38 Saun, Arc 719 ‣ Nashaki
“KALBA!”
Saza fucking hated that name. He hated it so much that he debated ignoring the strained shout from the hall. A heavy sigh pushed his breath into the pillow that his face was pressed into. How he had expected to get any sleep lying in such an uncomfortable position, he didn’t know, but lying on his stomach wasn’t working out that well for him when there were bundles of wrinkled clothes on the bed beneath him. They made a lumpy surface for the young biqaj to rest on, and it was his own fault for not moving them, but he was too tired to do even that, and grateful regardless for the bed.
His name was repeated, just as loud, before he could ever respond. Saza groaned – the sound was quiet at first, just a little scratching sound at his throat, but it rose in volume until his frustration matched the strained level of the shouting voice. Quickly, he pushed himself up, and he shoved the pillow away for good measure. It smacked against the wall and fell at the other side of the bed with a weak little slump, but the sound was drowned within Saza’s voice.
“What! What is it, what do you want?”
“Come out here!”
Another groan, even louder than the first.
“Now! Come onn, Kalba!”
Why did he have to go out there? With all the noise, he was sure that they were already causing far more of a commotion than the innkeeper had really wanted. It was only their second trial staying in the inn, and though the rag-tag group of friends had spent more time down in the tavern than in their shared room, Saza already felt for the poor man that would have to come and tidy up after them. The little room was a mess – clothes and other various belongings cluttered the floor, along with the extra blankets and pillows they’d requested from the innkeeper when they’d gotten the room.
Saza was the only occupant now, as Dion and Faraj and Taiseer had left a few breaks ago to meander on down to the tavern, but he should’ve expected them to disturb him from his (attempted) nap. They always had to bother him with something. Sometimes he wondered why he put up with all of their fucking nonsense – but the mattress underneath his folded legs was reminder enough. Half-lidded and exhausted, a crimson gaze swept over the messy room once more before he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stepped down with another little sigh of resignation, and exited the room.
His regret was immediate.
“Kalba! Gods, take longer, why don’t you?”
Red eyes were narrowed in Dion’s direction. The dark-haired human wore a slanted half-smile as if he was trying to pass it off as a lighthearted tease – all of them knew that it wasn’t. Dion’s cheeks were as ruddy and warm as his nose; his eyes were just unfocused enough that Saza could tell he was having a difficult time staying in the present moment. He could smell the liquor on him from several feet away, but it wasn’t all from him.
Taiseer and Faraj stood just a little farther down the dimly-lit hall. Their arms were around each other’s shoulders, and they looked like they wouldn’t have been standing upright if they weren’t. Saza’s gaze flitted between the three of them expectantly, and to no surprise, Dion was the one that spoke first.
“That absolute moron,” Dion waved a finger back at the other two humans, and Saza could only assume that he meant Taiseer, “said he c- could outdrink me. C’n you believe that?”
“Is… that what you wanted me out here for?”
Dion shook his head. The movement was slow, as were the steps that he took forward, towards Saza. He clasped a hand over the taller’s shoulder, “nnno, no. Not only that.”
“What’s going on up here?”
Shit. He knew that voice, and it didn’t belong to any of his friends.
Saza turned away from Dion to look down the hall, where the bewildered owner of the inn climbed the last few stairs. The biqaj pushed his friend to the side and stepped forward, to be heard without raising his voice.
“Sorry, sorry – they’re just a bit overexcited – they’re shutting up now. So sorry, again.”
“What? Sorry? Nahh,” Dion’s hand fell upon his shoulder again as the human closed the distance he’d made. “Not sorry for nothin’,” he insisted, “don’t listen t’ him. He’s jussssta sour grape.”
“Sour grape?” Taiseer’s voice entered the mix, and Saza struggled to keep himself from turning right back around and hiding in the room again until everybody just left. Did they really have to cause a scene? Was it really necessary?
“Yeah, sour grape. Right?”
Taiseer’s light eyes narrowed at Dion from across the hall. He leaned against Faraj a little more, and jabbed an elbow into his side. Faraj lifted his head with a loud, sharp inhale. “Huh? Wh- huh?”
“Whatever,” Dion made a little smacking gesture in Faraj and Taiseer’s direction. “He’s sour.”
Saza hadn’t taken his eyes off of the innkeeper since he’d entered his line of sight. The poor guy looked just as disgruntled and confused as he felt. He figured that there was one reason, and one reason only, why the man hadn’t thrown them all out already – Saza had helped him, more than once, clean up the tavern and empty rooms after the crowds had cleared out. They weren’t friends, but there weren’t many people in Nashaki that Saza would only call acquaintances either.
“Keep it down,” the older man warned, slowly shifting his glower from one young troublemaker to the next. “There are other people staying in these rooms, trying to sleep. If you’re going to be excited, take it elsewhere.”
“Of course, sir.”
A bony hand shot out to keep Dion in place beside him. His insistence on being so confrontational was more exhausting than anything else. Saza dipped his head politely and kept a tight hold on the front of Dion’s shirt until the innkeeper had disappeared down the stairs again. As soon as he was gone, Dion swiped an arm down and knocked the biqaj’s hand away from him.
“Don-don’t hold me,” the human shook his head again, just a little faster than before. Faraj and Taiseer had released each other’s shoulders, but walked closer with their bodies leaned together. Dion poked a finger against Saza’s chest and asked, “who d’ you think you are? Talkin’ fer us like that. Sick of it.”
“Oh, come on. Are you guys done?”
Faraj made a mocking little whine of a noise. It only deepened Saza’s frown, and his half-lidded gaze flicked back to the door of their room. “It’s late. We should probably get into the room and stop bothering everyone, right?”
“Stop being such a mooom,” groaned Taiseer, “do you have to kill all the fun all the time?”
He didn’t think he killed the fun all the time. Sometimes, maybe, but that was only because his friends found amusement in too many reckless situations. He was just tired, and he didn’t want to get kicked out of the room, because where would he go? The others all had homes – they had families that they could fall back on. Saza didn’t.
Dion shrugged, “he can’t help it, can ‘e?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Don’t get den-df-defensive now. Just saying y’ come by it… organically?”
“Naturally,” offered Taiseer. Saza didn’t know what difference it made. There was no weight to the words; no base. He shook his head, and his frizzy blond curls partially covered his dark, red eyes. There was no point in trying to argue with them, or make sense of their drunken ramblings. The biqaj turned around and started back towards the room.
Faraj’s voice still reached his ears, though.
“Why, ‘cause of ‘is mom?”
Because of…
Saza turned on his heel. “I’m tired – either come back to the room with me or go back downstairs, but don’t stay here in the hall, alright?”
But his words of warning went ignored. Dion nodded and gave Faraj a smile that looked a little too wide. “Jusst right. Even baby Kalba – w's always mooching off ‘r damn…”
“Your damn what?”
Dion’s dark gaze met Saza’s silver. The curly-haired youth had crossed his arms, and he strode back to them with his chin raised, “what did I do?”
“Did,” the human laughed, looked at their other friends as if sharing a joke, then looked back to the confused Saza. “Y’ still do. Can’t even rent a room on yer own, ‘n you’re telling us what to do? I c’n see why your mom wouldn't've wanted you.”
Taiseer’s laugh almost sounded choked, for how sharp and abrupt it was. Saza didn’t tear his eyes away from Dion. He wasn’t glaring anymore; the cool, silver tones of his ever-shifting irises had warmed to a pale yellow.
“What?”
“I ssaid, I can see why y’r mom threw you away!”
continued here
