Tine caught the coin when Zofsaadi tossed it, the metal warm from his hand. She turned it between her fingers, frowning at the warped engravings, the wave-like etchings, the rust-eaten edges, designs almost familiar but twisted as though seen through water. “It’s not local,” she murmured. “Mae’s never used anything but clean, stamped coin. This…this feels wrong.” Leif confirmed the lack of magic, which somehow unsettled her more. At least magic left patterns to follow, this was simply out of place, something foreign forced into their story. “Keep it,” she agreed softly. “And don’t let it out of your sight. Even if it’s not magical, it’s a clue. A breadcrumb.” A clue left behind by someone violent enough to splinter a bar and take Mae without a sound. Her jaw tightened.
While Leif studied the drawer and Aspen crunched through his biscuit, Tine returned her attention to Crumb and the dog, dropping into a low crouch beside them. Hearing only one half of the conversation made her relief and dread tangle messily together. “Crumb,” she said gently, “ask him, ask the dog, where they took her. Please.” She reached out and stroked her fingers through the air just above the canine’s head, not wanting to startle him. “Tell him Mae’s our friend too. We’re trying to help.” The dog backed away slightly, still wary, still barking words only Crumb could truly understand, but the fear in its body was unmistakable.
Tine swallowed hard, forcing steadiness into her voice despite the knot tightening beneath her ribs. “Mae didn’t deserve this,” she said quietly to the group. “She’s kind, she’s loved, and whoever took her knew she wouldn’t fight back.” She stood, her fingertips brushing the strings of her fiddle as if grounding herself. “We have a coin from a stranger’s pocket, a frightened witness, and a countdown on a cursed scroll.” Her eyes swept the ruined tavern, the toppled chairs, the broken wood, the smear of blood that had stopped being merely a sight and had become a promise. “Someone left us a trail,” she said, voice firming. “Let’s follow it before it goes cold.” Then she nodded to Crumb, eyes urgent. “Ask him where Mae went. Every second counts.”
OOC: Trying to provide help with the interaction with the dog by petting and trying to calm it.
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Tine caught the coin when Zofsaadi tossed it, the metal warm from his hand. She turned it between her fingers, frowning at the warped engravings, the wave-like etchings, the rust-eaten edges, designs almost familiar but twisted as though seen through water. “It’s not local,” she murmured. “Mae’s never used anything but clean, stamped coin. This…this feels wrong.” Leif confirmed the lack of magic, which somehow unsettled her more. At least magic left patterns to follow, this was simply out of place, something foreign forced into their story. “Keep it,” she agreed softly. “And don’t let it out of your sight. Even if it’s not magical, it’s a clue. A breadcrumb.” A clue left behind by someone violent enough to splinter a bar and take Mae without a sound. Her jaw tightened.
While Leif studied the drawer and Aspen crunched through his biscuit, Tine returned her attention to Crumb and the dog, dropping into a low crouch beside them. Hearing only one half of the conversation made her relief and dread tangle messily together. “Crumb,” she said gently, “ask him, ask the dog, where they took her. Please.” She reached out and stroked her fingers through the air just above the canine’s head, not wanting to startle him. “Tell him Mae’s our friend too. We’re trying to help.” The dog backed away slightly, still wary, still barking words only Crumb could truly understand, but the fear in its body was unmistakable.
Tine swallowed hard, forcing steadiness into her voice despite the knot tightening beneath her ribs. “Mae didn’t deserve this,” she said quietly to the group. “She’s kind, she’s loved, and whoever took her knew she wouldn’t fight back.” She stood, her fingertips brushing the strings of her fiddle as if grounding herself. “We have a coin from a stranger’s pocket, a frightened witness, and a countdown on a cursed scroll.” Her eyes swept the ruined tavern, the toppled chairs, the broken wood, the smear of blood that had stopped being merely a sight and had become a promise. “Someone left us a trail,” she said, voice firming. “Let’s follow it before it goes cold.” Then she nodded to Crumb, eyes urgent. “Ask him where Mae went. Every second counts.”
OOC: Trying to provide help with the interaction with the dog by petting and trying to calm it.