(inbox.)

[abhorrently]

text | action | delivery | etc.

Comments

[abhorrently]

"Yes, that'll do. I'll come to you there."

She has no idea how long it'll take to make the arrows, but a touch more of wandering can't hurt, if she's in this dream-not dream space.

[blindwatchersees]

The last of the skeletons don't follow them, and they're able to make a clean getaway. Jayred makes a beeline for his house, leaving Fever alone to do whatever she pleases for the next little while.

[abhorrently]

There's room to wander now, to head where she would. For a while, she just walks, taking in the sights of the new world and new surroundings - it's enjoyable to be surrounded by living things again. Eventually, she starts wandering back in the direction she should to go back. If she's fortunate, she'll have time to get a quick bite, but at the same time...it feels like her spells are back, the focus resharpened in her. Fascinating.

[blindwatchersees]

A well-dressed woman walks past her as she takes notice of her magic. She looks out of place here, her layered black down just barely not skimming the mud as she walks the marshy streets of Passwall. She's dabbing at her cheek with a handkerchief as she turns to go up the steps of the inn, the Wastrel's Purse.

[abhorrently]

And being the adventurer she is, Fever takes notice, decides she's going to follow the woman who looks like she belongs somewhere else. Into the inn, careful to not be overbearing, but keeping the woman in her sights. If an opportunity arises, she'll want to take it to talk, if only to discover why she weeps.

[blindwatchersees]

The woman- a dark elf, it’s probably worth noting- immediately heads up the stairs to what appear to be inn rooms, still sobbing.

“Oh dear. I’m not sure what’s upset her,” mumbles a drowsy-sounding voice. A wood elf woman, who strangely enough appears to be sleepwalking, is standing behind the counter, not quite “looking” in Fever’s direction (her eyes are closed).

[abhorrently]

"You know her?"

It's easy to slide into a conversation like this, as though she belongs and is simply picking up a thread someone else dropped to weave it back into place.

[blindwatchersees]

“Oh? Yes, that was Relmyna Verenim. She’s been coming here to stay from time to time. She’s the only one the Gatekeeper doesn’t attack.”

[abhorrently]

"Why not her? She a friend?"

Relmyna. She already needs to know more.

[blindwatchersees]

“I think she has some sort of connection to the Gatekeeper. Nanette Don would know more about that. Relmyna’s kind of a mentor to her, I think… goodness, I’m tired. There’s a spare room open right now, if you need one.”

[abhorrently]

"No, but if you could tell me where I could get a bite to eat, and where to find Nanette, it'd be much appreciated."

Her tone is warm, congenial. Utter friendliness.

[blindwatchersees]

“Well, I sell food and drink here. And Nanette… you can usually find her around Passwall, trying to find a quiet spot from all the noises that follow her around. I think she’s the only Breton in town.”

[abhorrently]

"Much obliged. I'll take a bowl of whatever's warm."

And in the meanwhile, try to sort out wherever Passwall is. Though the arrows still concern her, and this may be a mystery that has to wait, or that she'll discover the truth of later.

[blindwatchersees]

"I'll bring you some soup."

As Fever sits waiting, she might notice a bust of a bearded man against the opposite wall. There's a sort of makeshift shrine around him, with what seem to be various odd offerings, such as balls of yarn and heads of cabbage. Sitting directly in front of the bust is a bunch of fresh wildflowers.

Relmyna's sobs are audible from upstairs. The womer is positively wailing.

[abhorrently]

She squints at the bust, trying to see if there's any plaque or the like to declare the man's name, though she has a strong suspicion on who it might be.

That said, Relmyna's crying has her frowning, turning her head up to listen, her eyes flicking between the ceiling and the innkeeper. Was it just normal here?

[blindwatchersees]

Indeed, the bust does have a striking resemblance to Sheogorath, though there are some distinct differences. Namely, the lack of pointed ears, and a less-pronounced brow ridge. To be quite honest, if this is a depiction of Sheogorath, it's a very human one.

The publican brings her a bowl of hot soup. Unfamiliar meats and vegetables float in the broth, and the whole thing smells faintly of mushrooms. She sighs.

"I don't think she'll be up in her room for too long. She'll probably go for a walk soon."

[abhorrently]

Taking the soup with quiet thanks, she keeps her tone even. Concerned, maybe, for a stranger's wellbeing.

"That'll be good for her...fresh air always helps with sorrow, I've found."

She's making this up entirely. She can't recall a single time she's ever cried. But the person before her is nice, and doesn't yet deserve a glimpse into the monster before her. Instead, she'll eat her soup and muse about the differences in the bust, and reason that a god who is a concept can look however suits to get his message across.

[blindwatchersees]

Sure enough, when she's about done with her soup, Relmyna comes back down the stairs, still sobbing, without a word to either the publican or the other guest of the inn. Perhaps it's a trick of the light, but the bust almost seems to wince for just a moment.

[abhorrently]

Oh dear. Well, let it not be said that she didn't stick her nose where it didn't belong. Quickly gulping down the rest of her soup, she slides out of her seat to follow Relmyna, waiting until they've gone outside before she speaks up.

"Miss - are you all right?"

Obviously not, but one has to start a conversation somewhere.

[blindwatchersees]

The drow(?) looks at her with sudden and intense vitriol.

"You! What nerve you must have, to follow a womer in what is clearly a very private moment. I suppose you're an adventurer? Some hopeful, who's going to try to get past my child? Hmph. My dear lord has no need for you or your uninspired blood."

[abhorrently]

"I don't know anything about that. Not about your child nor your lord. But I saw you weeping earlier, and I see you weep now, and you are still alone - all I wish to offer is a listening ear, if it would help."

Some of this is lies. But enough of it is truth to make it sincere as a whole, and she keeps her face from being too schooled. Maybe she really will just seem as a helpful soul.

cw: dismemberment mention

[blindwatchersees]

"I know where to find an ear that's worth hearing me out. You... go back to your dismal life, and leave my lord and his land and his people be. If you don't, I'm certain I'll have some use for your dismembered parts when my child pulls off your limbs."

[abhorrently]

"Again, miss, I know of neither. My desire to listen is sincere - but if you would be left in peace, then my apologies, and I'll let you go."

[blindwatchersees]

"Hmph. Then see to it that you do let me go. Or I might find a reason to rip out that tongue of yours." She turns on her heel and keeps walking, fancy skirts just barely skimming above the swampy ground. She heads up the steps of the hill, towards the Gatekeeper's arena.

[abhorrently]

Standing there, Fever pretends to have been warded off, but really, she's waiting. Once the other woman is further down the road, she starts to follow her. Relaxed, easy - being too tense would ruin stealth. She has to sink back into the idea of being ignored, to let everyone else breathe.

But she's tailing her, watching her and following and getting nearer to the arena. Perhaps this will illumimate that strange connection spoken of.