Fable - Ask Not Much Room for Decent Hearts

[Skad]

It was an agreeable plan, which was surprising given every interaction that had preceded it. Polite insults and thinly veiled threats weren't exactly at the forefront of trust-building, but as long as Vida had a solid head on her shoulders when it came to action, it didn't matter.

At least not to Skad.

She was to be a death barrier while the other two did what was required of them. The Nordwiir didn't care if that information remained obscure, their purpose only aligning for a brief glimmer in the grand scheme. They would carry on, their pockets heavier than before, and Skad would be one step closer to home. Everybody would be happy, or at least as happy as the people in this room could be. It wasn't exactly the meeting of the sparkling demeanours, Basil aside.

"I can doing that," she nodded, confident in her abilities to 'keep people out, or in,' which she had already translated to wanton bloodshed.

Having established that Vida wasn't simply improvising with confidence, the Nordwiir could relax, at least relax by her standards. The mulled wine was doing the heavy lifting in that respect and before long she had sunk back into her chair, sliding down like a poor-postured delinquent.

Drow's piece was met by a pointed stare, her drooping eyelid the answer to her aversion to arrows, and the collection of scar tissue a testament to the Nordwiir's preference to not practice defence, never mind use a shield. Skad already knew that there was a cultural gulf here in the realm of battle. While she had pegged those from the continent as soft southern shites, the woman knew that those who were well-trained could provide a decent threat. Disciplines and fighting styles eluded her, but what Kin-Slayer lacked in formal training she more than made up for with a total lack of self-preservation. How could one parry such frenzy?

"One hand axe," she requested plainly, not objecting to the idea of borrowing everything he owned, but at this rate, she would be bedding his lover while wearing his undergarments.

"I moving fast. Not needing much."

 

[Vida]

Now wasn't she a confident one?

Skad's proclamation of not requiring a shield, or indeed anything else beyond a hand axe was met with some scrutiny. The rather humble request prompted the drow to turn his attention fully to the Kin-Slayer; an oblique look in his eyes as he slowly and methodically appraised her all over again, as if it were their first time meeting. If there was a conclusion to be made from this, then Skad wasn't privy to it.

"That may be arranged."

Whatever the case of his thoughts on the subject, it appeared that he was only too happy to part with merely an axe and not, as Skad might put it, 'everything he owned'. Afterward with all formalities dispensed with, Varnehy finally stood at full length; dusting his clothes of whatever stray debris may or may not have found a home during the course of their meal.

Then he said the thing that everyone was probably waiting to hear - in that he was going to go look for another jug of wine. Certainly, nobody moved to stop the drow while he casually retreated from the table, emptied jug in hand. It even served to draw Masile out of whatever reverie she was previously hiding behind; her half-hearted attention to the contents of her book losing all of their luster.

The only hint of her interest in it laying in the way she yet flipped the pages, but now she closed it.

"That's good. I mean for us to 'move fast', especially after having done the deed." Vida suddenly spoke up, filling the silence left in Varnehy's departure. Her next words for clearly for the Nordwiir woman; the last member of the party as well as the only one not privy to what came after, when they were finished there. "I don't think we'll have the luxury of leaving as a group once we've overstayed our welcome with the citizens of Marseyelle. I would have preferred simply meeting here later, but it stands far too close and we'd only risk discovery."

She cleared the makeshift demonstration of her previous attempt at providing visual guidance with a brush of her hands. Letting the scattered nuts and what few other baubles fall where they may. None of it would be particularly helpful in what she meant to discuss next, and would've infinitely favored a map to explain where they'd all meet, were it necessary they all took their separate ways.

"Which leads me to believe that we look elsewhere, to Launsbelm; a half day to the south."

That would be something they would have to go over in the morning once tensions had cleared and everyone was mostly sober again. If Skad couldn't read a map, then the onerous task of explaining the directions would be necessary.

That being said. Vida was thankful of Masile and her rather deft sense of navigation on the fly, even without the help of any map. Vida would, of course, leave the surprise of volun-telling the alchemist to help Skad with directions for the morning. Until then they could simply drink in peace.

Masile looked innocently on, her only contribution being to nod in acknowledgement.

With everything else out of the way she had thought of something else, then. And wondered if she should even bother - though she'd never be big on trust, she also knew better than to leave others without any. Especially not Skad, whom may not have voiced too many misgivings, was however nonetheless a member of their party, and it paid to act in good faith.

"I know it might not be desirable, and I have a small advance of the payment in full if you require it in light of this information."

How much was a small advance? To be sure, it was not to be scoffed at, but neither was it something she wasn't already willing to part with. It served to assuage any greed that might've been tempered with caution at this newly discovered news, and maybe - just maybe - it would put the third woman in a more complacent mood for the next two days that followed.

Surely she didn't accept this job and all of its dangers without at least expecting a hint of the reward that would follow, right?

Someone was happy for the Nordwiir, in any case. Masile was beaming unhelpfully at the generous offer.

 

[Skad]

Once again, the lone man had found his chance to depart the room briefly, but not before giving the Nordwiir the renewed scrutiny of his gaze. A curious person might have worried, might have imagined a great manner of thoughts on his behalf, wondering exactly what he was seeing. Skad was not that person; instead, she made her own conclusions about him with a returned stare.

She imagined that Drow could also make himself scarce on the battlefield, in a rare complimentary sense, like a shifting shadow. There in one moment, gone in the next. A blink, and he'd be behind you with a blade at your throat.

A meaningless assumption, really. She'd find out his truth soon enough.

Vida returned to the forefront of her attention, still very much on the topic of their job and thus actually worth listening to. Skad's brow let the woman know precisely how many of her words she actually understood, every crease the mark of another unfamiliar term that may as well have been the whinnying of a horse. For a brief flicker, the Nordwiir almost subscribed to the notion that she was a dim-witted barbarian, which prompted her to take several large gulps of water.

From what she understood, they would meet later in the aftermath in a place just as foreign to her. Frankly, it was a greater threat than the guards.

"That is fine."

It was not fine. Unfortunately for Basil, Skad also had her own designs, which involved cornering her in the morning for help understanding.

Perhaps foolishly, Kin-Slayer had thought herself through the other side. She had an idea of what they were doing, how they were doing it and when it was happening. However, Vida was not yet finished, and as the words 'desirable' and 'advance' slapped her in the face, the Nordwiir squeezed her remaining eye shut and actively grimaced. At least she understood the core concept of murder and battle. Their currency was a different beast entirely.

On Eyjarnar, there was no money, their economy of survival shedding off that useless extra step of coin. What good was money to them? You could not eat it, nor would it keep you warm or provide shelter. They traded in supplies only or, failing that, stole them.

She did not know what an advance was but highly doubted that it was something that her people would engage in. Opening her eye, Skad only found Basil's joyous expression to bring further confusion and the Nordwiir's face, so far from the controlled blank slate it had once been, contorted to something between constipation and agony.

"I am not knowing what you meaning," she conceded in a tone that could be considered whiny by Skad's standards, her elbows thumping onto the table so that she could use the heel of her palms to prop up her forehead, "Vida, you are doing war on my head."

 

[Vida]

Skad looked more pained with each word that came out of her mouth, and by the end, she looked downright miserable. Miserable enough that it was almost endearing, in a way. Had Vida not been aware that the Nordwiir's mental state seemed to be perpetually stuck on the precipice of violence, she might have even found cause to feel sympathy for the other woman.

But she knew better than that, and so was not at all sympathetic to Skad's plight. Still, she answered with an apologetic smile, a faint tilt of her chin.

"An advance means paying you a part of the whole reward, ahead of time, as opposed to paying the entirety of your due once the task is completed, as a sign of good faith."

It was an answer that was, for once, reasonably amiable despite the exasperated undertone that poisoned every word she spoke. Try as she might to keep it in check, never was Vida one for repeating herself, and so this was an exercise in patience and restraint that the otherwise flippant woman hadn't known she possessed until now.

But to be fair, considering how their interactions typically went, this was most assuredly an improvement.

She even went a step further in a bid to show just how amenable she could be, by clarifying moments later: "I mean to pay you a little bit now, and the rest after the task is done." Even adding afterward. "I know it may be confusing, so I apologize to be doing war on your head."

By the grace of whatever gods were perhaps listening in at that moment, Varnehy finally returned from his venture for the retrieval of more wine. His arrival was attended by the swinging of the far kitchen doors, swinging open to the embrace of a rush of warm air from where the fires of the cauldron no doubt still burned. Likely all day and all night, actually, as it was ofttimes cheaper to simply leave it boiling for an... indeterminate amount of time.

In his hands - again by the grace of gods - was a freshly-filled jug of water as well as a full carafe this time, soon to be explained as being a different vintage altogether than the mulled wine they previously drank. Not that it would've made much of a difference to Skad beyond the taste; a sweet white wine replacing a dry red was nothing more than a minor detail to someone who only sought to drink it, not so much about the product itself.

However. Skad might have appreciated the variety and that she got to drink it at all, with little need to be paying for it out of her own apparently non-existent purse. She could not say the same of Vida and Varnehy, who promptly got down to what really mattered - the discussion of said vintage as it was something neither of them had tasted before, but spoke on of fruh-revellion and end-call-eon and so on.

They were happy to yap about it, leaving Masile and Skad with what was left of their mulled wine, and the full carafe.

"Do the people of Eyjarnar not have any idea of currency?" Masile had asked then, rather on-mark it seemed, as she noted how the woman struggled with the concept of an advance. "You truly only seek coin to return home, then. If I may ask, what waits for you there?"

More importantly, what did Skad think of all of this? How much did she despise having to depend on foreigners, having to rely on their coin in order to pay for a ship home from the land she originally came to raid and plunder? Masile didn't doubt that it was a sensitive topic to discuss, and so she hadn't, keeping her silence instead rather than risk it.

She was long since aware of what too much curiosity foretold, and decided wisely that it wasn't just worth it - at least not yet - until the Nordwiir woman spoke of it herself. And so Masile waited for a reply, her fingers brushing the strands of her hair clinging, humidly, to her forehead.

 

[Skad]

Vida elaborated once, her words somewhat confirming her suspicions on the matter of payment but muddying the waters as her sentence ran on much longer than it was welcome. Perhaps she had not survived the voyage, and this was the very face of Refsingar.

Before Skad, with her head still in her hands, could contemplate this benign vision of hell, the woman provided a more succinct definition of an advance—a small blessing. Looking up from her position of linguistic misery, the Nordwiir glanced at Vida, mostly checking that she was not taking the piss. Signs of good faith, as it had been put, were not commonplace between her people. Not that she would turn it down; that would have been foolish.

"Yes. I take advance," she grumbled in confirmation, the appearance of Drow a blessing for all involved.

The notion of more wine had gradually become more appealing as the conversation continued, and in the knowledge that they would not be doing the job until the next evening, Skad was more than just tempted by the prospect of drunken oblivion.

She decided to carry on with water for the time being.

Well, until Basil decided to return to form, asking questions anew while the other two frittered away on the subject of... something. The alchemist's curiosity might have been commendable if Kin-Slayer had not been on the receiving end of it.

"No," Skad answered, running her hands down her face, which once more mingled the drying blood of her hand with sweat, "we trading supplies. Only use for what can be using."

While considering an answer to the second part of the woman's question, she took the opportunity to refresh herself with another sip before turning in her chair to face her well-meaning tormentor. The Nordwiir had been avoiding contemplating this topic.

"Must answering for failing," Kin-Slayer informed the woman, her trademarked dispassion creeping back into her tone although her expression remained suitably grim.

"Beating, maybe. Or banish if good luck. If not, then death."

 

[Vida]

Skad didn't make for a particularly cheerful dinner companion, that much was obvious. So obvious that for a moment it even caused Masile's one-too-many-drinks smile to falter, if only momentarily, before she did as she always did - processed the information with a patient nod, and continued with what she now knew for future reference.

To the answer of preferring the simplicity of bargaining over coin, she nodded again, replied: "That seems rather sensible, rather than try to pretend that small pieces of cheap metals are worth their weight in other supplies. Then again, even our poorest know the value of coinage, and need not learn how to barter over every little thing."

Masile proceeded to lean into the arm she had on the table and rested her cheek upon its palm.

Indeed she had asked the question in the first place in order to discern what awaited the Nordwiir upon returning to her homeland, so she hardly had cause for complaint now that she finally received her answer. Although it might not have been one she was fond of. Death, or potentially torture hardly made for compelling dinner topics, at the best of times.

Not that that seemed to concern either Vida or Varnehy in the least, for they largely ignored the conversation happening on the other side of the table beyond Vida nodding in recognition of having heard Skad say that, yes she would prefer having an advance, as it happened.

Their attention, for the time being, yet remained on the glass carafe that was brought out. Why wasn't this one of Ansalleon's vintages, so widely sought after that a patrician of Saknne auctioned a large part of his already voluminous wine cellar so that he could buy out wholesale a newly cropped batch that had hit the markets?

Not that this was the same vintage, of course, but a far more common brand.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Masile didn't appear at all intent on joining the conversation they were having, nor did she attempt to interject on Skad's behest. For some reason she hadn't thought the discussion to be a terribly thrilling one for the Nordwiir woman's palate. Much the opposite if she had to wager a guess, and would likely find the answer to that question reflected in the Nordwiir's face anyway.

"You must forgive my sheltered sensibilities for asking, but how would they pin blame on you for an act of the sea?"

Bless the poor girl for imagining that there was anything even remotely sensible about Skad's culture.

Yet she had to ask because she was curious, and when she was curious she would ask whether... anyone, really, liked it or not. Now was most certainly no exception to the rule, especially while the other two were distracted and Skad having given the alchemist woman her full confidence; turning to face her tormenter and their questions in full.

"And how exactly do they mean to judge you then, for this failure? To be put to death for returning at all?"

At least someone was worked up over this travesty of justice in the stead of a dispassionate Skad. Masile's cheek pressed further into her palm as more of her bodyweight was held up by the table, leaning further into it while she brought the cup she'd left again to her mouth.

She hardly even noticed for a few seconds as the other two got up from their chairs; the sounds that Vida made as she stretched brought her attention back to them. A yawn and the scraping of her chair against the wooden floorboards, afterward the clinking of a ceramic cup against the table as Vida bent to collect hers.

"I'm going to bed, don't think to wake me until morning. Skad, your room is on the left of the hallway."

Then she departed with no further fanfare, bringing naught else but the recently refilled cup of wine along with her as she did so. Meanwhile, Varnehy proceeded to bow and wish them all a goodnight, saying something to the effect that he had some affairs to deal with in the morning and would have to get up early to see to them, or something of that nature.

"Oh, very well then, please sleep soundly."

Masile returned the sentiment with an unhurried smile, bidding the two of them farewell before wholly returning her attention to Skad.

 

[Skad]

Skad was more than aware that the topic of their conversation was bleak, but if the alchemist had not realised by now that every answer to her questions on Nordwiir culture would not be a sparkling ray of sunshine, then she likely never would. She didn't expect pity to be shed on her behalf either, nor the offer of a solution to her problem.

As always, Kin-Slayer had simply stated the facts.

"My Hæfur-" she began before catching the Wiir word as it attempted to escape her lips, her face twitching as she changed the course of her words, "My men. I am leading. The care is on me."

The much was true. The head of any Hæfurkappi was responsible for the men and women under them, even as it were, against forces of nature like the sea. It had been argued that perhaps the woman whose given Heiti was Kin-Slayer was not quite the suitable choice to ensure the survival of her kin but Kol, who stood in high regard, had argued her case. Skad was more than just a treacherous hand of death; she was a shrewd and uncompromising force of faith.

Or at least, that was his assertion.

After finishing her water, Skad wasted little time going after the carafe, whose contents would be left to the last standing or sitting, as it were.

Naturally, Vida announced her departure with a sudden scraping of her chair, which, at the very least, garnered an irritated glance from the Nordwiir. She offered a nod and a grunt in the affirmative to her words, having no intention of disturbing the mercenary's rest lest she face the wrath of a long and scathing lecture.

"It is depends," she finally continued, now pouring a fresh cup of whatever variety of drink that Varnehey had scavenged from the kitchen, "Can still bringing back good supply. Hard on own, not unpossible."

The bouquet and body of the vintage were entirely lost on Skad, who drank as if she were planning to piss the bed with reckless abandon. The taste had become irrelevant, instead merely a vessel for a solid night's sleep, an anaesthetic for the horrors of so many sustained conversations.

"Not know who is in charge. They will judge," the Nordwiir continued, returning to the previous topic. Change was swift on Eyjarnar, the nature of constant warfare meaning that no one figure stood for long at the head of the table. The blood shaman, Kol, who heard the very voices of the Gods within his skull, had been in that position when she departed. She couldn't say if he would be there on her return.

"Not agree with death. Will make them fighting for it," Skad was sure to add, giving Basil a firm nod as if that was any assurance.

 

[Vida]

For Skad's part, she found a way to draw the fangs of a bleak conversation rather neatly through the matter-of-fact way she outlined the realities of what she might return to, and their harsh sense of justice. Then again, it might have been as simple as the Nordwiir woman finding nothing wrong with the way her people conducted their impromptu legal systems. It was a little difficult to tell.

However, Skad made it rather clear that she wouldn't submit so easily if it did come to death.

Masile hadn't found that surprising in the least, given how few would so willingly go to their deaths, and that this scarred woman before her seemed like she'd be an even less willing participant in her own execution. Nor should she, when Masile's point was exactly as she put it; for what was a mistake on the water?

Whether that would be any reassurance to either of the women when that day finally came, was anybody's guess.

But the concept of the 'captain going down with their ship' wasn't a foreign one to Masile. It was actually fairly common insofar as people who valued honour and their chain of command were concerned. Not that she personally subscribed to the notion, neither did she think Skad did - considering how little the Nordwiir thought of her own men beneath her dying.

What did Skad say? They should have trying harder to live?

As it was mentioned, she still understood the concept, and said as much. "I think I do understand. They were under your command, and coming home with their deaths and little besides would be hard to explain. Not so much if you return home with something, as you said."

Her hand reached out for the carafe in the meantime, only to discover that Skad had taken hold of it first in her unending quest to drunkenly avail herself of any and all liquids within the proximity of the table. All that bleeding that she was still doing no doubt made her a very thirsty woman, though Masile hadn't thought it wise to comment to that effect. Instead she awkwardly hovered until Skad had finished before taking it for herself, filling her ceramic cup about half-way.

Unlike some others she had next to no intention of drunkenly pissing the bed. All the more power to Skad though, living her best life.

"What I am less certain of is whether the coin you make here will be enough, after buying a ship to sail home."

Thinking long and hard on her next question, Masile decided instead to delay it for the moment. Far more content in tasting for herself the contents of the carafe so widely spoken of. She enjoyed wine - that was true, and certainly didn't mind its taste though she knew little of all the available vintages beyond the fact that they were drinkable.

This one was, so she drank without too much commentary even as the remainder of the mulled wine probably diluted a great deal of what made it so worthy of conversation in the first place. When she finally had enough of playing the connoisseur, the cup was returned to the table with a perhaps louder than necessary clatter - saving it from tipping over entirely with fluttery hands, and an apologetic smile to Skad.

"Skad, I am curious about one thing. Would you imagine anyone speaking on your behalf, if a trial is to be so?

 

[Skad]

These rare moments of understanding between the language barriers and cultures were to be savoured, unlike the wine, which would be thrown down her neck at a renewed pace following her brief foray into actual hydration.

While Skad agreed that she was responsible for the lives that both Urutash and her blade took, the traditions of her people were vastly outweighed by the will of Haraudur. His word was ultimately her law, and His word did not tolerate those whose faith wavered or who baulked in the face of struggle. If they could not serve as blades, they would serve as vessels to quench the endless thirst.

She did not divulge that thought; the further her faith stayed from these foreigners' mouths, the better.

"Only needing coin for ship," came the gruff rebuttal, Skad's cup being held beneath her chin as if waiting for an opportunity between words, "Will raid what can to taking home."

Although, it raised an entirely new issue.

"The coin is good for boat, yes?" Kin-Slayer inquired, having fully rotated in her chair to face Basil. Her eyebrow was raised, curious in an almost interrogative manner. The last thing she wanted was to be caught short in an attempt to buy a boat, as some things could not be stolen so easily.

Her next question, one of many, was no doubt easy to answer and fell swiftly from her lips, whose cracks were stained by the mulled wine.

"No."

Normally, it would have been left at that, but the alcohol had eroded enough of her barriers that she would offer context. Was it so bad to give this woman further insight into her life? With more of her senses intact, yes, it was. The less insight anybody had into your head, the better.

"I am not having friends. Many wanting me dead. I talk for me. Or fight if needing."

 

[Vida]

To the question of whether it would be enough for a ship, Masile would answer in the affirmative, though she would caution in the same breath against expectations of it being a terribly majestic vessel. For certain there wouldn't be nearly enough coin for a ship sturdy enough to field two hundred armed raiders, but it'd be enough perhaps for a complement of thirty to fifty, or thereabouts.

About what Skad might've originally expected given her cultural background, as it happened.

And just to provide any necessary clarification, she repeated it in plainer terms. "Yes, the coin is good for a boat."

Then came the second, far more touchy topic of discussion. Masile hadn't honestly expected the other woman to discuss it at any length. And yet she did, doubtlessly influenced in part by the wine being consumed at a pace that'd put most bar regulars to shame. It most certainly put the smaller, far more delicate alchemist to shame, as a glance from Skad might confirm whenever she might've decided to gulp down another mouthful of the sweet liquid.

What was one to say to that, sorry? Masile was under the distinct impression that whoever Skad might be as a person, she was most assuredly not someone that expressed any overt fondness for others. Of that, the alchemist had been made keenly aware of that sentiment again and again throughout their journey thus far, and suspected it would persist throughout the remainder of their working together.

Yet she couldn't help but express a fondness for the scarred, emotionally unavailable woman anyway; mostly for how little Skad had actually attempted to hide it. So often did people conceal themselves behind masks and pretenses of kindness or polite niceties. Not so much for one called Kin-Slayer. Even if Masile could not say the same for herself, who attempted to wield it when necessary, though she lacked a great deal of tact that ultimately made her mask all but useless.

With Skad she was honest, at least. Perhaps a little too honest. She couldn't help but smother the damaged woman with kindness.

"I cannot see why not," said the liar about the declaration of having no friends, who had just claimed herself as someone honest with the Nordwiir; the overwhelming desire for kindness won the battle, at least temporarily, "or perhaps I can, for you seem to me as someone who is content in her own company. You might not believe me saying so, but I can understand, even if fewer might want me dead than they do you."

Even Masile couldn't tell if that was meant to be encouraging, or mutually self-deprecating, and blamed somewhat the wine for sapping away what little was left of the tact she already didn't possess. So she rushed onward instead of dwelling on that particular comment, hoping it didn't irritate Skad too much, and equally hoping to avoid having her tongue betray her again with any additional well-meaning commiseration.

"Still, you managed to find the crew for your ship - even without the help of coin. That must have meant something."

Having taken another sip of a rapidly depleting cup, Masile set it down alongside a propped elbow to contemplate what she'd said.

How would Skad have gotten a crew together without at least the barest hint of respect amongst her people? That must mean something, even if this time the Nordwiir woman were to return with significantly less of a haul than what might've otherwise been expected. Of any concern over the villagers of the aborted raid, or the raid Skad had planned with this new ship, she gave no voice to.

 

[Skad]

When Basil spoke, Skad's expression grew puzzled as if she had just witnessed a second mouth grow from the alchemist's forehead that could only speak in riddles.

I cannot see why not.

An absurd statement. The Nordwiir knew who she was, and in the follow-up explanation could agree with the sense of contentment. Before she was Kin-Slayer she was known as a cunt, and after too. Abrupt, uncompromising, and with little need to spare feelings. The woman didn't have friends before she had taken to wanton slaughter of the faithless, and nor did she find much purpose in them. She never reflected on the why, opting to preserve that energy for Haraudur, nor did she plan to.

"You are more smart than that," the Nordwiir commented, her words the only thing that kept the cup from her lips, "I am not pleasing. I am cold. I bringing death. Easy to see that."

From a tactical standpoint, it was beneficial to have allies. Would Vida be where she was if not for Basil and Drow? It wasn't a question that Skad could answer, but one she could guess the answer to. Friends could help keep blades out of your back. However, such connections had drawbacks, at least in her view. They could warp your perspective, and leave you making a worse decision in the name of fond bias. It involved emotions, the downfall of many, and what for? Companionship? A warm body at night?

It was a weakness; a distraction.

"Crew was given for faith and my doings," she explained, her face having settled back into her typical countenance, if not slightly more animated than before, "Many did not liking it."

She recalled the protests from some, with Kol doing most of the work in convincing them of her merits. The draw was her unshakable faith and inability to die. Some may have boarded the boat thinking that her gift might have protected them too, and if not that, then Haraudur's own unspoken approval of His blade.

"Would you wanting to be on my crew?" Kin-Slayer asked in a low rumble, leaning closer into Basil, her eye studying the woman's face for the slightest twitch. A small mercy that the wine had somewhat improved her cadaverous breath.

"Do not lying, Basil."

 

[Vida]

Ah, that would explain it. Masile somewhat doubted that there were a great many others that saw Skad the same way she did, or extended as much leniency to the woman as she did, for that matter. Not that she could necessarily blame them; that unbridled, single-minded determination of the other woman did not serve to endear her to others as it might've to Masile.

It wasn't the most terribly appealing quality to have, at least for conversation at the dinner table. Or at all, really. Yet she couldn't find any reason to fault Skad for it. From everything the alchemist was beginning to glean of Nordwiir culture, she was seriously beginning to think that same devotion was considered admirable in its peculiar way, especially if one was granted a crew because of it.

That relentless pursuit of her god's wishes, the success of all her "doings".

Skad must have been doing something right if she had been gifted a crew despite how... well, nobody seemed particularly overjoyed to be assigned to the task, were the woman's words taken at face value. Certainly, Masile was starting to see how the brunt of the disappointment might fall upon Skad, whether it was earned or not, and understood how a lack of friendship might've contributed to the dilemma the other woman could find herself in upon returning.

As for the question of Masile's intellect, she could only offer a rather guilty smile in reply.

Idly she wondered if a little tact might go a long way in helping repair Skad's image, for some white lies were best left uncorrected since the truth was so seldom kind, even if it was the truth. But tact wasn't the Nordwiir's specialty, nor was it hers, as it happened. So instead she was pretty much just called out to her face, without a whiff of hesitation.

Now the onus was on Masile to volunteer an argument to the contrary if feelings were to be spared, and to prove that she wasn't a bold-faced liar. Despite whatever was on the line, she genuinely couldn't think of one - whoops.

With the absence of any actual reply, she decided instead that it was best if she changed the subject of conversation to the hypothetical being put forth with a shrug of her shoulders. "If I came from your people and grew up under the same circumstances you had, then perhaps I would have. But then I wouldn't be the person I am now. Not to say the idea doesn't sound appealing, since I do so enjoy travelling to strange places. It's one of the reasons I'm with Vida on this quest, after all."

Most diplomatically said, but was that her way of saying no? It was a little difficult to parse.

"And so I think... not, I do not see myself as a very daring raider. I'm sorry."

For her part she did indeed look sorry. Honestly, she probably looked far sorrier in turning down the random hypothetical than Skad ever appeared to be when speaking of how she had no friends to call her own, at least outwardly. It was hard to know for sure what went on behind the Nordwiir's exceedingly ox-like eyes, no doubt all the newly discovered placidity was in part because of the tankard held in a scarred, bleeding hand.

But even if Skad found the verbal answer insufficient, the self-effacing smile Masile gave ultimately said more than words ever could; that she was no fighter, nor was she a raider, and never for a moment pretended to be. That was what her smile said. But there was little to say of what was dancing within her eyes, when all that appeared within was a calmness one might find in a deep, dark ocean. They hadn't yet budged from this weirdly intense staring match.

Masile was on a mission to decipher why it happened in the first place, and so her eyes did not stray.

Perhaps Skad merely wished to gauge the degree of lies that this woman possessed when asking such an odd question, or perhaps it was for another reason entirely? Was it for fun? Whatever it was, it seemed as if Masile wouldn't look away first until one of the women had their answer. At least it wasn't wholly quiet in the meantime, for the ambience of crickets filtered through the partially opened shutters to the world outside.

What she did do, however, was lean back for enough clearance to drink from her mug without any interruptions from Skad's mug.

"Any reason why you might ask?

 

[Skad]

A hypothetical question warranted a hypothetical answer, which seemed to be Basil's preferred state of being. Skad hadn't intended on offering the alchemist her favoured position, but then again, she hadn't planned on getting stranded in a foreign place, drinking wine with people who had released her from a prisoner's wagon. She tried not to overthink it, instead focusing on the other woman's answer.

She was clever.

The Nordwiir wasn't too far gone to miss Basil's words, which mirrored her own from their previous conversation. She would not be the person she was now. This practically rendered the interrogation pointless, and a predatory lip curl found a certain amusement in that. However, unlike before, when Skad had decidedly ended their prior conversation, refusing to imagine an alternative, the other woman offered something more. She did so enjoy the sound of her musings.

Her unwavering stare betrayed the words that suggested a lack of confidence in her future as an honourary Nordwiir raider. It felt like a challenge, or perhaps, at the very least, an inch of defiance. Not entirely unwelcome, but at the very least, a further curiosity.

Skad let the moment settle, choosing to drain another cup before setting it down on the table, never taking her eyes off the alchemist.

"Wanting to knowing," Kin-Slayer answered, her lower jaw shifting from side to side as if making an internal deliberation, which was not untrue. "I am thinking you are danger. You making you seeming weak and...kind. I am saying it is the lie."

An arm reached forward, and a single finger moved to give Basil's forehead a few taps.

"You asking questions. You go small and hide but do listening. Thinking. Even if you are not fighting, does not mean you are not killing."

With that, Skad leaned back into the chair, still facing the alchemist with her lone eye continuing to look for something beyond placation that would confirm her suspicions. Would innocent ignorance meet her in return? Perhaps Basil would be pleased with the assessment; it was, after all, as close as the Nordwiir came to a personal compliment.

"But should learning to fighting," the Nordwiir continued with a shrug, defusing the taut accusation she had just levelled, "then could travel with no needing for Vida."

 

[Vida]

How complimentary of the woman known as Skad Kin-Slayer, of all people, to suggest that the little alchemist had the potential for so much more beyond Vida's machinations. It was also unexpectedly sweet of the Nordwiir, albeit with a bluntness and complete lack of subtlety that Masile already noted to be quintessential to the other woman's personality.

The directness with which it was declared might've been why the alchemist suddenly blinked.

Or, more likely, it was because of the forehead tapping on Skad's part.

As a rule Masile preferred not to seek out dangerous situations, the current circumstances of entertaining a drunken axe wielding woman notwithstanding. That was why she answered the way she did, for it had been truthful; she was no fighter solely due to the fact that direct confrontations would always be dangerous, and would always carry some degree of preventable risk. The goal was to minimize it, not to pretend at swordplay.

Then again, the nature of her training and the calling she meant to pursue would always mean that violence and killing were going to be ever present, in some fashion or another. Her chilly calculus of the risks involved already told her that Skad was correct. As reprehensible as the thought was, it was simply impossible for her to always play possum or hide behind the backs of others. But did that disguise of total disregard for playing a personal role in fighting make her dangerous, as the Nordwiir claimed her to be?

An interesting question in itself, even if it had not been directly asked.

"My intention is not to be misleading with the questions I ask, for they are sincere. An academician tends to ask a great deal of them for no other reason than curiosity's sake, as I do. You may find them tiring, yes, but dangerous? How might they post a threat to you?" Masile continued not to offer any direct refutation to the rest of the pointed accusation, instead playing coy with an interrogation of her own; asking how questions posed by a silly little guy could put at risk a warrior who wasn't entirely deficient of cunning herself. "Although you're quite correct to be suspicious. You cannot simply trust everybody that claims to be harmless, as who can say where danger might lie?"

Masile wondered if she had indeed drank too much of the mulled wine in her attempts at more comfortably socializing, as she didn't quite appreciate this overt side of hers. Where the almost puckish way she framed her replies probably only fed into the implications that were being laid bare by the other woman's accusations, in retrospect. Oh well. It was hardly unfathomable advice and no doubt Skad already knew as much.

Anyway, she was just happy that the Nordwiir woman's words finally meandered into the realm of 'vaguely pleasant and unaccusatory' again. Even as she couldn't quite take the notion as seriously as one might hope. Like she said, she was no fighter and never pretended to be. But it was a fascinating subject of conversation, if only to hear Skad's own... unique brand of logic.

"That would be an interesting sight, to see me fighting. I don't see how I'd be equipped for it however."

She most definitely did not see herself hoisting an axe or jagged dagger as Skad did, nor did she see herself on the frontlines of a battlefield fighting for her very life all for the sake of travel. Those were images that, when conjured in her mind, failed to produce even the vaguest degree of excitement. That was why she travelled with Vida in the first place. Or with others - such as Skad for example.

Thinking of yet another subject of debate, Masile sat a little straighter in her seat as she coddled her drink between two restless hands; a middle finger tapping along with her thoughts against the ceramic of the cup. "Did you train from a young age to fight the way you do? I notice how you decided against a shield."

 

[Skad]

Skad scoffed, increasingly animated by the wine as Basil protested the innocence of knowledge. The Nordwiir couldn't fathom the concept of learning for the sake of curiosity, perhaps another symptom of comfort. To her, knowledge was no different than a skinning knife.

"Learn to finding what makes enemy weak. Learn where hurting. Learn fear. Learn love. Use it to kill," Skad explained despite being convinced that the alchemist was not oblivious to her point. "Questions giving the learning. Questions are dangerous."

Knowing your enemy was to get on the front foot, and Kin-Slayer sought that advantage wherever she could. It paid to be perceptive, to spot a favoured limb, or to find out what made others tick. Being called callous, underhanded, or dishonourable was no stain to her; what good was a principled reputation if you were dead? Of course, too far in the other direction and...

...no grim fate had befallen her yet, so it was pointless to speculate. Better to plan instead.

Basil continued her course, making it seem ridiculous that she could fight as if she didn't have functioning arms or legs or travel with those who could show her. She wouldn't challenge the tragic self-assessment as it wasn't her problem and didn't warrant the effort.

Then, another question.

"'How might they pose a threat to you?'" Skad parroted back, her accent warping her impression of Basil into a demented mockery. Amused scepticism gripped Nordwiir's face as she did so. "You wanting to knowing how I fighting," the one-eyed woman returned, leaning forward with her back crooked as Basil straightened, "but you do not do fighting. That is for curiosity, yes?"

Her mouth split into a grin that was both entertained and carnivorous, not to mention inebriated.

"Funny girl."

Hands clasped together with a sudden slap meant to give the alchemist a small jolt before Skad's appraisal of the situation began.

"What are you knowing? I say you are knowing that I don't use shield. I don't like arrows. Knife and axe, you knowing I go fast and close," the Nordwiir was rattling off everything that could and likely had been picked up from conversation and observation. "What other? Ah. You are knowing blind side on right. Weakness. Knowing must fighting wild to having so many scars but not knowing how still living. That is bother for you."

She tilted her head to the side and shrugged incredulously.

"Just for curiosity, yes?" Skad posed the question again, her timbre lower this time, suggesting that whatever the alchemist was selling, she was not fully buying.

"I do not worry," Kin-Slayer followed up, sitting up once more before looking at the table and laying claim to the carafe, entirely skipping the middleman of the cup. "Not thinking you be cutting my throat later." With a disregard for communal hygiene, Skad drank deeply from the container and returned her attention to Basil only after her thirst was sated.

"I thinking you would do poison."

 

[Vida]

Masile sat and listened attentively as Skad waxed on about her assessment of the alchemist, fingers drumming all the while upon the ceramic in her hands. Every now and then her chin would tilt downwards in a way that was infuriatingly reminiscent of Vida's condescension, even if it didn't have a fraction of the bite of the latter's silent criticisms.

More in an effort to quietly urge the woman to continue speaking her truth than to condescend, really. Yet she could not deny a peculiar amusement that was hidden underneath all the urging, and found it difficult to tell where this particularly rare emotion was coming from. She was no Vida, but for some reason she couldn't help herself from hanging onto Skad's every word with a certain perverse pleasure.

Why was that?

It wasn't because she didn't take it seriously, since a good bit of it was... remarkably on the nose.

The scarred, ranting woman clapping with such force that it did indeed produce the intended result from Masile did not know her, not truly. Skad most certainly could not read minds, and it was clear that she was a little paranoid in her judgements. And still she wasn't far from the truth with her rough approximation of Masile. What the Nordwiir had discerned from the conversations they've had so far and by simple observation alone was impressive, so was that why she found herself entertained by this whole affair?

Why was she more relaxed than worried by how transparent her actions apparently were to Skad?

"I thinking you would do poison."

Masile watched with that same morbid fascination as the conversation quickly veered away from the tangent and into accusations. The fact that the Nordwiir drank from her cup all the same despite the obviously correct poison conjecture wasn't lost on the smaller woman, who shook her head to deny it, eyes then narrowing while her mouth quirked to the side at the brash overconfidence being displayed.

All the better that her eyes were narrowed in playful disbelief rather than anger, otherwise it would've become quickly apparent just how correct Skad was in her appraisal of Masile. As it stood, there was no reason to be pulling out poison for what was so clearly an exercise in idle venting; the alchemist couldn't deny how her attitude rubbed off on Skad, albeit not quite in the same way that Vida's had.

So, why?

"Are we no longer assuming that I have the intention of killing you tonight? I'm glad we could move past that, at least."

And so the Nordwiir was concerned about Masile's questions after all? At least for an indeterminate future where any answer she might speak could be used against her in some way. Her eyes moved from Skad's to the cup the woman was holding in order to drive home the point that she understood that there was no threat to be had, at least not tonight while they drank in a somewhat friendly fashion.

She set her cup down, empty, not bothering to refill it until after she'd spoken. "No bother to me, it's just curiosity. Though I won't deny that I was wondering about how you've seen and survived so much without even a shield to ward against harm." Masile brought her chin to rest once again upon her unoccupied hand, no longer were they clutching her mug so tightly. "But I imagine that the answer to that is simple; you survive because you're a better warrior than most, and more talented than whoever might cross you. Is that why you worry so much about poison and not a blade?"

Not willing to wrestle the carafe away from the Nordwiir, nor bothering to comment on the empty state of her own, Masile watched as the remaining contents of the carafe was drained gulp by gulp by an absurd thirst of a Norsewoman. But she couldn't deny that it was... inadvisable to refill her cup further, uncomfortable with how relaxed her tongue had become as the minutes wandered into an hour. So perhaps Skad was doing them both a service.

"I will admit that I'm curious about you, Skad. Not for any sinister reasons, but simply because you interest me."

She thought for a moment longer, adding: "Not for any sinister reasons right at this very moment, if you needed the clarification so badly."

 

[Skad]

What was that? A bite back?

Basil's first retort warranted an intrigued glance. It did not hold the same non-committal energy as all of her previous answers; in fact, if she were reading the tone correctly, it was even a touch prickly.

Of course, Skad did not believe that the alchemist was planning to murder her in the night. It would have been a great inconvenience to Vida, who reigned supreme over the trio, and she would have been left without her precious chaotic savage for the promised evening of violence. Not to mention, the Nordwiir had hardly done anything other than push back against the merely curious woman, and if Kin-Slayer couldn't rationalise murder in that circumstance, nobody could.

However, Basil persisted with her version of inquisitive innocence, leaving Skad to sit and absorb more academically-framed interrogation.

Her face, lubricated by a copious amount of wine, evidently found the assumption that she was a better warrior highly amusing, mainly because it was untrue. The upward curl at the edge of her lip could have been misconstrued, however, seen as arrogance or even, Gods forbid, pride.

The truth was that Skad was not a particularly skilled warrior, not drilled in any technique other than a good eye for where to strike to end a life quickly. It was not the mastery of her hand that defeated those more skilled than her in the art of battle but instead the weight of her Gjöf. What defence was there to be had against a maniac who fought as if they were immortal? Worse still, what could you do when it seemed true?

When Basil had finished her piece, the carafe had taken a dent, and in turn, so had the Nordwiir's senses. Not drunk enough to fall off the chair, but drunk enough to acknowledge that it was likely a good time to stop. An underrated skill amongst those who imbibed.

"What is sinister?" Skad inquired, thrusting the carafe towards Basil as if the curious woman would wish to share a vessel with her mouth. "And clarific... clarification?"

Now, that was a big word.

"No. Not better warrior," she conceded with a shrug, indicating that she held no issue with the statement of fact. A nice, solid answer for the alchemist to plant her feet upon, although given Skad's decision to give it to her, suggested that the Nordwiir did not classify that as a weakness. "Vida and Drow better warrior than me. I knowing this from looking. I not caring about fighting. Liking cutting the sleeping throat. Is better."

After this discussion, she imagined that Basil would be barricading the door to her room.

"Poison hard. Can doing things blade and hammer can't. Like making limbs...not moving," Skad carried on, finding it challenging to describe paralysis without using the word. "Can survive many deaths. Not all."

She froze momentarily, realising that she had carried on speaking, giving the short woman exactly what she craved. One part of her, the ruthless tactician, felt nothing but screeching self-loathing for her lack of self-control, but the other part, fuelled by wine and the amusement of the local fauna, wished to carry on. This had almost become...

...fun.

"I can showing you how I do surviving," she offered, a great broken-toothed grin cresting like a hungering shark above water, "but would have to be killing the inn man. You wanting that?"

 

[Vida]

How was it that all the pieces of the puzzle fit so neatly, yet never produced the insight Masile had hoped for?

Not that she was terribly frustrated with how the conversation was going since her questions were being answered, even if her understanding of what Skad had actually meant was diluted not just by the translation issues, but also by all the wine that'd already passed their lips. Making it surprisingly convenient for the Nordwiir woman to suddenly spew out her secret of partial immortality to an audience that hardly registered its significance.

Oddly phrased? Most certainly. But the implication of surviving "many deaths" was chalked up to a boastfulness that appeared to border on the pathological, even when the scarred woman otherwise seemed almost... humble in the assessment of her abilities, making the claim that the two other warriors were stronger; that she didn't even care about fighting. Unless she had the advantage, that was.

Masile couldn't help but to smile again at that; the expression was one of genuine appreciation, this time.

"Sinister? I suppose it means that I would have evil or malicious intentions. Like cutting someone's throat in their sleep, or poisoning a person because I want them to be dead. And asking all these questions would've somehow given me an advantage in doing so, but since I don't ask for any sinister reasons, it's not harmful to you."

She swatted at the air with a disdainful flick of her fingers, showing what she thought of the idea.

Hopefully that was answer enough for Skad. Although given Masile's wry expression it wasn't a particularly comforting answer. It would seem that Masile hadn't only rubbed off on Skad with her sudden enthusiasm for Q&As, but also that Skad had rubbed off on her when it came to the penchant for vaguely threatening banter. Something that the little alchemist wasn't precisely known for, at least not when it came to Vida and Varnehy, and it surprised her almost as much to be hearing it come from her lips.

Her newfound fondness for dark humour could only be blamed on the Nordwiir.

And perhaps also the wine, of that she did not doubt.

But she didn't stop after the clarification, circling around to what Skad had said previously about her method of fighting. "So you say you're no better than my two companions, but you're wise enough to realize that it's not all about who is more skilled with swordsmanship. Some might consider that cowardice, you know, to employ cunning rather than brute strength. And yet many brave warriors would do well to learn from you."

Masile's words were decidedly complimentary, even when they weren't exactly what most fighters would have liked to hear. To be accused of cowardice was apparently a rather terrible sin, and yet the alchemist was nodding along in appreciation of Skad's... what, unconventionality? For a woman who knew very little of the intricacies of combat and preferred to keep it that way, Skad's style of fighting made perfect sense to her. Clearly it was deserving of some recognition if her commentary about all those other brave warriors was any indication.

"I can showing you how I do surviving,"

Still, when the proposal from Skad to showcase exactly this was offered, Masile couldn't help but to inwardly flinch. Her smile curdled like old milk, and she made the same sour face one might make upon discovering the fact. Her hand yet again came down from her chin so that she could wrap it around her mug again, to link both hands together against the ceramic. Like she needed something to hold onto while she contemplated what Skad had said.

Her fingers were barely able to interlock around the rather narrow cup, palms on either side as she reflexively rolled them across its surface. She noticed how smoothly they slid across the surface of the ceramic, damp to the touch. Either by the perspiration of her drunkenness, or her nervousness, who was to say? It was obvious at that point how Masile was biding her time, more so when she looked to the contents of her cup; her eyes flicking again to Skad upon re-examining the still empty mug.

"I don't know about that, I really do take your word for it."

Yet she didn't have the same hunger to see it for herself, and tried her best to smooth her features into a semblance of calmness despite the trepidation she was feeling. Worrying that she wouldn't quite have a choice in the matter. Not that she cared a fig for the innkeeper, not really, but as cold-blooded as Masile might've been, she still held a certain laughable squeamishness around blood. Even after working with Vida, of all people.

"May I ask why you'd choose the innkeeper? Wouldn't it be inconvenient to kill the person serving us food?"

Now that was just as laughable, for so many reasons. Her definition of food being one of them.

 

[Skad]

"Not wanting me dead now," she countered, "next day when job done and Vida not wanting paying, maybe."

The thought hadn't evaded Skad, the natural paranoid nature of her people always lingering on the edge of her mind, even when it was being drowned by wine. If treachery was expected amongst her own kind, what was expected of southern strangers who held no issues in attacking prisoner wagons and slaughtering guards?

Perhaps the purpose of the advance was to soothe any issues of last-minute changes of heart, but any coin received now could just as easily be retrieved from a corpse later.

She resumed the assault on the carafe, leaving only a small measure as the Nordwiir had apparently found her talent in inhaling wine. At this point, she might as well not have taken her stable bath, feeling more than flush as the sweat on her brow formed angry little northern beads, not accustomed to drinking in this climate. It hadn't helped that she had lit a fire to help dry her furs.

"If you wanting to fucking, be asking," Skad commented in the face of the alchemist's compliments, her curious expression challenging Basil's strange need to hand out a compliment once every five minutes. She was the inverse of her leader in that respect, but perhaps they balanced each other out.

"Better to be living coward not dead with pride. I hoping no warrior is learning from me. Would making them harder to killing."

Having imparted her fleeting battle philosophy before the alcohol fully gripped her brain and filled her mouth with nonsense, Skad leaned forward and tipped the remnants of the wine into Basil's cup. Thankfully, as a white wine, it disguised the visible backwash that had no doubt polluted the once fine vintage. Perhaps Nordwiir spittle was good for the bones.

Her offer for a demonstration was rebuffed, the fires of curiosity dampened by the threat of proceedings becoming a little more visceral and a lot more red.

Skad did not seem disappointed by the reaction; she was more curious in her own smug manner. Perhaps, had she clarified to the alchemist that it would have been a demonstration of a God-given blessing built upon a foundation of blood and sacrifice, it might have been more fascinating, but even now, she did not wish to talk faith with these people, no matter how innocent their motivation.

"He is close. He is easy. Why not inn man? You can't not cooking?"

 

[Vida]

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Masile didn't seem terribly enthusiastic on taking the gamble of whether or not she could ignore the backwash that now contaminated the cup she held in her hands, choosing instead to politely set it upon the table rather than bringing it to her lips. Surely she wouldn't reject such a generous offer, and was no doubt just waiting on Skad to finish speaking before interrupting her with any unnecessary movements.

Or it could've been the proposition that the Nordwiir had brought up; the declaration coming with Masile's undivided attention. That was to say, her brows climbed so high that it almost appeared comical on the alchemist's small face, her mouth twitching open in surprise as if whatever words she might've had for that had suddenly wandered off a tongue now pressed flat against her teeth.

"Ah, no, thank you. That wasn't my intention."

With the awkward denial over with, she was quite happy that Skad made no further attempts to clarify, or to explain what she had meant, instead bouncing from one topic to the next without so much as a blink. As it happened, this subject was exactly what was needed to push Masile into promptly taking a sip of her wine, if only to break the eye contact between the two women.

When she had returned her gaze to the Nordwiir's own, it was as if nothing had happened. At least on Masile's part; she found it rather difficult to dissect exactly where the other woman's thought process was at.

As Skad continued to speak, Masile's gaze eventually stopped wandering once the discussion went back to murder, something she found marginally more comfortable to discuss, and was finally no longer attempting to hide her expressions from Skad's prying eye like some petulant child attempting to avoid an unwelcome topic. Besides, she loved answering questions! Especially when it was an accusation so brazenly leveled against her cooking abilities, since of course she could cook.

"And yes of course I can cook, it's not as if I'm completely helpless, but that wasn't exactly my point." Masile wasn't deaf to the unspoken criticism, and thought she could see the smugness all too well from beneath Skad's bland countenance. The alchemist's mouth twitched yet again, only this time it was to lift the corners of her mouth into a chiding smile. Not quite an overt sign of disapproval over the other woman's savagery, but bordering rather close to it; the fact that it wasn't a well thought out plan was mentioned soon after, so as to quickly give a voice to what the vague smile meant. "I don't necessarily want to serve everyone three square meals a day, not to mention anyone else that might arrive. I don't think I'd make a very convincing innkeeper."

To say nothing of the mess created in the wake of such an act, who exactly would be cleaning that up?"

"Since you wanted my honesty, I don't think you would make a very believable replacement either. I'm sorry."

As to what she was sorry about remained unclear. Presumably because she didn't want to cause any offense over the rather inoffensive statement that Skad would've likely made a poor replica of the clucking, vulture-like innkeeper working in the kitchens. Although considering who she was apologizing to, it was hardly worth the effort of doing so. It was exceedingly unlikely that the stone-faced woman required any soothing over the potential insult.

Maybe realizing this, Masile pivoted to the statement she had initially ignored rather than dwelling on apologies. She took another thoughtless sip from her mug, trying not to think too much about whatever was exchanged from the Nordwiir's rotten maw to the contents of her drink. Well, even if Masile hadn't accepted the kind offer of drunken intimacy, the dubious victory of first-base could nonetheless be claimed. At least indirectly.

After a little more liquid courage, she finally found the words she'd been fishing for. "As for wanting you dead, I don't think so. She wouldn't do such a thing just to avoid paying you. Vida is not a woman that breaks her word so casually, and most certainly not because she wanted to save a few coins."

What was left unsaid in her reassurances to Skad probably said enough by itself, not to mention the inclusion of the 'just' at the beginning of her ringing endorsement for Vida's integrity when it came to paying for a job done. The hidden statement was not difficult to decipher when picked apart at its seams; Skad would be paid for the work she did, that much was true. But for all the other possible reasons why murder might be in the cards?

Well, that was a different accusation altogether. Masile couldn't make any promises there.

 

[Skad]

No death, no sex; it was a wonder what these people did to whittle away the hours between living and dying.

There was a strange satisfaction, however, in being this mortifying caricature of the primal savage, only interested in such base desires. Did it further muddy Basil's appraisal of her character and her people? Remorseless and vulgar. Was that even so far from the truth? She supposed not but found it preferable to their notions of civilisation, weighed down by pointless conversation and gendered clothing.

All she could do was shrug and accept that the frustration of this southern existence would be soothed in carnage on the next day.

The alchemist was ready to defend her culinary honour at the suggestion that she could not cook. However, the smaller woman's train of thought had taken her down a road that assumed that the innkeeper would have to be replaced in the event of his death, as if the world might have collapsed were there nobody else to serve lukewarm jellied eel to socially demented travellers. She somehow doubted that killing the man meant that they were bound by the laws of the universe to take his place.

What she didn't doubt, however, was that she would be a terrible innkeeper, holding no illusions that Basil's appraisal was anything other than the honest truth. However, guests would likely be on their best behaviour on the threat of being sacrificed to a hungering God of Blood.

Why the truth made the alchemist sorry was another question, one completely avoided lest another set of social rules be set down before her like an impossible riddle.

"Good," came Skad's reply to the only point worth the swiftly depleting mental energy. An assurance that Vida would not attempt to fuck her out of the promised coin, a scenario that the Nordwiir had already imagined playing out in idle paranoid thoughts that sought survival at any cost. It did not mean that the mercenary would not have cause to come to violence, but as long as everybody played their part, a problem was not anticipated.

Where the marinated mind of Kin-Slayer found the problem was surprisingly back on the matter of the innkeeper.

"So you are having not worrying with..."

Alas, another unfamiliar word.

<"...witnesses,"> she spoke, rather unhelpfully in Wiir, her stoic expression once more overcome by the frustration of the language barrier as she attempted to make her point. She would have to pivot, so she leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest as if it were a monumental effort to rephrase her point.

"What if inn man is doing the listen? Or the looking?" Skad proposed, marking paranoia as a clear trait alongside her opportunistic nature. "What if he is telling guards of plan? You wanting to taking the chance?"

It was difficult to tell if Skad was simply covering all the bases or attempting to persuade Basil into joining her for a spot of bloodshed. Both could have been argued for, but whether the voice that posed the question came from a place of brutal reason or zealous bloodlust was up for debate, one that no doubt made the alchemist weak at the knees, as all debates would.

"Is not seeming smart to me. If wanting faces to being knowed, then I am seeing. If not, then you are making missed steak."

 

[Vida]

"Why, you're hurting my head with all these suspicions, Skad!"

Masile spoke with the same chiding tones from before, each word punctuated by the circular motions made with massaging fingers against her temples. But to be fair to the other woman, most of the prospective blame could firmly be laid before the feet of the wine she'd been increasingly sipping at as the night had progressed, and the lanterns guttered like some nocturnal bird call.

However, insofar as suspicions went, they were all valid criticisms that were equally shared by the alchemist in her increasingly fewer moments of sober clarity. Which had as much to do with the drinks that Skad kept helpfully refilling for her as it did with how late it had become for someone who was typically a rather early sleeper. Masile suddenly remembered in sobering tones about how busy of a day they had ahead, but it was too late for rergerts now.

"But yes, you are correct to be worried," came the compliment that surprised even the compliment giving Masile, who until now refused to go so far as to validate the Nordwiir's more primal views of the world around them. And yet here she was, acknowledging the good sense of murder when her own societal hang-ups weren't clouding her perspective on the subject matter. "We'd do well to account for any witnesses given our task on the morrow, and the innkeeper is definitely too dangerous for us not to count as one with what he's seen. I have no doubt that Vida has already thought of it though, but she's yet to say anything, so we can only wait and see."

While the decision of the innkeeper's fate was hardly up to debate, what was being demonstrated in full was a side of Masile that might've slipped Skad's attention until now. The same side that couldn't help but to vouch on Vida's behalf over whatever slight presented itself to the mercenary's honour; that Masile, for all of her oddness and generous leaking of information, truly trusted the leader of their company.

Or at least trusted her enough to keep to the plan without deviation, even with Skad's questions in her mind.

She had nearly finished her cup by then, looking violently spent from all the words she found harder and harder to speak with each passing minute. All the same, since she was who she was, she said them anyway, having torn her eyes away from Skad and instead to the rapidly emptying contents of her mug. Her curled fist tucked in-between her chin and her collarbone; the alchemist's gaze returned to the other woman with a sheepish expression. As if she was sorry for her own loyalty, too.

The next she spoke it was with a question that had perched itself upon the tip of her tongue, because of course it was. But at least this one was a little different in that it was aimed at the present rather than Skad's murky past, her brows perking up in a friendly sort of suspicion and her teeth working at the inside corner of her mouth for a few passing seconds longer.

"While I appreciate the concern, I do wonder why it's on your mind. Are you so worried about your identity being known?"

And that was an interrogation with two prongs, for the scarred woman arguing so earnestly to commit a little bit of murder in the night never struck her as someone terribly concerned with her own image. Not when she was so intent on simply discovering a boat and making a voyage for her homeland, willing to murder indiscriminately as she did so. And in all likelihood was why she found herself in a prisoner wagon in the first place.

Not that Masile thought Skad to be clumsy or ignorant of planning, for she was learning more and more that the Nordwiir's head was in the right place when it came to all the small details that typically only the leader of their party burdened herself with. But there was something. So what was it, was this woman so savage as to employ her intelligence towards the goal of wanton murder, or was she simply... spitballing helpful advice?

There was a lot of enthusiasm from the Nordwiir for this task, it seemed.

Meanwhile the ball of Masile's wrist suffered a constant re-adjusting of her chin, desperately finding a comfortable place to nestle.

 

[Skad]

Skad was not entirely sure if the alchemist was now actively mocking her, echoing earlier sentiments that Vida was 'doing war on her head'. The wine might have been the prime culprit; it certainly was why the Nordwiir was so uncertain of the meaning of Basil's words. Mockery or not, it would not have bothered the one-eyed woman, who had been accused of far worse acts than causing headaches. If anything, being suspicious was a compliment reserved for the living and not wasted on the dead.

She knew she was correct in her assessment and did not need the validation of the increasingly inebriated lips next to her.

Unfortunately, no matter how correct Skad may have been, she would not convert Basil to casual evening murder. Strangely enough, it seemed as though Vida had already covered the topic, an admission that made Kin-Slayer's head tilt to the side with a grain of curiosity that could have been mistaken for a lack of equilibrium.

On the one hand, it was comforting to know that the main head of the hydra had already considered that the innkeeper was a potential problem, but on the other, the Nordwiir found it foolish that the matter had not already been dealt with. They had now openly discussed their plans within his walls; for all they knew, he could have already been in the ear of local authorities with a warning.

Then again, the last person to emerge from the kitchen wielding water and wine was not the lackadaisical culinary terrorist who hosted them but Drow alone.

Perhaps he was already dead.

The entire thought process played out upon Skad's grizzled features, her face travelling through various muted dimensions of emotions, from curiosity to consideration, before finally settling on a surprised irritation. The idea that she had missed the chance to spill tribute was upsetting.

"No."

Her answer to Basil's interrogation came stark and slow and only after the Nordwiir had taken the time to consider the implications of the words preceding her inane follow-up question.

"When we have doing the job I will be going. It is not the problem for me. It is the problem for you. Why you not worrying giving me the worry," she elaborated, her tongue almost losing its way as she navigated who was worrying for whom. "Not knowing if you are all soft of head or having no care."

Once again, she did not offer the motivation at her heart, but even the mere thought of discussing her faith with Basil was enough to bring on preliminary heartburn.

 

[Vida]

Masile didn't take the one-word answer too terribly to heart, expecting as much from Skad already.

What wasn't expected was that the Nordwiir would continue to speak, offering additional insight that helped narrow down what Masile's initial question had meant to discover in the first place. Still, the elusive motivation that Skad had been keeping from her remained just that - elusive. At least when it came to Skad speaking it aloud. But at this point she had simply assumed that the other woman just wanted to cover all bases.

And no doubt to root out how Skad's companions operated, for future reference. Since even if she didn't care a fig for her identity being put at risk for the task ahead, how they all went about it seemed to be an important consideration for her. Most likely for the same rationale that made Masile ask all of her questions; to gauge how one might react, why they reacted as they did. All pieces of an incomplete map that would prove advantageous once put together.

Whether Skad's logic was borne out of justified paranoia was another question, the answer to that unknown.

As for the face that was made due to whatever quiet contemplation that was going through the Nordwiir's head at that very moment remained uncommented upon from Masile. Her focus since the room went quiet had turned inward; her attention redirected to the last traces of her wine at the bottom of the mug, something she swiftly finished rather than taking her time with like she should have been doing.

"Please do not be worried about our end, Skad. The only reason I'm arguing with you about this is... well, I don't know. I think I'm drunk. And I don't have the answers for the same reason you don't have them." Masile did not sound drunk; that was to say she did not slur too heavily, but indeed her words had become increasingly pointless, even to her own ears. Talking about taking the place of the innkeeper when she had meant to say that he was their cover for anyone passing by, plucking the fangs of suspicious passersby.

Not even mentioning the fact that Skad was probably correct, with what she thought.

After all that had transpired this evening, neither Vida nor Varnehy would have rested easily knowing about a loose end under their noses. The only reason Masile was arguing with Skad was because she did not have the answers the other woman sought, and so they were alike in that way, left to question things while being shackled under the weight of following their orders. Or at least not acting of their own volition.

The only difference was that Masile had long since gotten used to this state of constant, tentative uncertainty, but it was clearly eating away at the Nordwiir. Probably a much less comfortable feeling for someone who hadn't even a sliver of faith that the small alchemist had in their present companions, and who clearly preferred to operate with the reins firmly in their hands.

Only after a desperately long period of time had passed, compared to how loaded that answer was, Masile finally realized that she hadn't even finished speaking. Her eyes flicked back toward Skad's sole mossy-green gaze, looking a little guilty. "I have discussed the innkeeper with Vida before. However, like I mentioned earlier she hasn't said anything. She'd tell me if she thought it mattered, though she prefers to keep things compartmentalized."

Seemingly unperturbed by the lack of trust, she brought her hands together beneath her chin.

"But in my opinion? He's probably dead already. He was a bad host, but he wasn't that bad so as to stop serving us altogether. I suppose it makes sense to do it right before bed so that there's no chance of a traveler passing through." Now wasn't Skad's earlier brooding a little on the nose? Masile wouldn't have bothered to comment on something she'd much rather leave to those more inclined to killing, but she wasn't so foolish as not to see how much it mattered to Skad - and her faith in the plan. "Vida may be many things, but she's not soft of head where it matters. She just has a... tongue on her, though not always."

Perhaps it was a good thing that there was no more wine to fill up their cups, to tempt Masile. She was rambling.

The alchemist brushed at her fringe, still dampened from the heat of the day; ignorant of Skad's missed tribute.

 

[Skad]

"Ah, it is good to worrying," she remarked with a scoff, far more content to worry about the mental capacity of her temporary companions than suffer due to their ineptitude, "not good to being so drunk..."

The Nordwiir was hardly one to talk when it came to the relentless wine quaffing that had taken place between them. She was inebriated enough to feel it, hear it in her words that otherwise would and should have remained private but not drunk enough to lose all sense of reason and equilibrium. The pair likely stood at the edge of acceptable, where wise heads would choose to sleep, and fools would seek out just one more bottle.

In the silence that settled between them, Skad couldn't help but see the absurdities of the entire evening playing out before her solitary eye.

She was a solitary creature, much maligned and for reasons that weren't entirely unfair. It was not often that Kin-Slayer would even partake in a cup of sýru with her kind, a sentiment returned in kind, so to be here now, sharing wine and conversation with slack-skulled heathens who lived for comfort and coin was surreal. There was something distasteful in that, leaving a bitter smear across her tongue that sought to inform her that this was all wrong.

Obscene, even.

Before her thoughts could turn to true doubt, Basil was kind enough to break the stagnant air, revealing both something and nothing simultaneously, which seemed to be one of the alchemist's signature techniques. The addition of that monstrous word was also not missed.

Comp... Compart... Compwhat...?

A blonde brow, interrupted by scar tissue, was raised at the shorter woman in response. Skad might have been thankful for the admission, knowing that they had at least discussed the loose end of the innkeeper as a mark of intelligence held between the trio, but that burgeoning appreciation was swiftly dashed. The curious eyebrow found itself deflating, instead angled with irritation at the suspicion that the innkeeper was already dead.

On the one hand that steeped itself in the reality of the now, the preemptive murder was good, implying that tomorrow would go smoothly.

But that red hand that served Haraudur felt denied.

It was a wretched thing to be without tribute, even more so given how far she had strayed from home. Being surrounded by such alien people with their peculiar words and nonsensical customs was scarcely tolerable, but feeling so far from the touch of the Crimson Father was unbearable. Skad's eye drifted down for a few seconds, lingering upon Basil's throat as if the sight of such unblemished flesh was a siren's song.

Just one cut.

"It is too bad," the Nordwiir muttered, her gaze finally lifting to meet the eyes of the other woman instead of the temptation of an alternative offering. Kin-Slayer could feel the wine working through her at the moment, a slight bobble of the head replacing what would have been precise stillness otherwise.

Teeth broke out in a wide grin, completely out of place upon Skad's grizzled features.

"Wishing you saying that of Vida's tongue in the before," she spoke, slowly standing from the chair with a grunt, limbs worn by strenuous walking having grown stiff in their inactivity. Was that really what she meant by too bad? Even Skad herself wasn't convinced by it. "Maybe having asked her for fucking too."

Kin-Slayer gathered the assortment of fire-warmed furs and bundled them over her shoulder, only returning to the table to retrieve her blade.

"It is time for resting. For you too. We will needing good morning meal and you can cooking. You were saying so," Skad informed the alchemist, knowing that they would still need to be fed in the event of the innkeeper's passing.

Just as it seemed the Nordwiir would walk away, she paused awkwardly, her neck craning to look down at the top of Basil's head.

"Where is the room? I am forgotten where Vida saying."