"Mm. For tonight, I think." Smile unfading, the glance out of the corners of his eyes at the windows again betrayed a certain anxiety. He'd been in situations like this before, a single wrong move worth most of his skin, on the run from people with far greater reach. It could be thrilling, in its twisted way, especially when a piece of history burned in his hands, wrought with potential, with the weight of the ages.
It was a different feeling with Leena, and altogether much scarier. None of those artifacts or scrolls had been alive, a living piece of the present. A life trying to navigate history in the making, its next breath playing out before his very eyes.
It terrified him in a way he'd certainly never admit.
Her question made him shake it all off, frowning at the bag as he reached the bottom, the final item decidedly inedible; a spare knife, rough-forged with a cheaply-made handle of leather scraps. Collapsing the sack, he'd shake his head. "I'd thought to when I left, but the change in weight of my purse stymied the idea." That and the prospect of sitting and eating, exposed, so early into their fleeing. A sleepy town like this could be made quick work of by men the likes of Frost, and a murder in broad daylight wasn't beyond him. Especially depending on how "betrayed" he felt by his "employee".
Rahse would rather have kept that topic to the realm of idle wonder, some ten years from now. Preferably when he and Leena were dining somewhere glamorous, not a care in the world, wine flowing like the tides. "We'll go down for bowls of the inn's stew in an hour or two. Gruesome, I expect, but it'll do."
Finally sitting on the bed, he'd allow himself one moment of relaxation, slumping only so much as he dared. By all accounts, this was the first rest they'd had in days. Even if his mind could keep up the charade of pretending it didn't bother him, his body couldn't. "Did you sleep any?"
It was a different feeling with Leena, and altogether much scarier. None of those artifacts or scrolls had been alive, a living piece of the present. A life trying to navigate history in the making, its next breath playing out before his very eyes.
It terrified him in a way he'd certainly never admit.
Her question made him shake it all off, frowning at the bag as he reached the bottom, the final item decidedly inedible; a spare knife, rough-forged with a cheaply-made handle of leather scraps. Collapsing the sack, he'd shake his head. "I'd thought to when I left, but the change in weight of my purse stymied the idea." That and the prospect of sitting and eating, exposed, so early into their fleeing. A sleepy town like this could be made quick work of by men the likes of Frost, and a murder in broad daylight wasn't beyond him. Especially depending on how "betrayed" he felt by his "employee".
Rahse would rather have kept that topic to the realm of idle wonder, some ten years from now. Preferably when he and Leena were dining somewhere glamorous, not a care in the world, wine flowing like the tides. "We'll go down for bowls of the inn's stew in an hour or two. Gruesome, I expect, but it'll do."
Finally sitting on the bed, he'd allow himself one moment of relaxation, slumping only so much as he dared. By all accounts, this was the first rest they'd had in days. Even if his mind could keep up the charade of pretending it didn't bother him, his body couldn't. "Did you sleep any?"
06-26-2024, 08:44 PM
