Fantasy The Land Between Us

[Syrenrei]

Alana was less than enthused about traveling south and away from the border (and by extension home)- but it was a reasonable course of action. The military would be less likely to search for her further south and, more importantly, there was a better chance of finding a town with an intact inn. There was nothing she could do except trust in the wisdom that had kept Matthew alive and hidden all these years. His acting skills that she had witnessed this far were less than stellar since they crumpled quickly in the face of imminent danger. If he could keep his wits about him they had a very real chance of honest-to-gods-rest. A town somewhat distant from combat. A warm bed. Food that wasn't scavenged from forest scraps.


If he fucked this up, he was going to see how very precise she was with her sword.


They had been traveling in silence for a while, she walking and he riding the paint. Alana had instantly recognized the steed as one of the pair she and Riahne jointly owned as teenagers. As she was musing over the irony of 'stealing' a horse she owned with her double, Matthew abruptly interrupted her thoughts with a poignant question. "Her name is Riahne." With a beleaguered sigh, she knew that wasn't a sufficient explanation. Even if he wasn't exactly forthcoming with his past, it was hers that had threatened both their lives. She owed some clarity. "Because the Indoheru family is one of mercenaries, we tend to make allies and enemies in equal measure. We might be paid to defend and protect one day, and steal from that same client the next. Many of the same people that find us useful also hate us. Hypocrisy abounds. And some merely despise us with every fiber of their being. That means that we're targeted with relative frequency. Not a problem with adults- they can defend themselves- and our home is safe. When the children venture out, however, it's a vulnerability."


By now Alana expected that Matthew was becoming slack-jawed at how coolly she spoke of life and death matters. Such a civilized pacifist probably never had to consider the kidnapping, torturing, and slaughter of babes to punish the 'wicked'- but it was a very real tactic. The Indoheru family had a child stolen exactly once many generations ago before it propelled them into safeguards and countermeasures that would make royalty look lax. "Each time an heir is born, they find another infant of likeness that is either an orphan or can be purchased from the mother. We call them doubles because that is their function. They are raised and expected to look like us as much as possible, be able to help us defend ourselves, and help cause confusion if there's an attack on our lives. Most clients only know what children the Indoherus have and a vague description. When they see two nearly identical girls or boys in public it's impossible for them to know who's the real heir and who's the decoy. Once we reach maturity they can leave the household or stay in it in another capacity. Riahne chose the latter. Her biological family are poor farmers she wants nothing to do with."


Herein she paused and looked momentarily uncomfortable, guilty even. "There's nothing I could do about their policies, but... it warped Riahne. She'd rather replace me than be her own person. When I was declared 'too compassionate' for the trade, she rather fancied the idea of becoming me. It's a delusion- they'd never take her. She isn't blood and they know a madness has seized her. They'd drop her as liability the moment she exposes this insanity- but she's desperate to try regardless. Which means, of course, I have to die. Don't worry, though: she only strikes when she has the upper hand. I have to be mitigated in some fashion for her to even have a chance against me one on one." They had a psychopath trained swordsman that might chase them to the ends of the earth, but Alana was relatively calm. There was little she could do to make Riahne sane again so to her it was simply managing the complete bullshit chaos that rolled on her. Matthew would undoubtedly be more alarmed at this turn of events.

 

[Chordling]

It seemed as though the pace of the horse decreased while Matthew listened to Alana’s explanation. Never in his life had he ever heard of her family. Then again, she probably knew nothing of his own, too. Matthew’s family certainly didn’t hold rituals as interesting as Alana’s. If one were really to analyze their past lifestyle, it would most definitely be considered “normal”. By his understanding, recruiting a look-a-like at infancy was not considered normal.


This other woman, this double, Riahne, she must have been desperate beyond measures to simply rid of Alana. It surprised him how quickly they were located, just days after he brought Alana to the cabin. Though he supposed under the conditions the warped, young woman was under, one might have been able to hand her sympathy. Unfortunately Matthew wasn’t exactly in a very sentimental mood, not after what had just happened to his secluded cabin. He supposed that was the price he had to pay for breaking his own code; No strangers allowed.


The cabin didn’t matter anymore now. What did matter was coping with the idea that the woman beside him gave exposure. Even if she could use a sword with whichever hand she pleased, Matthew felt concerned. Of course, his own personal status didn’t help the level of their security either. Somehow they would just have to conceal their vulnerability with the skills she had, and the limited abilities he possessed.


It was clearer now, why she had been forced over the border. No doubt, Alana was truly endangered on foreign grounds. She didn’t look different from the common Arceivonian. Donnesthorian’s were claimed by many to have drastically different builds than folks from their sister nation. At least, that’s what they used to be called. The relative title seized to exist when the tragic events that lead to the war unfolded. A woman, probably no older than Alana herself, traded off for a piece of land, then dreadfully killed.


Thankfully Alana wasn’t patriotic. Matthew would have probably had his guts torn straight from his abdomen for “murdering” the heir to the monarchy.


"There must be something else about your double that has secluded her from a mercenary role," Matthew spoke when Alana had completed her last phrase. They had turned a corner. "It wouldn’t make sense to simply banish a woman who has clear potential and skill, and with your identity at such risk, your security could be broken by bad word of mouth. It seems far more dangerous to let them loose than to attain them, given the presumably amount of enemies you claim for your family."

 

[Syrenrei]

Alana shrugged non-noncommittally and rubbed the arm that had been slashed absentmindedly. There was still pain to be certain, but she had been raised such that she had developed more of a tolerance than any woman ought to. A small irritated sigh escaped from her lips. It was moments like these that made her regret venturing forth into a world of 'normalcy' no matter how minimally. She was a freak to them, a disturbing aberrant, no matter how her heart guided her in directions apart from her upbringing. No matter how congenial he was over her situation, she felt there was such a chasm between their lives that it could not be crossed even with the greatest leap of faith. Surely he was just humoring her.


"None of the doubles are banished. When we turn eighteen we are deemed to have been sufficiently trained to stand on our own two feet and defend ourselves without need for the protection of a double. The doubles can stay with the family but their identity becomes their own. My eldest brother's double was given some money to become a weaponsmith and has been one for several years now. Another brother's double is an around-the-clock bodyguard for a very pretty, very wealthy, and very single young heiress. My two younger siblings still have doubles." She ran her hand through her hair and let out another little sigh. This was not aimed at Matthew for once and instead was at how much she missed her adored siblings. They were so different that Matthew would be even more baffled with her family than he was already... but they loved one another. Wholly, completely, purely. Perhaps they were the only people in the world that could truly understand one another.


"You have to understand- Riahne wants to be an Indoheru heir. Many doubles have gone and come and every once in a long while one gets confused what their real self is. Riahne's been allowed to stay with the family, but not in the family. She wants the better training I received, the inheritance, the weaponry, the prestige of my name- everything. In the past the double with this... 'affliction' was simply slain by whomever they turned against. I can assure you I am more than capable of doing so on an even playing field. Unfortunately, I find it more difficult to kill than many of my lineage. What separates me from my intended profession might also be what literally kills me." Thus far Matthew had only seen her compromised so it was difficult to show him how different her skills were from Riahne's. The double was quite good with self-defense and basic attacks, but the advanced daily training had been given to Alana alone. She was the Indoheru's investment- not the orphaned look-alike. Had she only not been seized by greed and madness the pair might have been great friends and Alana might have gifted her some of the knowledge given to her exclusively.


"I actually left the mansion and got married because I wanted to get away from all of this. I love my family, despite how bizarre they are to everyone else, but this life just wasn't for me. It's not evil or wrong, it's just... not what I wanted. I thought I'd find a nice guy that understood where I was coming from and could deal with the fact I'm not some dainty little pacifist flower- no offense- and I'd be fine. Have a house, some hobbies, a few kids, do something different than my parents. But life has a way of chasing you down, I suppose. That's why I wanted you to learn to defend yourself. Even if you're not an Indoheru, there are people like Riahne in the world and a lot of innocent, defenseless people they will tear through if you let them. Once she's done with me, that's exactly what she'll do. Next time I'll draw her away from you as far as I can." Alana wrapped her arms around herself, pressing her arms against her chest as she was chilled by the thought of casualties. It was inevitable, though. The only solace she had was that while Riahne was fixated on Alana there would be no one else that could draw her animosity severely enough to bring harm to themselves.

 

[Chordling]

Alana's words began to dishearten Matthew, even fill him with shame. There really wasn't an easy way to describe what was brought to him by her speech. She appeared misunderstood, and when she no longer wanted to be misunderstood, she took her own actions to find someone who would understand. No doubt her husband had been hauled off to war like many other unfortunate men. Initially, Matthew believed Alana enjoyed what she was raised to do. It was not to say that she did not hold pride for her family, but there seemed to be a sense of exhaustion, an eagerness for something new.


Unlike Alana, Matthew did not belong to some bloodline legacy. Even though his political title might point to the idea, his own family had nothing to claim except a collection of axes and unlimited wood. It always came to mind at the oddest times, but Matthew was sure he would still be cutting wood if his parents were still living. But then, where would he be now, as a woodcutter? Undoubtedly fighting among the other unfortunate souls, or worse, dead. He let a quick sigh escape as he tried to shake the gruesome thought from his head.


"I suppose I'd rather be slain by a rebellious mercenary than slaughtered by means of war," he said with a mild tone of apprehension as he ducked his head to avoid a low tree branch. The leaves rustled as the thin, wooden appendage wash pushed back by Matthew's hand, then vigorously shook back into their original position once the area had been clear of all potential targets. "But we shouldn't have to worry about either enemy once we've reached Sorrenspire, at least for a while. If we can rely on the assumption that Rhiane has too much determination to find you to run back to the Nation's Guards and give a report, then they'll never find us. Having some sort of disguise will likely mislead any other followers as well. We should be able to stay in Sorrenspire for a few weeks at most, more if we're lucky. It will all depend on how quickly the war expands." The horse suddenly stopped in its tracks to relieve itself before obeying its rider's prods to continue.

 

[Syrenrei]

"Riahne won't chance telling anyone of her vendetta yet. She might be insane, but she's just rational enough to know revealing her plot could mean whomever she confides in might tell the Indoheru family- and be rewarded for doing so. My parents and extended family aren't terribly pleased with me, but as long as I'm alive they'll always select me over a zealous Riahne." She shrugged somewhat indifferently. It was jarring for Matthew to think her parents viewed her as an investment more than just a child they loved, she expected, but she was rather used to it. Her siblings appreciated her as an entire person and not just a tool or weapon. Riahne would find them impossible to please. Alana knew that her double was ill-prepared to even consider that difficulty; perhaps if the would-be mercenary died, she would at least be avenged. "We'll be fine in Sorrenspire as long as you don't panic in your acting," she added with a slight frown.


Now that her mind had rolled back towards discussion of family and Matthew was a little chatty she decided to take advantage of the situation. "Considering your parents didn't look to be well off and that was a woodsman's cottage- I'm guessing you used to have a nicer home before the war. Something post-lumberjack-man? Or did the ladies just fall all over themselves to nab someone who knew how to use a rusty axe well, Mr. Not-Gay?" It didn't seem her peer had all that much of a sense of humor, but Alana wanted to discuss something other than the fact she had a ruthless killer hot on her heels to steal her identity in addition to the army that wanted to hold her hostage. She'd have to get some handsome and desperate scribe to write down all this insane shit later for posterity. What would the title be? "World's Most Killable Lady, War Edition?" Alana chuckled to herself in reaction to her inner musings rather than her spoken words.


"Oh my goodness, you didn't do anything illicit in that bed I was sleeping in, did you? I think I need a bath- well, I suppose I need one regardless after all that has transpired. You do as well, no offense." Between the stubborn mud caked on her from the previous day's escapade in the rain and the injury to her arm (although cleaned and bandaged), she was eager for any cleansing. Hell, she might squander all their money on it given opportunity.

 

[Chordling]

Alana's comment made Matthew grin and lightly chuckle. "No, not in that bed at least. Before the war, I used to live just outside the capital," he explained. "But the log cabin was where I grew up. My parents built it actually, from the very trees that surround it. They said they liked how secluded it was; how it was hidden from the rest of the world where nothing could harm it." Matthew casually shrugged his shoulders. "I guess you could say that's why I chose to run from the war. There was ," he paused briefly. "Each week my mother and father would travel to town and trade our lumber for food and other necessities. I would stay home to watch the cabin," and to keep an eye on his younger sister. "Then one week they just never came home." His shoulders awkwardly moved as if missing parents was a common casualty. "A few boring details later, I was found wandering through the city by the Marquees. He took me in, and having no eligible heir, I became the next Marquees.


"So to answer your question in shorter terms," he smiled. "Yes, my home was far nicer than a rotting wood cabin." The horse grunted as Matthew prodded its sides with the heels of his feet, only wishing to graze on the various vegetation that protruded from oddly angled branches before it continued to walk. "Many lovely ladies would be able to attest to that for you."


Remembering Alana's concern over hygiene, he began to inform her. "We'll be passing a lake in the next mile or two, we can take a brief stop there and rinse off, or wait until we reach Sorrenspire. I'll leave the decision to you. My bath can wait."

 

[Syrenrei]

"Your bath can wait? Aren't you resuming the role of the noble or aristocrat with a bodyguard?" Her voice was filled with annoyance, but it was even more saturated with an incredulous undertone. "Or did you want to try to pretend to be a wed couple?" Alana didn't have any desire to even pretend to be a notch on Matthew's belt, but living was paramount. She'd do it if she must. What she was counting on was that Matthew would be so completely adverse he would concede he was better suited to the role of aristocrat than devoted husband. If he wasn't? Well, she didn't anticipate pretending to be a loving and devoted spouse and it'd be more believable if they weren't under the strain of war. Laughing lightly to herself she pushed aside some errant tree branches and skipped a few steps to keep up with Riahne's horse.


Eager to change the topic from anything even relating to his sexual conquests, she decided to divert the conversation. "As much as I enjoy a good river or lake, the wound on my arm will need more healing time before I can bathe in less-than-clean water. If I have an infection I'll only be slowed down even more than I am now. Might not be a big deal for you, but being a sitting duck for Riahne could end this happy adventure of mine. The sooner we get there the better anyway, correct? Are there any higher-class folks that might be there and could potentially recognize you? We don't really have any access to disguises and I prefer not to be doing the talking." Even if she didn't have an aversion to lying which her made infamously awful at it, people didn't really like Alana. Tolerance was about as much as she could expect. If Matthew could talk his way into a large number of skirts with that appalling lack of masculinity, he had to have a silver tongue she rationalized.


With another shake of her head, she pulled her hair over her shoulder to prevent it from tangling while they traversed. Her legs were quickly tiring and she was praying like hell they were getting close to this little shithole town in the middle of Arceivona. It was easier to make Matthew ride so they'd make better time, but that didn't mean she enjoyed all this walking. The coins jingling in her pocket gave her hope she'd have a reprieve soon. A hot meal not scavenged and made by a trained cook? AND a bath? This is what the heavens would be like.

 

[Chordling]

"We shouldn't have to worry about other aristocrats, as long as we keep out of the capital," Matthew assured. Even if they had run into any of his past comrades, it would be very unlikely for them to recognize Matthew. Time was enough of a disguise. Had Alana and Matthew met prior to the war, she would likely understand. Admittedly he wasn't too much to look at with matted hair and clay covered skin. He could really become a visual charmer with a bath and some fresh clothes, but these luxuries didn't seem to matter to Matthew; his mind was determined on his task to reach solitude.


"We are going to need a better excuse than a married couple," he continued to speak. "It may be a perfect ruse for you, but I'm going to need something more solid than that if we want to avoid any attention from the guards." This was not to say that guards were stationed in Sorrenspire, but to imply that some people would be desperate enough to turn anyone in to the war for a bit of cash. "You mentioned before some type of impairment," though, he supposed that could be easily achieved if he consumed another beer or two. The decoy would likely not last for very long, and frankly the substance was unavailable. "It would be an easy way to explain the steed, and a better way to evade difficulties with the militia."


Small buildings and other signs of civilization started to appear in the distance. A feeling of relief washed over Matthew when his eye caught the corner of a battered, wooden roof. Their trail made a sudden turn, placing the sight of the town behind the trees again and nearly causing Matthew to smack his forehead against a thick branch. Before his skull was able to come into any contact with the protruding piece of wood, he caught it with his hand and snapped the limb right from the taller piece of lumber. "Mother Nature has even kindly provided us a useful prop for our bluff," he smiled, then he shifted his eyes towards Alana, hoping to gather some sign of affirmation to their growing idea and his attempt at humor.

 

[Syrenrei]

When Matthew grabbed that branch and grinned like an idiot, suddenly Alana didn't feel quite so bad that he was smacked by it; in fact, she had half a mind to assault him a few times more. Parade around like he's a cripple? It would explain why he wasn't drafted, but she was too proud a woman to pretend to be a gimp and the very notion left a poor taste in her mouth. Well, let him do what he want. It would benefit their disguise and if he wanted to play to their sympathies it could only aid their cause. So long as he didn't ask her to play some similarly decrepit role she'd be fine even if he posed as an invalid. "Your bluff," she corrected. "If you think I'm going to use some sort of crutch as well you're out of your damn mind."


She patted Riahne's horse reassuringly; it was a creature that was young yet had been in the stables for years and unsurprisingly looked just like her horse. While people occasionally were baffled between Alana and her double, their horses never showed the same level of confusion. Riahne's horse behaved best for Riahne simply because she was incredibly strict and occasionally abusive, but it knew Alana would give treats if they were available and was considerably more patient. If only that same calm acceptance had seeped into other facets of the young Indoheru's life...


"I'm getting hungry and tired- if you want to keep looking for the perfect branch, you can catch up to me I'm sure." With that she kept trodding along, incredibly encouraged by the buildings that had glistened in the distance. They may have well been built of gold with the amount of excitement they manifested in her heart. A warm meal! A bath! Supplies not stolen from some schmuck merchant! As close as she had felt to nature before, she needed a break and a return to civilization. Her prior adoration was based on being able to move at will and carry tools with which to endure and enjoy the elements. The last few days had not being what she would consider enjoyable by any stretch of the imagination. With a smile forming on her features she picked up the pace... without considering if Matthew didn't 'catch up' as she expected him to that she might have to converse with the ignorant populace.

 

[Chordling]

Alana clearly did not understand, he only meant to imply that he would have been the one with a makeshift staff, not her. Matthew shrugged his shoulders as he watched her walk towards the town. At least he wasn't out of his mind.


He tapped heels into the sides of the horse to prod it along, and slowly followed the rest of the path into civilization. The Inn they planned to stay in was just down the street. It wasn't anything impressive. Created from wood and straw like many of the other buildings in the area, and only twice as big as Matthew's old cabin. No doubt, most of the Inn was really a bar, rather than rooming. Not that he minded. For a moment, Matthew had lost sight of Alana, but when he spotted her just a brief moment later, he sent the horse into a small trot and rode beside her.


It hadn't been until then when he realized some of the local townspeople had stopped their normal routine to send them strange glances. They were probably not used to foreigners coming to visit, especially during the time they were in now. As long as they didn't cause them trouble, Matthew would remain indifferent to their stares.


"Aren't you supposed to be in the war?" and elderly man grumbled as they passed. Matthew gave a sideways glance to the speaker, but said nothing. The older man angrily glared at the pair as they approached the Inn.


"You go ahead inside, and rent us a room," Matthew said to Alana when they finally reached the building as he tossed her a small sack of coins. "I just have to get off this horse." The horsed seemed to grunt in agreement.


Steadily he lead the horse around the back of the building towards the stables, and carefully situated the steed. He made sure to gingerly slide off the animal's back to begin his crippled pretense, and hobbled back into the Inn while leaning heavily against the stick. Brief, blunt knocking sounds emitted from the end of the staff as he walked across the wooden floor to stand by Alana.


"Were we able to get rooms?" he asked as he leaned his head back to look at her.

 

[Syrenrei]

Alana's agitation boiled to the surface when Matthew directed her (like some peon) to get them some rooms while he stabled the horse. That damned steed was more hers than his; though it was stolen from Riahne, it was more Indoheru family property than that of the subpar mercenary. Any guilt she had felt about dragging Matthew into this mess was quickly fading away. Had she not taken a rather nasty slice to the bicep when she handily disarmed her opponent? Sure, the bumbling fool had helped her, but she had done most of the work. Ruse or not she felt she had more than earned the valiant equine. There he was, trotting away as if the prize was his and his alone.


Had he also selectively forgotten her lack of social skills? Sure, she could negotiate a price for bodyguard duty pretty aggressively- but deception took a set of skills beyond her purview. Alana's acting was amateur at best and tragically comical at its worst. Pressing her lips together she imagined the many ways in which she wanted to harm Matthew after her bath. Kicking in the door she strode in with the swagger that one would expect from such a confident combatant as herself. Her right hand rested on the hilt of her sword just in case trouble reared its ugly head and the few patrons of the 'tavern' were slightly perplexed. A well-armed, proud, tall, and strange woman didn't just saunter into their town every day it appeared. Without pausing to glance at them (much less mingle) she bee-lined to a woman behind a counter that was at least twenty years her senior.


"I need a room." The woman's lips had parted to vocalize a greeting with a slight smile when she had been interrupted by Alana's request. It appeared she was unimpressed by Alana's social etiquette. Had Matthew really expected her to ask for two rooms? Their ruse was something like a husband and wife or bodyguard and cripple or some mishmash thereof. Why in the holy hell would either of those situations warrant two rooms? No, the princess would have to suck it up and share a bed with her for the evening. Alana wasn't terribly worried considering that she found Matthew about as threatening as the cripple he was posing to be.


"Very well," the middle-aged woman finally mustered as she reached under the table to fetch a key. Undoubtedly she was about to state the price for their accommodations when she was once again rudely interrupted by Alana.


"And I'd like to have a bath drawn as well. I'll tip handsomely for it, of course." She reached into her pouch and produced a handsome amount of gold for this favor and the woman's eyes widened. It had occurred to her that Alana might be of the more dangerous variety given her disposition, but the appearance of currency swayed her suspicious. Money talked louder than her conscience might. "Could you deliver a couple dinners to our room as well?"


"Certainly." Now the smile on the matronly being's face was more sincere as she slid her coins off the table and deposited them in an apron. Matthew arrived just in time for Alana was being shown the way to their one (singular) room. Alana jabbed Matthew in his side quite harshly to express her frustration and his need for silence. If he was going to make her the damned talker while his lazy, faking-in, crippled ass was casually taking the horse to the stable instead of putting his damnable silver-tongue to work... then he was gonna have to be quiet.


"Here you are," their hostess said as she opened the door to their purchased room. "Please make yourselves at home while I send my husband to get your water for the bath." Before either could comment she had hurried away lest they change their minds about their very generous payment.

 

[Chordling]

Matthew sent a bitter glare towards Alana as he felt her sharp jab in his abdomen that caused his body to cringe. Thankfully the hostess had been distracted by thoughts of riches to even notice his reaction. One thing Alana might learn while she exercised her social skills, money spoke louder than actions and words by volumes. Matthew was able to say he paid his way out of many things. Have to write a speech for next month's governmental affairs and don't have the motivation? Pay someone. Need to deliver a special packet to the Duke from Across the Nation and can't find the time? Pay someone. Obligated to fight in the war because the law requires you to? Trick someone you'll pay them when they return home and give them a title of glory and honor.


The room's insignificant size nearly surprised Matthew. How were two human beings supposed to live in a space so small? There wasn't even a window for ample light, and why was there only one bed? Alana didn't expect them to share, did she? Even the size of the bed seemed inadequate. His mind played with the idea of them attempting to squish themselves comfortably on the worn down mattress; it never resulted they were both on the mattress on the same time, or comfortable. The rest of the furniture had been composed of a wooden chair, small side table, and dresser.


Matthew believed he would never complain about degraded living conditions, not after traded a life with silver plates and chocolates for a barren, wooden cabin. It was probably one of the hardest realities for him to grasp. He had thought, if he lived in the wood cabin as a child, going back wouldn't be too tough, right? The task was one of those things that was easier said than done. Learning how to survive with the bare necessities took months. In that moment, Matthew agreed to himself that he would pray to whatever deity was out there that their visit in Sorrenspire would be short lived, and that better accommodations lied in their future.


"You know, for a mercenary, I thought you might have been a bit more skilled in persuasion," he commented as his eyes were still fixated on the poor state of their room. He couldn't wait to see what kind of dinner and bath the innkeeper had planned to serve them. No doubt their qualities would be easily comparable to the character of their new lodging. Matthew supposed he could request for some kind of hospitality upgrade at another date. What mattered most was that they succeeded in situating themselves somewhere, and wouldn't have to worry about flesh hungry soldiers or a psychotic woman. Now their worries could be placed on food poisoning and water borne illnesses. Matthew tried to believe their journey was making improvements. "That, or you must be incredibly curious about my sleeping habit," he mocked. He must of forgotten that the girl, who was nearly a whole decade younger than he was, had a whole life worth's experience in combat training.

 

[Syrenrei]

"I believe you might have been uncomfortable with my methods of persuasion," she snapped back heatedly, her annoyance making her cheeks flush and her eyes alight with kindled anger. "It usually entails threats of bodily harm that might draw the attention of guards, don't you think?" To say that most people did not appreciate intimidation was putting it extremely mildly. If they were soliciting the help of the Indoheru family they usually were prepared for negotiations of that nature, but a common man or woman had an incessant need to call upon law enforcement or militia when life and limb were mildly threatened. With the war ongoing she expected those who were still intact might be a little paranoid.


Pursing her lips together she then folded her arms and tried to reign in her fury. If the innkeeper or whatever she was happened upon her mid-physical-assault it would be challenging to explain calmly. "Besides, someone had given me the impression they'd do the talking since they are so damn good at it."With her last enunciation her teeth were grinding together and it appeared both fire and brimstone might be wielded at any moment. Alana was trying not to remember how he had just wandered off to the stables with her hard-earned horse while she was left to do the deception she had reminded several times she was piss poor at. If they were in Donesthorin she might have brawled him for less even at a loss in musculature (but superior in agility).


"Why should I give a damn about your sleeping habits?" she hissed. Now she was cautious because at any instant that lady might reappear to confirm the bath was drawn. "There's nothing to be worried about. Even were you interested or desperate, I doubt you have the bravery to attempt anything. I've also been trained to sleep in all sorts of conditions... although I insist you take a bath first. I might be able to sleep in many adverse situations, but I would rather not." In one fell swoop she had already alluded to the 'fact' she knew herself to be relatively unattractive, called him cowardly, and insulted his smell and appearance. That wasn't to say she had any illusions right now about her own cleanliness- she was ready to dive into a bath even if it was filled with hideous flowers and noxious perfumes- but his own filth was even more disconcerting. He did not appear to be in a rush to rid himself of grime either.


As if on cue the lady reappeared after having drawn a bath, standing in their doorway with an almost comedic fake grin of hospitality. They were high-paying customers and she was eager to do anything and everything to make them happy... just in case they had even more coin to gift if they were pleased. "Oh, my dear here will go first if you don't mind." Alana gave a winning smile to aid in the persuasion that Matthew held in such high esteem. Her quick response would hopefully head off any argument from her current companion. "His poor leg could use a short soak to ease the pain." She wasn't sure that any bath would actually help the personality traits she found so infuriating, but she was full of wishful thinking... and it had to be painful to be such a huge scaredy-cat. Maybe it was concentrated in that 'lame' leg.

 

[Chordling]

In the beginning Matthew had tried to be gentle and kind, but the young woman's edgy personality was starting to wear his nerves. If those were the only persuasive methods she learned as a mercenary, he would feel terrible remorse. Matthew thought, if he were at any agreeable terms with Alana, he might have considered reshaping her social habits. Understanding how to interact with the world in less threatening manners might actually make her a better mercenary. They were not getting along, however, so Matthew found no motivation to supposedly aide his companion. His efforts to be the better half had soured.


So when she finished her final piece of mockery, Matthew's patience had been breached. He started to give Alana a bit of his own mind, but his retaliation was interrupted when the kind yet desperate innkeeper reappeared.


"Thank you, madame," he spoke. "We will call for you if we need anything else." Matthew sent her a small smile, and the woman quickly departed, leaving the freshly drawn bath behind. When he was sure that their hostess has been out of earshot, Matthew closed the door to their insignificant room, then began to address her again.


"Since you seem content to allow me to take the first bath, you can make yourself useful and run a few errands." He pulled another small sack of coins from the folds of his clothing, and handed it to the girl. "Get us as much supplies as you can from the general market. You can ask the hostess for directions, and start honing those persuasion skills of yours." Matthew would not deny that his words may have been unnecessarily rude, but it seemed it would be the only valid tone to use if he wanted to cut through Alana's stubbornness, whether that was actually true. "There's only so much an inn can provide; food, drink, and a place to stay. Pick up anything else that you think is necessary. I'll trust your judgment." His words were meant to be an excuse for Alana to leave the room and give him a bit of privacy while he bathed. It might seem a little suspicious if they wanted to maintain their act, but Matthew was confident Alana would be intelligent enough to come up with a few legitimate excuses for her absence.

 

[Syrenrei]

Alana saw the 'errand' for precisely what it was: the former aristocrat scrambling over his sense of modesty. It was hilarious to her more than it was infuriating and so she accepted this 'task' if only to save herself some monologue about virtues. What did he care what she saw? Had he not spoken to bedding himself many women? Was this not an allusion to his fine physique of which she had not seen? Why was he so shy and private now? Perhaps it spoke to the fact that he- like many men before him- did not find Alana physically attractive. More than a few had pointed to personality traits she possessed as masculine with amusement or derision. Then again, perhaps he was hiding an embarrassing defect that he did not want exposed to her sarcasm. The wealthy could find suitors no matter their deficiencies so long as their coffers were full. Just because Matthew had conquered did not mean he possessed as much charm as he might lead her to believe; the scent of freshly minted coin might be what persuaded easy lasses between the bedsheets.


With a loud sigh and discreet roll of the eyes she made her way out the door. Since she wasn't sure where the innkeeper was she bit her tongue and refrained from any biting commentary that might be overheard. What exactly was she expected to purchase? They had not yet cemented a plan for where they would go or what they would do the next morning much less the next week. Now that she was armed it was possible to press forward north towards Donesthorin and her home where they might find sanctuary. Heading south, east, or west might be safer given the war efforts and that soldiers were more concentrated on the borders. There would be less scrutiny if they remained in Arceivona, but they would also find themselves out of gold if they tarried too long without occupations.


Her feet had carried her outside of the inn but she just stood there listless and uncertain what to do next. Perhaps... clothes? It seemed folly to gather any other supplies when they had no notion of where they were going and when. Clothes, however, were relatively necessary in the immediate future: Matthew's were reaching a whole new level of filthy and her own were made for a man instead of a curvier woman. Alan juggled a few coins in her hand with a smirk. This was her chance to dress Mr. Stinks-a-lot however she pleased without him being able to object except to keep wearing clothes that were covered in muck.


Within half an hour she had haggled the poor clothes merchant into the last shred of his sanity. Despite not knowing much about inn fares, she knew quite a good deal about cloth. Her family had helped some unscrupulous but well-paying sorts smuggle spices and illegal herbs through garments. As part of these operations they were exposed to farce of it being only clothing and what it should cost. Adding into the equation that there wasn't much demand for clothes when the war was wearing the common folks thin meant she was getting a good deal. She tipped him well anyway.


When she arrived back at the inn after being gone for no less than twenty minutes and no more than half an hour, she failed to knock on the door as she stepped inside. It'd break their charade to act awkward around each other like that. Matthew would understand. Hopefully he had a towel on or something; she really didn't care to have any images seared into her eyes that couldn't easily be forgotten.

 

[Chordling]

As Alana left, Matthew gently shut the door behind her, then secured the lock to make sure their hostess didn't accidentally walk in on him. What a scene that could be. Then he quickly rid himself of his mud caked clothing, and hesitantly stepped into the drawn bath. He was not sure what the temperature of the water would be. Surprisingly it was very pleasant, and he did not wait a moment longer to submerge the rest of his body. The mud was quick to melt away from his skin, even between the tight spaces of his toes and nails. The challenge would be his hair. Over the past couple of months, or for however long it had been since his last bath, the wavy locks became matted with dirt and debris. His first task was to pick out as many of the twigs and leaves as he possibly could without ripping of his entire head of hair. Though meticulous, it did not take him an excruciatingly long amount of time; he even made a little neat pile beside the basin rather than adding to the muck in the water.


What would add to the length of his bath was ridding the locks of all the mud that had homed itself on his scalp for all that time. Matthew dreaded the idea, but the more he sat in the water to think about it, the more time he was wasting; and the more his body pruned. He took in a deep breath, then plunged his skull as far as he could into the bath's shallow depths. He had not realized how relieving cleaner hair would feel and let out a sigh of relief once his head was above water again. Matthew suddenly understood Alana's urge for proper personal hygiene. His previous state was almost unfathomable to him now. Before the war started, such an idea was unimaginable, and nightmare worthy.


Matthew looked at the door when he heard noises coming from the hallway. Swiftly, but still in a manner that would maintain their charade, he reached for the nearest towel and the makeshift cane. When the towel had been in his hand and the cane just beside the bath, he slowly lifted himself to a slight standing position, making sure none of the water would spill onto the floor. He was sure a single drop eventually leak its way through the floor and onto an unfortunate guests's head. His skin was now free of any visible pollutants, and his hair fell in its naturally soft and wavy manner. There were details in his physique that were impossible to notice under the baggy clothing he wore before. Beneath all of the layers, his frame seemed thin and narrow, but completely exposed Matthew's upper body was noticeably strong, from his arms to his back to all the way down to his waist.


Someone had pushed against the door when Matthew had been drying off his face. This wasn't such a problem, because he had locked the door earlier, but his security betrayed him, and the entrance swung open wider. His mind assumed it was Alana, and he told himself to simply wrap the towel around his waist, but then he remembered the innkeeper and their false pretense and told himself to plunk back down in the tub. His hands and feet weren't quite sure what to do, but by the time he would have made up his mind, Alana had all ready made her full entrance.

 

[Syrenrei]

Alana hadn't realized the minute resistance the door displayed a was a lock. In retrospect it wasn't that surprising that an inn located in a small town didn't have the most secure hardware. Perhaps she was stronger than she at first thought herself to be? It had seemed only that the door was stuck from being improperly cut or hung in some fashion. Yet here she was, standing and gazing upon Matthew in all his post-bathing glory. Clearly he was just as startled and stunned by her arrival as she was at the fact he had not concluded his cleaning ritual and attired himself.


She had three brothers. Alex was already a man by the time she came to understand the difference between a boy and a man; he was over a decade older than she was. More than a sibling he was like a second, much more affectionate, father figure that shielded her from some truths he rather she not know quite yet. Avery was on the opposite side of the spectrum being several years younger than she was, making her into both an older sister and a maternal figure to confide in at times. Needless to say this left Arcden, her twin brother, as being her only similarly aged confident that might ever disclose to her some of the differences that came with gender. Her parents certainly hadn't sent her to a citizen's school to learn worldly things that might take time away from learning the mercenary's trade skills. But as close as they were, the twins didn't really have chats about awkward teenage phases, changes in their bodies, or other such things.


The mercenary with the long hair had a husband, now deceased, but other than him and Arcden (who'd she last seen in the buff before his voice changed), she didn't have a lot of exposure to men being nude. The few mercenary jobs she had taken as an Indoheru didn't involve any sort of debauchery and it'd be freaky for her brother to fully strip in front of her. So her sense of modesty wasn't as high as Mr. Aristocrat here, but it was also small and potent enough to be completely dumbstruck by the bathing male. For a moment she was slack-jawed and her visage flickered through an entertaining array of colors ranging from brilliant red (not at all subdued by her tanned skin) to a pale white that usually preceded fainting. As her packages of purchased goods started to slip out of her hands she jerked slightly, caught them mid-slip, and then stood there rigidly and awkwardly. Alana wasn't staring but she was no longer casual either.


"I... uh..," she struggled through the common tongue as eloquently as a mentally deficient child, "brought..." A long pause as she righted her gaze firmly to his face, tried to tunnel her vision, and focused. "Clothes. I bought clothes that might fit us a little better since we're not sure where we're going yet or when." On second thought, she'd sit down after all. Closing the door behind her she shuffled over to the bed and sat down taking a deep breath while she pried open one of the wrappings. It was going to be a long night. Who the hell knew anything at all respectable was under those rags and muck? It was a bizarre version of a fairytale she must have heard as a kid, but she was pretty certain the girl was supposed to have the golden hair and the boy the slightly aggressive bravery. "I had to guess your size, of course, but it should be an improvement regardless."


Inside the top package was a blue tunic, not as vivid as a nobleman's but still dyed attractively. Alana rather liked blue and thought that it would hide dirt and grime a little better than buying something paler in colour. What Matthew thought of it was of little concern to her when perusing the goods. The breeches were fashioned out of brown cloth out of respect for the additional wear they would endure. Together it was somewhat complimentary, though not stunning, and Alana was hopeful he'd either be sincerely grateful or loathe the arrangement. Considering how he had just traumatized her she was quite fine with having him irate at her decision. 'I trust your judgment' indeed. He might be pretty, but he was still a prick sometimes. Alana's uninjured arm lifted as if to toss him his new garments, but stopped before there was any throw. She didn't trust her aim NOT to go straight into the bath water.

 

[Chordling]

In that one moment everything seemed to awkwardly pause. Matthew eventually gathered as much decency as he possibly could and wrapped the towel tightly around his waist while Anna's face turned various shades of red. There was no rush in his movements. She had all ready seen him in his full glory. There was no way to possibly remove the images of Matthew's naked self from Alana's mind. Matthew didn't seem to show any strong signs of embarrassment. Really, he felt more sorry for Alana. He had quite the long list of lovers, and he did live with his younger sister before the war commenced, so there really weren't any reasons why he should feel ashamed. The same could not necessarily be said for Alana. She did have several brothers, and was married at one point (a fact which Matthew still couldn't get over), but these were exactly strong enough excuses. The way she had reacted to the idea of his promiscuous habits and the way her face completely reddened told Matthew two things; Alana might not have been comfortable with such sensitive topics, and she was still a virgin.


He took the package Alana had handed him while she recuperated on the bed and carefully removed the garments from the parchment wrappings. To Matthew's surprise, the dully colored shirt fit him pretty well. The sleeves could have used a little more length, and the collar could have been a bit looser, but he was sure the fabric would stretch over use. Matthew no longer cared if water dripped onto the floor as he stepped out of the basin to fetch the pair of brown trousers. As discretely as he could, he slipped the clothing under the towel, then let long bath cloth fall to the floor just as he fastened the new clothing around his waist. At first the pants felt very snug, but Matthew reasoned that this was because he was used to the mud stained rags on the floor. Unfortunately he still needed a new pair of shoes. The pieces of fabric he fashioned for a quick fix had long deteriorated, and though he had mostly become accustomed to his bare feet, Matthew figured it would be best to take the opportunity to purchase a new pair. It also seemed to be an opportune moment to leave the room so Alana could bathe in peace as well.


Not really desiring to speak with Alana, he searched his old garments for another sack of coins, then took possession of the make shift cane. He departed the room, then made his way outside as swiftly as he could. Matthew's persuasion skills differed from Alana's, very much so. Coincidentally, Matthew ran into the same Vendor Alana had spoken to with earlier. Had the merchant been informed of Alana's and Matthew's connection, or intelligent enough to recognize the threads the aristocrat wore, he would have surely attested the many differences in their methods of influence. It was obvious to say that Matthew's procedure was far less threatening. Rather rapidly he managed to purchase a couple pairs of shoes, one for himself, and one for Alana if she cared for them. He decided to kill some more time around the town before he returned to the inn. Matthew also managed to spend more cash while he wandered around. When his paroling ended, he accumulated a new, long piece of wood (thought not nearly the length of the walking stick), a carving knife, and a small snack for Alana's horse.


By the time he had arrived at the inn stables to feed the horse a small treat, much of the day had passed, but it was still too early for the innkeeper to have delivered their dinner. Admittedly he was nervous to reenter their room when he arrived back to the inn because he wished to avoid another awkward confrontation. Not that it was to save him any modesty, but Alana might appreciate the sentiment, or at least he liked to think. Slowly he entered the room.

 

[Syrenrei]

Alana sighed, though it wasn't entirely of relief. The silence that enveloped the room after she spoke was thick enough to make her choke. Rather than give her some sort of assurance or detract from the uncomfortable situation, Matthew simply dressed and left with some coin as if to go on an errand of his own. She could surmise that it was likely to give her the privacy he had been given less than an hour prior, but it would have still been nice to hear his apparent silver-tongued ways be used to make her less freakishly uncomfortable. There was nothing to do after he departed except kick the floor with her boot, mutter under her breath, and try to make the best of her time by herself and the drawn bath.


The would-be-heiress stripped quickly and slipped into the tepid waters. They were slightly muddied by Matthew's bath, but she had neither the time nor patience to ask a new bath to be drawn. Her injured arm remained propped up on the edge of the basin so as to keep any contaminants from seeping through and infecting the slash. Alana had been trained to endure and dismiss the ache of such things but it could not entirely be forgotten. With her uninjured arm she helped to pull the full length of her hair into the water and watched as the silken threads of deep chocolate weaving through in mystic patterns. Alana could not help she didn't have Anmentia's delicate features with high cheekbones and a perfectly curved brow. She was unable to make her frame smaller and her height less imposing to the common individual. While she was shapely and athletic, there was little more she could do to make herself, well, pretty except keeping her hair so long. Anmentia's was long too, but at least it was a different color so that Alana could be beautiful and unique in one small way. It didn't matter who appreciated it: her family, suitors, Matthew, friends, the world. It just made her smile. Somehow the thick tresses dressed her as more than a mercenary with short, clipped hair that was freakishly prevalent among the community.


It was only about fifteen minutes that she spent basking in aquatic glory before she gave her hair a final 'rinse,' scrubbed a few troublesome areas, and climbed out. Wrapping a towel around her securely she wandered over the unopened parcel that had been purchased earlier. Anticipating bloodshed in her future (and an admiration for certain hues) she had bought a red blouse that was a bit more fitting than she would have liked. Unlike the merchants' stolen shirt it was at least made for a woman, though not one as tall and shaped as she; it was made for someone more dainty like Anmentia. It was slightly loose around the waist, tighter on her shoulders and bust, and nicely fitted on her arms. The neckline was a bit lower than she was used to as well but beggars couldn't be choosers. Alana's leather armor back home rose all the way to the neck, was perfectly tailored for every curve, and was oiled so as to make no noise when she crept on someone from behind. The pants were more comfortable and useful than the prior pair as well: they were very snug but it was perfect for a warrior that needed to have quick movement without excess fabric in the way. Nothing would tear or rip from fit alone.


Once attired she filled the smaller wash basin in the room (usually for washing the face) with clean water and set to cleaning her wound. It was healing, albeit slowly. Without the squeamish male around she decided it was prime time to thoroughly cleanse the area and stitch it up to aid in the process. The slash was not profoundly deep, but a sword left more damage in its wake than a simple papercut that needed no real medical attention. By the time Matthew arrived she was nearly finished: a soiled cloth and blood-tinged bowl by her side with a candle lit on a small bedside table. Her needle passed over the candle intermittently as she used thread to patiently and precisely close the gash. The skin was an agitated pink in the area, and it might be uncomfortable to look at, but even the untrained eye could spot marked improvement.

 

[Chordling]

Thankfully Alana was fully dressed by the time Matthew had full view of the room, but he had not expected to see her skin being patched together, and his face flicked through a series of emotions. One might have portrayed a hint of fear, others were relatively close to sickened, but the most obvious of them all was shock. He had only assumed mercenaries were good at dealing wounds, not healing them. Admittedly the damaged area did seem to improve since he last noticed it, and in the oddest manner, it was slightly comforting to know that Alana was capable of mending herself. Matthew was only capable of managing minor injuries. A gash as serious as Alana's would surely call for his own peril if he did not call for the surgeon.


His overall surprise was short lived. By now he had all ready stepped inside their poor excuse of a hotel room and closed the door. The blade and wood he bought earlier was removed from their hiding place from the folds of his trousers and mindlessly placed onto the small side table by the pale of water Alana had been using to clean her wound before Matthew sat himself at the foot of the bed. Truthfully he wanted to bring a conversation between them, but it seemed that each of his attempts were never satisfying enough for the younger woman, so he opted to remain silent and reflect.


Internally he wished for the rest of their night to be a relaxing one. He wasn't sure if he could handle anymore surprises without loosing his mind. Hopefully they wouldn't have to stay in such a confined spot for too long. The nation guards were surely on the lookout for them now, and that mentally ill chick was probably on the prowl as well. Staying in one spot simply wouldn't do.


A knock came at the door, and the entrance to the room burst open. "Dinner time!" It was only the hostess. She carried with her a tray with a couple of bowls and glasses and wore a giant, fake grin. "You two must be awfully hungry," she spoke as she shuffled her way into the small area and ignorantly placed the tray in front of Alana after clearing off the mercenary's cleaning materials and Matthew's carving utensils. "I am sure it's been a long journey for you to come all this way," which it wasn't. "You two deserve all the food you can eat, here." The bowls were half empty of mixed sludge, and the glasses contained a heterogeneous mixture. "And there is always more where that came from," she finally finished, and left the room to Alana and Matthew.


Awkwardly, Matthew looked at the tray of food from a distance. "I suppose we could very well be at the mercy of my own cooking," he tried to joke. He was sure with his surrounding audience it was bound to fall flat.

 

[Syrenrei]

Alana finished her stitching in silence before slicing the end of the thread, washing over the slightly inflamed skin, and wrapping a new clean bandage around her arm. She swung the limb around a little, flexing her elbow and rotating her shoulder, just to make absolutely certain that the range of motion would not aggravate her injury. The female would sleep more soundly knowing it was properly tended to and on a swifter, better course towards healing after her efforts. As eyes were raised to glance over Matthew's purchases, the door swung open. Despite herself, the would-be mercenary jumped slightly in her seat- more alarmed at the woman's cheerful pep than the sudden movement.


Once the chatty Cathy had departed leaving dubious beverages and soup bowls in her wake, Matthew finally spoke. Perhaps it was the fact he was being self-depreciating that she did not immediately bristle. Before she had been annoyed that he was such a pacifist. True, Alana also believed that violence was not always an answer- but she had been incredulous that he wouldn't raise a hand even in self defense. It was as if he was one of the many nobles that hired the Indoheru family to do their dirty work, yet believed they were above it. She loathed the idea of being looked down upon in such a manner. Yet Matthew had helped her escape Riahne and now he made a little jab at his cooking skills. It made him slightly more approachable despite their differences.


She rose and strode over to the tray, trying to estimate which of the two choices for each drink and dinner she wished to select. "You're not half bad when you're sober. When you had a bit too much to drink I wouldn't have been surprised if you had added some soot as garnish to that charred fish. May he rest in peace." She gave him a smirk and then took the ever-so-slightly-smaller portions back to her small impromptu work table. "When we start training, we have to learn to be self-sufficient no matter where we went. Learning how to cook 'in the field' was required but my twin brother and I used to bicker quite a bit during the exercise. He had decided to be the heir so he wanted to be better than me, but my pride wouldn't allow me to just submit myself like that. We had several fine meals sacrificed to the fire gods during our arguments."


All that being said, the Indoherus did have a chef/cook that prepared most of their meals. Even if she could endure the barely edible meals that travel might require, it wasn't something she particularly liked doing. It was better she took the first sips. Matthew was the cowardly one after all, wasn't he? With all the courage she could muster she took a sip of the liquid contained in her glass. It wasn't anything particularly nice, but she had had much, much worse. With some faith in the soup amassed, she scooped a tasting onto her spoon and took a second sip. Coughing and sputtering a little she decided this must be more of an Arceivona delicacy that she just wasn't used to. It was still better than nothing, however. As long as it didn't completely destroy her digestive system she expected she'd be able to cope.

 

[Chordling]

Matthew watched as Alana courageously consumed a tasting from the items on the tray that had been brought to them. Her reactions only made him want less of what they were provided, though the first sight of food caused his appetite to yearn, as he just recently realized that he was indeed hungry. Had he known what she had been thinking, he would strongly proclaim that this was nothing close to an Arceivonian delicacy, and that she needed to be a little more cultured.


"I assure you, out of the two of us, I do not have the superior cooking skills," he continued their conversation as she slowly reached for the other bowl. A repulsive smell suddenly smacked him in the nose. Matthew tried to tell himself it was simply the atmosphere and not the rather suspicious, liquid contents beneath him. "And I am sure that between your sibling, you are the better chef. I have always found women to be much better at cooking than men. I remember my mother cooking the best meals." His sister was not half bad as well. "God forbid that my father ever enter the kitchen. I am sure that is where I inherited my culinary skills from, or rather I should say lack there of." By no means did Matthew intend to insult the female sex. He only meant for his words to be lighthearted.

 

[Syrenrei]

"Maybe," Alana shrugged, a little surprised at the sudden heart-to-heart and accompanying compliment. It was a nice change and she was slightly skeptical, but it was far better than bristling at every turn. Cooking was a rather bland topic that couldn't incite ill-will, right? "My eldest brother, Alex, got married several years ago when we were still in training. Our parents don't like for us to keep contact since he 'left' the family in their eyes, but his wife is a busy mother and nurse so he does almost all the cooking when he's home. Neither of my parents really do anything domestic, though." She took some brave mouthfuls of the rather unpleasant dinner and found that, no matter how ill-tasting, it satiated her hunger. Hopefully it would properly digest if nothing else.


"Of my siblings, I am closest to my twin brother, but we are very different. He is perhaps more like you: patient and calm when I find myself impatient and agitated more easily. He's terrible with people, though. In a bigger family like mine sometimes it's hard to define yourself so easily as being good at anything because you're so closely compared. I am the fastest, though," she added with a mischievous wink. It was no doubt easy for him to imagine her getting herself into trouble. Alex might have been 'disowned' but she was by far the most rebellious and disobedient when it came to minor affairs. Pranks were a lot more fun if you could elude capture and avoid punishment... which involved, of course, being quick on your feet most of the time.


She decided that eating slowly just prolonged her pain so, with a dangerous amount of both courage and resolve, she lifted the bowl, put it to her lips, and gulped down the contents in the hopes a more efficient means of delivery would mean she'd taste it less. Alana was wrong. It nearly made her gag several times and when she was finished she felt full but miserable. If it wasn't so much trouble she'd take another bath just to make her feel better after such a lacking meal. "When this is all over I'll introduce you to my sister. I think you'd actually get along and you'd be pleased to know she's not nearly as violent." For now she'd skip the part about Anmentia also being drop-dead gorgeous, a stark contrast to her more athletic self.

 

[Chordling]

Matthew chuckled as he leaned back against the wooden furniture, causing it to creak under his weight. "She sounds charming all ready," he added blithely, though, Alana's words seemed hopeful. With the way the war was going it didn't feel like things would be ending soon. Matthew believed once that the war was near its end, but that was years ago, and his hope for peace was long deceased. He supposed by the time Arceivona and Donnesthorin had resolved their conflicts (if they could) it would be about time for him to find a wife and start a family in order to maintain his political role; and that was assuming that he would still hold his title as Marquess. Of course, he would never propose to someone like Alana, even if they were considered "less violent".


By now Matthew unconsciously managed to nudge the bowl of the mysterious mixture much closer to Alana than himself. "Perhaps I will be able to meet your family one day, under good circumstances of course," he was quick to add as he remembered that her family was a long line of mercenaries. He was certain they would be well acquainted by the end of their journey and that a casual meeting would mean no harm. Even if it disagreed with the highly structured political rules. No doubt the nation's sovereignty would be a mess even after they stopped sending one another to their graves by warfare. To say that a future interaction with Alana's family would be "informal" would also be laughable.

 

[Syrenrei]

"I'm sure you will, assuming you haven't forfeited your status by eluding enlistment," she replied with a yawn and a stretch. Their sleeping arrangement was still no doubt a delicate topic for her posh peer, but she simply cared more about resting than privacy or some archaic sense of modesty. Well, except for full nudity- that was a step too far even in her book though Matthew was unpeturbed. She pulled her hair over one shoulder, which was still damp, and moved to recline on one side of slightly shabby bed more comfortably. It wasn't luxury but it was a warm, dry, and relatively safe place to spend an evening at least and that counted for something.


"My sister will be married off in a couple years if the war even lasts that long; my parents have already written her off as too docile to have any hope of being trained. She's pretty, though, and that matters quite a bit in some social circles. My eldest brother has left the family so he's more or less 'freelance' at his own whims. My twin brother and younger brother are the only ones you'd truly meet if you forged a deal, and my younger brother is barely a teenager and not quite fit to do more than quietly observe." Closing her eyes she could see her sister curled up in a window seat, pillows borrowed from her room piled around her, peacefully reading a book. She could imagine her younger brother trying to sneak out snacks from the pantry while evading their eagle-eyed chef (who had once been a spy himself). Alex was off with his fire-haired wife and their young child, was he a toddler now? They had always doted on him with more fondness than she or her siblings had enjoyed from their progenitors. Arcden had this way of sitting still and doing absolutely nothing. It wasn't even meditation, really, but just relishing stillness and peace when it was offered.


Alana hadn't meant to drift off to sleep, yet her eyelids had slipped close and made no effort to life themselves. In a half-waking state she tried to carry on a conversation she clearly wasn't going to make it through. Already the dull ache of her arm had succumbed to the recesses of her mind, leaving only a slightly dazed sense of reality. "When this mess ends I'll be shipped off again too, you know. That's why I'm not really in a rush to go back home just yet..." she explained. Hadn't she told him this before? She couldn't remember. Her head tilted down onto a shoulder and was out for the count unless Matthew intervened.