn’t sure what would be less exhausting; trying to sleep through the dreams or staying awake.

Mote had visited her while she was in quarantine and tried to make her feel better. The small red haired woman was spritely but well informed. She’d told Hollis stories about fighting the afflicted before and that of a friend who had died when she’d wandered off too far away from the others (a cautionary tale not lost on her). Mote was fearless, a quality she both feared and envied.

Hollis rolled over onto her side and stared at bricks, counting them slowly to try to calm her mind. Slowly, her eyes fluttered closed and just as soon as they were an image of the afflicted returned to her. She gasped this time, her eyes opening wide. There was no use in trying, she might as well get up.

By the time she was dressed and on her way out the door, the sun had barely begun to rise. She needed to find things to occupy her hands and her mind to keep the thoughts at bay. As she walked to get her packhorse from the stable master she made herself a checklist to follow inside of her green sketchbook. If her mind wouldn’t be silent she’d work herself until she didn’t have enough energy to dream.

Hollis.Maeby
Posts: 76
Character: Hollis Maeby

Re: A Trial by Fire: The Legacy of Hollis Maeby

Post by Hollis.Maeby » October 19th, 2022, 3:12 am

Lately I’ve Been So Disconnected (pt.1)

Hollis approached the Meddler’s Risk with an arm full of flora to fulfill a ritual she had done every morning for the last several weeks; setting out flowers outside of the establishment to distract from the smell of garbage directly across the street. She paused and turned to eye the heap in disdain, it was unwieldy and needed to be dealt with, just not today.

With the flowers sorted she stood back and admired her handiwork but it wasn’t the flowers that grabbed her attention, it was the movement within the bar that caught Hollis’ attention. Through the glass Ani the back up bartender could be seen scowling. Hollis entered the building and waved a hello to the woman who barely raised her hand in greeting.

“I’m not cleaning this up”, the fellow blonde said and motioned around the bar.

Before Ani even said anything Hollis had noticed the dozens of empty bottles strewn haphazardly across the floor and every surface of the bar. She shook her head, her eyes wide with shock, “W-what happened here?”

“Constantine and Lucien is what happened.” The barkeep said, sucking on her front teeth. “They tore through half of the supply themselves and then went out on the town.” Ani didn’t even look up, her eyes just continued to scan the bar as she shook her head. “I’m not cleaning this up.” She repeated sternly.

“Of course, Ani” Hollis gave the woman a sympathetic smile and started to collect the bottles off of the ground. Despite her protest Ani joined in and between the two of them the mess made for short work.

Once the bottles were all collected the sheer magnitude of liquor imbibed was astounding. Bottles of Meddler’s Gold, Meddler’s Mark and even a few bottles of Meddler’s Last Resort were among the collection. If Hollis hadn’t been so concerned, she might have even been impressed. Over indulgence wasn’t like Constantine, or at least it wasn’t like the Constantine she knew.

“Do you know where Constantine is now?” Hollis asked Ani who sighed and told her to check the apartment Constantine kept across from the newly built library.

Hollis made her way to the apartment and knocked gently on the door and waited. The seconds dragged on and nothing was heard from within the apartment. Growing impatient she leaned over the railing to peer through the window and saw the man laying face down on the bed, unmoving. Hollis tapped on the window and waited. Constantine didn’t stir. It was probably just her anxiety, but as she stood and observed him from the window she couldn’t be sure if he was breathing.

“Hey!” She called out loudly through the door but still nothing. Hollis began pounding on the door with her fist, alternating between yelling and knocking.

She could hear rustling, the snap of a lock and then the door opened a few inches. Hollis let herself in and breathed a sigh of relief, Constantine was sitting up right on the bed though he looked a little worse for wear. He was shirtless and the sheen of a thin coat of sweat could be seen across his body.

She closed the door with an amused chuckle and shook her head, the anxiety from moments earlier clearing. “You know” she said with a sympathetic smile, “The trick is you just keep drinking.”

Constantine leaned forward bracing his elbows on his knees, his hands coming up to hold the sides of his head. He shuttered ever so slightly and groaned loudly at the mention of alcohol. Hollis had brought with her a bundle of bread and an extra water skin, things that often helped her after a night of excess. He took them when offered to him with an appreciative nod but set them aside.

The poor man looked miserable, the sweat across his face was more visible now and the scratch on his neck that had been cauterized by the VIC looked inflamed and angry, a gray discharge running from it. A sudden wave of nausea hit him and he motioned for a bowl under the counter. Hollis passed it to him just in time for him to wretch bile, his body heaving.

A sigh issued from her lips and she took a step back, pulling her face mask up around her mouth and nose. It was very fortunate for both of them that she had a strong constitution. As she stood back and waited for his vomiting spell to finish she couldn’t help but feel like something seemed different about him. She couldn’t quite place it at first, but then it struck her; he was clean shaven. His mustache was gone.

“What happened to your face?” She asked with a chuckle but the question went unanswered.

“Could you add some more logs to dee stove?” Constantine shivered weakly drawing the blanket closer around himself.

Hollis gave the man a sympathetic nod and moved to do so, “You have the chills?”

He nodded his response, his eyes heavy and down cast.

She shook her head as she fed the stove. This condition was familiar to her, she’d found herself in his shoes several times after stints of imbibing too much liquor. She’d even seen a doctor about it during a particularly bad spell, “alcohol poisoning” they’d called it and fed her charcoal.

“You have alcohol poisoning.” She frowned as she parroted the diagnoses back to him, but he only groaned in response.

Constantine didn’t have time to answer before dry heaving into the bowl again. His cheeks were deep red and if Hollis didn’t know any better she’d say he was feverish. He took in several ragged breaths before asking weakly, “What’s wrong with my face?”

“You’re um. . You’re clean shaven.”

“What?”

“Your mustache is gone.”

His hands shot up to his face feeling his smooth upper lip and his eyes grew wide, “No. . No. . What dee hell happened last night!” The man lamented, standing suddenly but quickly falling back onto the bed, holding his head as the vertigo set in.

“I’m wondering the same thing”, Hollis said as she folded her arms across her chest. While she was worried for him, she was more amused than anything. He always seemed so controlled and put together, she hadn’t expected to find him in such a state.

“My neck is killing me” he groaned, a hand coming up to hover over the angry looking burn.

Hollis moved closer to him to get a better look at the wound that she was responsible for him obtaining. The gash was still visible and the skin around the area scorched and inflamed. She gingerly reached a hand out to touch the wound and found that the skin around it was hot and the fluid leaking from it smelled of rot. She moved her hand to his face and found his skin equally as warm but also somehow clammy.

“I’m no doctor, but I think your wound is infected.” Her look of sympathy swiftly turned to that of concern as she stood back from him. “What were you doing last night?”

Constantine shivered, drawing the blanket closer around his body. “I found Lucien passed out in the orchard. We went back to dee Risk to drink. Dis is dee last thing I remember.” He groaned and put his head back in his hands.

Lucien Silvercrest, the man with silver hair that had been disruptive at the ball and also at one of Rikard’s sermons. Clearly he was also a poor influence as well as rude. She sighed and shook her head, she wasn’t the one to lecture anyone’s behavior considering her own binging had ended in an attack by afflicted.

“Try to eat some of that bread” She said as gently as she could, “I’m going to see if I can find Hanlon.”

Constantine responded only in a nod, his hands weakly trying to open the fabric wrapped parcel she had brought him.

Hollis went out and was thankfully able to quickly locate Theo Hanlon at the Hearth and Hale. After a brief moment of explanation the women returned to the small apartment where Constantine was curled up in a fitful sleep.

The physician listened to Hollis’ explanation with a stern expression. She explained how Constantine had been scratched by an afflicted and that an apothecarist with the VIC had cauterized the wound the next day. Hanlon nodded, her expression told Hollis that she felt this was a reasonable step to take.

The doctor explained that cauterizing a wound didn’t come without its complications and that either the cauterizing wasn’t done properly or it had gotten infected later due to poor care.

“However, given the reason for the cauterizing.” Hanlon paused and looked to Hollis with pursed lips, “I can try to give him some medicine to ward against infection, as I am fairly certain he has one. The wound needs to be cleaned and taken care of properly from there.”

Hollis listened to the woman intently, her eyes wide and the guilt she felt spilling over onto her facial expression. She had thought he was just hung over and treated him as though he’d done this to himself. The horrible reality of it was that she was to blame, the wound he’d sustained saving her was once again threatening his life.

“If that doesn’t help I unfortunately will have to report this to the Apothecaries. If they even think this infection is questionable he will be put to death.” The woman was blunt and her tone told Hollis that this wasn’t an opinion, it was a fact.

Hollis’ eyes flitted from Constantine, unconscious and soaked in sweat to the Doctor who’s eyes hadn’t moved from her. “If you tell me what needs to be done I’ll make sure it is” Hollis looked her in the eye as she spoke, trying to convey her seriousness in the matter.

Hanlon pulled on a pair of gloves and set out her equipment, leaning over Constantine to get a better look. The dazed man lifted his arms defensively as the doctor began to clean the wound.

“Miss Maeby, please help hold him down.”

Hollis nodded awkwardly and moved around the other side of the bed, taking his wrists in her hands. His skin was hot to the touch and as she tried to press his hands down his eyes shot open, his expression uncertain as he moved between the two women.

“It’s alright Constantine, Doctor Hanlon is here”, Hollis tried to reassure him and even after he’d stopped struggling she kept her hands loosely on his wrists.

Hanlon worked with intense focus and Hollis couldn’t help but notice that she was very careful to touch the wound only with her tools and kept as much distance as she could while working. She couldn’t blame her, a scratch from an afflicted getting infected days after the fact was concerning even to those without a medical education.

With the wound cleaned, stitched and bandaged Hanlon collected the rest of her things and gave the pair a final warning and instructions.

“I have left a small bottle of medicine. Take it in another six hours or so. Keep the wound clean and change the bandage as soon as it needs to be.” She looked between them more serious and stern than Hollis had ever seen her. “If you do not recover, if this is more than just an imbalance of the humors or an infection. I will report this.

“Of course” Hollis said in a small voice, her hands finally releasing Constantine’s wrists.

“I like you both, and I do not wish to see either of you harmed, but I cannot ignore my duty if it comes to it.”

Hollis looked over to Constantine who’s eyes were focused on the doctor. He was looking a little better already but as they had seen, things could change very quickly.

“We understand”, she said, answering for both of them. “He’ll take his medication.”

Hanlon’s eyes moved between them for a moment longer before her posture became more relaxed and she nodded.

“Thank you, Theo”, Constantine said hoarsely, flashing her an appreciative smile before his face fell back to one discomfort.

“Do not breathe a word of this to anyone, they may not have my compassion” The doctor issued a final warning on her way out.

Hollis moved to follow her, she needed to stop by the bank to get money to pay the woman. Before leaving she turned and pointed firmly at Constantine, “You stay in bed.”

Constantine offered only a grunt in response.

With the doctor paid and the instructions burned into her memory Hollis returned to the apartment. Constantine was sitting now, his eyes downcast and his hands folded in his lap. “I’m sorry, Hollis.” He said in a small voice.

She drew her eyes over him before shrugging passively, “It’s fine, you owed me some stress.”

The pair shared a chuckle and a silent understanding. It was after all, typically Constantine worrying after her.

“I’m glad I got Theo, I probably would have just forced you to drink water. ”Hollis felt guilty, guilty for the Templar camp, guilty for his condition now and also for assuming he had simply enjoyed a long evening of debauchery. “How are you feeling?”

Constantine’s hand came up and touched his bare upper lip with a frown, “A little better”.

Hollis watched him with an amused grin, “Yeah, that didn’t come back with the doctor visit.”

He sighed and frowned, looking disgruntled. The pair bantered back and forth about the disappearance of his mustache. Hollis lamented its absence, stating that he was ten percent less attractive without it and Constantine frowned deeply, hoping it would grow back soon. The teasing nature of their interactions had always been enjoyable for Hollis, though recently they’d increased in frequency.

Before leaving Hollis marked the time for his second dose of medication on her pocket watch so she wouldn’t forget. Constantine gave her his gratitude and she left to go on about her day. As her work day wore on she continuously checked the watch, counting down the hours obsessively.

Time flew and before long her watch showed an hour until Constantine’s second dose. Hollis returned home to bathe and change her clothes. She was preparing to leave when she heard a soft knock at the door. She looked again at her pocket watch, half an hour now until it was time.

Who could it be knocking on her door? There were only a few people who stopped by unannounced and she’d already seen Mote leaving the fort as she’d come in. That only left Constantine, who was supposed to be in bed.

She pursed her lips at the thought. He should be in bed, he shouldn’t be wandering around the fort. Her mind raced as she thought of every possibility for why Constantine would be knocking on her door, or why someone would be there at his request. Had he gotten more ill?

The anxiety she felt reached a fever pitch before she’d even opened the door. She flung it open and spoke before her eyes set on the person. “Constantine you’re supposed to be. . .” She froze, the words sticking in her throat as she came face to face with Quincy Everhard.

“. . . Resting.”

Hollis.Maeby
Posts: 76
Character: Hollis Maeby

Re: A Trial by Fire: The Legacy of Hollis Maeby

Post by Hollis.Maeby » October 21st, 2022, 3:57 pm

Lately I’ve Been So Disconnected (pt.2)

Hollis stood like a deer in headlights, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar as she stared at the Midlander man. Quincy looked different from the last time she’d seen him when his eyes were cast down in the park, his hair and mustache then a sandy blonde. The Quincy who now stood before her was a brunette, his hair and mustache black and shiney as if slicked by oil.

Quincy’s hands were tucked behind his back and he drew in an audible breath before saying a simple, “Hello”.

“Quincy. Hello.”, Hollis finally managed to say, blinking rapidly as if she hadn’t for several minutes.

“I’m sorry to drop by like this, but I wondered if you had a few minutes?” He said apprehensively, watching her for a reaction.

Hollis barely registered the words he said, her eyes were locked on the black hair that sat upon his head. He looked so different with black hair. When he was blonde he appeared younger and more jovial, but now seemed to have aged rapidly. She wondered if this was an effect of the darker hair color or due to the heaviness of the last week.

“You dyed your hair again” She said, unable to keep it in any longer.

“Yes” He replied awkwardly, a hand reaching up to run across his dark locks.

A tense moment passed before Hollis stepped aside and invited him into her house. Quincy obliged though he assured her she didn’t need to invite him in. The pair stood across from each other, not daring to venture closer into the cottage or take the seats at the table they’d so often talked at before.

Hollis wrapped her arms around herself tightly, the bandage that ran from her wrist to her elbow clearly visible. Quincy moved slowly, his eyes traveling over her to land upon the bandage, then to her raw and picked over fingers. As the man appraised her Hollis could only imagine how she looked to him, her hair a mess, her cuticles picked over and frayed and the dark circles under her eyes from the restless nights.

“I heard what happened” He said carefully, obvious concern written across his face.

She pursed her lips together, the words brought an overwhelming amount of shame and the memory of the Templar Camp and the attack that happened there. It wasn’t as if she didn’t think about it every moment of the day, but knowing that the story had reached Quincy’s ears was somehow worse.

“You did?,” Hollis finally said in a small voice.
“How are you? What did they do to you?”

“The afflicted or the inquisitors?”

“Take your pick.”

Hollis looked away and told him the story. She recounted how the afflicted had come over the fence and tried to tear her apart like feral dogs. Quincy listened quietly, idly rubbing his knuckles in a circular motion. Lastly she told him how Constantine had pulled them off of her to give her time to run and got himself hurt in the process.

“Yes, I know”, Quincy had said as she told him of Constantine’s heroic act, “I met with him. I have amends to offer his way as well.”

“Amends?”

“If not for him. . “ He trailed off. He didn’t need to say the words, there was an obvious understanding between them that if it had not been for Constantine, Hollis would be dead.

“I could have gotten him killed” She looked away from Quincy, her eyes casting to the carpet under her feet and the pangs of guilt threatening to boil over.

“I’m starting to doubt that we’ll find something that could kill him. That man man is made of steel” Quincy trailed off and rubbed his cheek, looking at the door.

“If he does die I’m sure it’ll be saving some fool like me.” She let out a chuckle that was more air than laugh and shifted awkwardly.

“He did tell me what they had him do when he got inspected.” Quincy’s eyes moved from the bandage on her arm curiously as he referenced the cauterization, wondering if she’d suffered the same fate.

“He also saved me from that. He met with them first and warned me against it.”

Quincy visibly relaxed, his eyes moving away from her arm to regard her once more. Drawing in a deep breath Hollis tried to force down the feelings of regret and shame but it was difficult. She had already been dealing with the consequences of those actions most of the day. She looked to the right and read the time on the clock; she still had twenty minutes until she needed to remind Constantine to take his medication.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she turned back to Quincy, “I shouldn’t have been there”, she said in a small voice.

“How would you know?” Quincy’s tone was soft and unaccusing though she wished it weren’t, she was losing patience with people who downplayed her responsibility in the matter.

“I’m not sure what I was thinking- If I was thinking.”

“Nobody had a clue.”

“We had an idea of what was going on, through context clues and the behavior of the guards.”

“I won’t hold anyone guilty for feeding their own curiosity.”

She closed her eyes again and when she opened them she and Quincy’s eyes met. Hollis continued her story, she told Quincy about her drinking and the hangover that was looming over her as they trekked out to the Templar Camp. She tried to show him her guilt and to help him understand her participation in the scenario but it was all in vain, he couldn’t bring himself to lay blame upon her.

“I’m glad you’re well”, He said as she grew quiet; polite words for an impossible situation.

“I’m alive, Quincy. I am not well.” Hollis met Quincy’s eyes and in the growing silence she felt he understood. She wasn’t well. She wasn’t sleeping, barely eating and when she closed her eyes for too long she saw the fire and the tattered flesh of the afflicted.

“Miranda. . “ He said, his eyes moving to meet hers as she looked away.

Miranda, a name she used to love to hear upon his lips that now sounded foreign and grating on her. She’d never ask him not to use it, but the disenchantment was something she’d have to learn to live with.

“I was meant to leave yesterday again but-”, he trailed off making a vague gesture, “I wanted to give you time, at least until your big show. But I- What if it had been worse than it was? What if those filthy beings had claimed you?”

Hollis shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “I think about that often and when I do sleep I dream of it.” She told him in a quiet voice. There was no escape from the images burned into her memory of that night.

“I can’t bear the thought that Constantine had to come to your aid. Of all people. Forgive me for not being there for you.” He sighed and rubbed his chest, the topic was obviously difficult for him and Quincy held his own shame.

“It’s alright.” She cleared her throat and tried to meet his gaze once more, settling on looking just past him instead. “I was worried you were among them.”

“I see” He paused before starting again. “I don’t know if it is for the better or worse, but I’ll remain this time on the condition that you don’t send me away.” He smiled apprehensively, “So I wanted to know if you needed anything?”

Hollis didn’t need to think about the question, she already knew what she needed. “I need your submissions for the art show.”

The request clearly caught him off guard and his hand came up to fiddle with the bracelet she’d made him so many weeks ago. “I haven’t painted anything and I don’t know if I want to see what’ll come out of my brush.”

“You told me you’d submit a piece.”

He nodded feebly, his eyes casting down to his feet, “Alright”.

The pair talked about the art show for a moment, discussing the theme, submissions and what Quincy could contribute. She was glad he hadn’t argued too much on the submission, it would have felt wrong to do it without his work present.

“I wanted to ask you one more thing”, Quincy said as the discussion of the show winded town. “Do you need a doctor? I mean, really.” His eyes fell upon her bandaged arm once again and she followed his gaze.

“I’ve seen a doctor about my arm.”

“Who was it?”

An airy laugh escaped her lip and she looked away from him. Through everything, all of the arguing, insecurities and the lies it of course was, “Drusilla”.

“Come again?” Quincy’s face contorted into one of confusion.

She knew the news was shocking, she had been surprised herself she’d let the doctor treat her. All she could do was nod with a meek smile.

“But-”, he started and stopped, gesturing with his hands as he tried to make sense of everything. “I don’t have to tell you-”

“She was at the gate when we came back.” Hollis swallowed dryly as the memory came back to her. Drusilla, so gentle and calm, stopping her from clawing away at her skin.

Hollis told him about the encounter, about her self destructive fit and the care the doctor had taken of her. How Drusilla had stopped by and checked in on her, though she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that she’d spilled his secrets to the woman they shared such a tense relationship with.

Hollis turned and looked at the clock, five minutes until she needed to remind Constantine. She turned back to Quincy with an apologetic smile, “I have a few more minutes”.

“Oh, I apologize” He nodded and looked at the door.

“It’s no worry. Constantine’s scratch isn’t healing well. Hanlon gave him some medication to take, so I’m very invested in him doing so.”

“I understand. Thank you for receiving me.” Quincy offered a brief smile, his hands folding behind his back.

“As awkward as this has been” she said with a slight chuckle, “It is nice seeing you Quincy. I’m glad to know you’re safe.”

The pair finished their goodbyes outside of the cottage and when Quincy turned to walk away she watched him until he was out of view. Her feelings about the man were complicated to say the least. She often viewed him as two different people, but today he was more of the old Quincy she’d grown to know and less of the “Other Quincy”.

Constantine was in better spirits when she arrived to remind him to take his medication. His color was back and as was his appetite. Hollis watched him eat a meatloaf she’d brought and read the paper aloud. She and Constantine had shared several effortless interactions as of late and this one was no different.

They bantered and teased one another and through it all she couldn’t bring herself to tell him she’d just come from speaking with Quincy. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide it from him, the conversation simply felt too heavy for all that had happened recently. For once she wanted a separation from the trauma and to enjoy a simple interaction.

A smile formed across her face as the western man frowned and touched his bare upper lip. No, there was no need to sully this tranquil moment. It could wait.

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