A WREATH OF THORNS ADORNS THE DOOR

“And now it is nearly morning.” The reminder of the passing time had her glancing to the writing offering the food. Truth be told, she hadn't eaten her dinner either, but the influx of wild emotion had robbed her of her appetite, one that was slowly beginning to return. Though she wondered heavily if it was anywhere near fast enough to warrant getting anything. Another trial to overcome was the knowing that she could not read very well the menu that was offered. She wasn't very fluent, thus far only able to understand rather simple words though she was avidly working to remedy that.

She wanted to scour the books of the grand library of her family's estate. The pages she had briefly scanned and was able to comprehend posed such wonderful scenarios, stories that entranced her. She was eager for more, to lose herself from the ugliness of reality and live in the realms of fairy tales. A naïve and foolish aspiration, perhaps, but it was the only one she currently had. It was difficult to base dreams and goals when one didn't even know who they were. Greedy. Envious. Hungry for heavy coffers. Her brow furrowed and her teeth found the back of her index finger as it briefly curled against her lips. She didn't like that. It was a frightening scenario to think that she had awakened in such a different state of mind. For now she valued most anything higher than its weight in currency. It was nothing but an after thought. Perhaps it was because her family was well off, she reasoned. Perhaps she cared so little for the means to an end simply because she had never had to worry about it before. A spoiled life. Yet....

Her eyes wondered to her hands, ones not quite delicate and not yet rough from hard work. They had lost some of that edge since she had woken. In the port they had been as calloused as those who worked the sail boats. She had understood them perfectly, though in that haze she didn't know if she could read their language. She must have visited there frequently. That must have been how her parents knew to come there. To find her. To bring her home. “Now that’s asking a lot of me miss. I don’t even know what you like.” She flushed, biting her tongue to stop herself from her flustered stammering to search for explanation. "I like.... sweet things." She offered, sheepish as her cool eyes fell to the table top once more.

“Lovely? Now that’s not something I’ve ever heard someone call him,” her attention would lift, if but just barely to his face again through thick lashes as he leaned onto his arms. A genuine smile touched her face as she managed a small laugh. "He... reminds me of someone." Her words emerged slowly in earnest attempt to keep her stammer absent and not make a fool of herself. However, the quaint expression would fade, replaced by a slight frown and the furrow of her brow in contemplation. Yes, there was certainly a feeling of familiarity with the server, though she couldn't exactly place it. It was just another fragment of those things she felt akin to deja vu without being able to pinpoint the source. Frustrating. “Before our darling Fiero returns, how’s your tolerance? Knowing that will help me pick something out for you.”

She would blink, pursing her lips slightly. Her tolerance? Oh! She'd nearly forgotten about her prior request. She was hardly one to even taste wine, having had tempted a glass once and found the contents far too bitter for her liking, along with that sour burn that curled on her tongue like venom. This was a land rich with such a delicacy, however. Everywhere she turned it was easier to find a bottle of spirits than water, it seemed. Let alone any other form of beverage. Would it be more odd to speak the truth and say she didn't like it at all? "I drink at times. Not.... often."

!

NO ONE COMES HOME ANYMORE

Briefly those eyes seemed to wander toward posted specials. Though stare as they may no selection was made before fixation lay upon her hands and the very table they rested against as if it were the most interesting thing in the room. Soft exhale escaped him as attentions lingered, gaze lazily dancing over her, watchful of the ways a finger curled against her lip before falling back to smooth wood. Quiet offering Augustus could nearly lose himself in and yet silent plea for at least a touch of assistance fled his lips.

Yet just as before it seemed to bring a sense of embarrassment for color stained her features as if she’d been caught off guard, witnessed indulging in something inappropriate instead of mere conversation. Until she seemed to steady, that noticeably slowed speech filling his ears with their sweetened tune. It had sounded so much freer in the grips of winter’s chill though perhaps she simply considered her options. Allowed herself a moment to think before locking anything in, after all, this was a pretty important hint when entrusting another to make decision in her stead.

Sweet things.

Well that didn’t narrow her options too terribly though it did give the goat a small sense of understanding, provided a few selections to avoid entirely - assuming they would not be to her tastes. However, whatever the barkeep thought to bring him would still be offered forth should she wish to try yet. But in those moments he offers nothing more than a short hum of acknowledgment before silence lay broken by rush of amusement. “Does he now? That’s too bad, I wouldn’t wish him on anyone,” an obvious tease held within that honeyed timbre. Rosen gaze flickering to where the hyena had disappeared to as a warm smile pulled at his lips.

There was still time before that hound made his return. Promise which bid his focus back toward the nameless woman in question… yet from her there came hesitance. A pause that nearly lasted too long for the goat’s liking as uncertainty seemed to plague her being. Was this a touchy subject? Though before he could question it, insist she not worry over providing an answer - one would slip free. Sparking a light huff of laughter to seize his breath, “So nothing I’d drink? Got it.” At least when it came to the sheer amount of alcohol content, “Sweets and only drink on occasion? I think I know something you might like.” Or at least he hoped so.

Something with the cover of fruits or sugar, a temporary mask to the subtle burn of alcohol. If that wasn’t to her tastes then there were always sweet waters or those mixed from fruity syrups. In truth, those sounded more akin to what she desired but the insistence of partaking in drinks from time to time bid him not to undersell her claims. And as lips parted to speak they quickly fell shut again as the familiarity of the hyena’s cackling filled the air, “Got ya somethin’ special friend!” A peculiar concoction set against the booth with a clink of glass. One he did not need to draw near to smell all which wafted from it.

Perfumes which nearly brought eyes to water as a throat cleared, “Are you trying to kill me? What the hell did you put in there?” Beverage eyed with suspicion before the keeper’s husky voice drew attentions anew, “House secret sweetheart but it ain’t gonna kill ya. Trust me.” Eyes rolled, a scoff the only retort given at first, “That’s what you said last time.” “And I meant it then too,” phrases swiftly interjecting before the goat’s hand rose to halfheartedly wave the other off. Vague insistence upon those lyrics, “Lady changed her mind. Bring a port wine but don’t pour too much of it.”

“Figured she might, ‘sides foods nearly done I’ll be back before you can miss me,” offhand remark as the hyena strode off to grab the requested bottle. Though as Fiero departed, a grimace temporarily crossed the goat’s visage as he eyed the drink provided to him. Not exactly what he intended to start with though it wasn’t something that would be denied in full… however, rosen gaze flickered to the woman, “I don’t suppose you want to give this thing a try?” Askance he knew she would very likely deny for not even he was sure about this ‘special something’ Fiero had apparently provided.

A WREATH OF THORNS ADORNS THE DOOR

Where was it she knew the creature from? Had she perhaps been here before? She held her doubts considering such an establishment was well below the threshold of her parents' tastes. However, it wasn't even here that she felt as though his mannerisms were from. Such a thing could not be true. At least, that's what she would like to say, and yet there was no certainty behind that conviction.

“Does he now? That’s too bad, I wouldn’t wish him on anyone,” the smile didn't fade from her mouth as he also adopted one, a soft chuckle filling the lingering quiet between them. "He seems to know you." She noted, glancing in the direction the server had gone. Though his previous hint of humor had gone far over her head in naïve obliviousness, she knew well enough the shreds of the humor they shared, doubting it to be one of pure chance shared. He had also guided her here of his own volition, though she would be lying to say she knew they passed other taverns or kitchens open as late, no, as early as this one. "D-do you come to this place often?" In spite of her best efforts, the stammer would slip through, though she hoped her companion would simply pay it no heed.

“So nothing I’d drink? Got it.” The words were followed by a slight huff of laughter and she would flush lightly at the thought. She wasn't a fan of alcohol, let alone something that would immediately leave her head spinning with a mere whiff of the cup's contents. She didn't like the way it burned down her throat the few times she had indulged in it, and for some reason a deep, unsettling panic would consume her when her senses began to grow compromised when she was forced into enduring through several glasses of wine during her parents' formal entertainments. “Sweets and only drink on occasion? I think I know something you might like." She nodded, hands clasped together with a sigh of relief, her grin growing slightly wider in its characteristic warmth. "Oh, good!"

Anything else was lost with the return of their waiter, his presence announced with the cackle of the hyena's cadence. “Got ya somethin’ special friend!” Her smile fell slightly, before dissipating all together at the sheer overwhelming scent of the beverage he had deigned fitting for her host. Soft azure dared to trespass the rim of the mug before lifting to observe the man himself. There was a small pang of regret due to her little lie - one she had initially viewed as harmless - especially as even he seemed uncertain of the contents. “Are you trying to kill me? What the hell did you put in there?” Perhaps she didn't want anything to drink either. If this was any indication she feared she would be incapacitated after a drop landed on her tongue. “House secret sweetheart but it ain’t gonna kill ya. Trust me."
“That’s what you said last time.”
“And I meant it then too.”
“Lady changed her mind. Bring a port wine but don’t pour too much of it.”
“Figured she might, ‘sides foods nearly done I’ll be back before you can miss me.”

Just like that, he was once again vanishing into the back and Ara was left to draw her sleeve over her nose to halt her eyes from watering. She only managed a lighter blush as his eyes found hers and his offer lie tentatively open. “I don’t suppose you want to give this thing a try?” She laughed, a sound much louder than she had intended. She shook her head, lowering her hand to place a cheek within. "You would have me try it first?" Her words maintained the same slow pace from prior, measured, though her intonation shook with amusement. "See if it kills me, hm?"

!

NO ONE COMES HOME ANYMORE

Ears swiveled as briefly attentions danced back to where the hyena had gone, a quick glance before being drawn back to the unknown with the very same smile held across his lips. It was no mystery to any that the goat was held in that hyena’s ‘good’ graces with how tones fell so freely upon each meeting. And a sense of friendship with the man was hardly something August would deny, “Aye, he does.” In more ways he’d car to admit, the keeper hearing far more than intended at times whenever alcohol loosened the tongue. “Used to come here a lot with a friend of mine,” until that presence stuck closer to the wilds or shadowed embrace of another land.

“Now I tend to come alone,” it wasn’t the whole truth though neither was it a lie either. The tavern often used as a place of set meeting, to talk with those who sought out matters of business whether related to mercenary work and weapon training or seeking out arrangements of a far different nature. Encounters he was glad the hyena hadn’t called too much attention to this visit… at least not yet. “But that’s not to say I don’t enjoy the company,” an offhand remark as eyes hovered over her features, hardly taking notice of that stammer as he regarded both her and the requests made. Consideration of ordering a dessert wine hanging in the back of his mind before interruption came in the harsh bark of laughter.

That unexpected concoction stealing away now wide eyed, and watering, focus before briefly turning back toward one who shared the table. Capturing how she drew a sleeve over her nose in hopes of evading the all consuming scent of the drink as it wafted from the glass. Yet his own reluctance toward it bid an offer to fall the moment Fiero had shuffled off toward the counter once more. Her sudden yet boisterous bout of laughter was promising, tempting a warm smile back upon the goat’s lips. Only for it to fade away just as quickly upon humored accusation. While it lay tainted by her own amusement it still brought the goat to stumble.

“Ah, um,” long ears tilted back as briefly that rose tinted stare would turn from her gaze. A sense of shame daring to color his features even if only for a moment, “Shit. That’s not what I meant by it.” Of course he didn’t want to see if it killed her instead but he’d made this too easy to turn against himself. Afraid of consequence, pawning it off on another to see how they handled the mystery solution before indulging in it himself. Attentions returned to her though those ears held a position of nerves, uncertain over just how he was going to remedy this. Fingers tempted to lace through strands of hair only to tap lightly to the table instead as focus turned to the glass and the very colors held within.

“Oh, fuck me,” gentle murmur slipping under his breath. How did he get himself into this? An answer he knew all too well and without a second thought that hesitance slips behind a façade, the peculiar beverage taken in hand. Already Augustus could tell he was going to great this as the sheer strength of that aroma further assaulted the senses. But still tentative motion found the air, a false cheers before tipping it back in forcefully smoothed motion. Yet the moment it touched his tongue one could feel the familiar burn, one amplified by whatever the hyena thought to lace it with.

A taste spread, coating his mouth and throat in an instant. Part of him ached to spit it out, to sputter and reject it with a hacking cough but with other ‘samples’ taken before he kept it down. Even if only barely. That glass hitting the table with obvious distaste. A sharp cough into the crook of his arm as he fought past the way features wished to contort, only to fail and give in as the sensation seemed to carry through his frame in a shudder. Horned crown giving another shake as if it would bring the feeling to dissipate… it didn’t. All it offered was an uncomfortable haze, left eyes to water as bleary focus held upon the woman once an initial wave passed.

“Ahh it’s terrible,” a voice strained. The rasp in his throat attempted to be cleared though it brought little clarity back to once smooth lyrics as hands ran over his face, “Gods that was awful. You would not have liked it. Hell, not even I do.” Before long an elbow would return to the table the goat resting a head upon it, fingers veiling his eyes as hushed tones fell between them, “Remind me to slap that man when he gets back.” Action August would never carry out and yet the urge to do so would not leave his mind as that unmistakable flavor lingered upon his tongue.

There came no registration of the time passed before he was jostled from attempted recovery by the firm slap of a hand to his shoulder, following the clatter of dish and drink being set upon smooth wood. Spiced perfumes of goat curry currently drowned out by the alcohol still plaguing his senses. All while harsh laughter morphed the keeper’s tone, “Take it ya didn’t enjoy the special? But at least it was strong, ey goatboy?” Remark which earned a side long glance though lyrics did not rise as quickly as they had before, “N-no.” He couldn’t say that he did. And despite the enjoyment which still clung to those phrase Fiero’s voice fell softer, fingers squeezing a bit tighter, “I’ll bring ya somethin’ milder friend.”

After he’d tended to a few others who called for refreshment or turned to tormenting another with their requests. “For now food will clear yer ‘ead… at least a little,” but there came no assurance, no promise like there’d been over the contents of a drink. Phrases met with nothing more than a hissing groan before free hand waved off the man’s touch, a far cry from the slap he’d threatened moments ago while fingers still upon that visage ran over rosen eyes. Pinching at the bridge of his nose before sights would finally return to the nameless woman in full.

Rich aromas of caramel and spice wafting from the bottle placed within reach, the after scent of fruit chasing the subtle perfumes of the very wood it’d been steeped in. At least a sense of smell was coming back. Faint gesture made toward what had been poured into the glass placed before her. A portion of his original tone gradually returning as that taste began to fade and with it that familiar sear, “How about trying that instead?”

It was nothing like what had been offered with uncertainty before, “If you don’t like it, or it's too strong, I’ve got a few more things in mind.” Watching her for a moment before allowing focus to temporarily drift toward the promise of food. Glancing over what had been provided this time… guess goat was on the menu after all if that perfumed aroma was anything to go off of. At least this was far more acceptable than that drink yet even still it was not something he dove into right away. Not until he was certain he would be able to savor all that swirled within an enticing mixture.

A WREATH OF THORNS ADORNS THE DOOR

She listened to him speak of the hyena, and despite herself, there was a hint of envy that touched her mind. What he had was something she felt as if she too deserved. A friend, even if it was just from business. Someone who knew her, to joke with her. Just... a relationship with someone. She felt estranged in her home. She felt alienated in this city where no one knew of her because of her illness. To be so sheltered. To have no one. It was a cold and empty feeling. Just as frigid as the snow and ice that drifted lazily outside, the oncoming of another storm.

She would wait to leave. As it was now, she knew nothing of the land and had no idea of where to go or how to get to her unknown destination. She had heard of Lavalles, of Crue Efros, but it was mostly bad. Perhaps it was due to the words of her teacher and her biased opinions, but she had told her of how they sold and treated people like cattle. Chains. Slavery. She didn't want to be a part of that either. This place wouldn't be so bad, perhaps, but she was just as much in cuffs here as she would be there as well. Had she been born a peasant (as her father called the common folk) she would probably be much more happy. She wouldn't be expected to be forced into a marriage she didn't want. She wouldn't have to simply accept it as the hand she was dealt. She wouldn't merely 'learn' to love the man she was sold to as her mother claimed. She imagined the woman was once in the same boat, informed she would be wed to the man who had become her father. While on the surface they seemed fond enough of each other and even shared children together, it was obvious once the guests were gone that the only thing they loved was the weight of the gold in their pockets. They often went to different beds with different faces, and it wasn't something she wanted for herself.

Her only choice was escape.

“Now I tend to come alone,” she tilted her head at that, soft stare lingering upon the fellow across from her. "What happened to your friend?" She inquired, a morbid sense of curiosity touching her. Was it the war that raged that had stolen them? Or was it something else? “But that’s not to say I don’t enjoy the company.” Her cheeks would tint at the comment and her eyes would cast aside with a ghosting simper slipping over her lips. Thus far, she wasn't exactly dreading the encounter either. She was a sociable creature, just not in matching with the grandeur and frivolity of her house hold. Not like she had been accused of. "It's nice to be out... I like this place." She would accompany the words with a slight nod, clasping her hands together before her.

“Ah, um,” she laughed as he turned his stare away, a soft huff just barely above her breath. “Shit. That’s not what I meant by it.” It rose louder, amusement clarion upon her features. The tap of his fingertips resounded as she observed him watching his flagon like it would bite him. Perhaps it would if that odor was any indication. It was almost like a sport at present, to see if he really did intend to drink it. His lips moved and a whispered breath escaped him, though the words issued were lost upon her between the volume that surrounded them despite the early hours and the sheer quiet he'd mumbled them with.

Her brows rose expectantly as he picked it up, motioning it towards her in a mock toast and the simper on her lips only grew as a disbelieving giggle left the o her mouth formed as he tipped the horrid concoction back and downed the whole thing in one drink. It took him a long pause before he swallowed it, the mug meeting the tabletop quickly. She clapped her hands lightly, a teasing kudos as he turned his head to cough into the bend of his elbow. A shudder, a shake of his head as his features contorted and genuine concern lingered within the back of her mind for several pulses. She now held no doubts that had her lips even ghosted the rim, she'd have simply fallen over. Perhaps death really would have snared her if it had lingered on her tongue.

“Ahh it’s terrible,” he finally managed and she would wrinkle her nose slightly in obvious disdain for the drink. “Gods that was awful. You would not have liked it. Hell, not even I do.” Another laugh, along with the mock though of a drawn out hmm!. "So you were trying to kill me!" His fingers covered his eyes and he would release the last of his laments. “Remind me to slap that man when he gets back.” She merely continued to beam, even as he seemed to wilt in his seat. Whatever it was that had been mixed into the brew seeming to have sapped his alertness, and she would merely allow him to recover. Her attention drifted out the window to where the large snow flakes fell faster, their tracks already having been nearly completely hidden from view.

She was almost startled from her peaceful reverie by the reappearance of their server. The jostle of his carried contents almost loud as she turned her focus sharply back to him. He cuffed the stranger on the shoulder, stirring him from his stupor. “Take it ya didn’t enjoy the special? But at least it was strong, ey goatboy?” Words that earned the man a glower before the denial was spoke shortly afterwards. She witnessed their exchange, that same bittersweet longing lingering within her chest that she had experienced prior. However, as much as she wished for that sense of camaraderie, there was also a mortified whisper within the back of her mind. One that warned against such a thing.

“How about trying that instead?” His address found her as she was idly allowing the liquid in her cup to churn. “If you don’t like it, or it's too strong, I’ve got a few more things in mind.” It smelled much more pleasant than his, the notes of sweetness that she had requested seemingly delivered. She finally took a sip of the drink he had deigned to order for her and found that it was much more dulcet than those served at the familial table, but the sear was still present. However, it didn't force her face to pucker, and grimace as she put it back down. She nodded in appreciation, "It's good! Much better than... whatever you had." She offered, taking another drink. Just as he had suggested, already her chest felt much warmer than when they had initially walked in. "Feeling any better? I thought you'd passed after all for a little bit." She would lift the cup, an offer of sharing. "Would you like something... gentler?"

!

NO ONE COMES HOME ANYMORE

There had been no intentions of elaborating further on a companion’s departure, of exactly what had spurred those steps to wander. So for a moment all one can do is allow rose tinted stare to linger upon her features. Hesitance before a short sigh fled his lips, “Not really my place to say… just family issues.” Those one could not be blamed for fleeing, “Used to live over in Kaisermont so keeping contact was pretty easy.” Now the goat was lucky to reach the man, “Hasn’t even come to the usual parties but he is still alive. I know that much.” Alive and causing even more trouble for himself based on the names plastered amongst the wanted. Two known upon that list.

A mind fretting that the courts would claim far worse than merely dodging a draft should any be caught. Risk of treason, simply for not wanting to risk one’s neck for a king who would not do the same. Yet this was hardly a matter to linger on. It would only bring a mood to sour the longer it held to his thoughts, even as worry already reflected upon his visage. Long ears drooping rather than holding the attentiveness of interested swivel, a gaze not fully there as he nearly took to staring off into the distance… until those lyrics drew him back. Another’s fascinations over being out, how she enjoyed the tavern’s embrace.

It was enough to draw a warm smile back over August’s lips, “Glad to hear it.” But then he just had to open his mouth, make it all too easy to back himself into a corner over the peculiar drink. Leaving one obvious way to right this within the goat’s mind and that path offered nothing but regrets in the end. At least one found amusement in his poor decisions as soft lilting lyrics slowly coaxed ears to turn. That gentle clap stirring a small huff of laughter from his lungs even as he dared not gaze upon her in these moments. Not even as the sound escaped her ever clearer, chased by teasing accusation of truly plotting her demise.

“Caught me red-headed, all my dastardly plans foiled,” that smile returning no matter how it lay hidden by the duck of his crown, eyes shielded in hopes of stopping vision from swimming. Whatever had been mixed within held a familiar taste but it was something the goat could not yet place even as it lingered upon the tongue. A bitterness that did not sit right as any alertness faded in those passing minutes. Something his companion seemed to understand as nothing more fled her lips, not until that hyena returned anyways. Fiero the one to disturb his efforts of making a swift recovery, rousing the goat from his stupor. Shake a mind back toward engagement even if food was left untouched for a time. The spiced mixture only given a stir before seeming to lose interest as instead he turned toward the drink.

Suggestion. Watchful of the ways she seemed to examine it even as no off putting aromas wafted from the contents within before finally the nameless tasted it. Exclamation bringing warmth of a smile to reach his eyes, squinting along the edges in true delight as a passing sense of pride filled his chest at actually picking something right for a change. And the willingness she showed in taking another sip only brought that feeling to swell anew, his mood hardly dampened by her concerns. Sharp laughter cutting through the air before a hand would wave almost dismissively of the thought, despite he being the one to accuse Fiero of the possibility in the first place.

“I’d like to think it’d take more than a drink to take me out,” no matter how far from the truth such a claim could be. One he knew all too well from all consumed in the past. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry over me. Pretty sure I’ve had worse,” knew he had for this didn’t knock him completely out of his mind. It didn’t bring even a wolven hide to collapse and heave from swirling toxins. But now it was his turn to tease, leaning forward on his arms when her own glass was offered. “What? Think the rest of the bottles not enough for me?” To say he wasn’t tempted to drink from it would be a lie, however, sweetness wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed when it came to alcohol.

Though that would hardly stop ears from swiveling in silent consideration, her offer one he would not deny as digits laced against proffered cup. A ghosting touch against her own until a hold was released and a portion of those contents tipped back. Its sear dreadfully mild, barely there compared to what had plagued him moments before as the flavoring of fruits worked to drown it out by coating his throat. Tongue pressed briefly between teeth before holding the drink back toward her, “Not bad but a bit too weak for my tastes I’m afraid. It’s all yours.” The bottle placed alongside her glass the moment it was out of hand. “Don’t drink it all though unless you want your head to get fuzzy,” a warning despite how the goat planned to do just that this night. At least to his own. “Or it could just make you sick.”

And then remembrance dawned on him. She’d mentioned some manner of illness on their walk over, how she shouldn’t even be out now. If disease was still harbored within her it hopefully wasn’t anything contagious, something wolven immunity could not combat based on the willingness held to share something she just drank from. That passing mention one he’d shrugged off then but now those claws slowly sank into his thoughts. Forbid a mind to simply brush it aside now, “Probably should have asked this sooner… but you mentioned a sickness? Drinks won’t fuck with that will they?” Wouldn’t make it worse or mix poorly with anything taken for it. Concern he’d once heard uttered from another’s lips.

A WREATH OF THORNS ADORNS THE DOOR

“Not really my place to say… just family issues.” She could understand such a thing, she supposed. After all, the dynamic of her own family was something of a wonder to those who would look in at them, she supposed. To herself as well. She didn't understand the complicated machinations they used with one another, the petty words games hiding behind cordial smiles. If only people were straightforward, it felt like that would make the world a better, easier place. Instead, they hid behind shadowed motives and cruel greed. Why else would they bother saving her, if not to sell her. She relinquished a sigh, one that belied the nerve the recollection was beginning to fray, not helped by the tinge of alcohol. While she hadn't drank much of the ichor, it also wouldn't take much more before it began to effect her.

"I assumed it was due to the draft." The words were bitter, her fingers curling under the pert curve of her chin. Her gaze sidelong tilting towards the window as she watched the clumps of winter begin to pile once more with gusto. "I suppose you're o-on leave as well to return home?" She inquired, stare finding him once more as she rose the glass to her lips, taking another drink.

She would merely grin at him as he returned her joke, a friendly expression as a soft hum left her lips. "Knew it." The proclamation was soft enough to be nearly swallowed by the soft thud of her chalice meeting the table top once more. Her thoughts, however, were far from the good natured teasing. Rather, they were formulating, gathering the necessary plans to make her escape. She would not survive the winter well on her own if she left now. It was a fact she was rather quite bitter about, if she was to be honest. She would need clothes, and she supposed that currency was in question as well. A part of her mind whispered that she needed no such thing, that the wilds would hold her tight in their embrace and she could thrive, and yet the sane and rational spectrums of her notions begged she not heed that. How could she, a frail, sickly girl fair in the rugged country that surrounded them? The mountains alone were intimidating with their jagged and sheer precipices. Bad footing in the weather could prove her downfall.

Where would she go in the end? Where could she escape to? Perhaps if she could make her way across the country's borders and into Crue Efros, she would be safe from the influence of her parents and their long reach. Even if they found her, would they have the ability to drag her back home? She'd seen pictures of the smaller towns there, and while Shanton didn't sit well with her, admittance came that perhaps Anderstel wouldn't be too bad a place to settle. The golden fields of grain reminded her of those far off dreams she had. Grains of sand rather than plants. The wind rolling across them would kick them into the air, scattering the harsh sunlight instead of simply rolling like waves in the ocean. Whatever hired blades that her parents had claimed would come for her would also undoubtedly disperse and leave her to her peace once they knew she had no intention to marry. At least she would make for a hollow victory for any assassin seeking to claim her. Either way, a new beginning would chime. One where she was not tied to the Beleveron name. Where she could be her own person.

Her attention only came back to the present instead of the whimsical future when his fingers lightly brushed her own as he took the cup from her grasp. Sight quickly averted as her cheeks flushed. Her now free hand joined the other in coiling under her chin. “Not bad but a bit too weak for my tastes I’m afraid. It’s all yours.” He placed the entire bottle next to her glass and before she could even object that she could never finish it all, he would warn against the very same. Her gentle simper didn't fade, nor did the pink stain on her features, instead it would grow if but just faintly. "I couldn't, really." She assured sheepishly.

“Probably should have asked this sooner… but you mentioned a sickness? Drinks won’t fuck with that will they?” It was only now that her expression drifted, her lips pressing into a thin, flat line as her brow furrowed in thought. She supposed if it would, her mother wouldn't offer her wine, but in the same breath, she couldn't really say a yes or no either way. She didn't take medicine - none that she was aware of at least - and they claimed she was cured now, though she didn't recall the existence of her illness at all. She could only accept their words and explanations. She had nothing to recall to dissuade her from that, after all. For all she knew, she was a doll of clay animated to be used for their purposes. And she may as well be. She couldn't recall who she was. How she acted. She didn't know if she had awakened a whole different person. "It will be fine." She assured, a certainty steadfast certainty accompanying the words. For it didn't matter to her in any capacity. "They say I'm well now."

!

NO ONE COMES HOME ANYMORE

Attentions flickered away upon mentions of the draft, a frown swiftly replacing the once radiating warmth of a smile. Elongate ears pinning lightly to his skull in silent echo of the bitterness which resounded upon her tongue. She wasn’t wrong in such assumptions and yet nor was it wholly correct. Details this one need not be privy of and yet lyrics fell in quiet murmur, “He was gone before that blasted draft.” Hadn’t dwelt in the embrace of neighboring lands for what felt to be years now. Though it didn’t matter where he was when the summons was issued, all that resonated in the goat’s mind was the undeniable fact it had made the lion a wanted man.

Proclamation which bid the goat to track him down. Discover just where he hid, ensure he was well… but that would only draw unwanted attention upon them both. There could be no face to face meeting right this moment. Perhaps a letter? Query sent to an address outside of Vufrien’s reach, to the very home known to be taken once upon a time. Yet even then there was no gaurantee Lif lingered within an abode, it would be the first place that law enforcement would consider searching. Hoping to drag him before the courts or into the clutches of the general himself to force enlistment. Was there any place else he may go?

Question left unanswered for the goat held none. He wanted to sigh, to release the building tension which flooded his veins. Fingers absentmindedly retrieving utensil left behind by Fiero, stirring at the spiced meats placed before him though not eating it. Only for his current train of thoughts to be derailed, startled from his own mind as rosen gaze swiftly danced upon the stranger’s visage. “Truthfully? No, someone else in the family answered our king’s summons,” venom laced his tongue upon such a phrase, “But… I have a sinking feeling Lord Kürschner will hardly be satisified with such numbers.” Especially considering how throughly those of mortal blood had been beaten back at Dunmeath.

If he intended to go to war, a single soul from each house would not be enough.

Only time would tell on such matters yet even if such a calling arose, he did not wish to answer it. The lost city had been enough of a trail and Augustus far preferred the contract of coin rather than a supposed oath to a wolven king. He didn’t want to think about this. It would only sour his mood, force one to recall how Ajax had insisted he be the one to go. Offerance he felt bad over accepting though the facts lain out by the vampiric could not be denied. No matter how he may wish to.

Thankfully one before him granted distraction. The sweet perfumes of a drink luring him in as her hand slid away, tucking beneath her chin as sights averted with color staining her cheeks. Delicate tones bringing a short huff of laughter to escape his lips, “Couldn’t? Or just don’t want to show off?” Another tease though if her admittance of only drinking on occasion range true then there was no doubt that she should stay off the bottle. Conversation could only carry so well whenever a mind lay addled by such elixirs. Yet even as eyes hung upon her now the moment question of concern slipped free that expression drifted, features scrunching in thought.

Perhaps it had been a foolish query. Surely if she had lived with this illness her entire life then she knew of limitations. She would not have accepted the drink offered if it would twist this plague which held no scent, a peculiarity all its own and yet he was swiftly drawn from silent musing before one could be drawn too deeply. Assurance all would be fine. That she was well, that they claimed it to be so… whoever they were. Lyrics which brought a crown to tilt, ears turning in mark of curiosity. He shouldn’t ask what now haunted the mind and yet an urge could not be resisted.

“If you are well now then why say you shouldn’t even be out before?” Why even bring it up in the first place other than to bring another to fret? A mind automatically placing such claims toward her sickness no matter how it managed to evade the senses. Yet still it fell upon spoken phrase, there was no reason to lie of such things, so it would be believed. “You don’t have to tell me,” and yet still he would pry, he knew it to be rude... but that would not silence a tongue, “But what even is it that ails you?” This mystery disease that lay hidden beneath the surface, for what other answers were there? It did not announce itself as boldly as a fever or as powerfully as bloodied injury.

A WREATH OF THORNS ADORNS THE DOOR

Gone before the draft, he issued and she would allow a hand to drift from her chin, sere nail tracing an indiscernible, idle pattern across the grains of wood that made up the table's top. He also hadn't answered it, he informed and she would cease the motion, her eyes drifting back up to his features, to find the bitterness of his expression there. A sore note she had strummed, perhaps, and she would relinquish a soft sigh of regret to mourn it. "My brother went for our home." She offered, a slight frown tugging the corners of her mouth. "Though I'd have gone. The notice only c-cared for men." She would close her eyes in annoyance, a hand raising to flip back her gilded hair as she leaned her back against the cushioned booth seat. "Better that than being a l-lady." The words were relinquished under her breath, masked by the pull from her cup again, finding it nearly empty upon its release.

At his teasing, she found her own smile slowly returning, warmed with the embrace of her cup as a faint bubble of laughter trailed from her lips. Ruefully, she shook her crown. "Perhaps I should have said... it's not a good idea." She posed instead, allowing the mug to rest. However, her simper would again die like the darkness of evening outside as he posed his query. Perhaps he had simply been sitting on such an askance since they had first crossed paths, but it mattered little.

“If you are well now then why say you shouldn’t even be out before?” Her expression would darken, if but just slightly, the edges of her eyes tightening, though the blame was not wholly upon him. Plush lips pressing together bitterly. He assured she had no need to tell him, but once more delved with innocent curiosity to something she herself knew very little of. "Because I ran away." She said, the fact simple. Perhaps childish, foolish even as she considered her lack of preparation. "Because I plan to get away. Someday. The sooner the better." While she did not hold knowledge of him, she could see no reason to lie to him either. Honesty begot honesty in her standards. "I was sold into marriage. And I-... W-well I disagree." The last was spoken with a soft sniff of rude begrudging. "So I plan to leave before.... before..." she let the statement die as her nerves threatened to overwhelm her and her stammer thickened. Instead, she shook her head, released a sigh and finished her glass instead.

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NO ONE COMES HOME ANYMORE

“A foolishness on their part if you ask me. I’ve known plenty of women who could kick my ass,” and more still that were far better fighters than the men often worked with. Some of the fresh blood, the start ups in his trade hardly knowing how to hold a weapon yet expecting to earn coin off their blade. Though the ways she flipped her hair over the seat brought a light smile to his lips, “Before you go rushing off into battle, do you even have experience with a weapon?” Doubtful if all she claimed rang true, kept home due to an illness and now with added talk of ladyship, “That’s only a little important when it comes to fighting.” No matter if attacks hailed from weaponry forged or the call of magic itself, it was always better to gain experience before being thrust into the fray.

Though softening gaze held upon her as any further curiosities died in his throat. Phrases far more forthcoming than one had expected they’d be. No talk of the illness which plagued his thoughts but of the very reason she staled the night at his side. She had fled. Ran from the callings another attempted to place upon her crown. It was nothing she could be blamed for, hardly a matter he would turn upon her in guilt. Escape the fates enacted by another’s hand. Something even he had grown used to over a life time, however, marriage was one thing he had evaded when it came to arrangements his father forged in his stead.

Without another word a bowl was pushed aside so that arms could fold over the table, allow weight to brace upon them as he leaned forward. Ears twisting back once more, gesture akin to pity. “Before you’re forced into something undesirable? That’s a feeling you don’t need to explain,” for it was all too familiar even if such admittance refused to grace her ears. “But,” a subtle brightness daring to return to his gaze, “If you’re going to run then might I suggest a guide?”

Hand rose in flourish, gesturing to none other than himself as a grin pulled far enough to show the point of wolven fang, “Know these streets like the back of my hand. That you my lost little friend have already admitted to not knowing well.” Though the goat would not impose himself into her business if she preferred to take such endeavors alone. If nothing else one could assist in preparations, “But if you’d rather do this alone then stalling may work just as well. Distraction.” One of his own specialties when it came to slipping free of proclaimed events, “Who do they think you’re marrying? Maybe I’ve heard of the guy.”