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 are 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.
"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 are 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.