With a befuddled amusement, Marint didn't wait long to write him back. In his ever quiet study of books, sculpted worked in progress, drafted sketches, he leaned over a candle as evening began to fall. Sure. He'd meet with Soryk. Curiosity wouldn't let him do anything else.

Don't disappoint me, now.

He smiled with satisfaction when he finished it. He'd put it in the hands of the courier the next morning.

About a week after following their back and forth, Marint and Soryk found themselves at the former's home. They could have gone to a tavern. He might have preferred it, even. Although he told Turleth about working with him, he tended to keep those two things separate. Soryk was involved in dangerous things and given Turleth's background, what happened to his parents, Marint didn't want to invite more potential danger.

But Soryk had insisted it was important and that a tavern wasn't going to do. So he succumbed, and they stood in the very room where Marint kept his sculpting tools. In fact, he was working on a fresh piece, just barely chipping out the core traits, which looked like... really nothingso far except pale stone missing some pieces. Soryk was pacing. Marint didn't see him, but he could hear him. Above them, sunlight poured in through windows, illuminating the entire room. It was why Marint worked in it.

Streaks of sunlight stretched across the walls and the floor, flashed across the stone in question, and sprinkled no shortage of cheer in a place that felt like it might be anything but with Soryk's presence. Perhaps that wasn't fair. The guy had a sense of humour. Sometimes.

"You're going to wear a path in the floor if you keep doing that," Marint mentioned somewhat absentmindedly. "You can sit down, you know." But he knew Soryk wasn't going to do that either.

For one reason or another, he was all up in arms about... something. Marint wasn't sure he could make sense of it, really. Something about him playing bodyguard to a young woman who liked jewellery? Or jewels or stones or something. Supposedly it was going to be a longer trip, which probably meant that jobs Marint ordinarily would have put his way were going to have to go to one of his other contacts.

He knew not to admit it out loud, but he was going to miss Soryk, honestly. They may have only been work comrades and Marint kept him at a certain distance, but at the same time, he genuinely liked the man. If circumstances were different, they could have been friends. In their own way, they already were. At least, according to Marint they were. Again, Soryk never would have put it that way. He probably never called anyone a friend. Who the hell knew why.

In lieu of Soryk still pacing, Marint sighed, pausing a moment, choosing to look over to him. "So, I don't really see what the problem is. You're guarding this young woman and... what. What exactly do you think is going to happen? Someone happens upon you. You take care of them. Easy. You could get laid. That wouldn't be the worst thing. I daresay you could use a little of that, actually. You're wound so tight. Maybe she could loosen you up. For like, the ten seconds you'd last anyway."

When he was met with the transparent scowl that Soryk shot him, Marint immediately laughed. He could never resist. Soryk was so easy to get under the skin of. For him, anyway. Maybe he didn't react that way with others. Or maybe those others weren't brave enough to poke and prod at him the way Marint did. He could believe that. Soryk was, objectively, a fairly intimidating man. He almost never smiled and even when he did, it was usually pretty obvious that it wasn't real. He rarely laughed. And when he spoke, he often sounded unamused and a little bitter.

"No, seriously," Marint continued, freeing a sigh that was somewhere between resignation and disbelief. "What's the problem?"

"The problem," Soryk began, gesturing absently with a hand for no rhyme or reason. "is that it's just the two of us. Where I would prefer to say a lot of nothing, she is not like that. I do not have enough material to carry on multiple weeks of conversation."

"...You sure sleeping with her isn't an option? You don't have to talk then." The pause Soryk gave was far longer than Marint felt was really normal for him. Setting down his chisel, he lifted an arm to lean gently on the block of stone he'd been working on. "You've thought about it."

"I didn't say anything," the sin'dorei countered.

"You didn't have to," Marint replied. "So you've considered it. Or at least... considered what it might be like. She's got dark hair, right? This is because you like women with dark hair." With his free hand, he pointed, like he thought he was putting the pieces together. "And this is something to do with before. Like before we met."

Whenever Soryk clammed up, Marint tended to think he was on the road to being right. For if he hadn't been, likely Soryk would have argued. When he was met with silence, he felt like he put more pieces of the puzzle together, though trying to get information out of him was impossible. He didn't know the details, of course, but he was able to pick out one or two things. Soryk got weird around dark-haired women. Well. He got weird around all women. Marint might have thought he had a preference for the other side, but that didn't seem to be the case. He didn't ask. Wasn't going to. But he had a fairly good read on people. It probably wasn't that.

Maybe had his heart broken by a woman once. No. That was unlikely. Soryk didn't seem to care much what other people thought of him, much less women. He was never trying to impress anyone, and usually he was avoiding that kind of attention.

"Okay," Marint began, lifting a hand and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I can't read your mind here. You're going to have to help me out. Presumably, there was a dark-haired woman before we met. And you... Something about that. And for whatever reason, this dark-haired woman you're guarding makes you... think of this other woman. Or... something."

He snorted. "Or am I totally off base?"

Soryk shook his head, "This was such a mistake." He brought up in hands in surrender, "Just forget I said anything."

"Well. I can't really do that," Marint replied, raising his pale eyebrows. "I mean, you're the one who came all the way out here and obviously this is really bothering you. I've never seen anything bother you, which means this is serious." But he couldn't talk about it. Whatever it was, and it felt like it was right there in Marint's grasp, Soryk couldn't get over whatever that last hurdle was.

Maybe over a bottle of bourbon. Except that wasn't how Marint wanted to get information. It sure felt like he'd pushed hard enough. It'd taken a lot just for Soryk to come out to Suramar. Let alone to even try having a conversation of that magnitude.

I suppose it's just not time yet.

Good thing they had a lot of time. Well. Maybe not Soryk if he wasn't going to survive this trip he was going to go on. Assuming he didn't cook up some half-assed excuse for why he couldn't do it. That didn't seem like him, though. Soryk had never been that sort.

"Alright, alright," the shal'dorei conceded. "How about we forget about it for now. We revisit it later."

Assuming they revisited it at all. He questioned the likelihood of that, though. After some moments, he wondered if Soryk would just leave. When he didn't and the two of them stood in silence for some moments, he also considered offering Soryk his chisel. Maybe that would help release whatever beast he had inside of him. In the end, he decided on something considerably more empathetic.

"Why don't you join Turleth and me for dinner." It felt like he was breaking a rule, trying to keep that clear divide. But if it was just dinner, it'd be fine. And it wasn't like they were going to make a habit of it. "It won't be anything fancy, but it'll be better than the stuff we usually get at the tavern."

Without even waiting for a response, he turned, lifting a hand, and gestured for Soryk to follow along. He couldn't help feeling, as he listened to the steps their pairs of feet made on the stone floor, that they'd grown a little closer. Even if that hadn't been Soryk's intention. In some ways, he had gotten nowhere with trying to figure him out, but in others, he thought maybe he was gaining a little more understanding.

After all, Soryk couldn't remain a mystery forever. Someone was going to crack him open eventually.

— @daily-writing-challenge

Loosing a quiet sigh, he tucked her letter away with care, worrying more about her. She was still in Silvermoon. At least he was travelling to and fro, thanks to the ease and convenience of portals. He still had his work to do for House Rudonthos and he didn't like being gone too long from Turleth. In fact, it was his very son he was on his way to see.

Turleth had, upon learning of Marint's work with the bow and arrow, easily decided he wanted to do the same. He was a rather spry boy. In many ways, Marint would have called him a child, but he certainly wasn't going to stay that way for long. When he arrived at the very same home where he'd had his own tutelage with Qelthe at his side, Turleth bounced right down the cobblestone steps, past a fountain that Marint had sculpted with his own hands as thanks for taking his son on as a pupil.

With dark skin like an ocean's depths and bright glowing eyes, Turleth was all of the innocence and the awe that could be trapped within a developing adolescent mind that had not yet seen all of the horrors of the world. Marint couldn't protect him from them all and he wasn't going to be able to shield him forever, but when he thought about things like Mesandrèaux's letter and what the contents held, he wanted to keep the young shal'dorei as far out of harm's way as he could manage.

"Dad!" Turleth greeted him, grinning widely and showing all of his pearly whites. "I did really good today. Mister Deldros even said so!"

Once he was within arm's reach, Marint scooped him up easily, lifting the boy above his head and setting him right atop the shoulders so he could have the very best view. "Did he now? Which means I assume you're not taking after your old man."

His son covered his right eye with a hand, "Nope. I can definitely still see."

Marint grinned cheekily, "Don't go putting anyone else's eye out either, got it?" As Turleth wrapped his arms about Marint's neck, he relaxed his grip a little and the pace he took was a little more leisurely, as if he wasn't still running letter contents over in his head. "You feel like giving me a little demonstration when we get home?"

It was the right thing to say. Turleth kept right on smiling, bright and radiant. "You're not too tired? I know you've been working a lot. Mistress Rudonthos says so."

With a slight grimace, Marint resisted a sigh. He didn't mind Vueze saying things here and there to him, especially when she was kind enough to look after Turleth when he couldn't, but he always worried she might say something too much to him. Having Turleth in his life was always a guarantee that aside from selling information, Marint was never willing to get his hands directly dirty. Sometimes, even, just the information was a cause for concern. If he sold it to the wrong person, if he wound up on the bad side of someone particularly dangerous, it wasn't just him that could be in danger.

He worried about losing his family. Losing his son. Turleth had already lost so much. His parents. The chance for any younger siblings. Marint wanted to give him the whole world.

"Turleth," Marint began. "I always have time for you." The boy knew it, but it warranted repeating regardless. "You're the most important person in the world to me. So it doesn't matter how tired I am. It doesn't matter even if time's against us, because I'll make time."

"Wow, I'm even more important than Uncle V, huh?"

Ah. Uncle V. Marint snorted. "Remember, just because you call him that in front of me doesn't mean he'd want to hear it. Let's keep it a secret between us, hm? Val's not that kind of guy." On the contrary, though Soryk had always been awkwardly amicable with Turleth, Marint thought he sometimes spied something that looked a little... He didn't know. Wistful maybe? There were, at times, certain looks that crept into Soryk's expression that he likely wasn't even aware of.

Or Marint was just really good at seeing it.

As they walked along the grand streets of Suramar beneath a beautiful dark sky, Marint listened to Turleth talk about his day. Everything he'd done. What he'd eaten. Even the very mundane things in life were such an adventure to the youth. Marint had been living for so long that he'd kind of forgotten what that feeling was like. It was nice being able to remotely experience it through the company of his son. When Turleth turned it around on him, however, asked Marint about his day, he found himself pausing, contemplating how much he should say.

"Well... It was informative," he began.

"...Informative?" Turleth asked, in that ever so innocent way of prying for more.

Marint nodded, bending down to eventually put Turleth onto his feet before offering his hand, which was taken rather easily. Every time he did that, Marint felt a little warmer. How nice it was that Turleth hadn't outgrown that yet. Vyasa warned him that it wasn't going to stay that way, of course. Marint was going to be thankful for every moment longer that it lasted.

"Yeah," he finally continued. "Informative. I got a letter today from someone. You know of her. Lady Mesandrèaux."

"Ohhhh," Turleth began with a grin. "That's the girl you liiii~iiiike."

Marint rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore that deliberate poking and prodding. Initially. And then after a moment, "Whether I 'liii~iiiike' her or not doesn't matter here. She's in a place right now that might become dangerous. We're safe here, but she might not be. And I can't ask her to come back." Wouldn't have been fair to her pilgrimage or to her independence. "So... If something happens where I need to go to her, are you going to be okay if I let Mistress Rudonthos look after you for a little?"

He was met with silence for several moments, something that wasn't exactly surprising. He understood why. No matter how he tried to deliver ideas like that gently, kids were always smarter than it seemed. Turleth probably had a better idea about what could happen than what Marint was willing to say.

He didn't know the details of Mesandrèaux's vision. Didn't really know what to expect. She certainly seemed inclined to stay there. Hadn't mentioned coming home. Just told him to keep himself safe. He'd certainly rest easier if he knew Turleth was in good hands and Vueze was certainly not going to involve herself in matters that would otherwise hinder that. And if he could guarantee his son was safe, it'd give him a chance to think more about stepping in if Mesandrèaux needed it. Maybe she'd just feel better having him at her side.

"What if something happens to you?" Turleth asked, his smile lessened with the very real possibility.

Marint shook his head, "Nothing's going to happen to me. I've been in all kinds of dangerous situations." Lifting a hand he tapped at his temple. "This guy up here is still fiercely ticking away. Besides, I have to come home to you, right? There's nothing in the world, no shadow, no light, no nothing that would keep me from doing that." If anything, knowing Turleth was waiting for him was likely to make Marint act with a considerable amount of care. If he had to get involved in something serious, he'd ask Soryk to step in for him. He could rely on him.

"Well..." The smaller hand in his squeezed and after a moment, Turleth continued. "You promise?"

Marint looked down to him and turned those two words over in his head. If he had been younger, more foolish, more arrogant, he could have answered without a beat of hesitance. He knew that so many different things happened in the world every day. So many of those things were the kinds that he couldn't foretell. He really couldn't guarantee that he'd come back. Making a promise like that to a child, to anyone, was cruel. He wasn't a cruel man.

"That's a tough word," he began thoughtfully. "Promise is... Well. That's a promise. It's the kind of thing you say when you know something's a sure thing. Lots of things in life aren't sure things. Right now, it doesn't seem like that." Marint paused and he tipped his head. "That's a good thing. Hold onto that."

For as long as you can, he thought. Before the world starts showing you otherwise.

"So... How about this? I can't promise. After all, if I broke it, even if something happened that I couldn't control, it'd be like lying to you." Marint shook his head, "I don't want to lie to you. So... Instead of promise, I'll tell you that I'll do my very best to keep myself safe. I'll take the path of least resistance, but I won't be a coward. I won't be alone. I'll make sure I have someone with me. And if for any reason, we're separated, I'll write to you."

After a moment's thought, he continued. "Mistress Rudonthos is pretty good at magic. She might be able to make something for us to talk with one another over distances. That'd be great, right? So I could still talk to you at night and tell you goodnight."

Raising his white eyebrows, he gauged his son's reaction, "What do you think? Think you can handle that?"

It was more beats of quiet, like Turleth's thoughts turned, akin to gears in an engineer's schematic. Marint almost wondered if he'd have to further sweeten the pot with lots of candies or some of those chocolates Mesandrèaux had shared with him and the others on those stairs not long ago. When Turleth spoke up again, however, he felt some of the tension in his shoulders begin to drop.

"Okay. I can handle that," he said. "But if I do that and you get yourself hurt, I'm telling Lady Mesandrèaux that you like her."

Marint groaned and rolled his eyes once more. It wasn't even like he could argue with him. Sometimes when kids got something into their heads, there was just not getting rid of it.

Yeah, yeah, Marint shook his head, like he was having a conversation with himself. You'll understand that when you're older, too.

—@daily-writing-challenge