Fable - Ask No Fury

[Kaphiri]

What a day! Kaphiri left the bar with the attractive woman on his arm. Not only was she not a working girl, but she even had her own place. No muss, no fuss, and no post-fun cleanup for him. Her tipsy behavior just served to seal the deal in his own mind, that he was about to get some much desired release.

As the woman tripped, Kaphiri tried to help catch her fall only to suddenly find his sword being drawn from its sheathe and his own weight toppling end over end.
"Wh-wha--??" He started to shout in surprise as he tumbled forward.

Drunk or not, Kaphiri was still a beastfolk and a warrior in his own right. Almost naturally, he leaned his weight into the fall and tucked his body sideways, rolling across the ground of the alley and into a kneeling position, one foot on the ground. He was ready to lunge forward at the woman, grin exchanged for a snarl.
"You must have a fucking death wish." Kaphiri growled menacingly.

The jackal's claws scratched the ground in anger, eager to maul the woman for this slight. He still had no idea why she'd chosen to go through all this trouble. Clout or coin, he assumed. It wouldn't matter when he'd ripped her throat out.

 

[Settra]

Settra payed as close attention as he could to Nym and her mark without actually looking at either of them. He overheard that they were leaving and caught a glimpse of the beastfolk as they walked back towards the ladder. Thirty seconds. That was how long Settra would wait before he got up to follow. They should've discussed where Nym might take Kaphiri in this sort of circumstance, but at least Nym must've known that Settra would have no way of knowing what her plans were, right?

If that was the case, Settra assumed that she would be going back the way they came, back towards their inn. The assassin downed the rest of his drink and stood from his stool at the bar. Time to go. He left the underground portion, climbed the ladder, and nodded to the above ground bartender as he made his exit onto the streets of Nimra. No sooner had he done so that he began to pick up his pace to a jog.

From a jog, he soon rose to a sprint. Dashing back in the direction of the inn, he quickly checked each side street as he ran past them. It didn't take long for him to see Nym and Kaphiri locked in a confrontation down one street, but Settra didn't stop to turn down it, despite the relief that washed over him. Instead, he sprinted past and down the next alleyway. A dead end, but that was fine; it had taken him past where Kaphiri was crouched one street over.

Settra kicked off the ground and quickly scaled the stucco wall of the building on his right. Using cracks and deformities in the siding as footholds, he got himself to the roof in mere seconds. From there he continued his mad dash towards the alley that contained Nym and Kaphiri. The moment he visually confirmed that he was behind the both of them he dropped down into the alley, digging one of his blades into the wall of the building to slow his descent.

When his boots touched the ground he saw the jackal's ears twitch and his head swivel slightly to see what had made the noise. Settra could see the realization wash over Kaphiri's face: he'd been surrounded.

 

[Nym]

Nym was under absolutely no illusion that the beastfolk was entirely capable of tearing her apart without use of his blade, the last thing she was about to do was underestimate him.

"Not really. Just some questions." she answered sharply, her gaze narrowing as she braced herself to move should he follow through with the lunge he seemed to be readying himself for. Adrenaline surged through her body powered by her pounding heart at the thought, and her grip tightened on his weapon. It felt like an age until she caught sight of Settra, and Nym let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding.

"Answer me truthfully and you can keep your life." her brows rose. A statement she felt far less foolish saying now that she wasn't alone. It felt more natural to scowl at him now, giving up the pretence that had taken so much effort on her part. He'd have no more smiles from her.

"My name is Nymeasha Soleiman. And I know you've heard it before, because you gave it to Gerra's men along with my whereabouts when he took my city.." her nose wrinkled as she cast him a look of disdain.. "Now you're going to tell me who paid you to do so. It doesn't have to be any more complicated than that.." her head tilted.

 

[Kaphiri]

Any pretense of fighting back here was quickly dropped. While the beastfolk rogue was confident he could take a human woman practically half his size in a one on one, the man who'd dropped down into the alley behind him represented a totally different problem. Without his weapon of choice, Kaphiri quickly realized that he stood little chance of winning if he chose to attack.

He slowly, rose from his knees and came to a passive, standing position, hands in in plain sight. He held a hateful glare at the woman while she explained her intent, but his eyes went wide when she told him her true name. So, that was what this was about. Maybe it was only a matter of time before this caught up with him...

"Ha! So, the emir's little brat finally caught up with me. I don't know what's funnier, how long it took you, or that you think my old boss would let me live if I told you."

Kaphiri gave a growling laugh, then stretched his arms wide in a shrugging gesture. Maybe fighting his way out of this wouldn't be so bad after all.
"To be honest, I'm way more afraid of him than you. I've got no reason to tell you anything."

 

[Nym]

Nym's head tilted slowly as she regarded him without a hint of shared amusement, her jaw clenching slightly as she was branded 'the Emir's little brat', but she'd been called far worse. At least some of the other names made her seem a little more dangerous than 'brat'. Her eyes rolled, and she took a swift step in to lift the blade to Kaphiri's throat.

"Believe me, you verminous sack of shit, you should be more afraid of us. Either you keep your mouth shut and we kill you, not quickly I might add, or you spill and at least you have a chance of getting out of here before your 'boss' finds out you ratted him out." she sneered.

 

[Settra]

Settra's gaze narrowed as he observed the interaction between Nym and her quarry. Little as he knew of social interaction, something dawned on the assassin: this was a man who valued his freedom more than anything. If he was to die either way, then death was little threat, was it not? If that was the case, then a different approach was needed.

"Actually...we won't kill you." Settra's gravelly voice chimed in. He could already see the jackal begin to turn his head curiously at the voice behind him, a glimmer of hope in his eye, however dim. It was a light that the assassin would snuff out immediately as he swatted his armored bracer across the side of Kaphiri's skull. Caught off guard, the beastfolk tumbled to the ground, frustratedly voicing his confusion.

Settra slipped an emblem from beneath his attire and showed it to Kaphiri, a fine metal symbol depicting a closed hand gripping an emerald eye...the symbol of Medja of Ragash. He knelt down next to Kaphiri and held the icon between his fingers, waving it to and fro in front of the beastfolk's face.

"If you won't talk, you'll spend the rest of your days in a torture chamber in Ragash, under the watchful eye of my mistress." Cold eyes pierced the man from beneath his cloth mask, humorless and deathly. "You're aware of the name, aren't you? Medja the Smiter?"

 

[Kaphiri]

If the color could drain from fur, Settra and Nymeasha would have witnessed it. All defiance visibly left the jackal's expression and body language as he came to realize his situation. He didn't fear the average Kaliti noble, and a painful death now instead of an even more painful death later was hardly motivation to talk. The mention of the infamous criminal lord of Ragash, however...he had heard horror stories of what she was capable of doing to a body, to a soul. That she was capable of keeping a man alive and aware far past his natural days just for the glee of torturing him longer.

Kaphiri didn't fear hell. He feared spending what remained of his life living out something that rivaled hell.
"I--that isn't--but--"All he could do was stammer as his mind attempted to wrap around what was happening. A few hours ago he was living his best life, enjoying the fineries of Amol-Kalit's underbelly. Now his very existence was on the line. "....fine..."

A great sigh escaped his lips as he pulled himself up to sit cross legged. Hateful but defeated eyes looked up to meet Nym's gaze and his palms rested harmlessly on his knees.
"I once worked for a man named Navran Suleiman. When the Empire's armies arrived at the gates of Salitra, Navran sent me as a messenger to the Imperial camp." Kaphiri admitted reluctantly, wondering to himself if he would die when he finished explaining. "He wanted to be granted the opportunity to leave safely, under the guise of a 'nameless noble,' before the fighting started. In exchange, he gave up your name and location."

The jackal's eyebrow twitched and his lip curled into an angry half-grin. To hell with the old bastard. Let him deal with these two lunatics...maybe if he gave up enough info they'd let him crawl back to his hole in the ground and live in relative peace again.
"Only he didn't go far. Not for long, anyways. He didn't know that I figured this out, but he went right back to Salitra the moment the Empire's forces withdrew."

 

[Nym]

Nym's brow quirked at Settra's contradiction, but her emerald hues remained set firmly on Kaphiri. Her jaw clenched slightly. Wouldn't kill him? She felt the options she'd given him were fair enough, talk and live, don't and die.. And she'd very much intended on hurting him should his lips remain tight shut.

She stepped back as Settra intervened, her brow furrowing in consternation as she watched him. What could possibly loosen the jackal's tongue better than the prospect of a painful death?

Ah...

Nym smiled, her irritation melting away at the sight of Kaphiri's realisation, that cowardly resignation of someone who was entirely ready to talk. Nym's own name was not well known, it was as her father had intended it, it made her more dangerous to his foes. But she had to hand it to Medja, to cast fear into a soul in the way she did with nothing more than the mention of her name was impressive, and Nym couldn't help but feel a brief pang of jealousy. She was a ghost. Medja was a nightmare.

Her dark brow arched as she met Kaphiri's gaze once more. Nym was well practised at putting on a face. Of disguising her emotions and her nerves, but she felt it difficult not to glare down at the creature with venomous disdain as she listened to him speak.

She had never heard of the man the jackal spoke of despite him sharing her father's name, and her gaze narrowed as though searching his face for the truth in his words. "Where in Salitra?.." she snapped back at him, her fists tightening at her sides. "If you are lying to me, Kaphiri..".. she didn't have to finish the sentence.

 

[Settra]

Settra hated to step on Nym's toes; this was her mission, after all. He was pleased to see that his tactic had worked and that the princess didn't seem too irritable about his interruption, but he certainly wanted to apologize later, when the timing was appropriate. Regardless, her frustration with Kaphiri was tangible. That she was able to keep her anger to a low simmer when not directly interacting with those standing in her way was likely a feat in and of itself, and Settra did not envy anyone who managed to become the object of her ire.

"If you are lying to me, Kaphiri..".

This was, unfortunately, a good point. If he was lying then leaving him to escape somewhere else while they hunted down a dead end was potentially a catastrophic result. On the other hand, if they took Kaphiri along with them it was one more body to worry about, and a snake like him would be liable to stab them in the back at the earliest opportunity. Fear, however, was an excellent motivator.

If Kaphiri was smart enough to start talking at the mention of Vizier Medja, then he was smart enough to know what would happen if he was trying to trick them. It didn't matter how far he ran or where he tried to hide, the earthen grasp of the Unseen Hand would find his throat eventually. Nym didn't need to finish the sentence. Neither did Settra. Kaphiri's face told the truth.

 

[Kaphiri]

Any gusto that the jackal had built up in eagerly betraying his former employer for the sake of his own skin visibly left him at Nym's aggression. His ears folded down and he winced, hands coming up palms out to block an incoming blow, sweat pouring from the pads on his palms. He panted nervously, vision shaking.

"N-no! I'm not! I swear!!" Kaphiri cried out, hints of desperation entering his tone. "I don't know! If it were me I'd have fucked off to the farthest corner of the planet, but..."

His eyes darted about as though he was searching for something. Combing every inch of his own mind for an answer. His chest heaved as his brain began to tick, following a line to a logical conclusion.

"I-if I was crazy enough to go back to the place I was supposed to leave, then..." Realization washed over him. A glimmer of hope, perhaps. Anything that could save him from the worst possible fate. "I...I think he's in the palace."

 

[Nym]

Nym believed him, but she couldn't decide if the jackal had any luck on his side on that matter. Conflict raged on in her mind, and her narrowed gaze remained fixed on Kaphiri as she thought over his words, and over what she intended on doing.

It'd been a question Uvogin had asked her, a question she'd asked herself but had struggled to answer. What she'd do when she found whomever it was who'd handed her over. Her name and whereabouts had spilled from this jackal's lips, and she played out the scene in her mind if only to rile herself more. And yet the words had been put there by another, by a man who shared her name.. Nym was not accustomed to letting her targets live, but the orders were never her own and nor were the decisions. This one was, and she had to decide whether she could be more merciful than her father had been. Had someone given her the order to kill the quivering wreck before her, she wouldn't have spared a moment's thought on the matter... She wasn't used to having her own choices to make.

"Get up and leave." Nym snarled at him, but didn't offer his weapon back. "Words of advice, Medja has people everywhere, so I'd keep a low profile if I were you. You weren't difficult to track down." her brow rose, knowing he'd let the paranoia tendril into his mind.

"Go." she snapped quickly, whilst her mind was made up and she fought against changing it.

 

[Kaphiri]

Kaphiri hesitated only a moment, as if weighing his options. Would he take a knife to the back the moment he ran off? Would Navran's foul tendrils find him before this crazed woman found Navran? Time would tell, he decided.
"Nnggh, I--fine!"

The jackal scurried to his feet and sprinted away. He made no move for his weapon. Fine a craft as it was, it wasn't worth risking his neck or his freedom over. There would be more blades.

As Kaphiri ran deeper into the slums he questioned how such a fine day could've wound up like this. He quieted the thought. His luck hadn't totally ran out yet, and it was best not to think to hard on how things could be worse. He'd lay low for a day, but a new sword, then go back to drinking.

 

[Settra]

Mercy was not something oft seen among the ranks of the Imperial Hands. Emerald Hands were taught cruelty and brutality. Onyx Hands were renowned for lethality and efficiency. For all the rage and resentment that Settra imagined Nym had built up in her pursuit of revenge, he hadn't expected her to let Kaphiri go with so little fuss.

That could've been owed at least partially to the beastfolk's quickness to give up information, of course, but the assassin still wondered if coming all this way only to realize more searching lay on the path ahead was more frustrating than anything else.

Settra watched the jackal flee out of sight, then turned to look on Nym, still uncertain what she'd be feeling now.
"Hey," He started, stepping closer and placing his hand softly upon her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

'What next?' was also a question that had crossed his mind, but rather than be laser focused on the task at hand he figured it best to check on the princess's well being. The name Kaphiri had given up seemed to be a familiar one, after all.

 

[Nym]

"Fine." Nym snapped immediately. Defensively. She wasn't sure if she'd shown mercy or weakness, she didn't know what she felt - or who the fuck she was in that moment for that matter. Her chest felt tight and she leaned against the wall for a moment to stop herself from pacing, to catch a breath despite a lack of exertion.

She looked off in the direction in which Kaphiri had run and her jaw clenched. The silence that hung only caused the harshness in the last word she'd spoken to echo ruthlessly in her mind and she dragged her gaze back to Settra. People didn't ask if she was 'alright', it was a common courtesy that was so foreign to her that she'd quite easily mistake it for an accusation of weakness. Vipers didn't need comfort, they existed in the harshest of places, they killed, and they moved on.

Emotion had never been an issue until her heart had been cracked open and now, now it was bleeding out and she didn't know if she wanted to scream or cry.

"Sorry. I'm fine.. He's served his purpose, he was just a messenger." her throat cleared as she tried to collect herself, and a hand dragged over her face as she pushed herself from the wall.

"I could use a drink." she huffed.

 

[Settra]

"Observe every detail, Settra. The slightest muscle twitch to the most subtle expression. You'll be amazed at what you can learn."

. . .
​

Dark eyes studied Nymeasha. He watched her breathing go shallow with Kaphiri's retreat. He watched her lean bodily against a building, saw her jaw hitch forward and the irritable roll of tired eyes from the street onto his own gaze. He looked on and briefly he could have sworn he saw welling liquid at the base of her lids.

Settra'a masters had taught him to carefully watch every minor movement and errant twitch of those around him. Constant diligence that served as a form of training, a means to monitor a mark for vulnerabilities. While Nym was far from a target on a hit list for Settra, he almost found it enthralling to watch her move.

He didn't need to carefully study her every idiosyncrasy. Nym wore her heart on her sleeve. Part of him admired her for it. Settra had been taught to suppress as much of his thoughts and feelings as possible to avoid letting others read him as he read others. She was a radiant ball of pent up energy, a brilliant beacon to follow like the dawn sun on the morning horizon.

Another part of him grew increasingly frustrated. Her words didn't match her attitude. It was clear enough that she was hurting, but at nearly every opportunity she seemed to bottle up her thoughts more. Settra found himself conflicted; he wanted to respect her wishes to keep her problems to herself, but his longing to see her be true to herself was ever growing. So much so that as she dragged her hand over her face he didn't even realize he said the words he was thinking aloud:

"You don't seem fine." Settra muttered in a tone that sounded almost remorseful, quiet, but definitely loud enough for Nym to hear in such close proximity.

He moved to follow her as she stepped away, not skipping a beat. Settra glanced up the street as though he'd said nothing at all.
"I imagine there's no shortage of places to find liquor in this town. Might be safest if we did any drinking back at the inn."

 

[Nym]

Nym would have liked to have thought herself unreadable, but the sad reality was that she wasn’t used to interaction, she wasn’t used to having emotions have any impact on her life, on her work. Her father had given her her purpose in life, she’d been a perfect weapon, used when he needed her and carefully stored away when her job was done. Without him, it seemed her life was slowly coming undone at the seams and she was finding it very near impossible to hold it all together.

She’d never felt hate before she’d met Gerra, never known love or the pain it caused until she’d known Uvogin, and she’d never had anyone show her an inkling of concern or care before Medja, and now, there was Settra. It was difficult, learning to be a member of society instead of living as a shadow. So far it’d swallowed her whole and spit her back out, and she’d allowed herself to fall into one trap already. She was being too soft, and any warmth she felt toward her companion had to be doused for her own sake as well as his.

She paused and pulled in a breath without looking at him. “Settra... If I wanted your concern or opinion I’d have asked for it. You’re escorting me. You’re not here to look after me, to contradict me, nor are you here to be my friend and make sure I’m ‘alright’.” Her tone was cold and her voice didn’t waver, but it turned her chest to the sort of ice so cold it burned.

Nym couldn’t look at him as or after she’d said it, instead she lifted her chin a little higher and strode back to the inn, purchasing two bottles of red wine, and disappearing upstairs.

 

[Settra]

Horror washed over Settra as he realized his mistake. He had never let something slip quite like that before, and regret filled his gut immediately as Nym reviled him. Regret and...something else. Something worse. It felt like the shattering of a glass pane in his chest.

"Yes...my apologies, ma'am." He replied flatly. There was no resentment in his reply, only submission. "I will not speak again unless spoken to."

Inside, however, he cursed himself. What childish thoughts he'd let go to his head. It was as the princess said: he was not here to be her friend, he was here to serve. Besides, only a fool chases the dawn.

Settra followed Nymeasha at a comfortable distance back to the inn. It was only once he'd returned to the lobby that he remembered he'd made the 'practical' decision of renting a single room. Only now did he realize what a blunder that had been.

The assassin allowed his charge a few hours of solitude, sitting in an isolated booth within the inn's dining area, before eventually dark fell upon Amol-Kalit once again. Discreetly, he made his way back to the room and silently moved to his bed and began to unhook his gear.

Settra made no attempt to make any sort of contact with the princess. He didn't so much as look in her direction. When he was finished gearing down, he simply climbed into his bed and waited for sleep to take him.

 

[Nym]

Wine rarely lasted long with Nym at the best of times, but it was downed particularly fast whilst she was left alone with her thoughts and echoes of Settra’s apology on her mind to layer on the guilt.

By the time he returned to the room, she was cradled in the chair by the window, draining the last few drops of the bitter tonic. There were no answers at the bottoms of either bottle.

She glanced toward him, stubbornly keeping her mouth tight shut as he slipped into his bed, her eyes drifting heavily with weariness and wine. Eventually she stood, tore off her outer layers and fell into her own bed, but sleep denied her, and even two bottles of wine couldn’t keep the frost in her chest from spreading and chilling her to her bones.

Nym grumbled to herself as she tossed and turned and shivered before eventually clamouring out of her bed and staggering her way toward the other. Toward Settra. Her gaze narrowed in the dark as her vision wavered, but she reached as carefully as she could to lift his blanket and slip herself in beside him, and quickly stopped shivering.

 

[Settra]

Sleep wasn't far from Settra's grasp. Boredom and meditation during the few hours that had passed in solitude had helped to quiet the man's mind before he tucked himself in, and peaceful rest shortly followed. Even in sleep's embrace he recalled the scent that filled the air of the shared room, the lingering scent of wine that hung in the air like mist.

His dreams were disturbed by the strengthening of the scent and an unfamiliar warmth. Slowly he roused, uncertain of what strange phenomena had caught his senses. Settra's eyes opened and fell first upon the moon peering through the window and shedding its pale light onto the bed. A fog lay over his mind as his dark brown orbs scanned his surroundings, still not entirely sure of whether he was truly conscious or simply lost in another dream.

The Onyx Hand tried to roll to his side, but found himself stopped up by a sizable lump beneath his blankets. His brow furrowed and focus narrowed on the source of the warmth that had roused him from his slumber.

Nym.

A tempest of emotion ran through him. Confusion at the scene that played out before him. Panic at the thought that she'd crawled in by mistake in her inhibited state. Uncertainty of what to do next. A slight, guilty joy that perhaps she'd sought some form of comfort, however small or innocent, in this manner.

Settra didn't know how long she'd been there. He didn't know if she was still awake, or if he should try to move her. He didn't know if he wanted to. Instead, he let out a low groan and watched her in silence for a while. He waited to see if she'd react to him, or if she'd simply fallen asleep in the comfort of the added warmth Settra's body offered. And he studied her face for a while; he couldn't help but sigh softly and smile as he drank in her features. It was difficult to remind himself of her earlier reprisal when she was cuddled up next to him like this.

If she woke, he would talk. If she didn't, he would allow her her rest.

 

[Nym]

Sleep claimed her quickly, her discomfort mollified by the comfort and warmth that her body craved. She sank into the warmth of Settra's side, emboldened by the muddle of mulberry that currently made her closeness perfectly acceptable.

It was the desert.

She was cold.

She didn't want him to leave.

The frown she'd worn earlier had softened and the tension that normally had her body a tightly coiled spring even in sleep was melted by warmth and wine. She was safe here, next to him, and subconsciously her body knew it could relax without worry.

She felt the tickle of cool air against her skin as he sighed and felt his eyes on her, her body tensing for a brief moment and easing once more as she decided not to open her eyes for fear of him scampering away; for that was more likely than him sending her back to her own bed. Instead, Nym rolled onto her other side, creating a gap of static, frigid air at her back which it shuddered at in protest. A groan worked its way out of her throat and she reached back, searching for an arm to pull around her like a blanket, and a small smirk curled at the corner of her lips.

 

[Settra]

Settra's heart jumped in his chest as Nym rolled over. He had just begun to slide into a state of ease, and the movement had him concerned that he'd made a mistake. Even weary and in the dark, however, he didn't miss the signals that followed. Her shivering form, discontented groan, and seeking hand were all clear signs enough of her lack of warmth.

He hesitated a moment. His brain told him not to; that he should surrender his bed and his blankets and allow her the dignity and respect she deserved. His heart told him otherwise. Settra pursed his lips; when was the last time he had followed his heart? Never? He closed his eyes and let out a breath.

Against his better judgment, Settra listened to his heart. He gently placed his arm in Nym's grasp and let her pull him in. Carefully, he sidled up against her, cradling her in his embrace as his legs came to rest at the backs of hers, his chest at her back. Her hair, soft and tousled, rested beneath his cheek.

More thoughts flooded his mind as he lay beside her. He hoped she would be okay with this come morning. He hoped that laying in such a...tender position wouldn't let his body betray him. More than anything, though, he found himself utterly content, simply enjoying the bliss of being close to her. His heart pounded, and he let a deep sigh escape him.

 

[Nym]

Nym would no doubt wake to face her own embarrassment when she sobered, but right now she didn't care. Right now she was awake enough to recognise the tingling urges that accompanied the feeling of warm skin and honed muscle against her, and she was sober enough to resist.

Her shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh as she pulled his arm tightly around her, and she moulded herself neatly against him, forming her own muscular cage in which to sleep. She could feel his heart thrum against her spine and course through her, and her lips curled as she let it lull her back to sleep.

__
​

Regret woke her in the form of a pounding headache and her brow furrowed as light assaulted her eyes. Nym groaned and huffed quietly, blinking the sleep from her eyes, quickly realising that she was not in her bed, nor was she alone. She'd been holding onto Settra's arm, and her fingers slowly uncurled as she collected her foggy memory and rubbed at her face, but she made no sudden move to get up.

"I didn't mean what I said." she murmured at him, her voice gritty with sleep. She sighed and pushed herself up to step out of bed without a word on that matter.

 

[Settra]

Morning's rise signaled the start of a new day, and Settra rose with it. He lay in silence, having apparently cradled her through the night, and awaited another round of scolding. Much to his surprise, Nymeasha woke soon after with a groan and rub of her face. Far more surprising was her murmured almost-apology.

The initial shock held him in place as Nym broke away from the bed. The assassin sat up and hung his legs over the side of the mattress, feet falling flat upon the dusty floor, and let the sun's early rays warm his back for a few moments as he watched her rise. All he could do was smile as he observed her.

The moment she happened to turn back to look at him, however, he'd blink and avert his gaze meekly. Try as he might, he couldn't repress the warmth in his chest, nor hide his smile. Instead, he shuffled to his feet and began putting on clothes enough to head downstairs.

"I'll get something for your head." He offered as he dressed himself.

 

[Nym]

She laughed sheepishly under her breath at his offer and nodded gratefully. Every move she made was punctuated by another sharp throb in her temples and it made her movements slow and sluggish. She shouldn't have had the second bottle...

"Thank you." she sighed and stood over the basin to wash her face, trying her very best to be as casual as she possibly could, but his smile was infectious. The water was nowhere near cool enough to abate the fierce burning in her cheeks. Her lips parted to speak again, but the words caught in her throat and remained locked behind her smirk. It was passed the point of apology for invading his space, with any luck it'd be quickly forgotten about.

She'd dress whilst she had the room to herself. Travel clothes, dark and comfortable with a scarf for her face and a light hood. If they were to find Navran, they had a long journey ahead. They were going to Salitra, and the thought of going home had her craving another bottle or two of wine.

 

[Settra]

"Thank you."

Settra smiled a little wider and nodded. He was happy to help, more so that they were on good terms. Her blush and grin spoke more than words could. He left the room when he was sure she had nothing she wanted to say, but not before speaking his own mind.

"If you would like to...share warmth...again..." He considered his words a moment, ever cautious. He swallowed past a dry lump in his throat and finished the thought. "I would be happy to."

The Onyx Hand was quick to gather a few supplies from the market, thankful that several of the local mongers opened this early in the day. A number of herbs, reagents, and an admittedly volatile alcoholic base made up a remedy that Medja had made him mix for her before after some of her more...debaucherous nights. A 'soul reviver,' she had called it.

Perhaps fifteen minutes had passed before Settra returned. He mixed the ingredients on a desk that occupied a corner of the room, then handed a cup filled with the stuff to Nym.
"I would down this quickly if I were you. Mistress Medja claims that it's strong enough to wake the dead." He warned her. He scratched the back of his neck for a moment before making an admission. "She stumbled on it once and was coughing for nearly half an hour...but it is supposed to help quite a lot."