Fable - Ask Not Much Room for Decent Hearts

Not in any ideal state to understand the implications of the brooding way Skad had mentioned losing her quarry, Masile could only assume it had something to do with the rather crude follow-up regarding tongues and explicit activities that could be done with them. How Skad thought it related at all to what she had said earlier, Masile hadn't the faintest clue; she simply gave a chiding look in reply to that.

"I'm certain that would have went about as well as you think."

Which was to say that it wouldn't have went well. Like, at all. Of course this potential offer was all delivered with that same, utterly implacable northern accent. An accent that lent well to Skad's eccentric and more than a little filthy vocabulary, continually putting the alchemist on the defensive about whether Skad had ever actually meant anything she said.

The fact remained that there was some fucking to be had with tongues, just not in the way that the Nordwiir would have seemingly preferred. And Masile had to wonder considering the ease in which the woman spoke of these things, if the act was seen much, much differently than the way southerners saw it. Skad made it out to be the most natural thing in the world, even going so far as suggesting - scornfully or not - of laying with someone she hated.

And who'd ever do that?

Nonetheless, she was getting off-track. And had hardly noticed that there were more words after this little segue; the fog in her mind clearing momentarily at being asked to do the "cooking" after distinctly remembering how she didn't want to do that. Her words of refusal that she meant to speak were still resting upon her tongue when she looked up, noticing that Skad was now looming above her with a bundle of furs slung across the woman's arm, with Masile now inching aside so that the blade could be taken without any accidental throat slitting.

Then came the one thing she could answer without any threat to her own life.

She took a minute to interrogate her muddied, brackish memories as if she were sifting through a swamp, and in the same moment her body made the monumental effort of standing along with Skad. She was thankful that at least her legs were still obedient, despite the growing ache of her head and the hesitation of her feet finding solid footing.

Masile mulled over the question for longer than she should've, having enough time to massage the base of her neck while those owlish eyes blinked around the room as if seeing it for the first time; her eyes finally resting upon Skad's own. She blinked.

"I do believe it's the first room on the left of the hallway, it should be the only one there. It's not a big establishment."

At least she hoped that was the case, having explored very little and remembered even less in the state she was in. As for whatever she was thinking in the moment - especially after the designation of being the sole cook - she wisely kept to herself for the time being. "I think some rest would do me good as well, you're right."

Masile spoke with a sudden invigoration; the room around her temporarily spinning in such an intense dive of vertigo that her mind nearly went blank, the blackness eating away at her peripheral. She was never much of a drinker.

When her gaze dropped to the table, she found a hand pressed flat against its surface - a lovely little island out in the very wide sea of the wine they were both drowning in. That meant she could stay standing, for now, and so looked again to Skad as if she wasn't seriously struggling with the task of keeping herself at least vaguely upright. Her smile was a modest one. "Please do sleep well, Skad. I hope you know that I've enjoyed your company, despite the ton... way you word some things, but I know that you struggle with our tongue."

All that was missing was a proper bow of farewell, but she had no interest in attempting that and so nodded, instead.

"Quite right, we wouldn't want to be doing that, would we?"

Masile had readily agreed to the statement, despite having next to no clue what a jarðpúki was or how it pertained to anything even remotely connected to not falling over one another in the attempt to reach their rooms down the hallway. Not that it mattered, whether Skad had meant to convey her desire not to wake up the sleeping inhabitants of their establishment or some strange northerner spirits, the alchemist found the point valid in either regard.

And so she watched the other woman stumble towards her room for a few moments longer before following in turn. What came after that was a difficult, shuffling gait that resembled something more like a walk of a penguin than that of a human being, making certain with every wary step she took that her feet found a firm surface before the next was taken. More than once she had faltered to the point of needing to plant her heels into the floorboards while her hands frantically searched for the nearest surface that was not the floor - because that's where they would've ended up - with her precarious balance only corrected whenever she found a wooden beam or whitewashed wall's surface to desperately cling against.

But she was brave in her own ways, she knew that. Even while the others scoffed.

That was why she was going to make it.

Masile's deep and uncompromising certainty over this was challenged, somewhat, after she had looked up from where she was currently half-crouched to find Vida looming overhead, not looking particularly pleased.

Not that Masile understood why at the time where the displeasure came from; she took exacting effort to remain as soundless as any burglar in the night.

She certainly did not hide the confusion in her face as to why their leader had approached the nearly prostrate alchemist; the latter looking expectantly, if a bit tiredly, to what precisely had drawn the woman in all her sudden nakedness from the room she had told the rest of them not to disturb her from. When no answer was yet forthcoming during this contest of wills, she opened suddenly dry lips to speak.

Only to be silenced with a shake of Vida's bedraggled head; the consternation in her sleep-deprived eyes clear.

Was there anything that this evening didn't have? The wine and the chiding conversations that at times bordered on undisguised hostility, not to mention the ridiculous exchange of cultural ideas, so alien to the alchemist's sensibilities that she hardly took into consideration how odd it was that the sellsword was actually helping Masile to her room. Not exactly in a kindly way, to be fair. That would've been downright ludicrous, rather than just odd.

She also found that trying to thank Vida for the fact was an effort of futility, as her words had since taken on a new tint that were completely at odds to her clear-spoken words to Skad merely... moments earlier? It was rather difficult to tell just how long she'd been sitting there, really.

And not that it would've made much of a difference to the strong-armed woman how thankful she was, either. Not while Vida herded the company's alchemist ahead of her with the same efficiency as she would a dumb, placid ox. There was a hand at the small of Masile's back pushing her ever forward were she to pause.

Someone wasn't happy.

When they were finally at Masile's room - and the not so precious cargo was deposited onto a sheep-skin cot - was when she was left again to her own devices. In the comfortable silence she had tried her best to navigate her bed in a single, careful movement so as to more comfortably settle onto the mattress beneath her back, only to outright give up half-way through the act. She couldn't do it. And, apparently having decided that she was more than content to remain where Vida's hands had left her sprawled out, she simply lay where she had fallen.

Masile hadn't even gone through the effort of changing out of her uncomfortable attire as Skad had attempted, instead opting to control her revolting stomach with a few careful breaths. She found her forearm draping across her face of its own volition, and wondered why it was there? The only reason she could think of was that it provided some illusion of darkness of the room, still awash in the flickering brilliance of a bedside lamp.

She'd have to make sure to darken it when she was able to, and her stomach wasn't as tender.

Then with a sigh that was a combination of exhaustion, drunkenness and relief, she slept deeply.



The morning always came quickly, regardless of the intentions of those who had spent the evening drinking as if they could forget its eventual arrival, if only for a while. Vida had certainly tried to forget, even when she knew how paradoxical the concept was: for it only made things so much worse. With the pale light of a morning's dawn worming its way into even the darkest corners of the room, exposing its occupants with the gentle caress of the long, deep shadows it had cast.

Vida had stirred then, coaxed into a semblance of life by the unkind illumination.

With bleary eyes still struggling to process what lay beyond her squinting, she had rolled into the sanctuary of a cushioned pillow she had made sure to pack in the scenario that the locals' own offended her. Which of course they did. So many things offended her that she ofttimes needed to keep a tally of the who and what, in order to remember.

What she was remembering now was decidedly different than her usual grudges, however.

She directed her glowering face to the offending window as she sat up in her bed, which had... admittedly little effect, but she had to get up anyway and that meant facing the source of the sun no matter what, so it wasn't really that much of a problem.

She allowed its chilly air and distant, weak rays of light to brush over her face while she tried to piece together the events of the night, or at least the rough strokes of it. Her mind was one that was lost in a haze of vague, sweltering memories; the sudden and abrupt end to a night spent battling the sweat that ran hot across her flesh, then the awakening from it with the noisy, pathetically stumbling alchemist, and then now.

And as the first to wake up, she hadn't bothered with any gentler methods of allowing the same for her companions. Instead her voice was like cold water in the early hours of the day, prodding wearied drunks awake one by one; her tongue was sharp and utterly unforgiving to their inebriation, for if she could do it, then so could they.

Varnehy was her first victim, he was by far the closest and she didn't have to go far to force him awake with a casually possessive hand that found itself lifting his jaw towards her; his eyes brought into focus with her own.

"You can deal with Skad. Make sure she's up and leave me out of it."

With the drow's orders given, she had spent a few quiet minutes dressing herself in what was left haphazardly thrown against the trunk in the room, taking less caution as she had yesterday and opting instead for comfort; with a plain blue and cinctured tunic without all of the earlier adornments of before, alongside dark, skinny trousers. When she had finally finished, her attention was again turned to Varnehy with little warmth in her words, making certain he remained awake. That he would not simply roll over when she departed. Because she knew he bloody well would've.

And for a long moment Varnehy had waited there, his own body unwilling as it rebelled against every accidental movement.

But he could hear Vida's sharp voice in the halls, unwavering; she would not permit herself the only one to be awake.

And so without much choice, and next to no enthusiasm, he had departed for Skad's room. There would be no mercy from him in this task, nor any warmth from his lips either to ease the Nordwiir's suffering. She would be getting up whether she liked it or not, as Vida's companions had.

This was evidenced first by the knocking upon her door and then, eventually, the half-hearted attempts to push it open after an indeterminate time had passed. His knocking having gone unanswered.

Varnehy's brow perked up at the barricade on the other side, though he made no comment on it, nor did he try again. With nothing more to do, Varnehy preoccupied himself with finding a comfortable place against the wall next to her door to wait out the woman's stubbornness, distantly hoping she wouldn't be too peeved. Today was not the day to be dodging axes.

Besides, didn't northerners thrive on a little suffering?