She had only two homes in life, and each one she had been driven away from them on whims outside of her own control. At least, that is what she told herself to get by. It was the easier option, the better option, than spiraling down a path she did not want to go down. So, Monroe would sweep this aside also, let it plague her and hinder her, but eventually, she would have to deal with this at some point.
There was a reason she had a reputation for being a grump.
But there was something lost to her now, as she woke up on the eighty-second day of her new routine in the great city of Alliria.
There used to be something alive in her eyes, but now that honey hued gaze lacked any warmth or joyous memory. They had seen things she wished she could forget, but the poison was eating away at her. She carried a curse, and it stained her heart and life's blood with it's truth, it's discovery. If none of the texts back hom--- back there told her nothing, then she knew asking for help would only lead to those she loved and cared for would fill themselves with worry.
And Monroe hated nothing more than being pitied.
Except, she had gotten this new job out of pity... when she had been in a not so sober state. Monroe had drank her weight in rum and ale in her first week back in Alliria, and had not backed away from a challenge and a bet. A test to see if the Tournament of Tides winner in archery was a sure shot no matter how inebriated she was, and she fucking delivered. Told the rich nobleman as much too when she turned that arrow onto him and shot his hat clean off his head and had the audacity to smile and bow.
The next day, she woke up to some boy kicking her awake and handing her a letter.
Now over two and a half months later, she was walking from her small lodgings, an old stable house refurbished into servant quarters, to the small arena where her two students waited. They were bickering, telling the other sibling that they were wrong and obviously so.
Monroe needed another drink, but two days ago had reached for the last bottle but discovered that she had depleted it earlier on and forgot to restock.
"Did you fletch these?" She asked upon arriving, slowing to the table where the fletching tools and materials were left untouched.
"Yes."
She deadpanned, waiting a moment for them to elaborate. They didn't. Monroe sighed, and inspected the next. "When?"
"You're here to teach us how to hit the bulls eye, not make arrows." The younger rolled their eyes, and began to hold up their bow in a careless fashion.
"Fucking..." She did not finish what she wanted to say before rushing over and correcting his hold. "You're going to bruise your arm even with that expensive brace on."
"You said the word, Monroe. You owe us two silvers each." The elder of the two smiled, nocking an arrow and taking time to aim before loosing.
"I keep telling you, I never signed my name to any such document. Until then, I don't owe you shit."
"Then I can write one for you now."
She snorted, eyeing the older boy's arm's position before moving over to him and correcting him to hold them higher, straighter. "You're gonna have to pay me what I owe to convince me to sign any document written by you."
Three hours each day she was to teach them how to handle weapons. They were still boys, and she did not expect them to be outright swordsmen anytime soon, but teaching them all sorts kept them engaged and their father, her employer, happy. The boys had been begging her to teach them archery after they had heard she participated and won the archery tournament in the last Tides. Monroe didn't mind showing off to them either. It reminded her of simpler times in her past, but as soon as those happy memories turned to homesickness, she changed topics.
Maybe one day she would stop poking at this gaping wound, unhealing because of her need to feel something to remind her why she left.
Why she broke oaths and promised and failed even herself.
There was a reason she had a reputation for being a grump.
But there was something lost to her now, as she woke up on the eighty-second day of her new routine in the great city of Alliria.
There used to be something alive in her eyes, but now that honey hued gaze lacked any warmth or joyous memory. They had seen things she wished she could forget, but the poison was eating away at her. She carried a curse, and it stained her heart and life's blood with it's truth, it's discovery. If none of the texts back hom--- back there told her nothing, then she knew asking for help would only lead to those she loved and cared for would fill themselves with worry.
And Monroe hated nothing more than being pitied.
Except, she had gotten this new job out of pity... when she had been in a not so sober state. Monroe had drank her weight in rum and ale in her first week back in Alliria, and had not backed away from a challenge and a bet. A test to see if the Tournament of Tides winner in archery was a sure shot no matter how inebriated she was, and she fucking delivered. Told the rich nobleman as much too when she turned that arrow onto him and shot his hat clean off his head and had the audacity to smile and bow.
The next day, she woke up to some boy kicking her awake and handing her a letter.
Now over two and a half months later, she was walking from her small lodgings, an old stable house refurbished into servant quarters, to the small arena where her two students waited. They were bickering, telling the other sibling that they were wrong and obviously so.
Monroe needed another drink, but two days ago had reached for the last bottle but discovered that she had depleted it earlier on and forgot to restock.
"Did you fletch these?" She asked upon arriving, slowing to the table where the fletching tools and materials were left untouched.
"Yes."
She deadpanned, waiting a moment for them to elaborate. They didn't. Monroe sighed, and inspected the next. "When?"
"You're here to teach us how to hit the bulls eye, not make arrows." The younger rolled their eyes, and began to hold up their bow in a careless fashion.
"Fucking..." She did not finish what she wanted to say before rushing over and correcting his hold. "You're going to bruise your arm even with that expensive brace on."
"You said the word, Monroe. You owe us two silvers each." The elder of the two smiled, nocking an arrow and taking time to aim before loosing.
"I keep telling you, I never signed my name to any such document. Until then, I don't owe you shit."
"Then I can write one for you now."
She snorted, eyeing the older boy's arm's position before moving over to him and correcting him to hold them higher, straighter. "You're gonna have to pay me what I owe to convince me to sign any document written by you."
Three hours each day she was to teach them how to handle weapons. They were still boys, and she did not expect them to be outright swordsmen anytime soon, but teaching them all sorts kept them engaged and their father, her employer, happy. The boys had been begging her to teach them archery after they had heard she participated and won the archery tournament in the last Tides. Monroe didn't mind showing off to them either. It reminded her of simpler times in her past, but as soon as those happy memories turned to homesickness, she changed topics.
Maybe one day she would stop poking at this gaping wound, unhealing because of her need to feel something to remind her why she left.
Why she broke oaths and promised and failed even herself.