❝ If one cannot take time to enjoy the simple pleasures in life —
Then they many never find peace in the darkest times. ❞
— Guidepost for the Saints; Chapter Three — Clause Eight
---o---
The warmth of the morning sun was welcomed upon her face, taking a moment to enjoy the serenity of finally being free from her bedroom. It had been almost three weeks since she was injured; her body was healing faster than anticipated. At least the collection of books helped serve her time without boredom, and Lady Iris often visited to check up on her or bring snacks. Elly attempted to use her newfound powers to no avail, only serving to grant pounding headaches. That aside, she had some peace and quiet to catch up on much-needed rest. Iris kept a close eye on her recovery, scolding her for doing things before she was ready. A doting yet overly concerned elder sister as always.
It was still challenging to move around; Elly had to rely on crutches so she wouldn't put too much pressure on her abdomen, and even then, she was limited in how much she could move. She didn’t use them today; wanting to get back on her feet without them and seeminly managing thus far. But it wasn't the worst shape she had been in, especially when she lost her left arm, a memory oft found herself drawn to when she felt it ache, a sensation that seemingly occurred when Elly was unwittingly in danger, a warning of sorts perhaps? Not that she ever took heed of such things. It took her a while to get used to it, and she broke plenty of the prototypes Areyth made for her. But despite the lecturing, Elly suspected that Areyth enjoyed the challenge, always ready to explore new things with an unsatiable mind.
❛ I bet she has some new monstrosity to test out on me. ❜ — May as well get it over and done with before she thinks of more things.
Her arm was almost fully healed, albeit her body not so much. The potion Elly haphazardly used ruptured one of her kidneys and severely damaged nearby organs. The mere fact she was still standing was only due to the exceptional ability of the local medics and her ability to heal. Still, while able to move around, she was far from being able to jump back into the action she so enjoyed. At least she could eat solid food now; the liquid diet wasn't particularly enjoyable. The bouts of nausea and weakness persisted, supposedly in response to the drug interacting with her immune system, causing lingering effects.
Elly's main issue with her arm being out of commission was her inability to tend to her hair, though Iris helped tend to it while Elly was unable to. It was a small fixation Elly had since she was young, spending hours to make it look perfect. It wasn't entirely an issue of vanity; rather, her particular pigment drew attention — a unique tone of ashen pink. Her obsession with appearance was unlike her younger self, who had had little regard for it and refused anyone who attempted to groom the matted mess she had on her head. But Alina changed that, dying her hair to match Elly's so she didn't feel so out of place. Over time, Elly began to emulate her immaculate style, with Iris's help. She never let anyone other than those two touch her hair, let alone touch her in general. Veld was also an exception, and as she grew older, Elly found more people she knew she could trust.
The Pinkette made her way down the large corridor bordering a large courtyard housing a sizable array of training dummies and other things. It was much smaller than the primary training grounds. Still, it served as being quite handy for those who wanted to do some early morning exercises without having to track all the way to the coliseum: The [Domus Chevallier]. Elly made good use of it, especially on those nights she found herself restless, a way to tire herself so her body would force rest when her mind couldn't. Right now, it was empty, though it appeared to have been used earlier on in the day as she noticed a few of the squires tended to the mess and replaced the test dummies that were far too damaged for further use, usually repairing and reusing them later.
❛ I wonder how Kuvira is doing. Didn't seem like she was in good shape. ❜ — Neither do you.
Taking a moment to rest, Elly propped herself up on the balustrade, taking in the mid-morning sun and gentle breeze. The colder seasons were finally breaking for warmth, though it usually came with increased storms and whatnot. The momentary peace was cut short with a cold prickling shiver, goosebumps that made one's hair stand on end, and a tightened posture. The sudden alteration in the atmosphere usually indicated a particular individual Elly had disliked ever since she met them. A sudden urge to sleep, awash with unnatural fatigue. A signature of sorts for an odious man. Most would have little resistance to it, but Elly had an uncanny tolerance to his power, albeit it still made it challenging to stay awake for long. She couldn't figure out how it worked by design or happenstance.
The turn of her head confirmed it, being none other than Adon Faust, one of the Paladins who leads the [Seventh Crusade: Adonai Jona]. Another accompanied him, Adon August Marik, The Paladin who is in charge of the [Ninth Crusade; Adonai Yahez]. Elly didn't particularly dislike August but felt uneasy around his blunt and a man of few words. His moniker, [The Belligerent], should give away his demeanour and fighting style. She could probably count on one hand the number of words he ever spoke to her; unsure of his opinions, but he might be kind of a nice guy? It was hard to tell, and he never seemed interested in idle conversation. But he was one of the few among his peers who approved Elly's training under Iris herself. He did, however, know Veld; apparently, they were old drinking buddies, and when August speaks with Elly, he mostly asks how the old man is doing.
Faust; The [Oneiric]: ❛ More like Odious. ❜ — Elly thought to herself.' on the other hand, he spoke less than August and did so with an unnaturally florid accent and a peculiar vocabulary of ominous foreshadowing and strangely accurate assessments of situations he was otherwise entirely removed. To put it bluntly, the guy was a fucking creep. Elly was not the only person with similar ideations as Faust was widely known to be an oddity, albeit a man of such high regard that he was appointed as one of the Knight King's [Three Advisors], which outranks even the Paladins of [Adonai Herev]; More commonly known as [ARK: The Agrovian Royal Knighthood].
❛ Gross. ❜ — That’s a nice way of putting it.
It also didn't help that he always wore a strange mask. One that he frequently changed, so it wasn't always the typical blank gladiator helm, sometimes taking a Greek-Esque choir mask or ones that were more...flamboyant. Even now, he wore one that made his head appear upside down, and his mouth opened with its tongue curled outward to a sharp point, with a small bell that chimed every time he moved. His attire was usually the same bland mage cloak, but he occasionally indulged in the same peculiarity as his choice of masks.
As always, Faust was always carrying that peculiar staff of his, or was it a cane? Whatever it was, the thing was as fickle as Faust himself. A grotesque form of such matter, the darkest shade of black, appearing solid as any steel yet shifting as though it were sand or dense ichor. Thin and branching like a finely woven vine, yet pulsed as a vein, its fine point echoing far longer than it had any right to whenever it touched the ground, wisps of black flog dispersing with each movement made. If one listened closely, they would hear the faintest whispers that permeated from it, inaudible and entirely incoherent.
❛ Don’t look! Please don’t talk to me! ❜ — He will, he always does.
Most Paladins had their style of clothing, like August, who was known for his red coat, short-cut salt-and-pepper hair and beard, and glasses that sat on his careworn face that housed a scowl that never seemed to leave like the lingering scent of smoke and beer. Although he does not have it on his person currently, the sword August wields is supposedly the tooth of a dragon — despite them being considered to be long extinct, the rumour is that August slayed the beast with his bare hands and took it as a trophy.
For Elly, she usually kept to the general attire of Ohr Shefa, a white overcoat and a matching outfit, some having the occasional streak of colour or purposeful scorch marks or tears. Elly always kept hers pristine, another sentiment of pride for her. Interestingly enough, it was a complete one-eighty of her younger self, which Romeo often called her a "Feral brat". Right now, she wore a simple tunic and pants, which she wouldn't find difficult to put on or remove.
Elly attempted to ignore the strange aura Faust emitted, only briefly glancing over to August, who nodded silently at her. However, she did not dare look directly at Faust. As the two passed her by, she turned her gaze back to the courtyard with knitted brows. And, of course, Faust halted his walk behind her with a clack of his staff and boots. However, he did not look in her direction — Faust spoke in his usual unnerving accent and riddled vocabulary, which was only compounded by odd cadence, dragged vowels, and the tinny sound from his masks. His voice alone made her skin crawl; everything about that odious man filled her with disgust.
❝ I see the little dove is well. Do be sure to rest your body and those eyes of yours. ❞
That nickname he so often called her was probably her primary cause of disdain for him. Nobody but he called her that, and by the visible nauseated fear she felt, it was one she had heard before. She couldn't remember exactly where or who called her that, but it put her on edge. She did not reply, even at his comment about her eyes, attempting to divert her attention and shake off the creeping fear. How did he know about that? Faust merely nodded and proceeded on as he had beforehand. The urge to sleep remained, gradually fading away as he left. She dared not yawn, thinking it was a show of weakness to his vile spell.
❛ Fuck off already! ❜ — Yeah, piss off creep!
With him gone, Elly breathed a sigh of relief. She took a moment before she decided to continue her morning stroll, obviously in the other direction so she wouldn't bump into that strange man. As she made her way around the corner, which led to the mess hall, she almost walked head-first into another two. One was a man of tall stature and long, perfectly straightened blonde hair and greenish eyes fixed in a cold stare upon his otherwise expressionless face that showed the slightest hint of disgust — Adon Estel Markus, known for his all-too-fitting moniker [Nobless Oblidge]; and his tendency to bed many women. Estel is in charge of the [First Crusade; Adonai Yesa]. He was once considered for the position of leading the Knighthood, but his tendency to shirk his duties to indulge in his vices put no small doubt on his ability to lead.
The other was ironically a woman, Adon Riley Markus, the elder sister to Estel and the person in charge of the entire Knighthood aside from Phinnis himself; she also heads the [Fifth Crusade; Adonai Yirma]. She has a short-cut head, greenish-blonde hair, eyes, and a wide smile on lightly freckled skin. A source of mischief and an overly happy-go-lucky person, rather fitting for someone known as the [Pot-Luck Brawler]. This is mainly because of her unconventional fighting style, which uses only her bare fists. Riley may not look the part, but she supposedly has the highest defensive stats among everyone. Quite literally everyone — Not just in the Knighthood or Ohr Shefa. Those who doubted such claims had never seen Riley in battle, and as far as Elly knew, she had never been so much as scratched. It should also be noted that Ry just so happens to be a huge masochist.
Ry was much smaller than her peers yet slightly taller than Elly's petite stature. She was gifted a far curvier body than Elly's somewhat lithe form. She was also known for being a bottomless pit for drinking and for being "hands-on" with her female peers. Riley was always able to put a smile on Elly's face; her distinctive brogue accent stood out even among her peers who shared it with her. Elly's was quite noticeable, too, though it was not nearly as strong as Ry's. Her accent wasn't the only thing she picked up; the other was her colourful vocabulary, which would put Veld to shame. She was another person who visited Elly often during her recovery, always managing to brighten any room she was in.
❛ I wish I had her figure. ❜ — A little early for that, but maybe someday!
It wasn't uncommon for Riley to gravitate to her younger brother, doting and tormenting him with her particular flavour of teasing. A polar opposite to her self-righteous narcissist of a brother. He paid Elly no mind, simply scoffing at her before walking away. On the other hand, Ry immediately jumped at Elly and squeezed her in her usual bone-breaking hugs. The pinkette had little chance to react, only to let out a squeak of surprise before having her face buried in Ry's chest.
❝ Pinky! ❞
❝ Big sis Ry! ❞ Elly just managed to muffle a few words about breathing, almost being suffocated in the woman's bosom whilst simultaneously having the wind squeezed out of her. She tapped on Ry's arm until the living bear trap finally released her, leaving Elly gasping for breath. For such a small woman, she has absurd strength.
❝ Oh! Sorry love! Wasn't expecting ya to be up and out so soon. Yer' right gettin' around on yer' own? ❞ Ry asked, giving the younger female a once-over.
❝ I'm fine; the doctor said I should rest more, but I wanted fresh air. Iris will probably kill me for going out without someone else in case I pass out or something. ❞ Elly coughed as she regained her breathing, taking a moment to ensure Ry hadn't done more damage to her.
❝ You should take the advice. You needn't be more burdened than you already are, brat. ❞ Estel chided, his tone almost as cold as his gaze. He did not look back at her, merely stopping briefly to make his remark before continuing. His words used to hurt Elly, but by now, she had learned to brush them off since he was a dick to everyone. She did, however, stick out her tongue and middle finger at him whether he saw it or not.
❝ Peacock! ❞ Elly stuck out her tongue and a middle finger. ❛ Bite my ass; fuckwad. ❜
One of the nicknames Elly used for Estel, given his tendency to wear a rather vibrant overcoat, the typical white like most uniforms, but with a collar made of some kind of feathered fabric that reminded her of such birds. She used it often as it always seemed to anger him, and by his brief glare back at her, it worked as intended. For such a cold person, Estel had quite the exuberant taste for the most expensive things, only the finest fabrics and oddly colourful and often over-the-top style that made him stick out like a sore thumb. A cry for attention? As vain and arrogant as he is, he does seem to seek out the adoration of those around him. It was no wonder he was considered the most handsome man in Agrovia, always appearing in various magazines and other popularity contests, always wanting to be in the spotlight. But as Ry says, you can't polish a turd.
❝ Don't mind him; he's just mad he's stuck here actually working and not wasting time in Piore with his fan club. ❞ Riley chimed, her arm hanging loosely over Elly's shoulder as she shuffled the two to the mess hall.
❝ Well, since we're here, why don't we have brunch? ❞ A well-welcomed proposition, one answered with a rumbling gut.
---o---
Smoke, savoury, and beer permeated the large tavern-esque mess hall, much smaller than one which fed the larger population of common knights but sizable enough to house a few hundred people. A quaint styling typical to Baria: mixtures of stained oak and pine, accented with shades of cobblestone and state bricks that glistened from the rays of light permeating through the tall stained-glass dome above the makeshift stage used for the regular music played most nights. Both sections were accessible but separated from the location's hilly nature, each part accessed as a single floor but connected as one from the slant the tavern sat on. Its most prominent feature, and the namesake it held, was for the large lake it overlooked: [Lake Carole]. The tavern took the name of the new year'sfestival [Cerulia Carole], the ‘Great Pulse Parade'.
The mid-morning rush for breakfast was well underway; the tavern was bustling with various knights, scholars and the like, some of whom were already drinking. Whether it was by dependence on their distorted circadian rhythm from late-night missions or their proclivity for the bottle, it wasn't entirely uncommon for beer and brews to flow all hours of the day. Thankfully, the dining hall was well removed from the lodging, far from a stranger to the odd brawl or commotion as one may expect of its purpose. Ry, on the other hand, was the exception and, no doubt, was a source of chaos wherever she went.
Even Ry, who was usually a late sleeper and even later waker, aside from when she had her duties to fulfil, already grabbed a mug of mead off the tray of a barmaid passing by. It was her first and surely wasn't her last. Ry wasn't only the sturdiest in body; but also in tolerance to everything from poisons to alcohol, giving her the unique ability to drink far more than reasonable. It was surprising she's never shown the faintest signs of alcohol poisoning despite quite literally drinking bars dry, which resulted in her being banned by most taverns in the country.
❛ She is a bottomless pit. ❜ — Like you're one to talk.
The pinkette yawned, somewhat tired from her typical bouts of fitful sleep, not to mention her earlier encounter with Faust, which left a lingering drowsiness she couldn't quite shake off. As the two entered, Elly's face curled when the pungent scent of stig smoke from pipes, the tobacco-like leaves that had an unmistakable presence that she greatly detested. She hated the chewed sort, spit out and cluttered in the various spittoons or at the feet of those sitting by the bar, a small stream carrying the gross brown out of sight. Regardless of her dislike for it, it was a scent she had grown accustomed to despite her attempts to avoid it as the smell lingered in her clothes and hair.
❝ Yuck... ❞ Just as she decided to make her way toward the buffet, Elly covered her face to no avail. Barely able to prevent a coughing fit, after a few moments to adjust for the rankness.
Usually, someone of Elly's age wasn't allowed into any venue that served alcohol, but her face was regular, so the owners welcomed her in. Elly smiled at the barmaid who waved at her, taking a moment to scan the various faces and groupings of off-duty knights and other inhabitants, avoiding the gazes of those who noticed her. Clearing her throat, Elly glanced over to Ry, who was already gravitating toward the extensive buffet, grabbing her hand to pull her along.
Grabbing her plate, Elly watched Ry immediately go to the various meats, piling her plate with whatever was available. Elly, however, took her time mulling over what to eat, deciding to choose the various cheeses and breads on display, and a small salad on the side. She did a double-take on the meat section and made her best attempt at avoiding them and the sweets despite her urges. Remembering to nab a few bits of fruit, Elly did such, keeping to a single apple. Oddly enough, the pinkette seemed to visibly cringe at the mere sight of oranges.
❛ Ah yes, my arch-nemesis. ❜ — Really? An orange? A fucking orange?!
It would be a crime for her not to take a hot cup of tea where she dutifully placed too much sugar. It wasn't as popular as the coffee, but she found that far too bitter for her pallet, though she loved the smell of it. With a frankly modest plate, she followed Ry to sit at whatever table away from the crowds.
Now seated, the pinkette slipped out a small pendant tied around her neck, placing it to her lips as though in brief prayer before she ate. It was a small, roughly hewn wreath around an even smaller gemstone, almost akin to roots encompassing the almost-clear gem. Whatever it was, Elly was quick to take it out and quicker to hide it, though Ry took notice of it but made no comment, aware of its sentimental value to the young girl.
❝ The fuck is that on yer plate? ❞ Ry almost seemed offended at the menial so-called meal Elly got herself; her focus was on the small side salad Elly grabbed on her way back.
❝ Um... A Salad? ❞ Elly raised a brow, glancing down at the pile of greens and then back to Ry, who seemed offended at the mere sight of it.
❝ Ew. ❞ Ry frowned, looking back at her pile of charred meats with a smile.
❝ Less'n yer feedin' a hamster; that ain't gonna do squat! Need some beef in ya; want sum' mine? ❞ She added.
❝ No thanks... I'm still getting used to solids; can't keep down anything too heavy. ❞ Elly was tempted but held back despite how appetizing it looked.
❝ Yer loss. ❞ Ry shrugged, taking a rib in hand to eat.
❝ So, gon' join the Tourney next year? ❞ Ry asked inquisitively, already digging into her meal. A beer in one hand and a sizable plate of meat and mashed potatoes to occupy the other, stuffing her face between swigs of the bitter beverage.
The Tourney, or [Pompey's' Cup] was three stages: weeding out the weak for the final stage, putting the remaining contestants against three of the Paladins. In the past twenty years, not a single person has ever taken the cup as their own, usually falling before or at the penultimate battle against August, not even having the chance to fight the reigning champion, Sven.
❝ Probably not; Iris doesn't think I am ready yet. ❞ Elly shook her head, wanting to join it herself, but couldn't until she was a sworn-in knight and not a rookie-in-training. Elly missed her chance to participate this year since she was still in training. Despite her wanting to join, Iris had been rather vocal about her haphazard and rash nature; and even more so after her recent debacle.
She did however have some reservations about the frequent brutality it was well-known for: knights against beats or knights against knights. Partly a festival, but more so a rite of passage for new members of the Knighthood, and also, an opportunity to stand out among their peers in the preliminaries.
❝ Plus, she has barred me from even going on missions until I remember not to lose my sword. ❞ Elly grumbled, recalling the earful Iris gave her about it as she rubbed her ear.
❝ Again? How many times now? ❞ Ry chuckled, knowing well the lectures had gotten back in the day from losing or breaking her equipment.
❝ I think six? Not including the ones I broke. ❞ A rough guess, but frankly, Elly couldn't even remember herself. A lot — It was a lot.
❝ Thems rookie numbers! ❞ It should be noted that Ry is banned from every blacksmith in Agrovia.
❝ Just do what I do and use yer fists~ ❞ Ry added, flexing her arm and patting it lightly.
❝ That would require muscles I don't have. ❞ Elly sighed. ❛ Plus, I'm not a monster like you. ❜
❝ Not with that attitude! — Or that sorry excuse of a diet. ❞ Ry smiled, taking her mug in hand and emptying it to join the half-dozen she had ready.
❝ That aside, is there any reason why most of the Paladins are back in the capital? Usually, they're all over the place or on missions. ❞ Elly asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
❝ Fuck knows. ❞ Ry shrugged and answered as expected.
❛ Aren't you like the one in charge? ❜ — She is.
❝ Speaking of which, I noticed Kuvira returned the other day; she didn't look so great — Is she ok? ❞ The Pinkette asked sheepishly, glancing up at Ry from the barely-touched plate.
❝ Vira? I haven't seen her since she got back. ❞ Ry paused, setting down her mug with a sigh. It wasn't her place to speak of the matter, especially with her limited understanding of what unfolded. But just like Elly; she was worried for her friend.
❝ Oh... ❞ Elly frowned, looking back down to her meal. She spread some jam on her bread to eat it, taking one of the small cubes of cheese before washing it down with the cup of now lukewarm tea.
❝ 'Possedly, she hasn't left her room since, not even to eat or anything, not like 'er at all. ❞ Ry watched Elly quietly, aware of her wandering gaze, which wasn't uncommon for her, but Ry could tell something was on her mind. Setting both her cup and fork down, she reached over to pat Elly on the head, ruffling her otherwise tidy hair, causing the Pinkette to pout as she wiped some stray jam from her cheek before she unceremoniously shoved a loin chop in her face. While reluctant, Elly accepted it, knowing a refusal would be fruitless.
❝ But I'm sure she's okay. She's a whole lot sturdier than I am. Now eat up; we've got work to do; Less'n ya got other shit to do?~ ❞ Ry chimed in her usual jovial tone.
❝ Well, I was going to go shopping... ❞ Elly exhaled, seemingly not too enthused about the idea.
❝ Great! Just so happens work ends me up where yer goin' Two fucks with one plonker, eh? ❞ Ry cooed.
---o---
By the way, the sun hung in the scantly clouded skies above with the day-moon 'Beti' in its cradle; it was high noon. The Meliora Markets is a hub for the various tradespeople and shops just south of the great lake, the largest of its kind in Baria. As always, it was teeming with the usual hustle and bustle of crowds, brick-a-brack stalls and other oddities. A place Elly seldom went from the suffocating throng of people, tending to slip through the back alleys to get where she needed to and rarely toiled there for long. And she did just that, gliding through the scant groups and narrow pathways until she met the door of a large, semi-run-down shop.
❛ Surprised the place is still standing. ❜ — Yeah, it is kind of a shithole.
On the other hand, Ry has no qualms about diving into the cesspool of livelihood. The two parted ways briefly; Ry made her way to the centre of the markets, where she would find the Guildhall, the home of AGE and the region's branch of the church [EON]. It was more of a glorified cathedral that housed the local heart of the country's economy and jobs, a testament to the church's influence and hold on its counterparts. With that said, it was nigh impossible to go through daily life without some interaction with the church, either directly or by proxy. Ry herself had little need to make the trek; but did so nevertheless. It was for a personal matter, of course.
Elly stood before the closed door that gave no sign of life behind it, primarily because of the windows being boarded up and the words' FUCK OFF' proudly displayed on one of the splintered boards. Blatant lack of welcoming aside, Elly knocked lightly. No answer. She waited, tapping her foot as she scanned the area around her, attempting to peek through the cracks in the wood. Lights. Someone was inside, but whether they heard or ignored her mattered little. She knocked again, almost slamming her fist against the door, which echoed the sound behind. Stepping back, she waited for an answer.
❝ Closed! Read the sign, nut-sucker! ❞ A voice boomed from behind the door, raspy and slurred with a foreign twang.
❛ Always a warm welcome. ❜ — If you say so.
❝ Um... Its Elly! I was gonna- ❞ The young girl replied, raising her voice but not yelling, seemingly unbothered by the insult. Before she could finish, the door swung open to greet her with stale air and a dwarf, just shorter than she was and about as round as he was tall, with a head and beard of straggly greying-russet on cinnabar skin. A set of equally dirty jeweller loupes sat on his forehead, and a frankly oversized spanner rested on his shoulder.
❝ The hell ya want? ❞ He bellowed, looking her up and down as he chewed on some wood. Gruff as he sounded, wearing a torn stained shirt overall, both caked in dust and the unmistakable sheen of oil that almost covered him head to toe, mostly his arms, of which he wore thick elbow-deep gloves.
❝ Heya Juge! ❞ Elly waved her hand both to greet and to get the smell away from her face.
❝ Oh! Long time no see, kid! Come the fuck in! Mind yer feet; it's a fuckin' mess in here. ❞ Juge asserted in his usual boisterous tone as he turned on heel and waddled back into the shop, expecting Elly to follow. She did, but not before tentatively closing the door behind her and trying to navigate the literal junkyard of a flat he called home.
❝ That one-eyed goat sent ya? ❞ He asked from the room at the end of the hall; technically the front-facing part of the workshop that was otherwise closed at this hour.
❝ Not this time. I wanted to see if you could fix these so I don't need to replace them. ❞ Elly looked around the dimly lit, dank cellar of a shop that only just peered over the road outside, accessible only through a narrow pathway alongside other rarely trodden shops and empty shells.
❝ So how's it hangin’? haven’t seen that mug of yers for a few seasons now. Still doing that Paldin’ whatchamacallit thing? ❞ The dwarf kicked aside some of the junk to make it easier for her to navigate.
❝ Yeah; still in training, been on a few scouting missions but Iris has been reluctant to let me do anything else yet. ❞ Elly replied; almost bumping into a stack of boxes and only just stopping them from collapsing.
❝ You? ❞ She added.
❝ Ehh. New liver, same eagles. Tooks me a holler-day ups the mountain to see the old folk. Grumpy as shit. Froze me nuts off. Nuthin’ changes. An’ the gear gits’ still persterin’ me to join em’ But I ain’t for the bero-crap that comes wit’ it. ❞ Juge shrugged; picking up a stray fork and hurling it at the far wall to pin a wandering rodent against it. ❝ Got me dinner sorted though. Hungry? ❞
❝ No thanks, I already ate. ❞ Elly visibly paled; almost wrethcing from the mere thought of it.
❝ Suit yerself’ more fer me. ❞ Juge waved his arm dismissively.
❝ So, the fuck ya break this time? Or ya finna let me tinker with that arm of yers? ❞ Juge made his way behind the counter that was more or less a poorly-masked workbench if anything. He pulled on a cord that turned on the faint, sodium vapour lights above.
❝ No, I think Areyth would kill me if I did. ❞ Elly shook her head, pulling out a small bag she placed on the counter.
❝ Yeah yeah, I know; Sunovabitch is a masterpiece, not like the crap I make. ❞ Juge shrugged, discarding the spanner onto a pile of other tools before prying himself onto the lone stool in the shop. Spitting out the wood he was chewing on moments earlier, he pulls over the bag to rummage inside. Laying out its contents before him. The broken wiregun and a few smaller items she put aside earlier.
❝ You fuckin' sit on it or sumthin? Things busted up bad. An’ yer ain’t any better, waddling like a fuckin’ half-cripple. ❞ He pulled down his glasses to inspect them, grumbling in mild annoyance.
❝ Was thrown off my horse and fell on it. ❞ Elly replied sheepishly, rubbing her head as she waited for his answer.
❝ Well, I did makered it, so I guess I havta' fix the thing. Gimme a few days, and I'll have it spick and span for ya! ❞ Juge nodded, setting it down to the side before he slammed his hands on the counter, causing a few items to fall off.
❝ Anythin' else? ❞ He grunted.
❝ Um... Potions? ❞ Elly mumbled nervously.
❝ Do I look like a herbsniffer? ❞ He replied in an overly sarcastic tone as he climbed down, grabbing hold of a large tarp covering the corner of the room to reveal a variety of potions and tonics, the sort one would see in any self-respecting apothecary weren't they all technically illegal for him to sell.
❝ C'mon then, before the sack-sniffers get a whiff of it. ❞
