It was storming that night just as it was now, perhaps it was the same one. The rain pelted angrily against glass panes and metal roofs with such clamor. Patrons who tried to endure its downpour entered the tavern and inn soaked to the brim, many coveting the heat of the hearth sparing a word or two while enjoying their booze and the warmth stealing the threat of chill away. Tucked in the corner upon a down-feather cushion could the woman be found. Dark impressions circled pearlescent-colored eyes that appeared lacking.  There was an occasional attempt for strangers to vie for her attention only to be sorely disappointed by her lack of interest or acknowledgement. She ignored the disgruntled scowls and curses muttered underneath their drunken breaths as they eventually relented and returned to their only companion filled within their tankards. ”Lady Primrose—" the words of her maid went unheard as the maiden’s mind was anywhere but the present. It wasn’t until the ferocious roar of thunder and the split of lightening that webbed across the otherwise dark skies was her attention jerked back into reality. Blindly, did a limb reach for the maid, snaring her wrist in a vice grip hold. The older woman did not budge, instead placed her aged hand upon the plush slender digits of her employer. “Ah— Jenny—” Ianthe was quickly to release her hold before seeking to inspect any damage she may have caused. However, the maid recoiled with care and instead sought to rest the back of her palm against the pale temples a tug of worry creasing her brow. “I’ve arranged a room, it should be ready soon.”  Ianthe offered a tired smile in thanks with a simple nod. ”I’ll seek a physician for you in the meanti-“  “No, no Jenny, that won’t be necessary, you’ve done enough.” She clasped the maids hands with as much haste as she could muster. Her smile was forced in some lackluster attempt to prove that all was well. “Please take rest, the food looks delicious here, go indulge yourself. You’ve deserved it.” There was another crack of thunder that startled the woman. How desperately she wanted to find the nearest table to hide under. But that would be childish. Instead, she forced a brave face despite the evidence of fever finding her. “I’m fine, Jenny, really. I insist.” she released the maid in hopes to shoo her off. With reluctance and a defeated sigh, the maid relented and ventured to find a hearty meal and knowing the maid, find someone who could aid her employer.  A sigh escaped gentle lips, sunrise sights finding that the hearth had been abandoned by its company with perhaps only one or two patrons minding themselves with a book or news article in hand. Instead, Ianthe drew her cloak closer to her person pulling the hood back over her head.

Jahi

The rain had hammered like anxiously pounding knuckles upon the roof for the better part of a day now. The summer thunderheads loomed like gallows over the city and warded off many of the passerby that often trekked by the shop's windows. Currently, the only patrons that had slipped through the door were often those merely seeking to escape the tyranny of the weather. Some browsed the shelves while waiting for a more favorable time to continue their trips and even purchased some few baubles. One such group were several young ladies, convoluting about the shelf titled love potions. While he knew the bottles to contain a mere juice, the thought had always amused him, a common humor his father must have impressed upon him as the item was a staple among his own goods.

The majority of his time today was spent tallying the inventory, a process done when the moon began to grow within the heavens, preparations done and made for the lunar madness that came. His doors would remain open, of course, but instead of he, another would greet any customers that emerged during that evening and sometimes a day or two after while he recovered himself. The minutes had turned to hours as he compared the count he'd made with the records of his sales, letters ran together, melding in a blurring line.

He wasn't sure when it happened, to be honest, but at some point he had managed to doze off. The disturbance that roused him being the delicate but clarion chime of the bell over the main entrance portal. He would jerk to his senses, almost violently as his head shot up, a grimace marring his features as he pressed a hand to his forehead faintly, covering all too sensitive eyes from the illumination that glared off his counter top. A light grunt left him as the motion then transformed into a stretch instead, whatever semblance of cover surely blown in regards to his unintentional nap. "Pardon, were you still open?" Came the voice of the elderly woman, one that appeared to be a bit on the nervous side as she did not move beyond the mat upon the floor, allowing the door to quietly shut behind her.

A frown formed upon his mouth as he took note of the storm had picked back up, leaving the poor woman's clothing dripping upon the floor. "Yes, of course." He lied, noting that by the darkness (in spite of the lingering clouds) that the entryway should have been locked by now. Though he wouldn't turn the elder back to the street given the circumstances, and thanks to his negligence, he did still have work to complete before he left for the night. A task his focus turned back to as he motioned vaguely to the crackle of the fireplace, "Please, make yourself at home." She didn't make her way there, however, instead she came closer to the counter, her shifting footfalls coming into his peripherals, though at first she did not speak. It caused him to once again lift his attention to her, an ear twitching faintly. "Oh, my apologies, Miss. Were you looking for something in particular?" The woman would hesitate again, a visible distress as if she were doing something she wasn't supposed to.

Her request was simple enough, but in the same breath vexing. A dismissal over one's well being resting heavily upon her shoulders and an equally banished worry that refused to simply be. Even more distressing was the fact that he had to now venture out into the abyssal torrents. By the time they reached the tavern door, his cloak matched the likeness of the elderly woman's when she had entered his shop. "Pardon, but that's she," he followed the direction of the woman's nod, finding the hooded figure near the back. Noticeably abandoned by one familiar to the maiden, he would faintly roll his eyes as he made his way towards the dame she had asked him to inspect and aid if possible. Claiming that she was afraid for her health and well being as a whole though she divulged no other details.

The first announcement of his presence was undoubtedly his footsteps, halting at her side and punctuated by the droplets of water dripping from the hem of his cloak, his own hood remaining pulled up and over his head as well. "Miss Primrose?" He addressed her. "Was told you may need some help."

There was a lull in the background noise that corralled the tavern as bodies would shuffle in from the storm or the jovial laughter that paraded from a smaller group of adventurers sharing a meal before parting whenever the storm would subside. Ianthe remained in the corner, her cloaked head resting against the windowpane as the rain continued to pour rampantly from the swollen clouds overhead. Her gaze would drift to the golden glow of the hearth as the fire cackled and popped with healthy burning wood keeping the spacious room warm for those such as herself caught in the angry torrent outside. The sound of footfalls caused only pale ears to twitch otherwise remaining unmoved as she only assumed it was the return of her maid albeit steps sounded much heavier than the small heels. Miss Primrose? A voice that which she did not recognize caused a moment of startle to lapse. The thunder roared viciously outside, loud enough to irritate the foundation of the tavern. Surrounding patrons mumbled their momentary concern before continuing about their whims. Was told you may need some help. “No, I – ..” she felt her cheeks warm, nails digging into the fabric of her cloak before she withdrew the hood. Ianthe could hear her mother’s nagging in the back of her head to which she subconsciously found herself standing promptly. She shot a glare towards her maid who was now conspicuously sipping on a cup of warm coffee as if she knew exactly what she had done despite her employers wishes. Her attention was then drawn back to the height of the stranger, promptly dropping her gaze to the ground so not to stare too long at the rather adorable set of ears that crowned his skull. It’s not lady like to stare, Ianthe, following her mothers scolding. “My apologies sir,” She was also trying to hide both the feverish flush in her cheeks and the dark impressions from beneath as if to ensure his trip was merely wasted. Thankfully the puffiness from shed tears had vanished amidst their escape from the north. “I fear your excursions are fruitless and I will ensure to compensate your lost time.” She offered an apologetic smile. Her form otherwise rigid and uncertain. “Rest assured I am fine, good stranger.” an obvious lie in the slight crack of her voice enough for the maid to quietly scoff.

Jahi

He supposed if he was thankful for anything, it was the lack of music that could often be found plaguing this tavern. As a smaller inn, most of the acts were less than favorable and more times than not sent the hounds howling to their faithful masters. A bucket perforated with holes, if you will. Another blessing was that most of those trapped under the roof were simply waiting out the storm on tired heels rather than trying to drown out the maladies that plagued them within their cups.

As he addressed her, she would indeed turn up towards him with flustered cheeks. However, it didn't appear to be the work of strict embarrassment, but rather the ruddy coloring stirred by the oars of illness. A large clap of thunder was enough to momentarily distract him, eyes lingering upon the rattled windows. He only hoped that the lightening was still outside of the city gates, the last thing he wanted to deal with at present was the madness of the homes catching blaze. Most of the homes were constructed of wood, a material that was common here among the richer bloods being carved of precious stones. Though even they would be hard pressed in the current economy should the lower class suddenly be starving as well as homeless. “No, I – ..” she began, and he would draw his attention back to her.

Her fingers would reach up, drawing down the hood to reveal the full pallid canvas of her features. Now without the hindrance of shadow, it was even more apparent that she was fever touched. He couldn't help the slight surge of irritancy that slipped through him. Though he knew himself to be a stranger to her, one that was supposedly close to the maiden had sought him out of concern for her, no small feat given the woman's age. The trek through the horrid weather couldn't have been easy for her or bode well for her own health. “My apologies sir,” she was hasty to make herself more presentable. Her posture straightened, and he would cross his arms as he merely watched her. Judging by the maid's - and the fact she had a lady in waiting to begin with - speech about her , he assumed her to be some high born lass, though he had next to nothing to do with any familiarity concerning their faces, names or anything. He also couldn't help but notice the way her eyes wandered, a heavy twitch of his ear given under the weight of her curious stare.

“I fear your excursions are fruitless and I will ensure to compensate your lost time.” At her dismissal, he would fix her with a droll stare. A heavy breath left him as he instead pulled one of the nearby chairs over, its back facing her as he settled his weight onto it, elbows resting atop the supports as his cheek rested idly in his palm. “Rest assured I am fine, good stranger.” His eye brows raise slightly, shoulders rising and falling in easy dismissal. "Suit yourself." He would grunt along with the shrug. "As for my compensation: buy me a drink." One he full well intended to drink right where he was. He'd be damned before he made another mad dash through the madness of this summer storm.

Worry did not leave the older maid’s brow though she hid it behind the warm cup of her black coffee. For as long as she had been with the maiden and what they both just endured, she was far too concerned for her wellbeing. They had been travelling for several days since the incident and it did not take long for the weather to catch up to her. Suit yourself. Pearlescent sights widened with surprise disbelief while her maids own disappointment was not evidently noticeable yet. As for my compensation: buy me a drink. It may have been the exhaustion settling judging by her reaction and slow response before she finally put two and two together. “Oh, yes, of course.” Without thinking she dismissed herself and made her way to the bar tender to order the strangers’ drink as promised. Her maid watched with a fruitless sigh, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a small pouch with hefty weight to it and placed it next to the one she’d hoped would have her answers to quell the ailing maiden in her care. “Sir, we have been running for four nights and she has not once touched a meal or beverage since—” the elder bit her tongue shaking her head. He needn’t hear a story. “I will pay you double if I need for her care, she will not bite lest the stone falls from her neck again.” The elder offered a tired smile with light mirth in her words just as Ianthe returned with a full tankard seeming quite proud of her efforts. All the same, she unintentionally recalling those lessons to serve the beverage though she was not wholly educated in most spirits other than the usual mulled wine. “The bartender suggested whisky.” She relented, nearly spilling the drink, setting it down with an uneasy hand. He was sitting now, so she would return to the corner she had been coveting.

Jahi

He didn't miss the way her eyes widened when he accepted her dismissal. As with most of those with money, status or any semblance of power, she appeared to be coddled. A young lady accustomed to getting her way or being pressed in the name of concern. Such was his impression of her thus far, a type that was commonly found buying the fruit juice concoctions. “Oh, yes, of course.” She relented quickly to his jabbing words.

He wasn't oblivious, of course to the older woman who remained behind to hover over her mistress's care. He heard her shuffling, he swore, before the elder even moved. Ears would careen towards her, followed by the entirety of his attention lent to her as he reclined, settling his hands behind his head. Though it held the pinch of pity, his gaze was level, even as she began to speak. An earnest effort to change his mind, “Sir, we have been running for four nights and she has not once touched a meal or beverage since—” He waited for her to continue, but she would not, her tongue halting steadfastly before she would shake her head faintly. At that, a slight frown curdled the tension of the placid water's surface. His brow furrowed. Were they involved in some manner of trouble? He would appraise the woman once again, wondering if he had perhaps brashly judged them. A fault his father had often chastised. He would always argue, however, that these were not books; they were people. And people and their motives were often easier to read than written word.

Alas, he would afford the trail a blithe shrug, unbothered regardless of their crimes or lack there of so long as he didn't get mixed up in the schemes. He would readily admit that if nothing else, the young woman was indeed sick. “I will pay you double if I need for her care, she will not bite lest the stone falls from her neck again.” Again? The stone? He supposed that would mark her with the lycan's curse if there was truth to the elder's teasing. "I'm not overly concerned with coin." He would tell her, peripherals catching her as the main of his focus would linger back to the intended patient. There was a shake to her hand as she settled his tankard upon the table top. “The bartender suggested whisky.” Already, he could smell the raw content of it, and a low sigh would leave his lungs as he tilted his head back slightly to catch the mischief eager in the man's face as he offered a faux salute.

He had to suppress his groan as he shifted forward, fingers wrapping tightly upon the handle of the heavy mug. He mulled the interior of his cheek faintly as his dark gaze stared at the near lacquered black of the contents. "Of course he did," he muttered under his breath before he took a rather large drink, eyes closing at the burn as it seared all the way down his throat. Ears pinned back as his mouth parted from the rim. If nothing else, he already felt quite the bit warmer. His free hand reached upward, removing the clutching pendant that kept his cloak in place, placing the fabric into the booth seat opposite of the corner she had once again hid herself within. "Rude to ignore your guest," he prodded. "If what you say is true and you're not ill, you should at least have a drink with me. Conversation, something." Despite the flat of his tone, the spark of amusement was brilliant in his attentive gaze. "So, Miss Primrose, tell me about yourself."

Too busy was the anxious mind that wandered upon the barrels of bourbons and ales providing far too many options to choose from. Ianthe did not privy herself to the spirits, never fond of the smell, let alone taste. Her father and brothers however did not stray from the thoughts of a drink or two and even she had any interests to test those waters, her mother’s hand was far too quick to throw down a switch across her hand. Ianthe could not catch wind to the gentler concerned whispers of her aide who hoped to convince the burdened stranger a change of heart. The aide made sure to choose her words wisely knowing such topics still remained like fresh wounds. I’m not overly concerned with coin. His dismissal warranted the stinging turn of her lips and a sigh that remained impossible to withhold. Ianthe’s return forced her shift in composure to hide her intentions. Aged eyes watched from the background as the maiden tried to cast a mask over her ailing health. The bartenders insinuating suggestions went unnoticed by the maiden assuming that the suggested drink was supposedly popular among social crowds. She couldn’t imagine why but she wouldn’t bring herself to question the bartender who knew any drink inside out. What Ianthe did notice was the lack of enthusiasm the stranger had when she presented him the drink. She felt her jaw tighten and a hard knot swell the back of her throat as she briefly looked to her maid, wondering if she had served it incorrectly. Jenny merely offered a sober approving smile and a light dip of her head with silent reassurance. This did not keep Ianthe from returning to the corner the abandoned corner. She assumed he would tend to his drink in what silence spared save for the idle chatter in the background. Rude to ignore your guest She flinched as if his words caused physical harm. A ruler clapping against a table or wall – whatever her mother could reach to ensure she had her daughters full attention. Ianthe couldn’t help the marring confusion that painted upon feminine features when the stranger referred to himself as her guest. It was not she who hurried him here but the underlying concerns of her maid. If what you say is true and you’re not ill, you should at least have a drink with me. Conversation, something. The theoretical spotlight felt like it was burning into her then. Ianthe pulled her cloak ensuring it remained resting upon her shoulders. It was warm despite the everlasting chill she felt from the fever she claimed not to have. So, Miss Primrose, tell me about yourself. There was an awkward pause following his query. If she were being honest, she didn’t want to initiate a conversation. All she merely wanted to do was to unwind time before those horrid nights unfolded and to put a halt before they began. A hand found the Hecatolite pendant that dressed her neck. Any other patron would have been oblivious to the subtle glowing pulse lest closely inspected. “Not very much to say, really.” She would try to diffuse the conversation with an awkward shrug as quickly as it began and made no inclination to retrieve a drink. “Never did catch your name though, sir.”

Jahi

Whatever it was that plagued the women, it was none of his business. If the happening was pertinent to the young lady's condition, he was all but certain that her maid would have informed him, but as it were, it seemed more a personal matter to the duo. He could only guess itt was some new, fresh tragedy that had plagued them. This land was rife with them, a danger that lurrked everywhere one looked.

He was one such source at one point in time.

He couldn't help but notice that they seemed to be traveling alone for the most part. No other tried to approach them, and while some in town knew of his less savory contacts, all they did was spare them a glace from time to time. Eyes varied from concern to suspicion, ones easily pressed aside, especially with the seear of his whiskey burning down his throat as another strong swill lpassed beyond his lips. His ears remained pinned this time as he did his best to ignore the downcast and soured expression of the aid. The barkeep was well enough familiar with him to know that while he occassionally enjoyed his cups on a particularly rough day or to take the edge off himself after Huian found it necessaary to involve him in 'group' affairs again, he was - in fact - a pitiful lightweight.

The last drink was as hard to swallow as the first, and while relief found him at the bottom of the tall flagon, an uncomfortable heat had settled upon the weight of his cheekbones as well, bidding him to shake his head. She also wasn't making his job very easy either, offering him no proof that she was as hale and whole as she wished to claim. An elongated pause yawned between the trio as he lazily ran a finger along the lip of the container that previously housed his drink. She merely shrunk in on herself, pulling her cloak closer around her to ward off the chill of her fever no doubt.

He merely pursed his lips at her eventual dimissal before he heaved a sigh. 'With all due respect, ma'am, your hired hand expressed great concern over your well being and I agreed to help her. I've seen enough to see that you're very ill and in need of treatment." He would shift in his seat, pushing the mug awway from himself. "I've had enough to drink that you have.... two options." Hee would hold up his index, followed by his middle finger as he listed them. "You behave, I give you a medicine to treat your specific ailments and we all go along our merry little way. Oooor two, I begrudgingly hold you down and force you to drink a very unpleasant tasting vile liquid that will also do the trick." As the last words left him, he would settle the disgusting looking canister on the flat surface between them, its mere appearance an unappetizing shade of seasick green with an equally unappealing smog that whirled ominously above the liquid.

His cheek once again settled into his palm as he eyed her flatly, his mouth affixed in a loose pout. "So, what'll it be?"

It could not go unnoticed of the occasional glances that were passed from other patrons. There was an unsettling tension that did not match the one that hung upon her own shoulders . Ianthe couldn’t discern whether or not if the attention was targeting her or the stranger sitting across from her. There was also the hope that if she kept the conversation short, or lack there of, the summoned stranger Jenny had brought through the cusp of a thunderstorm, then his attention would drift elsewhere. Just anywhere else. As his tankard hit the table in its finality, Ianthe winced at the rigid drumming friction between metal and wood. It sounded like flint shots, or the very crack of thunder of the storm. Her maids hand gently rested upon her shoulder with quiet reassurance in hopes to quell those rigid anxieties. With all due respect, ma’am, your hired hand expressed great concern over your wellbeing, and I agreed to help her Silence was broken between them. Ianthe noticed he ignored her regard of introductions. She felt her jaw tighten with an edge of disappointment. I’ve seen enough to see that you’re very ill and in need of treatment. Her gaze immediately dropped like a child who was being scolded for their behavior or whatever mischief they’d been caught of. Ianthe wanted to argue back at him and to find the energy in herself to leave as swiftly as she could. The storm outside kept her from doing so. Her evident exhaustion kept her seated. I’ve had enough to drink that you have… two options. he implored her. Pearlescent sights lifted shyly as he proceeded to provide the choices presented. The vial clicked its presence upon the table as he presented. Her lower lip curled inward as she averted her gaze away from the putrid green contents that swirled portentously within it. So, what’ll it be? She felt herself at a crossroads. Wanting to partake in neither option, seeing how his patience was already pressed with being here. “Ianthe.” Her name was the first to escape her lips. Her cheeks reddening at the stumble of her own words. “M-my… that is my name, I mean.” A staggering breath escaped her, unable to bring herself to look up despite the angry sharp tongue of her mother’s disapproval ringing in her ears. “Ianthe Genevieve Primrose. I’ve…” she tilted her head slightly towards the maid that accompanied her. “We’ve… fled from the North.” Another silence stilled between them again as she contemplated her options. “What… what are the contents?” she asked quietly, finally lifting her gaze to find his again. “Of the medicine I mean.” She reiterated, biting the inside of her cheek feeling that tug of uncertainty cling to her. “I read once that … it’s important to know what a medicine contains.”

Jahi

His senses were dulling, but not enough that he missed the way she flinched at the slightly raised volume of the flagon meeting the table top. The way that the maid's hand curled soothingly, protectively against the pallor of her wrist. Even from here, what he could see of her looked pallid, clammy, claimed by an illness more likely than not brought about by the atrocious weather. It was a common ailment of these days. The warmth of the day was chased away by the evening chill, and the once comforting summer rains were transforming into the bladed whip of oncoming fall and ultimately winter.

Fretting mothers oft brought their babes and little ones to his shop in search of medicines to help ward off their coughs and break fevers, consequences to their late forays into the lands of their imaginations. Such routine had not been a plague of his father's work, the humidity and warmth of the jungle never relenting to the chill of winter. The only likeness being when the monsoons would trickle their ways through the forest. The constant hail of downpours would lower the temperature, alone with raising rivers and dirtying the water they needed to survive. Sore throats would be near constant. Infections. Other maladies wrought by the atmospheric change.

By the look of what she presented - willingly or not - he deemed it probable that it was not only the plague of a cold that held her, but something else. He'd seen that plenty of times as well, though nothing on his shelf would aid her with that. No, that's what the whiskey was ultimately for. “Ianthe.” She began and his straying focus would sharpen on her quickly. “M-my… that is my name, I mean.” She stammered the words, seeming more nerves than the chatter of teeth. “Ianthe Genevieve Primrose. I’ve…” - she would tilt her crown slightly, indicating the maid who remained steadfastly chained close to her, the air of her worry obvious over her stubborn charge - “We’ve… fled from the North.”

"The north, eh? I was driven here from the south." He offered, hoping that something in somewhat common would aid to steady her own nerves and ease her further into simply cooperating so that he didn't have to deal with the threat of the guards any more than need be. They already kept too close of an eye on him, though he tried to avoid matters that could cloud his name in the city proper. "I had little choice but to come to Klewyth. Would you believe I had never felt even the spark of the cold before arriving here?" He would offer the leisure of a faint smile. "However, forgive me, but I'll keep my name for now. It's less you can use against me if you don't be a good girl and take your medicine willingly."

“What… what are the contents?” His fingertip would press along the cork that kept the noxious liquid bottled, tilting the vial to and fro. “Of the medicine I mean.” She would clarify, her solitary glance to it belying a hint of disgusted horror at it. “I read once that … it’s important to know what a medicine contains.” "Mm, this? It's a blend of general herbs, emulsified with blessed water from the cathedral and a tonic oil. It's use is wide, and while I prefer to treat you with something more tailored to your needs, it may keep you from drowning in your own snot or going mad from an untreated fever." He spoke the words bluntly with a sigh. While she wasn't as troublesome of some of those under Hui's hand, dealing with them had certainly caused his... bedside manners to become somewhat chaste in hindsight. In a way, she reminded him of them, regretfully. Though he had to ponder if simply all women were like this? "It should cause no harm as it's reliably safe, but I have my doubts that it will speed about your recovery."