Completed Breaker of Chains

[Quacey]

There was continued interest from her on the topic of his poetry. A development he had not expected. Quacey kept his eyes about them as he walked. The most likely way something could sneak up on them was by flight and no owl would be big enough here to assault them.... Atleast as far as he was aware.

"I do not confine myself and write what comes to me. Topics and concepts vary. Mostly I keep to certain structures. The limitation breeds creativity in the pen as it would in the blade."

A truth there. One needed to adjust to their weapon and their opponent's in the way that a poet must adapt themselves to their chosen lines and topic. Some saw this. Some did not. Yet seen or hidden it remained there as a connection. Was it such an odd concept for fighting to be seen as a form of dance or art as a form of conflict?

"When we arrive at the inn you are welcome to read through my current journal of poems if you wish. It should not be much longer. Perhaps a pair of hours?"

A number given out without him truly knowing if it was true. A vague sense of time was the implication. Some of the fae were familiar with the phrase. Mostly those who worshiped the Twins as he did. It would not even take the implied number of two hours. A walled roadside inn was not far away and the lights from their lanterns would eventually come into view through a patch of trees in the grassy meadow they currently were in.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir nodded slowly, surprised he had agreed so readily. She supposed she'd have to share a piece of her soul in return, though Quacey didn't seem to think anything he did warranted payback.

He said they would reach an inn in a couple of hours and she wondered if he really planned on walking all that way. But instead, in a matter of minutes, the lights from an inn could be seen. Out of the trees, they could now see the road that Suntory Market had arrived on. But this inn looked unfamiliar- they had likely turned before reaching the inn, and Ethir was glad for it- she did not care to see anyone she recognized.

As they walked closer, Ethir would look up at Quacey. "You can put me down, I can walk," she said. She did not want Quacey to carry her into the inn; she was already going to be embarrassed as it was. And what about the blood dried on her face and hands? They had had no chance to wash it off.

She wondered if there was a back entrance she could sneak in. Certainly no one would give a room to her, with her dirty, ragged, appearance. She looked as if she'd been homeless for months and hadn't had a bath in weeks.

 

[Quacey]

Lights and then walls came into view much sooner than Quacey had expected. A blessing from the Twins. Rest would be soon be at hand for the both of them in whatever form they ultimate chose to take it. Fae seemed to recover in their own ways, as well as sleep itself.

When Ethir asked to be put down, he slowed to a stop and gently set her to her feet. "I will speak with them so you need not if you do not wish to. I have the payment for our stay as well."

A smile was granted to her then he offered her his arm. She might have the blood on her but he still planned to give her the dignity she deserved. No lady should be without an escort after all.

Should she take the offer or decline it, when the choice was made he would begin to head towards the inn. There was a sturdy gate and high walls around it. If not for the sign hanging out that indicated a place of rest then one might assume it was a small outpost for soldiers. As he approached he knocked on the wooden gate.

A tired voice called from behind it after a moment inquiring purpose and identity. Quacey gave his and staying to rest from a long journey. A count of two was provided. Steps were heard behind the wall and then a head quickly popped a brief second. Shortly after more movement and wood moving against wood. Then the gate was opened and the pair was allowed inside.

The inn had a good sized stable and was rather large. It could support most traveling parties that were not the size of a war band or caravan without too much trouble. Maintained and clean both inside and out. Mostly made of stone and showed how it had truly once been an outpost before its current purpose was found.

A person walked behind a counter. A male mortal likely of gray hair if not for going bald. Tired yet keen brown eyes. A scowl more at the time than at them on his face.

"Room for two?" The man studied them and raised a brow when noticing the blood on Ethir.

"Yes. Apologies. My company killed a predator and we had to flee before more arrived. Could we perhaps have a bath warmed for us as well?"

The man remained quiet a moment before nodding and naming a price. Quacey pulled out another small bag and placed a couple of uncut gems on the counter. The man examined them then held up two fingers. Quacey produced two more gems and then the man nodded. They were scooped away as the man turned to grab a key that was handed over. They were told which room would be for them then the man left into the back stating he would have their tub and water for them in an hour.

Quacey nodded and then headed for the room.

Inside was a room with a single bed large enough for them both with a pair of chairs and a small table. A mirror and wash basin as well as a small trunk were the only other furniture within.

"We have an hour until the bath. What would you like to do till then?"

Quacey looked to Ethir.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

She was glad when Quacey set her down, but quickly missed his warmth. She took his arm, wondering at how willingly Quacey was accepting the judgement from others when they saw Ethir on his arm. They walked up to the inn. It was well built with high stone walls.

Once they were let inside, Ethir ducked her head, letting her hair swing forward, casting her bloody, scarred face in shadows. She kept her chin lowered but knew if the man was going to believe them and give them a room, she had to go along with Quacey's story, and with her head hung low, she did not look like a fighter. She made herself meet his gaze, her good eye searching his own eyes.

Eventually he nodded and named a price and Ethir thought vaguely that the price for spending the night with her had been about the same as it would be to stay in the inn for a night; a little more. Quacey paid the price with more gems and Ethir wondered how many more he had on him.

It did not pass her notice that Quacey had asked for one room and one bath, and she wondered as they walked upstairs if he had done it on purpose. He opened the door to their room, revealing a large bed for the both of them, with a couple chairs and tables and a particularly large wash basin. She thought it was likely just big enough for the two of them together, if she sat on his lap, but she quickly kicked that thought under the rug.

She dropped Quacey's arm, taking a couple of steps away from him and towards the bed. Only now she realized just how stiff and sore she was and she wondered how she was going to wait a whole hour for the bath while the bed stared tantalizingly at her.

She suddenly remembered his earlier offer and was grateful to have a response to break the brief but tense silence. "Could I read what you have written?" she asked, turning back to face him.

 

[Quacey]

The single bed had not been intentional on Quacey's part. In his mind there would be two as it was common for travelers to head out in pairs or small groups easily divisible by two. Instead an assumption had been made, or even just happenstance, which saw a single bed big enough for two instead.

The fae made note to bring the topic up after the bath and turned when Ethir spoke. A request to see his poetry as promised. He pulled out his journal and handed it over to her. She would find a sturdy, leather cover with a strap to tie it shut. The inside held well kept pages. About a third of it was full of poems, most lacking names. Everything from scenic poems to near prophetic was held within. The last one might be of particular note to her as it echoed out a seeming whisper of fate. It was the one he wrote before seeing her and their adventure began.

Quacey took this time to head to the trunk. He opened it then began to undress himself down to just his pants. All but his boots and sword were stored within. The things left out placed next to and across after the lid was shut. Then the fae moved to a clear space and began to stretch in a similar manner as he would before training. The stiffness needed to be addressed before he slept or it might remain into the next day.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir took the proffered journal. It seemed a well loved thing, with a leather cover and a leather strap keeping it shut.

She slowly walked over to the bed and sat down, reading all of his poems, flipping through the pages slowly. She did not notice as Quacey began to undress and stretch, she was so focused on his poems. She finally made it to the last one. She read it twice, and realized it seemed to be referring to her. She glanced up, a finger on the page.

"This last one, how did you-" she paused when she saw he was shirtless and she lost her train of thought for a moment. "How did you know about me? You've never met me before yesterday," she finished. She was sure she would've remembered Quacey. She remembered every man.

 

[Quacey]

Shift. Bend. Shift. Bend. Twist. Twist. Twist. Shift. Bend.

Quacey's body was still as maintained and fit as always. A lifetime of fighting and hunting since his youth. Moving brought a simple kind of joy and a momentary escape from worries. Ones that had plagued him greatly in his past. It was one of the few things he could control and he had found it was one of the few things he could rely upon. Not just to fight but to handle difficulties.

Her words past by his ears while his back was turned to her. "Hmm? I did not. I write what comes to me. Some times I believe what comes to me is messages from my domain and the Twins that granted it to me. Insights into what woes those lost and how I might help them find their path once more."

He turned towards her as he continued to stretch. His muscles seeming to make a show of every last inch as they bunched and pulled about his bare flesh.

"That one seems to have been accurate down to the last word. Your wrath upon your capture and predator was certainly unleashed from your cage."

The sight of it floated to memory. The mortal Orion had not seen his fate coming despite how certain of an end it was. A being that can grow to be ancient without a thought nor trouble bound in a dress of toxic, burning metal and forced to lay with whomever had the coin rather than whomever they found pleasing. There was no peaceful nor pleasant end for him. His only end would be in his own blood. The only uncertainty was in which of his victims the fatal cut would come.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir kept her gaze on Quacey's as he spoke. Prophetic poems, that was certainly something she had never heard of before. It was even more amazing considering he had written it before had met her and everything he had written had come to pass, in a sense.

Ethir titled her head. Wrath. Was that what it had been, when she had killed Orion? She had thought wrath was supposed to be more violent and dramatic. Either way, she was definitely unleashed now, for all the good that did. She couldn't even survive on her own. Weren't the udnerdogs supposed to claw their way to the top, earning everyone's hearts in the process?

"Have they all been this accurate?" She replied, turning back to look at the other poems again.

 

[Quacey]

The large fae continued his stretching routine. Every muscle needed to be worked out for his training and every muscle needed to be worked out now to break the stiffness of swift travel. He pondered her question as he did. A hmm leaving him when he first began. How accurate were his more prophetic poems? Hard to say. Prophecy was always vague and easily applied after events had taken place. Even words in passing could prove prophetic in some degree. His poems felt much the same.

"I am uncertain. Most are not prophetic. The few that are do come to pass in the vaguest of senses. Rarely do they seem so accurate as the one before meeting you. The accuracy of them is not what is important about them. It is recognizing needs and providing them."

Quacey finished up with his stretching and fully faced Ethir. His chest bare with a faint gleam from sweat fresh and old upon his skin. "I hope I have been providing what you need so far Ethir.... If not please inform me. You deserve more than what I can provide."

In truth he could provide little of what the lost needed. He wished otherwise, but he had to accept that fact. A guide was not there to protect, provide, and sustain everything one needed. They were there to help one take care of themselves or teach them how to. After it was a matter of the person tending to their own path. How rocky or smooth it was dependent upon them. He could do nothing more no matter how much he wished otherwise.

"Are you thirsty? Hungry? I could use both.... Do you desire wine? Ale? Water?"

His stomach growled then to emphasis his words. Only now did his body seem to realize how much it lacked and so the demands erupted and grew.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

She listened as he explained. Ethir found rather interesting, that out of all the 'prophetic' poems, hers was the only one that come to fruition so literally. She wondered if that made her special.

What she needed... she still wasn't sure exactly what she needed, but she thought maybe she was beginning to understand what she wanted, and the two were inevitably linked. As for right now, she could use some food. Quacey's stomach agreed.

"Could we get a dinner, maybe?" she said, standing up, her knees cracking as if she were an old hag. She walked over to where Quacey stood and hand him his journal back. She took a moment to realize just how big he was; nearly two feet taller than her and twice as large. All muscle, it seemed, as her eyes were level with his ribs.

She looked up at him.

 

[Quacey]

The journal was returned to him. He took it back with a smile and a nod in thanks. It was deposited into the trunk along with his other items and his tunic was reclaimed. Over his head and torso it went. No more was his flesh bare. Covered from eyes and cold.

"I doubt we may eat down there at this time.... How about I bring it up and we enjoy a conversation or just silently enjoy each other's company as we dine?"

Quacey waited for her response. Personally he would prefer to eat in their room. Then they could bath and sleep as soon as they wished and not worry about disturbing others. But she may prefer potential eyes upon them. She might still hold some fear or concern about him. He wouldn't wish to take that peace of mind from her by suggesting they remain away from prying eyes.

Also he did not wish her to think he would do what Orion had and keep her locked away till it suited him. She was free to make her own choices. Even if they both were aware how limited her current ones realistically happened to be.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir blinked and stepped back, walking back over to the bed to sit down again. She nodded. "Eating in here would be fine."

Even though it was the middle of the night and it was likely to be mostly empty downstairs, she did not want anyone to see her more than they had to, and for her situation, Quacey had to and she couldn't really get out of it.

She wondered how much longer until the bath would be ready, and longed for the food and the bath so she could finally sleep- a real, deep sleep, where her body could heal. Also the blood was itchy- it kept coming off her skin in flakes.

She thought Quacey must be sorely disappointed. He had laid with a beautiful woman only for her to reveal she was actually quite ugly and had a spiteful, stubborn personality. Now he was stuck with her, but he felt guilty for using her own pain against her.

 

[Quacey]

The disappointment within Ethir's mind concerning Quacey was as solid as a cloud. He did not care that her appearance had changed and understood her personality was never the one shown when she was working. Many masks were worn by all. It would be his own fault if he thought her lacking one.

Instead the fae nodded and headed out of the room. He found the bald mortal from before and requested what food could be provided along with wine. A promise of pay before they left given. He told to wait for a few minutes then the mortal left. They returned with the requested items then left to get back to preparing the materials for the bath for them once more.

When Quacey returned he held a tray with bowls of warm onion soup, stalling bread loafs, and thin slices of wild boar meat. A pair of bottles of a decent yet good wine and cups to match. He set it down on the table and waved Ethir over. He got her place set up before his own.

As Ethir would go to sit down, Quacey would move to help her with it then push her in. The glasses filled with wine then he took his own seat. A quick sniff of the food. Common yet filling. No hint of danger.

"Tell me more of yourself Ethir." Quacey asked before a brief pause. A slight smirk crossed his lips. "Or would you rather listen to be ramble on about my children?"

He took his glass and took a drink. The taste of something other than sweat or water welcome.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir remained seated on the edge of the bed until Quacey returned with a tray of food. Whatever it was smelled delicious and Quacey did not have to wave her over because she was already up and walking over to the table. He pulled out her chair and once she had sat down, pushed it in. She raised an eyebrow at him as he sat down across from her. The way he was acting, all they needed were a couple candles in the center of the table and they would have a lovely little first date with the promise of an even lovelier night in the bed behind them.

She picked up a slice of bread and bit into it, savoring in the warm taste of it. He spoke right as she had a mouthful of bread, so she swallowed quickly, nearly choking herself in the process. He mentioned his children and she tensed. How could she have forgotten? He must be itching to get back to them. She decided she didn't really want to listen to him talk about his children but then her other option was to talk about herself. She wondered if Quacey had noticed her jealousy earlier and was using it against her to get her to talk. She narrowed her eyes at him a bit and sat back, picking up her glass of wine and taking a small sip.

"What exactly do you want to know about me? You're going to have to be more specific," she replied finally, eyeing him over her glass.

 

[Quacey]

No one enjoyed hearing about other people's kids. Parents, however, loved to tell others about their kids. The dance of how much could both parties shares before one side or the other broke down first. Her jealousy had gone completely unnoticed, or at least was not remembered nor retained in memory, so there was no more of a game being played by the suggestion than a doting parent's awareness of how little others cared to hear about his precious scions.

"Hmm...." Quacey took another drink then a bite of his bread after dipping it into the soup. After swallowing he continued. "What do you enjoy eating and drinking? Is this meal to your tastes or do you prefer more refined meals and drinks?"

A simple question as anyone could tell how unwilling she was to reveal any aspect of herself. Perhaps this would get her to open up. Perhaps not. Perhaps he should have requested candles and made this meal more intimate and tried to get her to open up in other ways.

Quacey watched Ethir as he enjoyed his meal and waited for her response.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Thankfully, he did not begin telling her about his oh so precious children, but that also meant she had to talk about herself. At least his first question was easy. "I think this food is delicious," she replied, "I have never really had 'refined' meal, not even with my mother."

Without realizing it, at least not at first, she had given Quacey an opening to question her about her mother, whom she had mentioned briefly in passing a couple of times but never really focused on.

She raised a spoonful of soup to her mouth the warm, savory liquid soothing her throat and heating her insides. As if struck suddenly she froze, realizing she had mentioned her mother; she recalled all the others times she had as well and she paled, praying Quacey would not ask questions about her mother and that he would continue to talk about food. She was suddenly glad for the absence of candles on the table.

 

[Quacey]

Ethir seemed to have relaxed in multiple ways. A good sign as too much tension for too long tended to break rather than harder a person. Quacey might know little about the woman but he wished no harm would come to her while they were together.

The mention of her mother didn't go unnoticed. Neither did her sudden freeze up shortly after. A subject she seemed uncomfortable with. One he would wait to bring up. Now didn't feel like the right time to dig so deep into her soul. She was freshly freed and sensitive. No doubt feeling vulnerable. He would be a terrible person to take advantage and push her to share before she was ready.... At least on such a personal matter.

"Refined often just means prettier in appearance. Taste is not subject to how it looks. Your tongue decides what it good not your eyes.... Much the way it should be with others. Get a taste of their soul before you judge and appraise for appearances are fleeting, malleable, and deceitful."

Quacey looked Ethir in her eye. Certainly she was stubborn and irritable, but it only made sense why. Life so far had not seemed kind to her so why should she be kind back? The fact she sat here with him told him that the truth of who she was went deeper than her stubbornness and irritability.

The fae smiled at her then refocused on his meal.

"Do you prefer sweets? Salt? Sourness?" He frowned slightly in the briefest of pauses. "I have known none that prefer bitterness and dread the idea of finally meeting one. Truly a monster in innocent skin if ever one was to exist."

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

She nearly sagged with relief when he didn't say anything about her mother, but the memories were still there. She did her best to focus on Quacey's question, figuring she owed him that much to tell him what kind of foods she liked.

"I like sweets and savory foods, but nothing sour or bitter," she replied, glad she didn't like bitter things so she wouldn't give Quacey a reason to hate her so passionately. "I used to have this cake, with chocolate, caramel, and candied nuts every year on my birthday," she intentionally did not add that her mother made her this cake, but she knew Quacey would know.

She ate more food in the silence that followed as she waited to see what Quacey would do or say.

 

[Quacey]

Quacey's opinion on bitter lovers was in jest, mostly, but it could be hard for that to show. He was stoic and dry at times. Like a stone laying out in a flowering meadow. He also ate his food silently as he listened. The cake she described sounded rather good. If it was a treat to celebrate her birth then there was only one option on who had baked it and given it to her. Yet again, he chose to not press that topic this evening.

"I prefer savory as well. The exception being honey and cream or milk. Those I do enjoy. A bowl of cream with a warm slice of fresh bread is one of my most cherished meals. Simple yet filling. Sweet but not overly so."

The food was gone rather quickly as was the wine in his glass. He picked up the bottle and took a look over at Ethir's side of the table. If she needed or wanted more then he would pour her glass first before refilling his own. Then the cork went back in. He picked up his glass and drank.

A knock on the door that was followed by a voice announcing the arrival of the bath. Quacey granted them access and the bald mortal with a sleepy young man came in. The pair filled up their tub till it was about three fourths of the way full. Soap and towels were provided along with a brush. Then the two left as the steam was already rising steadily above the water.

Quacey got up and locked the door behind them. He turned to Ethir. "How long do you desire to bath in privacy? Or do you wish me to stay?"

A not so simple question for her.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir thought bread and cream sounded tasty, but didn't get to say so as there was a knock on the door. She turned her head as two men came in to fill their wash basin. Already steam was rising over the surface and it was calling her name. She turned back around when Quacey spoke, locking the door behind the men after they left.

He gave her the option of privacy, and she was grateful. She did not want Quacey to see her, not like this. Not when she had control over her own body now, a new and strange feeling. "Thirty minutes should be enough," she replied, wondering where he would go while she bathed. There was nowhere to hide in this room, no curtains or separate rooms for washing.

She stood up herself after taking one last sip of wine before setting the glass back down on the table.

 

[Quacey]

Privacy for thirty minutes. The response he expected but not the one he had idly hoped for. There was just something enjoyable about sharing a bath with another. A close intimacy that could be but wasn't romantic nor carnal. Letting oneself be seen fully with no cover to hide behind.

Quacey nodded to Ethir then produced the key too the room. He walked over and placed it within her hand. A smile and then he turned to leave out the door after unlocking it. The message was clear. She would have complete privacy and control over when he was allowed to return to the room.

The fae walked outside into the cool night air. A long breath in as he savored the crispness of it. Many feared the night yet he felt comfortable within it. Like a warm blanket on a cold night. Things were more real. They felt more real. Noises were clearer. The air was fresher. Shapes blended yet stood sharply out. The light of the sun was considered a beacon that revealed things for what they were. He disagreed. It simply bleached the color and spirit out of them.

People sought comfort in the shade for a reason.

He wandered around for a bit till he took a seat and stared up at the night sky. The Twins and their children brightly shining. Truest of guides no matter how lost one became. One simply needed to come to know them and they would always get you home safely. A task the sun never could replicate.

After about thirty minutes had past, Quacey rose and headed back to their room. At the door he knocked then announced himself to Ethir. He didn't even attempt to try to open it and see if it was locked.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir was glad he didn't try and argue with her, and she took the key to their room with a tentative smile in return. Once had left she locked the door behind him. She slowly peeled off her dirty clothes and left them in a pile as she stepped into the wash basin. She sighed in delight as the warm water covered her skin, the blood on her hands coming off nearly immediately and floating on the surface. There was enough room for her to submerge her head and so she did, staying underneath the warm water for several seconds, savoring in the total silence.

She resurfaced and picked up the soap, taking the time to clean every part of her. When was the last time she had bathed herself? Orion had, or when he had been busy he had sent a maid with oils. Her body was never her own.

She traced her fingers along the scars across her body, lingering on the one across her stomach. Her dinner turned in her stomach just thinking about it so she didn't, and picked up the brush to try and tame her hair.

By the time she was finished her skin was flushed from the heat and her fingers were pruny, but she felt ten times better. She stood, picking up a towel and wrapping it around herself before stepping out of the basin. She was nearly done drying off when she realized she didn't have any clean clothes to change into. She certainly didn't want to put on her dirty ones, but she didn't want to walk around naked either.

Just then, there was a knock on the door, and Quacey announced himself. She unlocked the door and opened it a crack, the towel still wrapped around her, tucked under her armpits. "I have no clothes," she said, looking up at him, not letting him in just yet.

 

[Quacey]

The fae raised a brow when the door was cracked open and the revelation of a lack of clothing lay just beyond it. He looked at her in return. Only a towel was around her and it did more to emphasize than conceal. He could offer her his tunic but it would not work. His frame and height meant it would be too big even for a dress. Something would be revealed and it was going to have to be her choice what that was. She would not enjoy that so he had to remove the option even if he was curious to see how it played out himself.

"I am not certain we can remedy that tonight."

Quacey paused a moment as a thought crossed his mind. A bit of fae mischief.

"Will you be willing to let me in to discuss it?"

The fae didn't wait long already knowing what her reply was going to be.

"I will see what I can do."

Then he turned back the way he had come. There was only one option right now other than her forgetting her modesty around him and letting him into the room with her. He went to find the bald mortal once more. The man already annoyed by the amount of work being asked at such a late hour when normally he would be free to do as he wished.

The fae walked up to him and requested a clean dress for his companion as her clothing was dirty. The mortal huffed and stood then went into the backrooms. Several minutes past before he returned. In his hands was nothing. An apology but no spare clothing existed in the inn. It wasn't a tailor shop or second hand store after all.

Quacey thanked him then returned. He knocked on the door once more and announced himself yet again. After a pause he decided it best to address the issue right away.

"There is no spare clothing. Unless you wish to wear my tunic, there is nothing that can be done."

Then Quacey waited. Would she take up that offer? Certainly he had no problem going without it, but how poorly would it fit her frame?

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir's heart pounded as he looked at her. He had nothing to offer her and she thought he wasn't particularly upset about it. She was just about to say no, that he couldn't come in until she had some proper clothes but then he had left, as if he had already known what her repsonse would be. She watched him go for a moment before shutting the door again. She looked around the room for any possible way to cover herself decently but there was nothing.

She was just thinking about putting on her dirty clothes when Quacey knocked again. She opened it a crack once more, looking up at him. He said there was no spare clothing and offered her his tunic. She supposed it was better than nothing but she had really hoped for a nice pair of pants, so that she could be sure everything was concealed.

She was quiet for a moment before she mumbled a 'fine', and opened the door wider to let him in. The air was cool on her skin, seeping away the warmth from her bath. She wondered if maybe she could put on her old pants underneath Quacey's tunic.

 

[Quacey]

He entered when she allowed it. After stepping through he closed it behind him and relocked it. Then his tunic immediately came off and was held out for her to take. A certain detail forgotten by him completely was the amount of sweat it had absorbed and allowed to dry in the time since just leaving the camp. While dry it held his musk thick about it. Perhaps a terrible option after all.

Quacey moved over to the tub and picked it up. Careful not to spill the water he took it by the door, regretting locking it before out of habit. Unlocked then outside the tub went with its dirty water. Closed and relocked the door became. He went to the table and refilled her glass then topped his back off. He picked both up and carried her glass to her.

Holding it out, his body still had than sheen about it. A reminder he was unable to refresh himself. A choice he had made when allowing her to decide for them both. One he was living with without a second thought. Battle had seen him in worse states for longer. What was a night to him?

"How are you feeling Ethir?"

Ethir