Where had it all come from? Ceren stood over all their worldly possessions, hands on her hips as she surveyed the lot. If she’d had to guess a week ago, she’d have said they could fit everything they own into three, maybe four packs. Yet somehow their time here in Kirkwall had seen their belongings multiply to a seemingly impossible amount. She looked around the small room, wondering where they’d managed to squirrel it all away. The medicinal smell of Emmi’s salves wafted in from the other room and the corner of Ceren’s lips twitched into a small smile. It seems that, in spite of their insistence that it would only be temporary, this hovel had become a home. When Esmé’s voice floated in soon after, Ceren’ head tilted for a moment.
Huh… I guess she hasn’t.
“And brigands.” Cer called back, her smile widening. “Hoards of brigands.”
It wasn’t a lie. An exaggeration, certainly. But not a lie. The freedom that came with the Marches meant gaps in order and control between the city states. And those gaps were filled by all sorts looking to take advantage of whatever, or whoever, they could. But Ceren was no stranger to holding her own in the wilds. And, though she was still adjusting to the new leg, Emmi was no wilting flower either. Together, and along with their new comrades, they’d be a formidable company indeed.
The soft thud of Esmé’s gait was new to Ceren’s ears, but a welcome sound all the same. She looked up as her friend came through the doorway and resisted the urge to move toward her rather than let her cross the wide expanse of… two steps. Schooling her face, Ceren turned her eyes back to their collected belongings, not wanting Emmi to feel any less than. Still, when the familiar shape of her arm snaked with her own, Ceren hugged it close to her side.
“We could, I guess.” Ceren said, shrugging slightly. “Maybe knock out that wall and take over Volkbert’s back room? It’s greedy how much space he takes up all by himself.”
Huh… I guess she hasn’t.
“And brigands.” Cer called back, her smile widening. “Hoards of brigands.”
It wasn’t a lie. An exaggeration, certainly. But not a lie. The freedom that came with the Marches meant gaps in order and control between the city states. And those gaps were filled by all sorts looking to take advantage of whatever, or whoever, they could. But Ceren was no stranger to holding her own in the wilds. And, though she was still adjusting to the new leg, Emmi was no wilting flower either. Together, and along with their new comrades, they’d be a formidable company indeed.
The soft thud of Esmé’s gait was new to Ceren’s ears, but a welcome sound all the same. She looked up as her friend came through the doorway and resisted the urge to move toward her rather than let her cross the wide expanse of… two steps. Schooling her face, Ceren turned her eyes back to their collected belongings, not wanting Emmi to feel any less than. Still, when the familiar shape of her arm snaked with her own, Ceren hugged it close to her side.
“We could, I guess.” Ceren said, shrugging slightly. “Maybe knock out that wall and take over Volkbert’s back room? It’s greedy how much space he takes up all by himself.”
03-17-2024, 08:50 PM
