What Do You Dream?

### TLDR

James is returning from the battle at Firewatch, Sparrow is just come from establishing her orphanage in Mozpalabree. Both come to Vraska seeking something.

The exuberant crowd of Vraska townsfolk could be easily heard from the outside of the Golden Shower. Rain fell, as it rarely did, heavily down upon the open cobblestone streets in a constant assault. A gauntleted hand stretched outward as if to feel for the falling liquid, its owner staring forward as the wooden material of the armor repelled the onslaught to the best of its ability. He then leaned back on the bench, resting his head on the wall of that popular inn. Amber eyes fell upon the mug in the figure's
other hand once more and he moved to raise it to his lips.

The cloaked figure was absolutely silent as she slid up to
stand behind the armored man. The cloak was made of slight material that
glistened darkly in the rain, even as it warded the wet from seeping through to
the figure beneath. The hood fell low, hiding the face of the figure who stood
slight as a shadow. When she spoke, it was with a soft, cool voice could bring
to mind visions of a heated encounter between silken sheets as easily as it
could draw up the image of cold, steel blade. "Long time, no see...
Captain."

James lowered his mug, settling the wooden container beside
him.  For a moment, the fingers of his
right hand could be seen twitching toward the hilt of his black blade. But that
motion subsided as quickly as it came. "Perhaps longer than I'd like,
though now that I think of it more perhaps not."  Those amber eyes closed as he seemed to focus
on her voice alongside the subtle release of a held breath.

For a long moment, the woman known only as Sparrow did not
speak. She stared past James out into the city, through the rain, her
expression inscrutable in the deep hood of her cloak. She made no move, and
even her breath was silent. Finally, she tilted her head. "And here we
are, once more. Where it began. For us, anyway."

"At odds with each other? Typical, I find." A hand
moved to check on something in a leather pouch at his side, then retreated once
satisfied. "That's almost poetic, at least for the Marches." The
Death Knell stood up, but still did not glance back at the woman. But the sound
of her voice raised a corner of his mouth into what could have been the humble
beginnings of a smile.

"Fuck the Marches," the woman muttered, her tone a
grumble as she raised a hand to wave it dismissively. Lowering her hand again,
she sighed. "Why are you here, James?"

"To fix problems and make money doing so. That is the
idea, anyway." He then turned to look back at her, his eyes opening to
take in her appearance at long last. Another subtle movement from his right
hand, though it was toward her this time. Again it ended as quickly as it came.
"And why are you?'

Sparrow remained still for another long moment before
finally reaching up to push her cowl back, revealing a narrow face with sharp
cheekbones, fair skin and bright blue eyes, framed by short-cropped white hair.
"In time, all things come full circle." Looking past James, Sparrow
let her gaze scan the streets beyond. "For you. For me. For... others. I
have unfinished business here."

"Have you ever thought of retiring? I've heard Ostmahn
is nice this season." \*He took her in, restraining the evolution his smile
by forcing on a neutral expression. "Cryptic as you are infuriating, I
shouldn't be surprised."

"Would you mind elaborating, my ever elusive Sparrow? I
have difficulty reading the tea leaves." His eyes turned shifted toward the
door and its unwanted noises.

Sparrow frowned slightly, her brows furrowing. Once more,
she glanced past James, then shook her head. "I am not free to choose my
path. We all have strings, do we not?" She glanced pointedly at James'
armor. "For me, it is time to cut my strings." As casual as her words
were, her eyes had gone hard at the mention of severing ties. It wasn't hard to
imagine how exactly she planned to do so.

"Some of our strings are like spider webs, all attached
to many places." James met her gaze at that, though the rest of his body
remained unmoving. "Sacrifice has been an abundant subject these past few
months. Are you sure you are willing to make such sacrifices?"

Sparrow let out a soft, melodious laugh and shrugged.
"If you cage and starve a lion, can you accuse it of sacrifice, of
cruelty, when it turns on its masters?"

"I suppose not. Though that is the benefit of not being
an animal, Sparrow." Raising his mug to his lips again, he let the hard
alcohol slip into his body. Admittedly, the grip the armor had taken on him had
decreased many earthly pleasures, even this particular poison. "Though
I've seen much more than animalistic instincts in this lioness."

Another loud rattle from a scuffle inside, and yet another
loud cheer radiating soon after. It drew his attention for but a moment, but
then his eyes returned to stare down at her. There was some emotion hidden
within that stare, albeit buried beneath a certain amount of poor subterfuge.

Sparrow's grin was a quick flash. "And you? What would
you do for a chance to step outside your wooden skin? To be free to enjoy the
pleasures of... flesh... once more?"

His eyes darted between the two of hers, as if searching for
something particular. Then, without another thought, they looked back down
toward his tankard of ale. "There is, perhaps, one thing I could be convinced
to return to. Though you are mistaken, Sparrow. Death has not taken all it is
capable of asking for yet." Another long drink of the alcohol.

Sparrow rolled her eyes and turned away. "If you say
so. But you know as well as I that there are innumerable things worse than
death." She lifted her cowl and stepped back into a nook near the inn.
James could still make out her form in the shadows of oncoming dusk, though she
was hard to spot by anyone who didn't know what to look for.

His eyes searched for her form with a knowing look to them.
"I am very well aware. There are some things you cross entire planes to
escape from."

"Or retrieve, if you're into that sort of business
anyway."

"You'd need no hide yourself. There are few who
approach me these days, should they recognize the emblem." He motioned
toward the Death Knell symbol inscribed on both shoulder plates. "Despite
what you may think, Sparrow, there is safety here."

Despite the raised cowl, James could sense Sparrow's eyes
dropping to the symbol. "That, dear captain, is where you are wrong. The
Guild is here. Wherever they skulk, undermining the world like termites in the
foundation, there is no safety."

"The Guild? Powerful folk in the Marches,
no?"  A frown came to him then, eyes
turned to look out at the empty street.
"I can imagine that those strings are difficult to cut." Again
he checked that leather pouch at his side. Fingertips worked at the leather
clasp that held it together, eyes glancing down at the swirling wisps of light
that flew inside the little glass bulb. "Consumed by murderous intent,
then? Thievery suits you, perhaps not murder."

Even in the shadows, James could see Sparrow's eyes flash.
Faster than most men could blink, the steel dagger flew, skimming past the
Death Knell with a breath to spare and embedding itself into the wood of the
bench behind James with. "Do not presume to know what I am. I am as the
Guild has made me. I am as capable of drawing blood as I am of getting my way
with... other methods. I am, first and foremost, an assassin. It is what my
dear masters in the Guild need most."

"Unfortunately," James could see the glint of
steel fly by but the 'good' graces of his benefactor did little for his senses,
"you and I know each other very well. Yet hardly at all." Eyes fell
back upon the figure, the armored man stepping forward once toward her as if to
once again catch her eyes with his. "Now the assassin is trailing after
those who trained her? What burns in your heart to drive you to such a daring
task, Sparrow?"

Sparrow's lips curved up into a smile that could never be
called kind. "Freedom. I will be free, James. If I must buy it with
blood." She reached out and flicked her fingers and in a blink, the dagger
was in her hands once more, blade glistening wet in the rain. "And you?
What brings you to this place? There are no masses of undead for you to order
around between these walls."

His eyes, the only real hint at the small drop of life that
lived within James, continually searched for hers. It had been those eyes that
had driven him into the abyss in the first place, and perhaps his only window
into understanding the woman before him. "The dead do not obey me, they
simply stay out of my way."

"I am here to stop needless death. I tire of it."

The soft laugh that escaped Sparrow at James' words was at
once cool and personal. "Isn't that some irony? James Blackwater,
unstoppable champion of death... tires." Her lips curved again into a
smirk that nevertheless seemed to warm towards the only man who had ever been
willing to sacrifice his life for her. She lifted her cool, blue eyes towards
his and arched an eyebrow, letting him see into the deep cowl of her protective
shadow. "And what would /you/ do, I wonder? If your strings were cut? If
you were free to... live?" Her voice had taken on a hint of the seduction
that he had heard from her before, but there was also an amusement. She was
teasing him.

"My strings are who I am, Sparrow." Those eyes drew
him as the precious fountains of blue they were. Though his pride forced
himself to remain steady, as did the memory of Firewatch. "They are what
connect me to this world from the next. To you and the others. It's in my
interest to protect those constant anchors."

"You chose your cage." The amusement was gone,
replaced with the barest hint of disapprove. "Every man has that
right." She considered a moment, then nodded. "Choosing to give
others power over you must be a right of choice in and of itself. Still, I have
to wonder." She hesitated and turned her gaze past James, up towards the
overcast sky. "What do you dream, James Blackwater?"

"I did choose, yes, you are quite correct." His
gaze followed her own to the sky where clouds continued to send down their
siege of water.  It reminded him of the
same clouds above Firewatch, and the chilling memory of all those faces. Again
his hand reached down toward the leather pouch, tugging out the snow globe
reluctantly. Inside the glass bulb no larger than a fist swirled green lights
around a black tower. Every now and then, the lights seemed to take the form of
a face that looked questioningly toward the Death Knell before fading off towards
the tower. Other faces followed with the same confused expression, disappearing
soon after. "There were times... When I dreamed of one. And those thoughts
carried me through the darkest of places. Now, however, I find myself thinking
only of these people."

As her gaze dropped to the snowglobe, Sparrow's expression
turned inscrutable, her gaze depthless. She was silent for a long time, and the
sound of the rain hitting the cobblestone was counterpoint to the sounds coming
from inside the inn. "I once dreamt of what was. I fought for times
past." Her gaze went cold as she looked back at James. "Not any more.
Now I fight for the future, for what may be. For myself."

He set the globe back into the leather pouch, securing
it.  "And what future is that?
Where, exactly, does that leave-" his thought was cut off by a scuffle
inside, probably some bar fight. Again his fingers twitched toward the hilt of
his blade, slowly relaxing soon after. "It was a good dream."

"Ambition leads the two of us in different directions,
Sparrow." Stating simply, eyes turned to look at several nearby rats
scuttling across the street.

Sparrow arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps," she replied,
her words slow and musing. "But it sounds to me that you are content to
settle."

"Part of me, perhaps. But trouble stirs, the boots of
thousands marching to take hold of the land. I've a choice to make, yes."
The rats seemed to chase each other, one seemingly ruthlessly biting at the
next. For some time James watched the two, the frown still lingering on his
face.

"Firewatch was just the beginning, Sparrow."

"Firewatch?" Sparrow tilted her head, the tips of
her lips curving up, hinting at her bemusement. "What is that?"

"An old thing. Simply a place for men to squabble over
power. A particular man has convinced quite a lot of people that his cause is
pure and true. An octagonal table of fools." Turning back to look at
Sparrow, the expression on his face consumed with conflict. "How far would
you go to protect something you love, Sparrow? I am quite curious."

The assassin's slight body stiffened and for the second time
in a short span, Sparrow's expression went completely blank, inscrutable. "I
learned long ago the danger of putting too much value on things... on
people," she said, her tone dark and... defensive. That was new. Never
before had James seen Sparrow be so... guarded.

The man's brow furrowed as he looked down at her, then a
short nod came to him. "Ah, yes. Trust is difficult in this place. One
could say that the only thing to be trusted is oneself, no?" His eyes did
not leave her as they scanned for any hint of emotion in vain. Perhaps it was
the lack of any at all that spoke of something. "Risky, yes. But I've
found solace in the blinding nature of faith."

Sparrow snorted. "I thought so, once." She
narrowed her eyes and peered at James. "I hope you do not have to live
shackled for as long as I before you learn the truth - that the only person you
can ever truly trust... is yourself."

"I've been shackled since traveling the lands of the
dead." He first considered her as he said that, eyes ripping themselves
away from her down to her armor. The protection he had gained was taking his
very life bit by bit, a necessary evil. But even these were but bindings of
rope compared to the chains that still wrapped tightly around his being. Such
things were permanent, he had found. A consequence of those blue eyes, no less.
"I've heard many say ignorance is bliss. Damn, I suppose it is."

Sparrow let out a wry, breathy laugh. "But knowledge is
power - we've heard that, too. And with power, comes the freedom."
Suddenly sober, she let out a sigh and shook her head. "Oh, James. Why are
you?"

"I agree, for once. Power brings the ability to shape
the world into what you see fit, or protect those you care for. Both,
actually." His eyebrow raised, and he held out a hand to the side openly.
"Why am I what, Sparrow?"

"Why are you?" Sparrow asked again, and now she
looked almost tired as she gazed at him. "Who are you? Why did
you..." she trailed off and frowned for a moment, then pursed her lips.
"I don't understand you."

"I couldn't honestly tell you. Though, I may be able to
ask you a similar question. Who are we?" At that, he broke his gaze from
her to once again look out the melancholic streets of Vraska. Those streets of
murderous intent, secrets, and passion.

Sparrow snickers. "We're not heroes, if that's what you
mean. But who would want to be?" She followed James' gaze, and sneered.
"I'm really not hard to understand. I'll do whatever it takes to earn my
freedom, and hopefully come away with power, a pile of coins, and..." she
shot James a wicked smile, a flash of the seductress that she had become at
some point since their previous parting of ways, at the doors to death, "...
and a husband who can support me in the manner in which I would like to become
accustomed." Her eyes danced with wicked humor, but it was clear that she
wasn't entirely joking.

"That's an interesting concept, a hero. A hero for what
party? The lands of the marches, a city, king, people, or perhaps a woman? To
put forward oneself for something greater. Sacrifice." His tone grew
heavy, almost solemn as he stretched his hand out once more to the rain in a
doomed attempt to feel its moisture. "Perhaps, with the guidance of that
intrepid woman, I could one day sacrifice enough. Enough for one of those
goals, Sparrow. But she very well may keep me from such a thing." His eyes
moved to a certain part of the street, eyes narrowing for a moment as if seeing
someone he detested.

Sparrow laughed softly, almost mockingly. "True love?
Is that the ultimate goal that drives you on, James? You surprise me."

His eyes shifted to her, eyes attempting to hide the passion
within through a horrified scowl

"I would hardly count myself as one graced by such
naive emotions, Sparrow. No, wherever I tread seems to sprout gold like weeds.
Call it a professional favor."

A flare of green light flickered for but a moment in the
man's eyes, his expression contorting into what looked like pain as he turned
his face from her. But with the passing few moments, his face seemed to calm as
the light dissipated.

Sparrow's smile spread into what might almost have been
affection. "It's alright, James. Forgive me my... cynicism - it has kept
me alive in the past but I know it isn't for everyone. If love is what-"
she broke off at the flash of light and in a blink, she was at James side, hand
on his forearm. "What is it?" She demanded in a low, serious tone.

James felt his body tremble with the call of his patron. It
sought the sacrifice he spoke of, life as it was, and as it always would be.
Everything was the answer to a question asked so long ago; there was only one
thing keeping him from becoming the Death they all wanted

He set his hand on her own, the wooden fingertips sliding
against the soft skin of her own. "My decision. The end of an argument...
It is who I will become, what I will sacrifice, for the promise of what neither
of us believe in. But, faith is blind.”

His hand caressed her hand, gripping it for a moment as if
not wishing to let go. And then, he simply did. Stepping away from her, he
inclined his head.

Sparrow frowned, brows burrowing, her eyes cool. "What
would you give, James Blackwater," she asked in a low voice, "for
that promise?"

"Everything." He raised his eyes to her, brunette
hair dangling to either side of face. "I would give everything it would
take."

The flash of anger was bright in Sparrow's eyes. "Then
why are you settling for less? If it's what you want, damnit, go out and get
it." That, at least, she could relate to.

"If that is what it takes, then yes, my Sparrow, that
is what I shall do." He regarded her with another solemn look, eyes
searching for those deep pools of blue that he had yearned for, then set off
into the wet, empty, and rather dangerous streets of Vraska.